Chapter Forty-Nine
(everything is spoken in Elvish)

~ Aragorn~
I spent most of my time worrying about Gondor and Rohan and whether King Théoden would answer to the beacons of war – assuming, of course, that Mithrandir managed to get the Steward, Lord Denethor, to light them in the first place. That was another big worry, as the Stewards probably didn't believe I even existed anymore. All in all, I had a lot to think about and not very much to do to occupy my time and mind.

But even I wasn't so full of worries not to notice the strange and changed behavior of those around me.

Tinúviel, for example. She had conceded to sometimes raise her voice in song, as her ancestor Lúthien Tinúviel had in the Elder Days, to raise the men's spirits. Now, she was more distant and her grey eyes held a worried, distracted, faraway look and no more did we hear her songs in Meduseld no matter how much the men pleaded.

Eldarion was also changing. He did not train as hard and as constantly with the Rohirrim. He used to join in their drills and sparring and archery contests; but no more. He seemed to be constantly trying to work up the courage to do something – although what something, I did not know.

But most peculiar of all was the behavior between Éomer and Estel.

Estel was suddenly spending more and more time with Éomer – riding, eating, or even just talking. Well, not really suddenly. I was sure it had been gradual, but as I had only just noticed it, it did seem quite sudden. Now that she was fully recovered, she seemed to go out of her way to spend time with him. In fact, I often saw them laughing together no matter where they went.

That didn't mean she neglected the rest of us. She still spent time with her family. It was just that she seemed to spend less.

But of course, her mother wasn't saying anything.

One day while watching for the beacons, I became aware that Lady Kiria had joined me silently.

"Beacons of hope," she murmured quietly. "That is what you wait for. A symbol, a calling, a sign."

I turned to her. "Do you speak of yourself or me?"

"What does it matter?" she returned softly. "In a way, we are all seeking something, something we may not even be able to identify – but we seek it all the same." She shot me a gentle look. "Even you, Aragorn, seek something beyond your hold."

I accepted her comment without retort. "Then what are you seeking, my lady?"

Lady Kiria sighed, and her eyes drifted from the still unlit beacon to the plains. "Something every mother seeks for her child," she answered cryptically.

I followed her gaze.

Two riders were galloping across the plains, clearly racing in a test of speed and endurance. Even from this distance, it wasn't hard to make out Éomer, the sun glinting off of his horse's equipment and his armor, and Estel, her head thrown back in laughter and her long dark hair streaming out behind her.

I frowned and turned to her. "For Estel?"

"Why do you question it? She deserves it, and he makes her happy."

"It's not that."

She turned her blue eyes on me, eyes the exact same shade of blue as Éowyn's. "Then what bothers you about this?" she questioned.

I looked away, trying to gather my thoughts. Finally, I said hesitantly, "I have seen Estel grow . . . and change in the months she has spent with the Fellowship. And I have grown close to her in turn – we all have. And . . . And I fear that Éomer does not yet truly know Estel as well as . . . well, as well as . . ."

"You speak of Legolas," she said suddenly.

I blinked in surprise.

She smiled slightly at me. "I may not have raised my children for all this time or even been with the Fellowship – but I am their mother. I know them well enough. Estel especially."

"What – You know?" I sputtered incredulously. "And you're just . . . You're just letting it go?"

Lady Kiria's clasped hands tightened and a strained look entered her eyes, but other than that there was no reaction. "Estel is more than old enough to make her own choices as to where her heart lies," she said clearly. "I will not interfere. All of my children know more than enough to make their own decisions. Besides . . . the Elves leave soon for the Undying Lands; you of all people know that. I have already lost one child to that – must I lose another? Is it wrong to encourage something that will last?"

"Legolas would last."

"Yes, he would," she agreed. "But would Estel?"

That caught me. I found myself unable to respond, forcibly reminded of Lord Elrond's own arguments against my romance with Arwen.

She glanced at me and sighed. "If it reassures you, Aragorn, I will not interfere – on either side. But I must ask you to remember that Legolas is your friend and that Estel will die one day. Do you wish for a relationship that will end in death and eternal parting and misery?

"I know my answer."

And with that, Lady Kiria walked away.

~ Eldarion ~
"Estel, do you ever . . . do you ever think about Father?"

Estel stared at me with startled eyes. For a long time, she was so startled that she did not respond. Then she spluttered, "How could you even ask such a thing?"

"Well?"

She looked away. "I think of him every day," she answered quietly, her eyes getting distant. "Whenever I see Mother . . . when I remember how things used to be . . . when I remember . . . our family."

"Do you think of him more . . . now?" I pressed cautiously.

Complicated emotions flitted across her face, emotions that I couldn't even begin to describe – and ones I certainly had not expected to get in response. For a second, she looked like a person caught between two paths and was trying to decide where to go while some weird fortuneteller was preaching some random nonsense about the past to her. Bad description, but it was the best I could get.

"Yes," she said slowly.

I felt a surge of hope. So she was thinking about Father more as well . . . and for seemingly no reason at all. . . Yes, that was cause for hope. . .

"Why?"

Something in Estel closed. I wasn't sure why, but for some reason at my question, it was like the doors had closed. This was a subject from which I could expect no more answers from Estel.

"He was our father; it is natural that we think of him," she retorted. "What are you trying to get at, Eldarion?"

I hesitated. This was probably going to make me sound absolutely crazy. And yet it was the only – the only – theory I had that made sense. Well, made sense to me, at least.

"I . . . I'm thinking a lot about him as well," I confessed finally. "I mean, I've always thought a lot about him and I've always done my best trying to be more like him; well, more like how I remember him. And I always tried to live up to him and everything he's done for me. And I know that sometimes I don't quite do it, but – "

"Eldarion."

"Sorry." I cleared my throat. "Anyways . . . I've noticed that ever since our episode with the . . . well, with the palantír . . . I've noticed that I'm thinking about him a lot more."

"So?"

"What do you mean, so?"

"Sauron's minions took Father away; wouldn't it be natural to think of him more? And to wonder what he would think if he saw you as you are now – how proud he would be of you?"

"Of us," I amended quietly.

"So . . . So where are you going with this?"

"I think there's another reason," I said slowly. "Something different from what you think. I mean, I thought it originally, and I think that that's part of it, but . . . I just feel like there's something else besides that."

"For?"

"For why we keep thinking about him more. I mean, Mother and Tinúviel aren't thinking more about him. Well, any more than usual."

"Tinúviel has other things on her mind besides Father," my sister said dismissively. "And how much more can Mother think about Father than she already does?"

"Look, would you just listen to me?"

"Fine, fine," she grumbled. "I'll bite. Why? What's your famous theory, Eldarion?"

"I think . . . it's because of Sauron."

~ Estel ~
I stared. "Sauron? What in the name of the Valar does he have to do with Father?"

"Hear me out," he pleaded.

It was a tad bit late for that. Well, more than a tad bit. Sauron and my father? The Dark Lord, the one responsible for so much pain and death and destruction, and my father, a noble and loyal son of the one of the noblest lines of the oldest Kings of Elves and Men alike? Perhaps when Elves were mortal and Men were immortal would that even be perhaps considered – and maybe not even then, as technically we were Peredhel.

But that was besides the point.

My father would never support the Dark Lord. Ever.

Without even realizing it, I found myself on my feet, glaring at my brother. "Father would never side with Sauron, and if you think he would, then you did not know him!"

Eldarion sprang after me and seized my arm. "Estel – listen to me!" he ordered. "That – That is not – what I believe. At all."

I stared into his pale blue eyes, so similar to Aragorn's – so similar to my father's.

Finally, I nodded.

"Then what do you mean?" I asked, sinking back into the chair. "What . . . What connection do you see there? For I see nothing."

"I told you."

"When?"

"We only started really thinking more about Father after we held the palantír," Eldarion said slowly. "Tinúviel and Mother did not – and they aren't. So . . ."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. I could see the line – but . . . "So you think that just because we held the palantír of Sauron, our minds immediately jumped to Father?"

"Well . . . yes."

"You forgot about Pippin," I pointed out. "He didn't think about people he had lost. He just saw Minas Tirith."

"And got burned."

"I did too," I replied. "And you didn't?"

He sighed. "No, I did. . . And for a moment there, I really thought I had a good solid theory."

I patted his shoulder. "It was a good idea. . . Only it kind of lacked foundation." A new idea struck me. If he had seen Father. . .

"What did you see, then?" I asked.

Eldarion's eyes grew flat and distant . . . and haunted. He shivered slightly, as though he was living out what he had seen right here and now. "I – I saw everyone dying," he said hoarsely. "Aragorn, Boromir, Mother, Tinúviel, and – it was horrible. But worst of all was . . ." He trailed off and swallowed hard, his hands clenching into tight fists over his thighs as anguish lit a desperate light in his eyes. "Father. He showed me Father. He showed Father bleeding and screaming and just . . . dying. I don't . . . I don't even know . . . I can't . . ."

"It wasn't your fault," I interrupted sternly.

"No."

"What do you mean, no?" I exclaimed incredulously. "You couldn't have stopped – "

"No, Estel, what I meant was that I didn't see it like it actually happened."

I blinked, rendered mute by his words.

"I saw it like . . . like it was real," he continued. "Like it was actually . . . happening . . . to him."

"Eldarion. . ."

My brother had been the closest to my father of all us. Seeing him dying anew and over and over again must have been absolutely the worst torture of all.

"It's all right." He looked round at me, seeming to return to the present. "What did you see?"

Suddenly my throat was dry and tight – almost so much so that it was difficult to think, much less talk and force out the words. But I managed to somehow anyways. Perhaps it was the need to spill everything out or perhaps it was just that I felt that I should repay his trust, but in either way I ended up telling him.

"Everyone dying," I concluded soberly. "And . . . he was using Minas Tirith and – "

He straightened abruptly. "Minas Tirith?" he exclaimed. "Are you sure?"

"I know the story just as well as you do, Eldarion," I reminded him tartly. "Perhaps even better than you."

"Sorry. Go on please."

"Well, he was . . . I think he was, at least . . . trying to use Minas Tirith and . . . and Father, for some strange reason, as bargaining chips."

Eldarion blinked. "Father's dead."

"I know. That's why Sauron moved on to Minas Tirith."

He nodded slowly. "I wish I had known earlier," he said with a sigh. "It would have helped persuade the King that Gondor really is in need of his aid against this army."

"You know he will ride eventually."

"Hopefully, more like. Gondor will definitely need it." He reached over and squeezed my hand. "Thanks for hearing me out, Estel. And . . . And don't rush it, will you?"

"What?'

His blue eyes twinkled mischievously. "You think I wouldn't notice what is going on between you and Éomer?"

For that, I hit him.

Hard.