Aragorn in Mandos

Aragorn Elessar Telcontar, King of Gondor and Arnor, stood in front of a particularly lovely tapestry wondering where everyone was. He knew he was dead. He distinctly remembered saying farewell to his beloved Arwen before offering back his fëa to Eru and then....

It was truly a stunning tapestry, he had to admit, and he did not mind standing there looking at it, but he was feeling somewhat confused. He figured that someone, perhaps Gandalf, would have been there to greet him before he left the Circles of Arda for good, but there was no one. He wasn’t sure if he should be angry or amused at the lack of respect being shown to his person and suddenly laughed at the pretentiousness of his thoughts, wishing he had his pipe.

"But the Dead don’t smoke," he said aloud just to hear his own voice.

"Not that I’ve noticed," came the amused response from behind him.

Aragorn gasped and spun around to find himself facing...

"M-my Lord Námo?" Aragorn went to his knees in surprise and not a little trepidation. He remembered Glorfindel telling him tales about this particular Vala, though he suspected that they had been severely edited for the ears of the small mortal child he had been at the time. Nothing could prepare him for the reality of this Vala’s Presence and the shock of it left him reeling.

Námo came towards him, a small smile on his face. He was dressed in an ankle-length tunic of black velvet with a belt made of mithril chain inset with black opals. The tunic itself was embroidered in silver thread along the hem, neck and cuffs of the wide sleeves in an intricate pattern of vines and leaves. Underneath he wore a dark grey shirt of figured silk. Over all he wore a sleeveless silk robe open in the front in the same shade of grey as his shirt. His dark hair was elf-braided and upon his head he wore a crown of wrought mithril in the shape of flames with a single red ruby in its center.

The Lord of Mandos reached down and raised the King of Gondor and Arnor and gave him the kiss of peace. "Welcome to Mandos, Estel," Námo said gently. "I have waited long years as you mortals count them for this meeting."

"Y-you have?" Aragorn asked in surprise and silently berated himself for sounding as if he were a fifteen-year-old receiving praise from one of his elven brothers.

Námo laughed. "Indeed. I regret that I was not here to greet you when you first arrived, but..." here he gave the mortal king an appraising look. "Pippin has been especially annoying lately."

Aragorn stared at the Vala for a long moment trying to understand what Námo had just said and then he threw back his head and started laughing. "Even here? I would have thought you would have sent him packing long before this, my lord."

"I wanted to send him and Merry packing, as you say, the moment they arrived, but they were adamant that they were going to wait for you and in truth I didn’t have the heart to refuse them."

"They are rather hard to refuse, especially Pippin," Aragorn admitted with a fond smile. "Are there others who..."

Námo smiled and nodded. "You will see them presently. Come. Let us walk."

Together, the Lord of Mandos and Aragorn left the chamber the mortal had found himself in when he first arrived. The corridor they walked down was dimly lit, but Aragorn had no trouble seeing.

"What exactly did Pippin do that was so annoying?" he asked in curiosity and was awarded with a rueful grin from the Vala.

"I will not bore you with the details. Suffice to say that your smallest Guard of the Citadel has a most impressive capacity for getting himself into trouble."

"And let me guess," Aragorn said with a light laugh. "His cousin has an equally impressive capacity for getting him out of it."

"Ah, you know your hobbits well, don’t you?"

"These two at least." Aragorn stopped, his expression suddenly pensive as he stared at the floor. Námo watched him calmly, waiting for the mortal to speak. "They’ve been allowed to wait for me to... to die." He looked up at the Vala. "Does that mean I can wait for Arwen?"

"I do not know, child," Námo said as gently as he could. "That decision is Eru’s to make. Lúthien and Beren died within hours of each other and so they left the Circles of Arda together, but Arwen lingers yet and I do not know how long it will take for her to accept her fate and come to me."

"I wanted to stay with her... help her..."

Námo shook his head and placed a comforting arm on Aragorn’s shoulder. "That is not how it works, my son. Your time was over. You could not linger, nor would it have helped if you had. She would have clung to your memory all the more and would have refused to take that final step all mortals must take. This way, she must come to me if she wishes to be reunited with you."

Aragorn nodded, not completely convinced but knowing that protesting would do no good. Námo smiled knowingly and took the mortal into his embrace and gave him a hug. "She will come, never fear, my son. Trust that her love for you will show her the way home."

The Vala released him and continued to walk down the corridor. Aragorn followed, remaining silent. Eventually, they came to a door. It was made of crystal and gold and it was beautiful beyond anything Aragorn had ever seen even in the artistry of the elves. Námo stopped before the door and gave the mortal a strange look.

"He has come here only once in all the ages of Arda and then only briefly. That he comes here now is an honor you cannot fully appreciate."

Aragorn gave him a quizzical look but before he could ask what the Vala meant the door silently opened and Námo gestured for him to enter. Stepping across the threshhold Aragorn found himself in a small chamber and standing in the middle of the room was a Being bathed in light that was more than sunlight, which nearly blinded him. He stopped in amazement and awe, for he had a dim idea who this Person might be.

"Come closer, child, and let me greet you," came a voice, deep and warm and full of bells.

Aragorn gathered his courage and stepped closer to the Being and found himself before the Elder King of Arda. Manwë wore a knee-length tunic of azure figured silk with breeches and shirt of the finest lawn dyed a royal purple. Over this was a sleeveless robe the color of which shifted from light blue to midnight blue to indigo and violet and even to a deep dusky rose in no discernible pattern that Aragorn could see. His feet were shod in soft leather ankle boots also dyed royal purple. His eyes were the blue of a summer sky ringed with gold in the center. His hair was a rich brown and he wore an intricately wrought crown of mithril with a single large diamond set in the center, glittering with sapphirine brilliance.

Aragorn went to his knees in awe and without conscious volition raised his hands in the position of a vassal taking oath to his lord. Manwë’s smile was brilliant as he bent down and raised the mortal to his feet.

"Nay, my son. I will not accept your oath, for are we not fellow rulers? I greet you, Elessar, as one king to another." Manwë then took the Man into his embrace and gave him the kiss of a sovereign greeting his brother sovereign. Aragorn found himself returning the greeting, though he little thought he was worthy.

"You are far more worthy than you know, otornya," Manwë said as he brushed a gentle hand through Aragorn’s hair. "Your coming has been long awaited and I rejoice that we finally have this opportunity to meet. Come, we will walk and you will tell me about your life."

"But surely, lord, you know all that has occurred in my life," Aragorn exclaimed.

Manwë nodded. "Indeed, but I still want to hear it from your own lips." With that he took Aragorn by the arm and together they walked out of the chamber through another crystal and gold door into a garden with Námo following them. Aragorn suddenly felt shy and did not know where to start.

"Start with your earliest memory," Námo suggested and Aragorn complied as the three wandered through the garden. Aragorn found that as he spoke, he did not relate the events of his life in strict chronological order. Instead, one memory would evoke another memory from a different time and circumstance. Occasionally, one or the other of the Valar would ask a clarifying question, but otherwise allowed him to speak as he would. As he related the events of his life, he began to detect a pattern to them that he had never seen before and all that had occurred, good or bad, fell into place for him and made sense to him for the first time.

At one point they were sitting by a small fountain and Aragorn found himself inexplicably weeping as he sat between the Elder King and the Lord of Mandos. "I couldn’t save him... I tried... but in the end..."

"Shh, child. It is well," Manwë whispered as he put an arm around the Man’s shoulders. "Frodo was not yours to save. That was left for others. Take comfort in the knowledge that you gave him the chance to find healing for himself before the end."

Aragorn sighed, his voice full of regret. "I made so many mistakes..."

"Fewer than most," Námo said softly.

"...and every time I made a decision, even a good one, I wondered how many people would suffer for it."

"The price of being a king I’m afraid, my son," Manwë said in sympathy. "Every decision a person makes, good or bad, has its concomitant consequences, but as a ruler your decisions had graver consequences and for more people. That you were able to make as many wise decisions as you did is a testament to your character and to those who taught you. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Elessar. You ruled wisely and well and your people loved you."

"And your enemies feared you," Námo interjected with a grin. "Not a bad epitaph as such things go."

Aragorn looked down at his hands, his palms up, and sighed again. "I have too much blood on my hands to warrant any real forgiveness."

"Indeed!" Manwë raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "And you are so sure of this? If so, you know more of the mind of Ilúvatar than even I."

Aragorn had the grace to blush. "Forgive me, I fear my arrogance gets the better of me at times."

"And you have much to be arrogant about," the Elder King said with a shake of his head, "but it does not become you, and it is even worse when it disguises itself as false modesty. The blood on your hands is regrettable but acceptable under the circumstances and neither I nor Eru will fault you for it. You killed when necessity drove you, not out of pleasure or spite. Put your mind at ease on that score, my son."

For a long moment no one spoke, the Valar allowing Aragorn the time he needed to accept their words. Finally, he looked up and gave the Elder King the briefest of smiles, shy and unassuming. "Thank you."

"You are most welcome, my son," Manwë said, taking him into his embrace and placing a kiss on his brow, before releasing him and standing. "I must leave you now, Elessar. I wish you joy in Eru’s presence."

Then Aragorn was alone with Námo who smiled at the mortal. "Would you like to see your friends now?"

Aragorn nodded and together they rose and went back inside. Soon they were standing before yet another door, this one of plain wood. It opened silently as Námo approached and then Aragorn crossed the threshold.

"STRIDER!"

He had just enough time to go to his knees and open his arms before two hobbits attempted to bowl him over with their enthusiastic greetings. Aragorn laughed with joy as he hugged Merry and Pippin to him.

"Oh my friends, it is so good to see you again."

Neither hobbit said anything to that, merely gave the Man another fierce hug. For a while the three friends remained that way, reveling in each other’s presence, but eventually the hobbits disengaged themselves from Aragorn’s embrace and the King stood up. He gave Námo a wry grin and then looked down at the two hobbits with something of a stern look. Both hobbits became still.

"I have been hearing some disturbing reports about my smallest Guard of the Citadel," Aragorn said gravely. "Would you care to explain yourself, Peregrin Took?"

Pippin found himself looking down and shuffling his feet like an errant tweenager under Aragorn’s regard. "It’s... well... I mean... you see...." Pippin stuttered to a halt, blushing furiously.

"I see," Aragorn nodded his head, then turned his attention to Merry, who stared at his friend and king with fearless regard. "And what is your excuse, Meriadoc?"

"The same as usual, Aragorn," the Brandybuck cousin said with a cheeky grin. "And if Lord Námo couldn’t control my cousin, what makes you think you can?"

Aragorn smiled. "Lord Námo is too tender-hearted for his own good." He ignored the guffaws coming from the others in the room and refused to look at the Lord of Mandos at all. Námo, for his part, smiled hugely and there was the echo of laughter coming from beyond the Halls that was heard by all. "I, on the other hand, have not a tender-hearted bone in my body..."

"You don’t even have a body," Pippin muttered and that was too much for any of them and Aragorn threw back his head and laughed along with the others, taking Pippin by the shoulders and giving him a shake.

"You are incorrigible you young scamp. I look forward to seeing you confound Eru himself."

"And if anyone can do it, it’ll be Pippin."

Aragorn looked up to see Boromir coming towards him with a wide grin on his face and with a glad cry gathered the other Man into his embrace. "Boromir! Long have I wished for this moment."

"My king, glad am I to see you once again." Boromir went to his knees and kissed Aragorn’s hands in obeisance, but Aragorn raised him up again and gave him a kiss on his brow in greeting, which Boromir returned. "And look! Faramir and Father are here as well."

Boromir turned to gesture to his brother and father and the two came forward. Faramir smiled warmly at his friend and king and Aragorn greeted him gladly. "My brother, you are looking better than when last I saw you."

"I was dying, Elessar," Faramir laughed in amusement as the two embraced. "How was I suppose to look?"

The two Men laughed and Boromir was glad to see the mutual love and respect between his brother and the one who was his king. Then Denethor stepped forward, his expression somewhat uncertain. Aragorn released Faramir and looked at Denethor for a long moment, his expression sad.

"I looked for you, my brother," he said softly, "there before the gates of Minas Tirith, but they said you were dead and I grieved that it was so."

"And I grieve that I was too cowardly to remain to greet you, my king. Madness and despair took me and my own arrogance prevented me from accepting your coming, long though our people had waited for that very day. Forgive me, sire, for failing you in my duty." With those words Denethor knelt before Aragorn and raised his hands in the position of a vassal before his liege lord.

Aragorn did not gainsay him, but took Denethor’s hands in his own and listened while the Last Ruling Steward of Gondor uttered the ancient words of allegiance to the King.

"Here do I swear fealty to Gondor, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death...."

Aragorn placed a finger on Denethor’s lips before he could complete the final words of the oath, stilling his voice. Denethor gave him a puzzled look. Aragorn merely smiled and with solemn joy answered him. "And I shall not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given. Fealty with love, valor with honor." Then he raised the former Steward to his feet and kissed him on the brow.

At that, Boromir and Faramir surrounded their father and gave him their congratulations and Aragorn was pleased to see Denethor hug his youngest son with as much enthusiasm as he hugged Boromir.

"Well, my brother, it is good to see you once again."

Aragorn looked up to see Éomer standing beside him, grinning. The two kings embraced and gave each other a kiss in greeting. "I am glad to see you as well, my brother," Aragorn replied. "I have missed you."

"And now you are all reunited at last," Námo said, coming forward. He had stayed out of the way, enjoying the reunion of friends. "You have waited for your king and he is here. Now you must leave the Circles of Arda to where others await you."

"Diamond," Pippin said. His smile dimmed at the thought of his beloved wife having had to wait for him beyond the Circles of Arda for all these years.

"Estella," Merry said with a nod.

"Mother," Faramir said and Boromir nodded his head. Denethor looked sad.

Éomer merely grunted but he did not dispute the Vala's words.

Aragorn looked pensive. "Must I too leave Arda? May I not wait for my beloved?"

Námo shook his head. "Eru has decreed it otherwise, my son. If you remain here, within the Circles of Arda, Arwen will sense your presence and will not willingly forsake her life, believing instead that your memory is enough for her. If she can no longer sense you, she will know that only in the release of her fëa will she have the chance to be reunited with you. I know this is hard for you, Aragorn. Trust that Eru will see you united with your beloved in the fullness of time."

Aragorn sighed. "As you wish, my lord. I will not deny that I would wish it otherwise, but I am not foolish enough to defy the will of the Valar or the One above us all."

"So when do we leave?" Pippin asked.

Námo looked at the hobbit with amusement. "You leave now. Aragorn, however, will not be joining you. He will follow later."

"Why?" the two hobbits demanded almost at the same time, both looking somewhat rebellious.

Námo gave them his most forbidding look. "Do not question my will in this, Children. Go now. Eru awaits you." He pointed towards a door that had not been there before and it opened of its own accord. The two hobbits sighed and gave Aragorn subdued hugs which the king returned with more enthusiasm. Then the others gave him their farewells.

"Do not linger, my brother," Éomer said with a grin. "I grow tired of waiting for you."

"I will do my best," Aragorn said with a laugh. Then he was alone with the Lord of Mandos who smiled warmly.

"You will not be separated from them long, Estel. There are two more people who have been waiting for you. I thought you would like to greet them alone. Then you may leave together."

"Who..."

"Come. Let me take you to them." With that Námo led him out of the chamber and down the corridor to another door. It opened as they came to it. Námo stopped Aragorn before he went in and took him into his embrace, kissing him on the brow. "Take your time, best beloved. There’s no rush."

Aragorn nodded and gave the Lord of Mandos a bow before stepping over the threshold. At first, he saw no one and then out of the gloom two people walked towards him. He gave a gasp as he recognized one of them.

"Nana?"

Gilraen smiled and opened her arms to receive her son. "Estel, my love, how glad I am to see you."

"Nana!" Aragorn cried as he fell into his mother’s arms. "Oh, nana. I missed you so much."

"Shh. I know, love. I missed you as well. I’m so proud of you, Estel. So very proud." She held his face between her hands and kissed him gently.

Only then did the one standing next to Gilraen speak. "Have you no greeting for your ada, my son?"

Aragorn looked up in shock to see a man with features similar to his own. "A-ada? You’re my ada?" He tried desperately to bring forth a memory of his father, but failed.

Arathorn son of Arador smiled and spread his arms out to welcome his son whom he had not held in over two hundred years. "Yes, my son, I’m your ada."

For a moment Aragorn couldn’t move and then with a cry he was in Arathorn’s arms weeping. Arathorn smiled indulgently as he rocked his child and Gilraen wrapped her arms around them both, quietly singing a lullaby.

Námo, watching from the doorway, smiled at the sight of this small family being reunited at last and gently closed the door with a satisfied sigh.

He always liked happy endings.

****

Otornya: (Quenya) My sworn brother, contracted from otornonya. Manwë calling Aragorn "brother" is a testament to the Elder King’s true relationship with the legitimate mortal and elvish rulers of Middle-earth in his governance of Arda.

Nana: (Sindarin) Mama. Hypocoristic form of naneth: mother.

Ada: (Sindarin) Papa. Hypocoristic form of adar: father.

Note on Denethor’s oath to Aragorn and Aragorn’s response: The complete oath, of course, ends with the words "...or death take me". Since Denethor is already dead, these words are meaningless and Aragorn stops him from uttering them. By the same token, Aragorn does not say the words "oath-breaking with vengeance" (book-verse) for they are now beyond all thoughts of oath-breaking or vengeance and Aragorn is aware that only love and valor remain beyond the grave now.