Beta: NiRi
Disclaimers: I don’t own the characters and have no claim on them.
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'How did I come to be in this place?' Aragorn wondered as he stared at the door in front of him. He dreaded what lay just beyond the door, but knew that he had no choice in the matter. The sudden urge to turn tail and make his way home to Imladris swept through him and he had to force himself to remain where he stood. But since he had so recently journeyed to take his place among his people, he knew that he would get more questions than he was comfortable with if he should try to return home.

It was only a few months ago that Elladan and Elrohir had accompanied him to an encampment of the Dúnedain to introduce him as Aragorn, son of Arathorn. They had chosen to introduce him to the acting Chieftain and his patrol first, to give both the Dúnedain and Aragorn time to become accustomed to his return. His brothers had left him there, after ensuring that he would receive a warm welcome among his people. Returning to the village where he had been born, he took up residence in the house in which he had lived until the age of two. It would not be long before he began joining patrols and visiting other villages of the Dúnedain. For the moment, however, he was spending his time in conference with the elders of the village, those who had known his father and were intent on helping him to learn more about his people.

Two nights ago, answering a knock on the door, Aragorn found the acting Chieftain, a man named Arvellon, and an unfamiliar man standing on his doorstep. Inviting them inside, he nodded to Arvellon. He had come to respect the man greatly during their short acquaintance. "Good evening," he said with a nod.

"Good evening, my lord." Arvellon inclined his head in greeting. "This is Erthor. He was a friend of your father's and wanted to meet you."

"I am honored to meet any who called my father friend," Aragorn replied, reaching out to clasp arms with the man in welcome. He gestured toward the chairs in front of the fireplace. "Would you care to sit for a time? I would like to speak with you, as well." Sitting by the hearth, they spoke for several hours, during which Aragorn heard many new tales of his father.

Finally, though, the man broached the true reason for his visit. After finishing a humorous story of Arathorn with Elladan and Elrohir, Erthor sat back in his seat, chuckling softly to himself. His chuckles died away as he stared at Aragorn. After a long pause, he took a deep breath and spoke again. "Your father and I were great friends, Aragorn, and we had great hopes that we would be able to raise our children in safety, though that was not to be. We had great hopes indeed for our children, you and my daughter."

With a pause that seemed rather significant to Aragorn, he said the words that Aragorn had feared would come from his mouth next. "You see, my lord, my daughter was born only two months after you. As babes, you would play and laugh together, and your father and I had hopes that you would grow to love each other and marry. Though we never signed any papers, we came to a verbal agreement that the two of you would wed when you were old enough." Though Aragorn fought to keep his expression impassive, some of his panic must have leached through, for Erthor hastily continued. "Of course I do not expect you to keep to this agreement if you and my daughter do not wish it."

Suppressing his sigh of relief, Aragorn nodded to Erthor. "If you do not expect me to hold to this agreement you made with my father, why then do you tell this to me now?"

The man seemed rather hesitant to continue. "I had the thought that you would meet with her, and perhaps, the two of you will come to enjoy each other's company. You are both still quite young, and there is no rush for either of you to marry. I would ask that you meet now and mayhap, in the future, you will find that the idea is not so distasteful as you may find it now." A frown furrowed his brow. "You have not already pledged to a woman, have you, my lord?"

A sharp pain stabbed through Aragorn as he thought over how to answer. He knew he loved Arwen and would never love another, but he did not know if Arwen truly returned his affections. Could he tell these men that Elrond had foretold that he should not marry or pledge troth to any woman for many long years yet? No, that was too close to his heart and was not for any others to know. So he answered in the only way he could. "No, I have not."

And so his fate was sealed, bringing him to this moment. Erthor's daughter, Coruwen, awaited him just beyond the door in front of him. It took much more courage than it should have to reach up and knock on the door. Taking a deep breath, he forced a smile to his face as the door swung open. The grey haired matron on the other side smiled warmly at him. "Please come in, my lord. I am Haneth. My husband agreed that I should be chaperone this night."

"It is my pleasure to meet you," Aragorn said, bowing his head toward her.

"Such a polite young man." With a smile, she gestured for him to precede her to a table across the room. "Please be seated. My daughter will be here shortly. She has prepared a delicious meal for you and wishes for you to be comfortable while you wait."

Aragorn stood and held out a chair for the woman to sit, but she waved him off. "Oh, I'm not joining you two for the meal, my lord. I'll just be in my chair, repairing my husband's clothing." She shook her head in fond exasperation. "He's just so rough on them that I seem to be constantly working on one thing or another." Seeing that Aragorn was standing by the table, not seeming to know what to think, she gestured for him to take a seat at the table. "Oh, don't stand on my account. Just seat yourself."

Bemused, Aragorn seated himself at the table, though it did not seem right to sit while his hostess still stood. To his relief, she sat down in her chair and picked up her sewing. That seemed to her a sign to cease speaking, and she concentrated on her handiwork, ignoring his presence in the room. Feeling quite uncomfortable, Aragorn gazed around the room as he waited. Like many homes among the Dúnedain, the interior was simple, but cozy and warm. A rug lay across the floor near the hearth, blankets and pillows adorned the chairs, and special heirlooms were set carefully on tables or upon the walls.

Hearing a sound from the kitchen, Aragorn turned toward the doorway to see a young woman enter the room carrying a tray with two empty glasses, a full pitcher of water and a loaf of bread. Rising to his feet, he studied her as she approached. Her dark hair was held back tightly out of her face, and her blue-grey eyes were focused on the tray in her hands. She wore a long, green dress with an apron tied over the front. She glanced up to meet his eyes briefly and flushed, quickly looking back at the food.

Haneth spoke up from where she was sitting. "Lord Aragorn, this is my daughter, Coruwen. Coruwen, greet the Lord Aragorn properly, please."

The woman in front of him flushed again and attempted a curtsey while still holding the tray. She mumbled something under her breath that sounded like 'pleased to meet you, my lord'. Seeing the items on the tray rattle alarmingly, Aragorn quickly reached forward and took the tray from her hands, setting it on the table. Freed of the tray, she swept into a deeper curtsey, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor.

He held his hand out to her to bring her back to her feet. She did not take it, which left his hand hanging awkwardly in the air. "Please, you do not need to do this," Aragorn said. "There is no need to curtsey."

She rose to her feet and made her way over to the table, gesturing for Aragorn to take his seat again. When he tried to pull her chair out for her, she did not seem to know whether to take it or remain standing. Finally, after an uncomfortable moment, she sat down in the chair, nearly trapping Aragorn's hand as she leaned back into the chair. Quickly taking his hand back, he seated himself. She reached for the pitcher and began pouring the water into the glasses, but her hand was shaking so badly that some of the water missed the glasses, spilling onto the table. The slight tilt of the table seemed to funnel the water straight toward Aragorn. Grabbing the cloth by his plate, Aragorn stemmed the flow of water before it could fall into his lap.

"Oh!" Rising abruptly, Coruwen bumped into the table, spilling even more water, as she darted into the kitchen, returning with a towel to mop up the mess. "I'm sorry," she apologized, her voice tight as she took the towel back into the kitchen. Upon her return, she reclaimed her seat and stared down at her hands in her lap.

Before Aragorn could think of anything else to say, Haneth spoke up from her chair. "I believe the chicken will have to cook for a little while longer. Why do you not try some of the bread, my lord? Coruwen cooked the entire meal herself and spent a great deal of time in the kitchen today."

Glancing at Coruwen and getting no response, Aragorn shrugged and reached for the loaf of bread. Intending to tear off a piece for himself and one for his companion, he halted in surprise as soon as he touched the bread. Rather than the soft texture he expected, the item under his hand felt more like a rock than anything edible. Not allowing the unease he felt to show on his face, he picked up the bread and took it between his hands, attempting to tear into it. Unfortunately, that plan failed when he was unable to so much as place a dent in the bread with his bare hands. Not wanting to insult the lady, he placed the loaf on his plate and picked up his knife. He was finally able to break it by sawing through the bread until it cracked down the middle. Now that he had two rock-like objects, he wasn't quite sure what to do with them, but glancing up at Coruwen, he thought he saw her lips twitch slightly in amusement. Reaching over, he placed half of the bread on her plate.

Keeping her eyes on her lap, she didn't even acknowledge the gesture. Aragorn just stared at the lump of bread on his plate and decided to follow her example. He didn't want to offend her, but he was afraid that if he tried to take a bite, he'd break a tooth. Thinking that conversation would help break the awkwardness between them, Aragorn racked his brain trying to find something to talk about. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Yes." Her voice was soft, barely audible, and she did not offer to elaborate on her answer.

"How many?" he asked, wanting to draw her out at least enough to talk to him.

"One."

Waiting a moment, Aragorn asked another question. "Brother or sister?"

"Brother."

Becoming almost amused by this, Aragorn continued the game to see how long he could go with getting only one-word answers from her. "Older or younger?"

"Older."

"Where is he now?" Aragorn asked, thinking that she would have to provide a longer answer for that question.

"On patrol."

Nearly laughing now, Aragorn sought a topic that might get more of a response. "Do you have any stories from your childhood? I grew up with two older brothers, and I have many stories to tell."

"Nothing that would interest you, my lord."

She did not look up as she spoke, and Aragorn wondered why she refused to so much as look at him. He sighed inaudibly. This was not going well at all. Wondering if he could somehow get out of this miserable dinner, he looked up in surprise as she stood.

"The meal should be ready," she explained, hurrying toward the kitchen with the tray in hand.

Aragorn glanced over at Haneth while Coruwen was in the kitchen. She was ignoring him completely now. He looked back to the kitchen as Coruwen returned to the room with a small chicken on a serving plate balanced on the tray. A large carving knife lay on the tray beside the bird. Aragorn eyed the chicken uneasily. It seemed a much darker color than it should be, and he was becoming quite concerned that the bird had been quite thoroughly burnt. He wondered how much of it he would be expected to eat.

As she approached the table, Coruwen tripped, and the contents of the tray flew through the air, aimed directly at Aragorn. His eyes widened as he saw the carving knife soaring toward his head. Only the skills honed in battle saved him as he rolled out of his chair and on to the floor.

"Coruwen!" Aragorn heard the exclamation as he stared in shock at the quivering knife sticking out of the chair in which he was just sitting. For a long moment, there was utter silence in the house as they all stared at the knife. Glancing at the others, Aragorn saw Coruwen standing near the table with her hands over her mouth and an expression of shock on her face. Haneth's eyes were wide with panic as she looked from the knife to where Aragorn was lying on the floor.

When his eyes caught hers, she broke out of her stupor and rushed to his side. "My lord Aragorn! Are you hurt?" She crouched down next to Aragorn and began tugging his arm to help him sit upright.

Her actions spurred her daughter to motion as well, and she rushed over to kneel at his side, apologizing profusely the whole time. "I am sorry, my lord. I did not intend that to happen. I would never wish to hurt you." Unlike her mother, she made no attempt to touch Aragorn, seemingly fearful of his reaction should she try.

Shaking himself out of Haneth's grip, Aragorn rose to his feet. He strode several steps away from the women, turned, and held up his hands to quiet them. "I am unhurt. Please do not trouble yourselves over this accident."

Ignoring him now that he appeared well, Haneth turned on her daughter. "You almost killed him, Coruwen! I agreed to your scheme, but you did not tell me that you wished to hurt him!"

Aghast, Coruwen stared at her mother for a moment. "I did not wish to hurt him! I only wanted him to go away, but I would never attempt to harm the Chieftain, Naneth. You know that!"

Aragorn's eyes narrowed as he listened to their conversation. "Of what do you speak? Tell me." His voice was stern, brooking no argument.

The women fell silent under his gaze, their eyes falling to the floor in shame. "It was my idea," Coruwen said softly. "I had hoped that after this evening, you would have no interest in me, and I would not have to abide by an agreement my father made with yours when I was but a babe."

"And how did you hope to accomplish this?" Aragorn asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Coruwen's gaze flickered up to his for a moment before she looked back at the floor, a flush covering her cheeks. "I intended to burn all of your food, so you would think I could not cook, and refuse to speak more than necessary." Her eyes flickered up again entreatingly. "I truly did not wish to hurt you. I thought that if I tripped and dropped the chicken, you would think me clumsy and wish to have nothing to do with me. I never thought about the knife that was also on the tray. You must believe that."

Aragorn knew that her excessive apologies were not only to earn his forgiveness, but out of fear for her own well being. It was a crime to attack the Chieftain with intent to harm or kill him, and Aragorn had no desire to see her punished as a traitor. However, he wished to know the reason behind her desperate ploy. If he were going to suffer such a miserable evening, he wanted to at least know why. "Why would you go through all of this simply to ensure that I would have no interest in you?" Aragorn's brow furrowed as he tried to understand.

Exhaling sharply, Coruwen sat down heavily on a chair in front of the table. She looked back up at him and he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. "I love another, but Adar does not approve. He has held on to the idea of you and I marrying for so long that he will hear nothing else, no matter my wishes."

"Your father would force you to marry against your will?" Aragorn asked, horrified at the thought. He moved further into the room and took a seat near the fireplace.

"My husband is a good man," Haneth protested at the tone of Aragorn's voice. "He only wants what is best for his daughter." She sighed and sank down into her earlier chair. "I believe he is trying to recapture the past. He and your father had such plans, my lord. This is his way of attempting to stay true to those plans. It is hard for him to accept that things have changed, that Coruwen has made a different choice than he. For some reason, he seemed to think that if the two of you met, you would fall into place in his plans. My daughter has told him many times that she has found the man she wishes to marry, but he will not hear it. She thought that if you were to tell him that she does not suit you, he would finally give up on his dreams of the past."

"Why did you not simply tell me this?" Aragorn asked in frustration and no small amount of relief. "Had you explained this to me from the start, I would have told your father that you had my blessing to marry whomever you wish."

"You would have?" Coruwen gazed at him in disbelief, a stunned look on her face.

"Do you think so little of your Chieftain to imagine that I would want to marry a woman who loved another?" Aragorn asked. He would not tell them of his love for Arwen, but he felt such great relief that this woman had no expectations from him that he started laughing. When they looked at him as if he were crazy, he laughed all the harder. When he finally regained control of himself, he met Coruwen's gaze. "I will tell your father what you wish. You and I do not suit each other, and you are free to marry another."

"She and Inthan are too young to marry yet, but perhaps in a few years, we will give our permission," Haneth said, making it clear to her daughter that she could not marry so soon, even if her Chieftain and lord had given his blessing.

Coruwen inclined her head to her mother. "As you wish, Naneth." Her face was alight with joy and relief as the fear and burden fell from her shoulders. Turning her attention back to Aragorn, she bowed her head. "Thank you, my lord Aragorn. You are truly a just and understanding man." She glanced around the room, and her cheeks flushed pink as she saw the knife in the chair and the chicken lying on the floor. "Would we be able to keep the events here to ourselves? I do not believe my father would be quite so understanding as you."

Eyeing the knife again, Aragorn nodded his head soberly. "I will agree to that quite readily. If my brothers ever heard that I was nearly stabbed at dinner, they would never let me forget this incident. After they stopped laughing, I would be teased about this quite mercilessly." A wince crossed his face at the thought.

A smile crossed Coruwen's face as she watched Aragorn. "You mentioned your brothers earlier. How can you have brothers? Arathorn only had one son." Now that she did not have to abide by her plan, she was quite interested in hearing his stories.

Aragorn settled back into his chair, and the three spent the rest of the evening talking. After helping them clean up the remains of the burned dinner, Aragorn was treated to the food they had made earlier for their true dinner. He found that Coruwen was quite a talented cook, after all. The next day, Aragorn had a long talk with Erthor, and the elder Ranger finally came to realize that his dream for his daughter would no longer be possible. Over the years, Aragorn grew quite close to the family, and it was his pleasure to join Coruwen and Inthan in marriage when they were deemed old enough. The unexpected friendship that he forged that night in the aftermath of a burned dinner and a near fatal accident lasted a lifetime.