THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapters 5, 12, 15, and 17, “Reflections of the Past” chapter 3, and “When the King Comes Back” chapter 13.

Chapter 14:  Aragorn

But Elrond saw many things and read many hearts.  One day, therefore, before the fall of the year he called Aragorn to his chamber, and he said: “Aragorn, Arathorn’s son, Lord of the Dúnedain, listen to me!  A great doom awaits you, either to rise above the height of all your fathers since the days of Elendil, or to fall into darkness with all that is left of your kin.”  Appendix A, The Return of the King

It was a short ride back to the shelter, and as they approached, Frodo sniffed the air with pleasure.  One of the small, wild boars that roamed the forests to the northeast was roasting over a fire Elladan had kindled in the pit.

“I will see to the horses,” Elladan said, dismounting and setting Scamp down on the ground.  “Frodo, would you gather more of the fresh greens?”

“Absolutely,” Frodo said, hopping off Biscuit.  “Estel, this would be a good time for your swim.”  He stood with his hands on his hips, looking the Ranger up and down.  “You’ll not get a bite of our delicious supper until you clean up.”

“Understood,” Aragorn smiled.  He strode towards the lake, and Frodo ran off with Scamp to collect some of the wild vegetables that grew in abundance in the meadow.

Much as Frodo had declared that he could never tire of fish, the tender and flavorful meat Elladan served them that evening was a welcome change.  As the sun set behind the western hills and the first stars were reflected in Lake Evendim’s smooth surface, Frodo sat comfortably against one of the tree stumps that surrounded the firepit and sighed happily.

“That was wonderful,” he said.  Scamp lay curled in his lap, sheltered and warm under his cloak, her tummy as rounded and full as Frodo’s.  “Elladan, you cook almost as well as...”

“A hobbit?” Elladan asked.  “High praise indeed.”

Aragorn felt Frodo’s eyes on him, and turned to face his young friend.  “It is all right,” he nodded encouragingly.  “You may ask your questions.”

“Aragorn,” Frodo whispered.  He hadn’t uttered that name since the week they met.  “Does your name mean something?”

“Yes, it does.  ‘Ar’ is Sindarin for ‘noble’, or ‘royal’."

“Why don’t you use it?”

“Hearing such a name would alert those who listen for such clues,” Aragorn said gravely.

Frodo thought about what little he knew of his friend.  “You were raised in Rivendell after your father died, and Lord Elrond called you ‘Estel’.”

“Yes.”

“Was your father called ‘Estel’ as well?  Or just you?”

“Just me.  My father’s name was Arathorn.  His father was Arador.”

“But they had that ‘Ar’ prefix,” Frodo frowned.  “Why weren’t they a secret, too?”

“They took such names as were given them by the folk they met, as I have done.  I have been ‘Strider’ for many years in the North, and go by other names in other places.”

“You hide your name, you hide Elendil’s broken sword... Gandalf told me that there are evil things in Middle-earth – creatures with dark hearts. Are they looking for you?”

“No,” Aragorn said, “but if they knew I lived, they would be.”

“Why?”

“It is believed by many that the line of Elendil was extinguished or, at most, is powerless and forgotten.  Although that belief has been encouraged, all Rangers are of that line.”  Aragorn took a deep breath.  “Of all Rangers, I am the closest to a direct descendant as now exists in Middle-earth.”

“You’re descended from the king of this city?”

“Yes, Frodo.”  It was Elladan who spoke.  “However, Estel is more than a descendant of Elendil; the blood of Númenor runs strongly in his veins, as if the millenia had never passed.  It is a rare occurrence, and one my father recognized at once.”

“What does your father have to do with it?”  Frodo asked.  “Oh, because his brother was the very first king?”

“For that reason, and others,” Elladan said softly.  “My father has the gift of foresight, and senses many things that others would not know.  It was he who told Estel his true name and inheritance.”

“His inheritance?” Frodo sat up straighter, sensing that they were finally getting to the heart of the mystery.

“Frodo,” Aragorn asked, “How long is it said that the Thain will look after the Shire?”

Frodo gasped in sudden understanding.  “Until the King comes back!  That could be... you?  And there are bad people who wouldn’t want you to be?”  He stared at Aragorn in amazement.  So much made sense, now.  He remembered what Gandalf had told him...

Aragorn is older and wiser than he appears. More beneath the surface than you would imagine.

“Bilbo knows, doesn’t he?  He always says there’s a bit of magic about you.”

“He does,” Aragorn nodded.  “He has even written a verse about... well, about me, and the sword.  You might ask him to recite it for you.”

“Oh, I will,” Frodo assured him.  “Are you really going to be king?”

“That is one possible path,” Elladan said, gazing at his foster brother.  “Father senses that if Estel does not achieve this destiny, no king of Men will rise again in Middle-earth.”

“Is that why you’re so alert all the time, and ride behind him?  You’re protecting him?  But why do the elves care if there’s another king?”

“An excellent question,” Aragorn said.  “Remember what we’ve said about Elros, Lord Elrond’s brother?  He was the first king of Númenor.  Elendil was descended from him.  The Rangers are all descended from him.  Lord Elrond...”

“He’s looking after his brother’s descendants!” Frodo’s eyes were wide with excitement.  “That’s why he makes sure the Ranger families have enough to live on, and took you in and raised you.”  He looked from Elladan to Aragorn.  “You really are brothers, in a sense, aren’t you?  Or more like first cousins, so many times removed that...”  He grew lost in thought, trying to imagine the genealogy involved.

“Are you all right, little one?” Aragorn asked gently.  “This is a lot to absorb all at once.”

Frodo nodded, although he was feeling overwhelmed.  Bilbo had told him about his magic ring, and now Estel had imparted a secret that could endanger his very life.   The thought of being so trusted brought tears to his eyes.

“When I was ill, and asking about you, Gandalf said you were very special.”

“Did he?” Aragorn asked, strangely pleased.

“I already knew it, but not how special.”

Aragorn reached over and hugged Frodo.  “You wished to learn about me, and the Rangers,” he smiled fondly.  “Now you know.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Frodo said fervently.  “I won’t tell anyone else.”

“I know that.”

Aragorn was aware that his young friend might need time to absorb all he had heard.  He looked over at Elladan.

“Will you play for us, my brother?  It would be lovely to hear some music.”

“I had thought to let Father be the first to play the harp,” Elladan said.

“You should make sure it works before you take it home,” Frodo said impishly.  “Unless, of course, you don’t know how to play it...”

“You did not tell me that hobbits were so full of mischievous thoughts,” Elladan grinned at Aragorn.  He gazed up at the stars, their beauty – as always – soothing his heart.  “Perhaps it would be pleasing to test the instrument for soundness...”  He rose to his feet.  “I shall fetch it.”

As Elladan left to retrieve the harp from the shelter, Aragorn had to laugh at Frodo’s expression.  It was obvious that the boy was torn between wonder at what he had heard, and a desire to know even more.

“I have more questions, you know,” Frodo said, echoing Aragorn’s thoughts.  “But I have so much to think about right now, I probably won’t sleep for a week.”

“I hope that is not the case!” Aragorn chuckled.  He was relieved that Frodo was not pursuing certain paths of inquiry, at least for now.  The story of how Elendil’s sword had been broken, and the deterioration of the Dúnedain into a wandering, mistrusted people was a long and sad tale, best left for another time.

“Estel,” Frodo whispered, unable to resist asking one more thing, “do you want to be king?”

“There is something I want that can only be achieved by becoming king,” Aragorn said quietly.  “I wish to wed Lord Elrond’s daughter.”

“Elladan’s sister?  The one who looks like Lúthien?”

“Yes,” Aragorn said, his face lighting up in a way Frodo had not seen before.

“She’ll only marry a king?” Frodo frowned.  “That doesn’t seem right.”

“Arwen is the fairest treasure in Middle-earth, Frodo; her father has lost much, and he will not see his daughter wed to any lesser man than one who will bring his brother’s people back to their glory.”

Elladan returned, the miniature harp cradled reverently in his arms.  The Elf sat by the fire, tuning each string.  At last he nodded, and plucked a series of notes that sent a shiver down Frodo’s spine.

“How beautiful,” he murmured.

“Lean against me, if you like,” Aragorn said, and Frodo settled against him.  “Close your eyes.”

If Frodo had thought this night could get no more magical, he was mistaken.  The liquid notes poured over him.  Elladan did not sing, but let the harp speak for him in an ancient melody that might have been heard in this very spot thousands of years before.  As the last note echoed far out over the lake and beyond, Frodo sighed with contentment and opened his eyes.

“I wish Bilbo could hear that, and Sam."

Elladan exchanged a glance with Aragorn, and an unspoken decision was made between them.

“I will accompany the two of you back to Bag End, if you and Estel are not yet tired of my company,” Elladan said.  “I would like to ride with Estel to Bree before returning home, and the road through the Shire is certainly easier and more companionable than finding paths through the Wild.”

“You will?” Frodo asked in pure delight.  “How wonderful!”

“I will return shortly,” Aragorn said, getting to his feet.  “I wish to make certain the horses are well.”

Frodo watched him go, absentmindedly fingering the gems in his pocket.

“Elladan,” he asked, “Did you give Estel any opals?”

“I saved some for him,” Elladan said.  “If all he hopes for comes to pass, they will be part of my gift at his coronation; or perhaps I will have them made into jewelry for my sister.”

”A wedding gift?” Frodo grinned.

“Indeed, that was my thought,” Elladan smiled.  He remembered his vision of Aragorn playing with a child who could only be the son of his sister.  Perhaps that day would, indeed, come to pass after all.  This visit to Annúminas, a seemingly simple journey to help Aragorn investigate a halfling’s vague dream, was giving him a great deal to think about.

** TBC **