53. Conversations with the living

Finrod was sitting alone at the fountain, Aegnor already having departed into the endless halls. Suddenly he raised his head. "I know you have been watching…" he stated. "Come here, you do not have to hide."

Hesitantly, Aragorn stepped into the free space. "I'm sorry my lord," he said. "I was just intrigued to find someone who's alive in these halls. I did not mean to overhear your conversation…"

Finrod smiled slightly. "There's nothing secret in it. He died in Dagor Bragollach, defending Dorthonion. I was just astarmo – a bystander, witness of their love. She was an Adan, and he was an Elda, but I understand why he fell in love with her. You are fascinating, do you know that?"

Aragorn looked to the ground and sighed as he thought of the unhappy love of Finrod's brother Aegnor and the daughter of Men Andreth. The thought of Arwen, giving up her immortality to be at his side, hit him again with full force – it was years ago, and yet it still seemed like the greatest wonder to him.

Finrod probably saw it in his face, for he didn't wait for his answer. "You do not know…" he gave the answer himself in a gentle voice. "But my sister saw it, didn't she?"

Aragorn remembered as Galadriel welcomed him in Lórien. She dressed him in white, and told him to wait at upon Cerin Amroth… He nodded slightly. Then he realized something, and looked at Finrod in wonder. "You know me?"

"Námo informed me that I might run into the king of Gondor during my visit. I must say I was intrigued…" Finrod smiled, and his eyes grew distant. "You are the first Mortal I have met since my rebirth. I still remember how found Bëor's people at the bank of a small stream. They awoke in Hildorian, and crossed the mountains. Just like the Sindar, they loved the woods and the riversides. They called me Nóm, which means 'Wisdom' in Taliska, for I seemed wise to them…"

"And the Dwarves called you Felagund… I know how it feels, having a lot of names, trust me…" Aragorn remarked, for he felt strangely at ease around this powerful Elda.

Finrod laughed, and that sound was like golden bells. "Do you also know how it feels to have that many cousins?" he asked with a smirk. But suddenly he stopped laughing as his look fell on Aragorn's hand. "That's my ring…" he said in awe.

Aragorn immediately understood what Finrod means, and raised the Ring of Barahir. "It was inherited in my line for ages," he explained quietly.

"I should have realized… you are a descendant of Beren…" Finrod whispered, his voice shaking a little, as if he would see not Aragorn, but the friend that he died for before his eyes.

"Yes, through many generations," Aragorn answered. Then he put the ring off and offered it to Finrod. "It belongs to you, my Lord, with the deepest gratitude of my line…"

Finrod shook his head, and closed Aragorn's hand around the ring. "Keep it… As a gift from a friend."

"Thank you…" Aragorn didn't know what else to say.

"No, tyenya. I thank you," Finrod replied sincerely.