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My name means hope  by Laikwalâssê

My name means hope

A/N:

I´m sorry for the long delay but thanks to my new beta reader here is the next chapter for you- hope you enjoy!

Chapter 6:  waiting, waiting, endless waiting

Two month had now passed since the surgery. To Aragorn´s and Arwen´s great joy Eldarion had woken after three days of waiting, hoping and trepidation. Yet the initial happiness had quickly given way to sobering reality.

The boy could only stay awake for short periods of time, he had trouble in following words spoken to him, much less answer with something comprehensible and worst of all he could not walk. His left leg seemed paralysed and his arm was also not functioning correctly.

Even if the twins kept telling them that they must have more patience, Aragorn and Arwen had trouble accepting the cruel truth. Aragorn was a healer himself and knew how slow such healing processes could be, yet Eldarion was partly Elf and so he had hoped for a quicker recovery.

Day after day, they practised with the boy; today even Legolas had taken him riding. This did bring a real improvement and Aragorn could not thank the Elf enough when he saw the pure joy in his son’s face after the Elf’s white stallion had galloped over the Pelennor Fields, Legolas’ arms securely around the child’s body. This evening, Eldarion had for the first time reached out at his mother and tried to hug her, even with his paralyzed arm. Arwen had cried tears of joy and the royal couple had slept better that night.

What brought nightmares to the King’s mind, however was that his son only reacted to others. He always needed a stimulation to interact, never did he do something on his own impulse. And what unnerved him most was that Eldarion could still not articulate even the simplest of words.

The twins had done a great job in massaging the limp muscles and stimulating them, they played question and answer games with an amazing patience. Legolas’ presence each day was a highlight as he took Eldarion out riding or fishing.

Yet, it had been days since they had seen any real improvement anymore. On the contrary. Eldarion got more and more introverted, no longer even interested in riding. Aragorn observed this process with growing concern. One day, when Eldarion made a major fuss while being dressed, he went in search of his brothers. He had recognized that Elladan at least had observed the boy during the last days intently.

He had intended to take Arwen along but he could not find his wife anywhere the King´s House. This puzzled him because Arwen had never left Eldarion´s side for more then the blink of an eye. The boy was in the care of Legolas right now, but Arwen had always kept a precise watch over where her son was going and for how long.

Aragorn shook his head. Maybe it was a good idea to talk to the twins alone. He found them in their private quarters. Aragorn felt guilty, but was at the same time very glad that the Elves had taken over the supervising of his son’s recovery.

He opened the door after knocking and was greeted by a soft spoken “enter”. No one, apart from Arwen and himself, were allowed to enter these quarters uninvited. Elladan was casually lounging on a rocking chair on the open balcony door, gazing out over the Pelennor while Elrohir was dozing on a settee. Elladan smiled at his entrance and swung his long legs onto the floor to greet his human foster brother with a hug.

“I expected you, albeit earlier,” the older twin said with a smile, even if the mirth did not reach his eyes.

“Much earlier”, Elrohir confirmed while stretching and greeting his foster brother in the same fashion.

Aragorn sighed and joined the elven brothers on the balcony. Before he could utter a word, though, Elladan was placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Aragorn we know what you want to ask us and this is our answer. We can no longer help your son’s recovery. Healing will now come on its own or never.”

Aragorn closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Even if the words were spoken softly and he knew the well- meant advice behind it, the directness of Elves still rattled him, even after all these years.

“You are leaving then?” Aragorn asked not able to keep the despondency out of his voice.

“Of course not,” Elrohir said while leaning his arms onto the balcony rail touching thus his shoulder with that of the King. “In two month’ time is your birthday, Estel, the main reason why we came here, or is that already forgotten?”

Aragorn whirled around angrily.

“I do not care about this stupid birthday. As if I have nothing else to concern me. I only wish…..”

His words faltered and he buried his face in his hands. Elrohir came over and embraced the tall human again.

“Estel do not despair. Not all is lost yet. Eldarion is young and much can happen. Give him time.”

Elrohir looked over the head of the slightly smaller human at his foster brother. He had spoken much the same words to his sister not half an hour ago. He doubted that Aragorn had known about his wife’s visit. His spoken words, however, were the truth. Had Eldarion been an adult he doubted that anything could still improve but with children, you never knew. They had healing abilities beyond comprehension of Man or Elf.

After Aragorn had disentangled himself from the Elf’s embrace, he composed himself.

“You are right of course. We only must have more patience. Eldarion is partly elven after all; this will surely outmatch his human side.”

Elladan and Elrohir looked up sharply at this comment, yet before they could say anything further, the King had turned and slammed the door shut.

 

…………………………………

Elrohir looked at his brother dismayed. Now they had found out where the real core of the problem was rooted. They had observed that since the accident Aragorn kept a mysterious distance to his son. He did all to ensure that Eldarion had the best of care, but he seemed to have a major reluctance to interact with the handicapped boy. Eldarion did sense this, even if on an unconscious level and so the meetings between father and son were awkward and strained.

Already plagued with much self-reproach, Aragorn did indeed blame his human heritage that his son was not recovering as hoped for. Elrohir looked at Elladan, but the older twin had pressed his lips into a thin line. Elrohir sighed inwardly. Not a situation Elladan was comfortable with. Nonetheless, they had to do something.

The recovery of the boy was now more a mental than a bodily challenge. He would need the strong guidance and love of both of his parents. As attached as Eldarion was to his mother, his great admiration and bond was with his father. He worshiped the King and was always striving to walk into his beloved father’s boots.

A plan slowly forming in his mind, Elrohir directed a determined gaze at his brother’s back. Elladan turned and raised a sceptical eyebrow.

 

………………………………………..

 

Aragorn walked aimlessly along the streets of the city. He had donned his Ranger garb, as he always did when he wanted to roam the city undetected.

This time however, he was not interested in the people’s opinions nor in rumours only heard when walking among the folk; he just wanted to think undisturbed. He used alleyways apart from the circling pathways and walked along lanes he had not ever known existed. Without much effort, he had eluded his royal guards.

He wanted to blend into the mass of people waving back and forth in the streets.

He did not know how long he had wandered when a driving rain set in. His hood already in place he dragged it deeper into his face, all the while searching for a little tavern to get some hot soup or something similar.

He entered a tavern and chose a small alcove to dine. He had no desire to talk, or be addressed by one of the guests. Some gathering was taking place, the crowd were cheering and applauding at something the innkeeper had said.

He had barely taken a seat when a middle-aged woman came straight toward him, a mug of ale in her hand. Before he could protest, the ale was pressed into his hand and for a short moment, he feared to be detected.

“This one’s on the house, good sir,” she cried. “Come feast with us, our son is soon to be wed and we are celebrating.”

Aragorn sighed, not really wanting to participate. He was just about to decline politely when the young couple came into the bar room.

He swallowed. The young lad was propped on two crutches, his left leg amputated. His bride was a nice young girl. She was circling her arm securely around her love’s waist, real love shining from her eyes.

“Do they not look lovely together?” the woman next to him suddenly whispered. Aragorn looked up startled, having forgotten the mother nearby.

His unvoiced question must have been evident from his expression.

“He lost his leg during the war of the ring. It was a hard time for us all, but everything changed when Firiel came in our life. She seemed not to be bothered by his disability, in fact, it was she who encouraged him to take back his life and find a profession suitable for his limitations. Now he delivers the mail to little outlying villages.  On a specially trained horse with a fitted saddle and is earning his own money. They are so happy, and if I’m not much mistaken they greatly desire a child. I’m so happy too.”

Aragorn could only nod and reply with half- hearted congratulations before he quickly left the tavern with a muttered excuse. Quickly, he walked through the streets back toward the King’s House. Suddenly, he knew exactly what to do.

Regardless whether his son would recover, or be handicapped for the rest of his life, he would do all he could to give him a chance in life. He would no longer grieve for a lost future, but accept what happened and make the best of it. How could he have been so blind? Life would go on and with help Eldarion would manage.

Of course he loved his son just as he had done before his accident, but now he would no longer look back and be hampered with what could not be altered, now he would look forward and fight for and with his son.

To be continued……………….

 

 

 





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