Chapter 3: Man of Skill

But when Estel was only twenty years of age, it chanced that he returned to Rivendell after great deeds in the company of the sons of Elrond; and Elrond looked on him and was pleased…  That day therefore Elrond called him by his true name and told him who he was and whose son; and delivered to him the heirlooms of his house. Tale of Aragorn and Arwen, Appendix A, Lord of the Rings

Imladris
October 18, 3018

Elrond was drawn to the porch overlooking the northern cliffs and forests of Imladris.  He stood alone, casting his thought out as far as his reach extended. Nine days had gone by since Glorfindel and the others had ridden out, and no word had come from them.  For the last several days he had sensed the approach of evil, of the Úlairi, felt them just beyond the borders of the valley, but as yet they had not strayed near enough for him to act. So intent was his mind on the presence of evil to his west, that it took him several moments to notice that Vilya’s song had changed as it did when another of the Three was near. Hope grew in his heart that Mithrandir was coming. That he might arrive with the hobbits, having found them upon the road, would be the best circumstance of all.

In time he saw the wizard appear, moving quickly yet wearily, his hat askew and his gray robes travel stained and torn in places. Elrond walked out to meet him, his disappointment that the hobbits were not with the wizard reflected back at him when their eyes met.

“Are they here?” cried Mithrandir as they met.

“No, I had hopes you had caught up with them,” replied Elrond, and he watched as despair set in on the wizard’s face. “I sent out riders nine days ago, though.  Glorfindel is on the west road.”

Mithrandir’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Aragorn is with them. He met up with them in Bree, but they had trouble there with Black Riders. Aragorn is sure to have taken them far into the wild to avoid them again. I passed them at some point.”

“That Aragorn is with them is good news,” agreed Elrond, for none knew the wild better than Aragorn.  “You look in great need of food and rest.  Come back to the house.”

“I have been pursuing the Black Riders since I left Bree. I finally got ahead of them and tried to lead them astray at the Mitheithel, which is why I approach on foot from the north. My tale is otherwise one of betrayal and sorrow,” he admitted, and Elrond thought that every year the wizard had spent in Middle-earth weighed deeply on him at that moment.

“You may tell me after you have rested and eaten,” replied Elrond, his concern deepening.

They spoke no more as they entered the house, and when they reached Mithrandir’s usual rooms, they found them prepared and Miruvor provided.  Elrond left him to rest and returned to his study, his heart heavy.

Later, they sat together far into the night, and Elrond learned of the treachery of Saruman.

“His betrayal now casts a shadow upon all of his counsel. Who knows when he first fell to the lust of the Ring and a desire for power? How often did we counsel action and he counseled inaction?  The power of his voice would convince us in his presence, yet we always left with hearts heavy and burdened. It is dangerous to delve too deeply into the arts of the enemy, no matter how well intentioned one may start,” said Elrond bitterly.

“So you have always wisely counseled, yet wise words are of no use on a heart gone astray,” replied Mithrandir. He changed the subject then.  “I saw your sons at the end of June.  They rode south as far as Tharbad with me and then turned north.”

Elrond nodded his gratitude, for any word of his sons or Aragorn was welcome.  Elladan and Elrohir had been abroad for many months, and while he knew they were alive and well, he knew not where they were or what they might have encountered. Mithrandir fell quiet, and a sudden thought came to him. “Curunír,” he murmured quietly.

Mithrandir cocked his head at him questioningly. “His treachery,” replied Elrond. He looked hard at the wizard. “When Aragorn was brought to dwell in Imladris, we knew his identity must be concealed. You already feared Sauron would attack Imladris, and things in the North were worsening.  I foresaw a gathering where the child was discussed, and later he was taken from here and killed. I knew not if it was from some treachery or a slip of the tongue, but I decided none outside of this house would know of Aragorn.”

Mithrandir smiled gently. “I was here too often not to know that a child resided in your house. Whether I suspected who he was does not matter. I never allowed my mind to stray to such thoughts, much less raise them with you, for some knowledge it is better not to have.  Curunír’s treachery proves your foresight and action correct.”

Elrond studied Mithrandir, watching as the wizard drummed his fingers along the chair arm, looking over and over again to the west.  Galadriel had wished for Mithrandir to lead the White Council, and Elrond had witnessed the anger that had flared intently but briefly in Curunír’s eyes at her words. Mithrandir had declined, but Curunír had also overruled him as the head of their order.  When, Elrond wondered, had his lust for power begun?

“For many years we have watched time pass, wondering and waiting, and events are now moving so quickly they feel beyond our control,” mused Mithrandir, interrupting Elrond’s dark thoughts. “The time is at hand.  The fate of the peoples of Middle-earth will soon be known.” He peered intently at Elrond. “What of the elves?”

“The end of the elves is near either way,” replied Elrond softly.  When Mithrandir raised a brow questioningly at him, he continued, “I believe, from all I know, that if the One comes under Sauron’s dominion, our minds and hearts will be laid open before him, and we will wish we had never touched the Three.  If the One is destroyed, all we have made and protected will fail.”

“And their bearers?’ asked Mithrandir.

Elrond was quiet for a long moment. “I do not know,” he said finally.  “Vilya is part of me now, interwoven with who I am.   I will not return to what I was before I bore it.”

“No, perhaps not,” admitted Mithrandir. “But in time, the bearer may recover and heal from even such a wound.”

Elrond smiled. “We will hope so.” Melancholy overcame him then, as he wondered if the additional wound of losing his daughter to mortality would be more than he could bear.  Yet, if Sauron regained the One Ring, all would be lost, even for the elves.  The road west to the Havens would become impassable and few would be able to depart.  The rest would remain hidden, or fight unto death, for the Halls of Waiting were preferable to eternal slavery.

“Even as events move quickly we sit here waiting,” grumbled Mithrandir.  The wizard had risen and was pacing in front of the balcony, his eyes drawn westward.  Elrond’s mind wandered as he watched him, as he thought of Aragorn in the wild with the hobbits, their only estel as well.  He thought of the two-year-old child he had taken as his own, raising him in a situation, that while not ideal, still provided him with all the love a child needed to grow up strong and confident.  When assured that Estel was those things, he had given the man back his heritage.  Estel foster son of Elrond was again Aragorn son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain and heir to the throne of Gondor and Arnor, the Hope of his people. He remembered well the day he had given Estel back his name.

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

Imladris
Summer 2951

Elrond studied the message before him, finally looking up to where Elladan and Elrohir patiently waited for his decision.  Estel had been hunting with the twins for several years, learning the land of Imladris and the dangers beyond it.  On one trip they had ventured north and run into Trolls, and Estel had both followed orders and fought well, keeping his head in a tense situation.  They had next taken him with them on a patrol with warriors of Imladris to clear a den of orcs that were blocking the pass just east of Imladris. Glorfindel had pronounced the young man a levelheaded warrior who would be welcome in any patrol he led.  Estel had walked on clouds for days after that hard-earned praise, for he had always coveted Glorfindel’s favor.

Now word had come from the rangers, asking that a messenger be sent from Imladris to others of their people, for they were in need of aid. Elrond had dispatched a messenger at once, but Elladan and Elrohir intended to ride out to aid them as well, and they wished to take Estel. Glorfindel had offered to go with them.

Estel was twenty years old, no longer a child but an adult in the eyes of his people, though a very young adult.  Elrond could not compare him to the twins, who had grown as children of the Eldar, but as he looked at Estel he could see himself and Elros, who grew more in speed as the children of Men.  On the verge of manhood, he needed to be given opportunities commensurate with his abilities, and he needed to soon learn of his inheritance.

“Send Estel to me,” he said finally. Gilraen, he knew, would approve, for it was the way of their people.

Elladan grinned and went out into the hall, returning a moment later with Estel. He and Elrohir slipped from the room, but Elrond suspected they were listening just outside the door. Estel stood still and silent, but his eagerness was easily read in his eyes and stance. As Elrond studied him, he suddenly saw not a lean, tall young man but a man in his fullness of strength and being, with the crown of Gondor upon his head and the Sceptre of Annúminas in his hand.

To his credit, Estel waited silently until Elrond spoke. “Come,” he said, and Estel walked forward eagerly to stand before him. He took Estel’s hands in his own, and felt the rapid pace of the spirit of men coursing along in his veins.  “Elladan and Elrohir have explained to you that this mission is dangerous, more so than what you experienced thus far,” he stated, not a question, yet he expected an answer nonetheless.

“Yes, Adar,” answered Estel breathlessly.

“You may go, but I expect you to return safely home, with a good report of your conduct,” said Elrond solemnly.

“Thank you, Adar,” replied Estel, drawing himself up to full height. “I promise I will be a credit to this House.”  But despite his outward serious demeanor, Elrond could feel the excitement coursing through him.

“Go tell the twins the news. I believe they are waiting in the hall,” said Elrond dryly.

Estel nearly leapt to the door, but it opened before he could grasp the handle and four hands pulled him outside. “He said ‘yes’!” he cried.

“Of course he did,” said Elladan agreeably.  “You are ready, Estel.”

The voices faded with the footsteps, and Elrond heard Elrohir admonishing Estel to sleep well that night, as he would find this trail hard and uncomfortable.  Somehow, Elrond did not think Estel would mind.

Gilraen and Elrond saw them off before first light the next morning.

“Farewell, Estel,” said Gilraen as she embraced him, though she now had to look up to him. “Take all care and come home safely.”

Elrond watched Gilraen, saw the pride in her eyes as she watched her son mount his horse.  As her skills with a needle had grown, she had taken special care with Estel’s clothing, embroidering designs into his tunics and cloaks that held great meaning.  Many she explained to him, things about the land and stars, about the history of their people, all the while skirting the issue of who exactly he was. He had begun to ask questions, and Gilraen had finally sent him to Elrond.  ‘A time will come when we will tell you more of your ancestry,’ Elrond had told him. ‘I will deem when this time has come, my son. Have patience.’  The frustration in Estel’s eyes had been visible, but he had swallowed his questions and buried his desire to know more.  Gilraen saw each step in Estel’s walk to adulthood as a step closer to revealing his heritage, and it provided her with great hope.

Elrond provided the traditional farewell blessing and watched as Glorfindel led them north. Their horses would be left at the border of Imladris, for the Ettenmoors were not conducive to riding.  Elrond would spend many a night sitting alone under the stars, waiting for them to return. What he heard when they returned would change Estel’s life.

* * *

Elladan led the elves north along the narrow ridge, their passage slowed by the need to step carefully to avoid causing any of the loose rock to fall.  He could hear Estel, who was walking between Elrohir and Glorfindel.  He grinned to himself as he thought of how hard Estel had worked to try to make his footfalls as silent and with as little imprint as an elf’s. Glorfindel had reminded him that while being quiet and not leaving a trail were skills he could master, he needed to learn the skills men used to cover their trail as well, for they were not made like the elves.  Estel had been crestfallen until Glorfindel had told him of the many strengths of men.  Estel had come to the twins’ room after his lessons in awe, for Glorfindel had told him he had fought with men at Dagorlad in the Battle of the Last Alliance, and in Angmar, against the Witch King.  When Elladan told him that Glorfindel had also fought in Gondolin in the First Age and Ost-in-Edhil in the Second, the child had looked upon them in disbelief and then told them he was going to ask Ada Elrond.  When the twins had told him that Elrond had been in the War of Wrath in the First Age and with Glorfindel in the Second Age, he had gone to his mother instead.   Gilraen had talked with him late into the night, explaining how men and elves were different, and then tried to explain that his foster father and brothers were a mix of them both.  When she had come to the kitchen for some tea after Estel was sleeping, she had run into him and Elrohir.  ‘I wish I were tall enough to pin your ears for confusing Estel so,’ she had said in a tone that was only partially teasing.   Glorfindel had appeared then, taking each twin by an ear and pulling hard enough to raise them both on to their toes. ‘Will this do?’ he asked, a little too gleefully.

Gilraen had been awed and intimidated by Glorfindel upon first meeting him, but he had gradually put her at ease by the way he interacted with Estel. With both his hands occupied, she had taken the opportunity to reach up and tweak his ear.  ‘You started it,’ she accused.

She had smiled genuinely when he yelped, but then added, ‘Although, I am glad he is beginning to understand and take pride in his race too.’

Glorfindel released the twins and all three rubbed their tender ears. Gilraen had laughed at them, then said to Glorfindel. ‘Please do not tell him about what happens when elves die, at least not in the next few days.  I am not prepared to speak with him about the fate of men just yet.’

Glorfindel had taken her hand in his and kissed it, then said, ‘As you wish, my lady.’

Gilraen had blushed and laughed, her youthfulness showing, and the twins had carried a tea pot and cups back to her room, and insisted on serving her before leaving.  She had shooed them from the room, the pink tinge to her cheeks still present and a smile on her face.

‘I enjoyed that,” Elrohir had said as they settled into their own sitting room. “It is good to have a naneth in the house again.’

Elladan had laughed. ‘And since we never could pull anything over on our own naneth, we might as well try Estel’s!’

‘Adar and Liriel and others have made Gilraen comfortable here, but can you imagine how it would be if Naneth were here?’ asked Elrohir.

‘Yes,’ answered Elladan soberly. ‘For Gilraen’s sake, I have often wished it so.  Gilraen would be thriving here, not just content.’

Elladan heard Estel’s slightly heavier footfall again and smiled.  Gilraen had been eager for Estel to go on this trip. She had normal parental concerns for his safety, but she trusted them to keep watch over him.  She knew they were meeting the Rangers, and she knew that if Elrond allowed that, then the time for Estel to learn his heritage was drawing near.  She was appreciative of Elrond, grateful to him for being a father to her son, but she longed for the day when Estel became Aragorn again.

Raising his hand, Elladan signaled for a stop.  He continued on around a small bend and then climbed a scrubby oak tree growing off the edge of the trail.  In the distance he could see a lone man standing hidden in the shadows of trees on a high cliff.   They had found the Ranger’s guard in good time.  He sounded the Ranger call, watching as the man turned in his direction, seemingly trying to determine if what he had heard was real.  He repeated the call twice, while silently scolding himself for making it too soon.  After not running with the Rangers for a while, he forgot about their more limited hearing.  He climbed down and signaled to Elrohir to lead the others forward.

They reached the guard a few hours later, the treacherous paths requiring great care to traverse. Elladan greeted the man quietly, then stepped aside as the others followed him into the secluded area beneath the trees.  Devon was an older ranger, one they had fought with for many years, and Elladan was startled to see how much the man had aged in the last two decades.

Devon greeted Elrohir and Glorfindel by name, then turned to the final member of their group. He opened his mouth to greet him, then closed it abruptly as he realized, Elladan thought, that this was not an elf. 

“This is Estel, our younger brother,” said Elrohir finally, and Estel greeted the man politely.

With dawning recognition in his eyes, the man began to bow and Elladan quickly intervened, stepping between Estel and the Ranger, and grasping the man’s arm to keep him upright. “Tell us how you are faring here,” he invited.

“Trolls, orcs and wargs,” replied Devon wearily, dragging his eyes away from Estel with some effort. “We encountered hill-trolls several weeks ago near the East Road and thought we had routed them, for they fled northward.  We followed to ensure they did not return. We were returning south when wargs attacked us. Several of our men received serious bites, but we repelled the attack.  And of course, where the warg howls, the orc prowls. When we are not battling trolls, we are fighting orcs and wargs. We have come to believe they may be working together. We do not have adequate strength to defeat them or drive them back north.” He glanced over the four of them. “Halbarad will be glad to see all of you.”

“Elrond sent a messenger, as you requested,” added Elladan.

The man nodded gratefully.  “We will need to pull some of our people in from the west. Your help to hold our position until they arrive is appreciated.”

“We will camp here with you tonight and continue on in the morning,” decided Elladan.

“These hills are treacherous in the dark,” agreed the man. “Halbarad’s position is defensible for now.”

Elrohir opened their pack of provisions, sharing them with Devon, who appeared to have little. He took only a small portion, however, despite the hunger in his eyes.   Elladan watched as Estel looked at what the man rationed for himself, and took an equivalent amount for himself. The guard noticed it also, and Elladan could read his discomfort: the rangers were on rations in these hills, but Estel was young and still growing, and it was clear the man, who had been an age-mate to Arador, recognized Estel as kin to his former chieftain. Before Elladan could speak, Glorfindel said, “I find I am not hungry this eve, but this is too precious to waste.” He gave most of his meal to Estel and handed the remainder to the guard.

The two men looked at each other for a moment, each concerned for the other, and Elladan finally told them both to eat.  He was pleased that Estel had taken notice of and properly interpreted that the food supplies were low, and he was equally pleased that the older Rangers still looked after the younger ones.

The four from Imladris split the guard duty for that night, allowing the ranger a respite.  Glorfindel, Elladan and Elrohir rested, but did not sleep, yet woke Estel in the darkest watch of the night for his turn.  He took it willingly, but what interested Elladan most from his position of half sleep was how closely the ranger watched Estel as well.  The man lay as if sleeping, but Elladan could see the whites of his eyes. Elladan took great pride in Estel’s performance, thought it was no different than how he had performed at any other time.  This time was only different in that his own people were watching him.

They left at first light and reached the Rangers’ camp by mid-morning. Many years had passed since Elladan and Elrohir had last seen Halbarad, and he came forward eagerly to greet them.

“Mae govannen, Elladan, Elrohir!” he cried as the rangers parted and the twins stepped into the camp. “Much time has passed since you last arrived as hope unlooked for!  We are glad to see you.”

“Halbarad,” greeted Elrohir warmly as they clasped arms. “We are pleased to be here with you and provide what aid we can.”

Halbarad turned to greet Glorfindel, for his golden head was visible above the twins, and as the twins stepped aside he realized that another stood with them.  Glorfindel held firm to his hand, speaking to him, but Elladan could see the struggle the ranger was having as he looked upon his chieftain, now grown.  Eighteen years had passed since he had placed the two year old in Elrohir’s arms.

“Halbarad, this is our younger brother, Estel.  Estel,” said Elladan, motioning Estel forward, “this is Halbarad, leader of the Dúnedain.”

Estel gripped the hand offered him firmly, greeting Halbarad with curiosity and respect.

“Your . . . brothers and Glorfindel know most of those here,” said Halbarad, his voice suddenly hoarse, “but allow me to introduce everyone, Estel.” He touched Estel on the shoulder, motioning him into the circle of rangers.

Elrohir and Glorfindel moved among the men, sitting where space was made for them, but Elladan remained standing, leaning casually against a tree that allowed him a good view of the whole camp.  The rangers were normally grim-faced, seldom showing emotion, and Elladan felt a tug of joy and amusement stir in him as their impassivity fled.  They were openly curious, some struggling with emotions that ranged from joy to remembered grief to hope. Only one held himself back, actually moving to the edge of the camp while he gained control of his emotions, and that was Gilraen’s father.  Elladan had not met Gilraen’s younger brother, but heard Halbarad introduce him and saw the man’s open smile and invitation to Estel to sit next to him.

For Estel’s part, he did well at remembering the names and answered their questions well. He carried himself with a dignity one might expect of one elven-raised, yet by appearance was clearly one of these men he sat among.  He questioned them in return, about their fight in the north and how they kept Eriador safe, then their homes and families.

Elladan could see the wheels of Estel’s mind turning, and when Estel looked at him, he smiled in reassurance. Estel had figured out he was a descendent of the people of the northern Dúnedain several years earlier, and now he sat among them for the first time. His excitement was palpable.

They heard a call from the north, and the rangers all perked to attention, waiting for the approach of a scout.  A few minutes he entered the camp, worn and weary looking, but also very satisfied. He sat down in a spot cleared for him, and accepted a cup of hot tea. He took a few swallows, then took a stick and began to draw in the dirt.

“The trolls are camped out here, on this plateau north of the river.  The orcs have carved out a den in this series of caves on the hillside below them. The wargs I did not track, as they have already tasted my flesh. Late last night I saw the captain of the orcs meeting with the leader of the trolls.  I was left with no doubt that they are in league together.  I watched for only a short while longer, but the scouts I saw were instructed to search south to find us. They do not believe that we have fled,” he finished. “I did not see signs of any of their scouts in this area, however, so I do not believe they have located our camp.”

Halbarad laughed grimly. “They will have difficulty finding us, but I am not surprised that they did not believe our feint.  They know we will not give up so easily. Good job locating their camp.” He sighed and stood, stretching, and then looking to the north, to the hillside in question. When he turned back to face them, Elladan noticed his eyes settled on Estel again.  He could see the question in the dark eyes of the acting chieftain, wondering if Estel were a boy or a man, wondering if his upbringing in exile had prepared him to become one of them, much less lead them.

“Does Estel have adequate experience to scout with me?” Halbarad asked Elladan.

Estel’s gaze shifted immediately to Elladan, a hopeful light in them, and Elladan could almost feel Estel’s desire for him to say yes.

“He does,” answered Elladan. “You will find his skills quite adequate.”

Halbarad looked appraisingly one more time at Estel, then nodded his head, motioning for Estel to follow him.  Estel leapt to his feet, but looked at Elladan before following. Elladan beckoned him near.

“Remember all you have been taught and you will do well,” he said encouragingly.  “You will learn from Halbarad; he is an accomplished scout.  You have not encountered wargs before, so pay close attention to the methods Halbarad uses to avoid them detecting your scent.”

Estel nodded, his eyes flicking for a moment to one of the men who was still recovering from a warg bite.  Elrohir was looking over the wound, to see if he could provide additional aid.  “I prefer to avoid that,” he agreed. He smiled at Elladan, confidence in his face, and then he followed Halbarad away from camp.

* * *

Elladan and Elrohir sat among the men, most of whom they knew, and Elladan was impressed by their restraint. The name ‘Aragorn’ was never spoken, though many questions were asked about Estel – his personality and skills, what training and education he had been given - and several wished to know how his mother fared.  Only Dírhael asked what Estel knew, to which Elladan had replied, ‘Only that he is of the descent of the Northern Dúnedain.’

That had sobered the excitement among them, but Gilraen’s father had said, ‘Elrond would not send him among us if he did not feel Estel was ready.’

To this the twins and Glorfindel had just smiled non-commitally, but Dírhael had settled down next to his son looking very satisfied.

Halbarad and Estel returned at mid-morning the next day. Halbarad motioned for several rangers and the group from Imladris to join him, and he knelt down in front of a sandy area where he could map out what he had seen.  He sketched out the hill, much as the earlier scout had described it, but then he slid the sharp stick towards Estel. “Tell everyone what you saw and add pertinent details to the sketch.”

Estel took the stick. “The orcs have two ways in and out of their dens that we saw,” he said as he sketched the paths.  “I was able to get quite close to this back door and did not see any other openings.  To come south they must cross the river, and only one path leads down from their dens. It was well guarded, easy to defend and hard to attack,” he admitted.

Elladan looked at the position of the caves and the entrance Estel described and interrupted, “How did you make it past the guards?”

“I did not go that way,” replied Estel solemnly. He looked at Elladan impassively for a moment, but when Elladan raised an eyebrow, Estel smiled and added, “I climbed the cliffs and trees here.” He pointed at the map where he had ascended. “Halbarad stood guard for me,” he added.

“We are outnumbered,” said Estel when Elladan motioned for him to continue. “I counted sixty two orcs and eleven hill trolls. Scouts returned while we watched and reported that they had not located us. New scouts were sent out, but they headed farther west. We did not see or hear the wargs.”

“What options are before us?” asked Glorfindel.

Estel looked to Halbarad, but the ranger nodded for him to answer the question.

“We can evade them until reinforcements arrive, then lure them to a more desirable battlefield and engage them. This is likely the safest option,” replied Estel.  He paused for a moment, then took a deep breath. “We could also ambush them. It would be more dangerous, but if well coordinated it could be done.”

Several of the rangers looked skeptical. “Ambush them how?  They can retreat to higher ground and fight from these more defensible position,” said one, pointing to spots on the dirt sketch.

Estel nodded in agreement. “We would need to attack during the day, while they are sleeping, and ensure they did not escape.” He paused and ran his finger along the sketch, thinking. “If we climbed the cliff and blocked the back door of the cave, we could get behind them.  We would need to do this in sunlight and then smoke the orcs out and force them to fight in the sun.”

“And the hill-trolls?” asked Halbarad, his words serious but his eyes showed a mixture of amusement and respect.

“They would be more difficult, sir,” answered Estel. He looked at Elladan questioningly.

“Smoking the orcs out in daylight may work, and you have proved the cliff scalable,” replied Elladan.  “Think of what you know of the hill-trolls.”

“They do not like direct sunlight, but they do not turn to stone, either. Their skin is hard and scaly and it is difficult to penetrate even with arrows. They are very strong,” recited Estel. “So attacking at the highest point of the sun would be beneficial, but the trolls would still be hard to kill.”

“Trolls are not very smart,” reminded Elrohir. “They confuse when wakened and forced into the sunlight.”

“A net,” said Estel. He looked up at Elrohir. “Do you remember when I caught Adar with the net, at the waterfall?”

Elrohir grinned. “Your first trip hunting.”

Estel pointed at the path that led to the hill-trolls’ camp on the plateau. “If we were to block that path with a net or capture any that fled in that direction in the net, could we get close enough to kill them? Or even drive them over the cliff, if they are already confused?”

“We do not have a net,” said Halbarad.

“We can make one.  We have rope, elvish rope, which the trolls cannot break,” replied Estel.

Elladan looked up from Estel’s sketch to meet Halbarad’s gaze.  The ranger was testing Estel, just as he had tested him on the scouting mission.  Halbarad was as difficult to read as any ranger Elladan had met, but he could see that ranger had just moved from being pleased to being intrigued.

“I believe it might work,” interrupted Glorfindel.  He looked around the small group. “We know where they are and their numbers.  We know their weaknesses.  Given the options of traditional battle or using stealth and cunning to destroy them, I would try for the one least likely to leave us with casualities. A well planned ambush can lead to victory.”

Estel grinned at him and then looked around the small circle to see the reactions of the others. All eyes were on Halbarad, who looked thoughtfully at Estel.  “Let me see your net,” he said finally.

* * *

Elladan leaned against a tree stump, watching as Estel laid out the finished rope.  He had taken nearly all of the lengths they carried, as well as all the Rangers felt they could spare, and with Elrohir’s help had fashioned two nets large enough to cover a hill-troll.   He had spoken little, as his attention was rather on Halbarad, who was discussing ambush strategies with Glorfindel and the rangers.

Estel folded the net up and set it on a rock, then sat down himself. He had managed to move closer to where the conversation was taking place, and Elladan was amused to see that Estel’s habit as a child was only slightly more sophisticated as an adult.  Of course, he was no longer eavesdropping but he was still just as curious.

Halbarad was listing out the rangers’ assets, determining how many would need to be in position with bows and arrows to meet the orcs as they were smoked out of their den, and how many would be needed to fight the trolls. The wargs were an unknown threat, but without a leader to guide them, they would likely return whence they had come.

“I would place Elrohir and his bow here,” said Glorfindel, pointing at a prime position on the cliff they would scale to attack.

Halbarad nodded. “He alone will take out half of the troop,” he agreed.  “I will place my four best archers along this ridge.  We have several spears among us – I will place those men here, near the upper path. They can kill any trolls caught in the nets, as well as help drive them over the cliff edge, should we manage to shepherd them in that direction.”

They laid out the role of each person, placing sword, bow and spear in the best positions, each according to his skill.  Elladan was glad to see Estel placed between Glorfindel and Halbarad and their swords. He had been chosen as lead scout and would coordinate the two groups during the battle, a position he excelled at and enjoyed for the perspective it gave him.

The rangers broke their camp, leaving no trace of their sojourn there, and they made their way to the camp of the orcs and trolls.

 * * *

Elladan watched as the orcs moved about their camp in the evening dusk, most of them groggy after sleeping away the bright, hot day.  They had begun to leave their nests as the cliffs cast shadows over their den, sitting in the deepening shadows while waiting for the sun to set.  Now hunting parties were being organized to obtain food, and scouts were being sent out to search for the rangers.  Halbarad was keeping his men at a distance, waiting for Elladan’s call for them to move into position.

As he watched the orcs and trolls go about their daily activities, he found his mind continually coming back to Estel.   Elladan could not read his father well, but the fact that Elrond let them take Estel among the rangers spoke volumes to him. Estel had grown from a joyful and happy child to a thoughtful adolescent, and now, on the verge of manhood, he was intelligent and mature, handling himself with a grace beyond his years.  Elladan was proud of him, this man whom he truly thought of as his brother.  The thought of Estel learning of his heritage and taking on that burden both excited and sorrowed him. The man Aragorn would leave them, return to his people and eventually face great trial, if Elrond’s foresight were true; and they would watch and encourage him with pride and love.  Yet their relationship would also change, and Estel would no longer be their carefree younger sibling.  

Their father had never counseled them to guard their hearts with Estel, however, nor had he done so himself.  He had given his heart to this child just as he had to those of his own seed, and Elladan found himself humbled yet again at his father’s willingness to love and give, to make himself vulnerable to hurt and loss, for the sake of a child and the hope he represented to his people and to Middle-earth.  He was reminded of a conversation with Glorfindel once, about being returned to life after his time in the Halls of Waiting.  Glorfindel spoke of that time as a time of purification and healing, and how he was stronger now than he had been in his earlier life.  Glorfindel had looked then upon Elrond and said that his purification had also come through fire, the fires of pain and loss  – and he was like the finest gold left in the refiner’s cup after all the dross was removed. When Elrohir had asked about the healing needed to go with the purification, Glorfindel had smiled sadly and said that Elrond would not receive that until he reached elvenhome.

The hunting parties returned with game, and as the darkest hours of night fell, the orcs and trolls lit separate fires and cooked their meat.  Elladan made himself comfortable in the scrubby brush and rocks on the cliff he hid in, and waited patiently with only his thoughts for company.

The sun rose behind the cliffs and their enemy retreated to their dens as beams of light replaced the shadows in which they sat.  The orc scouts returned, the rangers having avoided engaging them, as the failure of any scouts to return would have raised suspicion among the orcs.   The lack of excitement as the orcs reported in confirmed for Elladan that none had spotted the rangers.

Elladan waited until several hours had passed, ensuring that all of the orcs and trolls were either sleeping or drowsy; even the guards who sat on the cliff side and just inside the den appeared drowsy and inattentive. He heard the call from Halbarad indicating all of the rangers were ready, and returned the call to wait.  He moved closer himself first, double-checking the count of the guards and listening carefully for any sound from within the caves.  He could see on to the plateau, and though the hill trolls were not in caves, their dens in the dense trees were quiet.  His nose twitched at the odors that did not dissipate in the still air, and he was glad to return to the high perch he had chosen for himself. Once there, he sounded the call telling the rangers to move into position.

Elladan watched as Elrohir climbed cat-like to the top of the cliff, the ranger archers moving into position around him.  Halbarad and Glorfindel led the swordsmen forward, but they would be unable to move into their positions until the guards were dispatched. He watched dispassionately as Halbarad and one of his rangers crept up behind the dozing guards and slit their throats, preventing any cry from escaping their lips.  A chirp from Halbarad called the rest of the rangers forward.  When waved forward, Estel took his nets to the winding path that led to the plateau where the hill-trolls slept.  Minutes later, the nets, Estel and Glorfindel were in place.  When Elladan could see that the cave entrances were covered and the hill-trolls surrounded, he sounded the call for the attack to begin.

Flaming brands were lit and tossed into the caves and troll dens. The ensuing silence was disconcerting, as neither orcs nor trolls awakened immediately.  When they finally roused and tried to escape, they were cut down by arrow and spear.  Two hill-trolls raced for the path, but were neatly caught when Glorfindel and Estel tossed nets down upon them.  Confused and angry, they fought and twisted, but stood not a chance against the swords that were drawn against them. Elladan grinned as Estel wrestled the bodies free of the nets, tossing the nets aside for future use before again drawing his sword and moving into hand combat.   The trolls were enraged and confused, many burned, and all weaponless.  Suddenly, Estel jumped closer to them, nearly in their reach, and Elladan could hear him taunting them.   He slowly began to move, turning their attention to him as Glorfindel and the rangers faded into the trees. A few minutes later, Glorfindel jumped down from a tree near Estel, further confusing the trolls, who had not seen him leaping from branch to branch above their heads.  They leapt forward after the two, and Elladan nearly laughed aloud as Glorfindel and Estel ran towards the cliff edge, disappearing before his eyes.   The hill-trolls followed, their enraged bellows ending as their solid bodies crashed on to the rocks far below.  Only two remained, and surrounded by rangers with spear and sword, they were soon dead.  Estel and Glorfindel reappeared triumphant a moment later, having jumped to a narrow ledge and held themselves flat against the cliff wall as the trolls fell past them.

Elladan turned his attention to the enemy, watching as his twin fired arrow after arrow at the confused and fleeing orcs.  Each arrow seemed to hit a target, and rangers continued to throw fire into the cave openings, ensuring that the interior remained inhospitable.

Suddenly, he saw an orc from the corner of his eye, hidden in the shadows of cliffs much lower than where Elrohir and the rangers were shooting, his bow drawn and arrow aimed at Elrohir.  His heart racing, Elladan whistled a warning to his twin even as he nocked his own arrow.  His shot was blocked, though, by brush on the cliff side that the orc was hiding in.   Elrohir dropped to the ground immediately upon hearing the warning, and the orc’s arrow sailed over his head.  Another orc appeared next to the first one, and Elladan realized there must be a third opening from the cave. He whistled sharply again, alerting the rangers, and saw several arrows flying from them toward the orcs.  The orcs were able to shield themselves in the rock, however, and thus far had not been hit. Elladan hissed in frustration at his inability to help from his current position.

A movement high above on the winding path caught his attention, and he saw Estel grabbing his nets and racing back down the path.  Glorfindel followed, and then Halbarad.  His heart nearly stopped as Estel began to climb to the edge of the cliff from the path, rappelling easily from a rope that Glorfindel threw to him.  Halbarad followed, anchoring also to the elven warrior who could easily support the weight of two men.

Arrows were still being exchanged between the two groups, when Elrohir suddenly motioned for the Ranger archers to fall back.  He had seen Estel and Halbarad, and knew that for them to drop their nets on the orcs below, the orcs needed to step out from the cliff wall.  Elrohir even made a sudden movement, drawing attention to his spot on the cliff, and two arrows flew immediately in his direction.  At that same moment, Halbarad and Estel dropped their nets on to the orcs.  The rangers shot arrows into the tangle of nets and orcs, then Halbarad and Estel finished rappelling down the cliff, Halbarad finishing the two orcs while Estel covered the cave entrance.   No further orcs came forth, but the two men quickly built a fire inside the cave opening, sending smoke billowing upward.

Elladan finally took a breath and forced himself to relax, but held his position, watching over the entire battle scene while bodies were counted. All eleven trolls were accounted for, and forty seven of the sixty two orcs.   The others were assumed still in the caves, and the fires were fed, increasing the smoke and decreasing the chance that any would escape. At Halbarad’s call, Elladan climbed down to the clearing where the ranger leader was gathering his men.

“A well planned ambush can lead to victory,” he said, grinning at Glorfindel as the elf untied the ropes from around his waist that he had used to lower the men down.  His gaze swept over his men. “Any injuries?  Elrohir, will you tend them?”

“I will tend to Elrohir first,” replied Estel.  He grinned gleefully at Elrohir as he pushed him on to a rock.  “I need to practice my healing skills.”

“It barely broke the skin,” replied Elrohir, rolling his eyes, but he let Estel remove his tunic to see the source of the blood staining it. Yet his expert eye watched with approval as Estel cleaned the wound and applied some standard antidote that treated the common poisons orcs often applied to their arrowheads, then bound the skin.

“It is only a flesh wound,” agreed Estel, “but I will check it later when I change the bandage.”

There were several other minor injuries, and at Elrohir’s nod and under his guidance, Estel tended to them as well.

“You have good hands,” grunted one of the older rangers as Estel bandaged his wound.

“And good nets,” added Halbarad. “Remind me to thank Elrond next time I see him for allowing you to perfect your skill on him.”

Estel laughed. “I would like to hear you tell him that.” He cocked his head at Halbarad.  “I have never seen you in Imladris.  Will you be visiting soon?”

Halbarad’s eyes darkened and he said gruffly, “I may soon, depending on certain events.” He did not elaborate, and Estel did not probe further. “This battle was quickly fought.  We will head south and camp with Devon tonight.”

* * *

Elrond watched them ride triumphant into the courtyard, Estel’s enthusiasm infecting the older warriors. They dismounted and Estel stepped forward to catch his mother in his arms and lift her off her feet to kiss her.  When Gilraen let him go, he stepped into his father’s embrace. Elrond could feel the energy and enthusiasm emanating from him, and he did not need words to know that Estel had performed well.

“Welcome home, my son,” he greeted him, stroking the unruly hair back from Estel’s face.  A fleeting thought crossed his mind that Estel had grown while he was gone, and then he released him. “Bathe and dress and come to the sitting room for dinner.  I wish to hear all that happened.”

Estel grinned in delight and let his mother lead him away.  Elrond turned to his sons, drawing them both into an embrace.  He felt the nearly healed wound to Elrohir’s arm but nothing else amiss with either.

“Well?” he asked them.

“Halbarad could barely restrain himself,” replied Elladan.  “I wish you could have seen their faces, Adar. They knew him immediately, they tested him, and they are well pleased.”

Elrond managed to smile before sending them to clean up and dress.  He returned to his own chambers and unlocked and opened a little used wardrobe that sat against the far wall of his dressing area. The shards of Narsil were carefully oiled and wrapped, lying on a shelf.  The ring of Barahir was nestled in cloth and tied in a leather bag, and the Sceptre of Annúminas was rolled in layers of velvet. Gilraen had given him other items that belonged to Arathorn for safekeeping, but they were for her to give to Aragorn.

He replaced the items carefully and closed the wardrobe and locked it again.  It had been locked since the day he found four year old Estel hiding inside, while his mother searched the house for him.  The hiding game had been his favorite game to play inside, a worthy diversion for a curious little boy on rainy days. Gilraen had loved it nearly as much, for she had learned the house well in seeking out her son.  The elves had smiled indulgently, most considering Gilraen as much a child as her young son, and willingly opened their rooms and hearts to their explorations.  Elrond had set some rooms off limits, but never his own, for he had always been available to his children.  Some of the memories he and Celebrían had most cherished and laughed at had been the untimely interruptions of small children crawling into their bed.  While that had never been a problem with Estel, he had locked up items he did not wish the child to stumble upon.

He sat in meditation until he heard movement in the sitting room, but before he could join whoever had arrived first, Glorfindel entered his chamber.  Pouring two cups of wine, he handed one to his closest friend and motioned for him to sit. They sipped in companionable silence for a few minutes, and Elrond realized that one of the attributes he most appreciated about Glorfindel was the elf’s ability to know when Elrond needed to talk combined with the patience to wait until he was ready to do so.

“I have been considering Estel since he rode out with you.  I have long thought I would know when the time was right for him to learn his true identity, and I know with a certainty that that time has come.  Yet I am hesitant,” said Elrond.

Glorfindel covered his hand, squeezing gently, and Elrond drank in the comfort offered.  “It is time for him to become Aragorn, Arathorn’s son,” he continued.

“When will you tell him?” asked Glorfindel.

“Tomorrow, after he has had a good night’s rest,” answered Elrond. “I will speak with Gilraen tonight.”

They heard Elladan, Elrohir and Estel enter the sitting room, their voices full of joy. The twins were good-naturedly teasing Estel about a net, and Glorfindel smiled and stood, offering a hand to Elrond. “Come and hear of the deeds of Estel, son of Elrond.”

* * *

Elrond laid out the heirlooms of the line of the northern Dúnedain on his desk, leaving them wrapped so as not to distract Estel or himself.  He had heard the tale of their fight against trolls and orcs, and saw that Elladan and Elrohir and Glorfindel included Estel in their confidences. By all accounts, so had the rangers. Though young, Estel was a man, and ready to learn of his ancestry and bear the burdens that accompanied that knowledge.  Elrond comforted himself in knowing that Aragorn would not bear the burden alone – his transformation to Arathorn’s son would not remove his memory of being Estel and having a father and brothers and friends like Glorfindel to aid him.

A knock sounded at the door, and Elrond rose, going to the door and admitting Estel himself.   His son was nearly as tall as him, his shoulders already as broad, but his face reflected his youth and innocence, along with a nobility of spirit and mind that showed his maturity.  He embraced him, holding him close for a moment, for he knew it was the last time he would hold Estel.  Estel had always been affectionate, and he hugged his father in return.

“Naneth said you wished to see me, Adar,” said Estel as he stepped back from Elrond.  When Elrond did not answer right away, he continued with concern in his voice, “Naneth cried this morning, and you look as if you might as well, Adar.  Is something amiss?”

“No, nothing is wrong,” Elrond reassured him, his voice calm and sure. “Come and sit with me, Estel.  I have something of importance to tell you.”

He held Estel’s hands in his own as they sat on the padded bench before the balcony doors.  “You are a son of my heart, Estel, and though not of my loins we are distantly related. The time is ripe, I deem, for you to know whose son you are.” He felt Estel’s pulse quicken and the pressure of his blood flow increase through the touch he had on the young man’s hands.  He gently rubbed Estel’s palm with his thumb, calming him slightly. “Through the generations of many fathers, you are the latest descendent of my twin brother, Elros, whom you know as the first king of Númenor, Tar-Minyatur. Your father was Arathorn, chieftain of the Northern Dúnedain, and Gilraen your mother was his wife.  You are Elendil’s heir, and heir to the thrones of both Gondor and Arnor.”

Estel had started at this news, but at Elrond’s piercing gaze and under his calming touch, he relaxed and again met Elrond’s eyes. “Your people, the northern Dúnedain whom you have recently met, sent you into hiding with your mother upon your father’s death, for the servants of Sauron have ever been seeking the heir of Isildur, son of Elendil.  In my house have long been fostered the chieftains in their youth and old age, but we could not let you know of your heritage, nor any who visited or passed through Imladris.  For your safety, your mother has endured exile from her people, and your memories of your father and grandparents and people were allowed to be forgotten.  I tell you today a name that may stir in your heart some memory, for you are Aragorn son of Arathorn and today you may take back your identity.”

Elrond paused, allowing the weight of this news to settle into Estel’s mind.  Estel gripped his hands tightly, seeking the support he had always found in his father’s presence.  “We will talk more, for you will have many questions. For now, I will give you some of the tokens of your house.”  He rose and stepped to his desk, retrieving the packages.

“Here is the ring of Barahir,” he said, “the token of our kinship from afar; and here also are the shards of Narsil. With these you may yet do great deeds; for I foretell that the span of your life shall be greater than the measure of Men, unless evil befalls you or you fail at the test. But the test will be hard and long. The Sceptre of Annúminas I withhold, for you have yet to earn it.”¹

Estel took first the ring, studying the workmanship and design carefully, then ghosted his hand over the hilt of Narsil in wonder. He then touched the silver rod delicately, not even closing his hand around its weight, and Elrond knew he grasped the significance of this heirloom.  “The ring and the sword are yours now, Aragorn, and shall not pass from your hand until you release them.”

Estel took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then turned to Elrond again. “Thank you, Adar,” he said, though he paused over the last word, and Elrond felt the first pain in his heart.

“You are welcome, my son,” he answered purposefully. “There is more of which we must speak, when you are ready.”

Estel laughed shakily. “I need some time to consider what I have heard.  I have long wondered why the name of my father had to be kept secret. I even wondered if his name were held in shame, that no one would speak of it, though my mother assured me otherwise.  That I am Elendil’s heir brings me great joy and hope, yet I know not what to do with this knowledge right now.”

Elrond reached to his son, stroking his hair and then drawing him into his arms. Estel held tightly to him. “There is naught you need to do right now. This truth needs time to take root in your heart. Only then will you be able to see what paths you must travel and what doom is laid upon you.  I do not deny that the weight of your ancestry is heavy, but you, Aragorn, are now a man ready to face it, as you have aptly shown. Go and think, but see to your mother soon, for she has long awaited this day.”

Estel stepped back from the comfort and safety of Elrond’s arms, and drew himself up straight and proud, and Elrond saw Arathorn standing before him. As he left the room, Elrond heard him say softly, “I am Aragorn. Aragorn son of Arathorn.”

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

“You have dwelt long in memory, Elrond,” said Mithrandir.

Elrond roused to meet the wizard’s gaze, only then realizing that dusk had given way to night, and Eärendil shone brightly.  He had dwelt long in memory, yet he was glad Mithrandir had interrupted when he did – before Elrond’s heart had remembered the joy of Arwen’s arrival home. He sighed and pushed the thought away, and instead returned to the concerns of the present. The evil he sensed beyond Imladris’s borders had drawn even nearer, and he knew the time was approaching for him to repel them.

“Aragorn must get the hobbits across the Bruinen,” he said abruptly.  He stood, facing west, and cast his thought and Vilya’s power out across the land.  

“If the Úlairi cross the Fords, what then?” asked Mithrandir. “Frodo and the ring may find safety in Imladris, but for how long? The servants of Sauron will surround you and in time they will overcome you.”

Elrond faced Mithrandir impassively. “The Úlairi will not cross the Bruinen. They will not, at least, climb on her eastern shore.”  He smiled grimly. “My hope, however, is that they will try.”

* * * * *

¹Taken from Appendix A, The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen, The Lord of the Rings.

Curunír – elvishname for Saruman
Úlairi – elvish word for the Nazgul
Mithrandir – elvish name for Gandalf

Thank you to daw and karri for beta reading this chapter.