Chapter Four

Aragorn snuggled deeper into the blankets covering him. The dreams he had been having were quite odd, but he did not wish to wake just yet. Thinking that this would be a good morning to stay in bed a little later than usual, he reached over to pull Arwen to his side, then opened his eyes in shock as a jolt of pain shot through his shoulder. Pain? Why was he hurting, what had happened? Just as he was realizing that the ceiling above him was not the one in his bedchamber at Minas Tirith, but another very familiar one, the events of his dream came back to him. Glancing around, Aragorn quickly realized that, yes, he was once again in the healing ward of Imladris. He prodded his aching shoulder with his hand and discovered bandages. Then it had not been a dream. Not sure how any of this could be real, Aragorn pushed himself into a sitting position, then slowly stood to his feet. The healing ward seemed quiet for the moment, with none of the healers in sight. Making his way out of the room and down the hall, he soon found the balcony that he had visited many times in the past. A magnificent view of the valley and waterfall could be seen from here, and Aragorn knew it to be a great place to think.

Leaning against the low wall ringing the balcony, he gazed out over the valley. Hearing voices below him, he leaned out and watched as young Aragorn and Gilraen wandered through the paths of the gardens below the balcony. A smile grew on his face as he watched the younger version of himself and his mother. The laughter drifting up to him brought an answering chuckle from him.

"There is nothing quite like the laughter of children. It has been long since one so young has walked these halls."

Aragorn turned around at the sound of the voice behind him to find Elrond standing in the doorway. Bowing a little stiffly in deference to his injuries, Aragorn murmured "My lord."

Elrond frowned as he approached the railing. "I do not believe you should yet be wandering the halls. Though your injuries are healing, you should do nothing to strain them."

"Your sons tended me well, my lord," Aragorn answered. "If I am careful, there is little pain. And I intend to be very careful until I am healed." Aragorn gave him a rueful grin.

Elrond gestured toward a bench against the wall of the balcony. "That is good to hear. Please sit. I would like to speak with you, and you should still be resting."

Aragorn inclined his head toward Elrond and moved over to sit on the bench. Elrond took the seat beside him, and Aragorn shifted slightly sideways to meet Elrond's gaze. He waited for Elrond to begin speaking.

"How did you know who I am?" Elrond asked him in curiosity. "You and I have never met."

"But I have met your sons, and they resemble you greatly," Aragorn answered smoothly, cursing inwardly. He would really have to be more careful about showing familiarity with things Eradan would not be familiar with. Elrond nodded, seemingly accepting his statement and moved on to the topic that he had meant to broach.

"From the reports I have heard, it seems we all have reason to thank you. You saved Arathorn's life, did you not?" The tone of voice Elrond used showed that the comment was not a question, but did require a response.

Aragorn inclined his head toward Elrond. "No thanks are necessary, my lord. Arathorn is my Chieftain. He has my loyalty and my allegiance. I only did what any Ranger would have done. My duty was to protect him, and I was glad to do so."

Elrond nodded as he accepted Aragorn's words. "Still, you were remarkably lucky to be in just the right place to save his life. No other saw that orc before you shot him and took the arrow meant for Arathorn."

Aragorn's eyes narrowed slightly. Elrond sounded a little suspicious of him. What had he been told about that battle? "Then I am even more thankful that I was where I needed to be," Aragorn answered carefully.

"I was told that you seemed determined to make your way precisely to that point," Elrond continued, "and that you almost seemed to be looking specifically for that orc." Elrond leaned forward a little. "How did you know what to look for, to make your way to the exact place in the battlefield that would enable you to save Arathorn's life? Did you see something beforehand?"

Aragorn thought for a moment in silence. While not many of the Dúnedain had the gift of foresight, it was hardly unheard of. It would help explain how he had been able to save his father's life, and it was certainly true that he had the gift. He was uncertain, however, if Eradan or any of his family had ever had the gift. Well, there was nothing else for it now. He inclined his head slightly to Elrond. "I did see something before the battle. It was not clear, but I feared for Arathorn's life in this battle, and endeavored to stay close to him. I am very glad that I did."

"As are we all," Elrond murmured, studying Aragorn intently. Aragorn met his gaze steadily. "I have also heard that you are very skilled in both the use of a sword and a bow. That level of skill is unusual in one so young."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "How is it that you have so much information about what I was doing in this battle? I would assume that the others were all much too busy with their own enemies to pay much attention to me." He was struggling to keep calm, but was afraid that if this questioning kept up, Elrond would end up getting more of the truth of this matter than Aragorn was comfortable with.

Elrond kept his expression impassive as he watched Aragorn. "As the youngest Ranger in the battle, the others were concerned for you. No one person was able to watch you for the whole battle, but many of them would look for you when they had the opportunity, to be sure you were doing well. In listening to the reports of all of the Rangers, your actions in the battle seem to stand out."

With a small shrug of his good shoulder, Aragorn tried to deflect Elrond's attention. "You may thank my teachers for my skill. I have learned from the best, and they often said that I had a natural skill that they enjoyed training." A quick perusal through Eradan's memories showed that he had no special skills with weapons, though he was skilled enough to be judged ready for patrol. Aragorn barely kept a wince from crossing his face. If anyone truly wanted to check, he could easily be caught in that lie. Elrond's scrutiny was making Aragorn very nervous. He had never truly been able to lie to his father, and he was afraid that if he had to withstand that stare for much longer, he would tell Elrond everything. And that was something that he could not do. After a moment, Elrond leaned back and Aragorn gave a silent sigh of relief as he felt the intensity of the elf lord's stare lessen.

"Arathorn tells me that your father was killed in that battle," Elrond said softly. "You have my sympathy."

Aragorn flinched visibly and looked quickly down at the ground. The guilt he still felt over Elendur's death shone clear on his face. "Thank you," he answered softly.

Elrond saw the guilt Aragorn tried to hide. "There was nothing you could have done," he reassured the young man. "I assume that you had no foreknowledge of his death?"

"No, of course not," Aragorn said, looking up once again. "If I had, perhaps I could have done things differently." Seeing the sympathetic expression on Elrond's face, he continued. "I know that if it were a choice between saving my Adar's life, or saving Arathorn, Adar would have had me save the Chieftain." That knowledge was clear in Eradan's memories. "But if I had known, perhaps I could have done something to save them both."

"It is not always possible to save everyone," Elrond stated. "I do know how much it hurts to lose family, but you must not blame yourself for his death. Grieve for him, but remember all the good about him, and know that he died honorably, saving the life of his Chieftain's wife and son. He ensured the continuation of Elendil's line, and I am sure you will agree that he would consider that worth dying for."

"He would," Aragorn answered firmly. But he could not help but think that by his actions, he had traded the life of one father for another. The thought was likely a false one, as it was probable that whether or not Arathorn died, Elendur still would have given his life to protect Gilraen and Aragorn. Somehow though, he just could not convince himself that he was not to blame, and nothing that Elrond said now would make a difference.

Seeing the grief and guilt that the young man was struggling with, Elrond decided to leave him to his thoughts. Placing a hand on the man's uninjured shoulder, he squeezed it lightly in comfort. "If you wish to talk further, I will be available, as will Arathorn or any of the other Rangers. You do not have to suffer this pain alone."

Aragorn nodded and looked away. He highly doubted he would be discussing this with anyone. He looked back as Elrond stood.

"If you wish to return to the healing ward, a meal will be delivered to you there. There is no rush, however. Take what time you need." Elrond glanced around the balcony. "I have often availed myself of this view when I have much to think on."

Standing as well, Aragorn gave as much of a bow as his injuries would allow. "Thank you, hîr nin."

Elrond nodded to him before turning and walking back into the house. Aragorn sighed and sat back down on the bench. The thoughts that had driven him out here in the first place assailed his mind once more. Why was he here? Why had he not returned to his own time after saving his father? Would he have to live out the rest of his life as Eradan? If that were the case, what had happened to the time he lived in? Would he ever be able to return to Arwen and Eldarion? Was Arwen even now turning Minas Tirith upside down in an attempt to locate her missing husband? He bowed his head and tried not to allow his thoughts to drive him to despair. He had wanted the chance to know his father, but not at this cost.

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Elrond watched for a moment longer as the young man sank back down to the bench and hunched over, obviously struggling with his grief and pain. Though he wanted to help, he knew that right now, Eradan needed to be alone to experience his feelings without trying to appear strong for someone else.

Striding down the corridor, he entered his library to find his twin sons and Arathorn already there. They were discussing the losses the Dúnedain had recently been dealt and how to re-arrange the patrols to best cover the gaps left in their ranks. The three of them were standing around a table, consulting a map spread out on its surface. Though Elrond well knew the twins would not spend much time at home when there were orcs nearby causing so much pain and destruction, his heart ached as he heard their plans to ride out again as soon as Arathorn's men were healed and ready to travel. He had hoped they would stay a bit longer this time. Suppressing his disappointment, he moved to stand nearby and joined the discussion. After determining how to re-deploy the Dúnedain, Arathorn turned to Elrond and asked him how the wounded fared.

Elrond gave a brief report of each man's condition and an estimate of how long it would be until they were ready to return to duty. After he reported on the last of them, his thought turned to the feeling he had gotten when he had been talking with Eradan. "Arathorn, what are your plans with regard to the young Ranger, Eradan?"

Arathorn looked thoughtful as he gazed over at Elrond. "I had intended to keep him at my side. He has lost the only family he had, and saved my life. I owe it to him to look after him, much as he might think he does not need it. I offered him a place among those who ride with me. Did you see anything that would suggest I should do differently?"

Shaking his head thoughtfully, Elrond hesitated before answering. "No. I was going to suggest that you do exactly that. He has shown himself to be gifted with foresight. He knew that you would be in danger in this battle, and sought to protect you." Arathorn's eyebrows rose in surprise. That was something he had been unaware of.

"Foresight?" Elladan asked, looking over to Elrohir. "Do you think that would explain his familiarity with you? Did he somehow know us that way?"

"What do you mean?" Arathorn asked, confused, glancing back between the twins.

"When we were treating his injuries, he awoke briefly, called me 'Ro, and asked me to stop his pain," Elrohir explained. "We simply wondered how he knew to call me that. Would foreknowledge have told him who I was? Most do not know how to tell us apart, especially not one we have only just met."

Elrond pondered this new information for a moment before answering. He was not truly sure what to make of this new information. "When I spoke with this young man, I did not feel I was speaking to one who had only lived twenty years. He has a wisdom, a presence of one much older." Elrond frowned, feeling he was not explaining himself well, but not quite sure how to articulate the sense he had gotten from the young man. "Though I do not know how, I feel that he will be very important to the future of Middle-earth. You would do well to keep this one close."

Arathorn frowned as he heard a note of warning in Elrond's voice. "What do you sense about this boy? I hear warning in your voice."

Shaking his head, Elrond's frustration was plain. "I cannot well describe what I sense from him. I know he is…more…than he seems to be. I do not feel that he is a danger, just that we should watch him for now."

The conversation moved on after that, and Arathorn left the meeting feeling vaguely dissatisfied. If Elrond sensed something odd about Eradan, he wanted to know what it meant. Pushing the thought aside, he made his way to the gardens where he knew Gilraen would likely be. A smile crossed his face as he heard Aragorn's childish laughter ringing in the still air. Spending time with his family sounded like just the way to chase away his lingering doubts and discomfort.

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Over the next few days, many of the injured Rangers were released from the healing ward and given private rooms to finish their recovery in. Aragorn was rather surprised to find that his new room was in a guest room not far from what he considered 'his' room. He had been placed near Arathorn, in the same wing as Elrond and the twins. It did not escape his notice that of all the Rangers, he was the only one placed so near the room of their Chieftain and the regular inhabitants of Elrond's home.

The first time he caught sight of himself in the mirror of his room, he stopped and stared at the unfamiliar face. It felt quite odd to see another person's reflection in the mirror. He took several moments to study the face he now wore. Eradan's hair was a shade lighter than his own, and the grey eyes that stared back had traces of green in them. The face was that of one who was just reaching his full maturity. There was still a slight roundness to his features, which Aragorn knew would not last much longer. Looking at this reflection, Aragorn could well understand why he was being so closely watched by the others. Eradan seemed very young indeed, to his eyes. This was not the face of a seasoned warrior as Aragorn's fighting skills had shown him to be. Aragorn shook his head and watched as a lock of Eradan's hair fell in his face. Pushing the hair out of his way, he turned away from the mirror and examined the room he now inhabited. Hearing Elladan out in the hallway, and wanting to be alone with his thoughts, he closed the door and crossed the room to sit on a soft chair facing the balcony. He had much to think about. How to keep the others from being so suspicious of him was at the top of that list.

After both Elladan and Elrohir stopped by to check in on him, he left his room to find a place slightly more private and retreated to a favored place in the gardens where he could be alone. Over the next few days, the twins and Arathorn went out of their way to check in on him. Feeling rather ill at ease with the close scrutiny he was now under, Aragorn spent little time in his room, taking much time to wander the paths of Rivendell that he loved. He often encountered Elladan, Elrohir, or Arathorn, in seemingly unexpected ways, though he suspected that they were keeping a close watch over him.

A day after he had been given his own room, he came across Gilraen and young Aragorn in the garden. Little Aragorn was watching a small bird hopping around on the grass in search of its next meal, and Gilraen was enjoying the sight of the fresh blossoms while keeping an eye on her child. Stopping in surprise, Aragorn stared at them for a moment. It still struck him as odd every time he saw them. His mother seemed so young, and he just could not get past the thought that the small child was himself. It was quite disorienting. He realized that Gilraen was looking at him in question, and he had been staring at them for some time.

"I am sorry," he said, bowing slightly to her. "I did not mean to bother you." He turned to leave, but stopped at her next words.

"No, please, come sit with me." As he looked back to her, Gilraen gestured to the bench beside her.

Swallowing nervously, Aragorn hesitantly made his way over to her side. "Yes, my Lady?"

She watched him for a moment as he sat down beside her. "How are you feeling?" she asked in concern as she saw the sling he still wore on his arm to restrict the movement of his injured shoulder.

"I am healing well," he answered. "It does not bother me much any more."

Reaching over, she gently grasped his free hand. "You took those injuries saving my husband's life. I owe you more than I can ever repay. I can not imagine my life without my husband in it. Thank you, Eradan."

Looking down momentarily, he could not help but compare the beautiful woman in front of him who was full of life to the grieving widow he remembered from his childhood. Seeing her like this almost made the sacrifices worth it to him. "You owe me nothing," he said. "I can only be glad that I was where I needed to be."

She smiled sadly at him for a moment. "No, Eradan. Do not treat your actions so lightly. You remind me much of your father. Elendur was a trusted Ranger, and a kind man. I regret that he lost his life protecting me and my son."

Aragorn looked up at her eyes. "My father died doing what he felt he had to do. He would not have you feel guilt over his death. His death allowed you to live, and he would have felt that more than worth his sacrifice. He did not die in vain, my Lady. I take comfort in that, and so should you."

Gilraen stared at the young man in front of her for a moment. She had meant to comfort him in the death of his father, and here he was, comforting her. The wisdom in his words belied his tender years, and she suddenly saw what Arathorn had meant about there being something different, older, about this young man. She looked down as Aragorn pulled on the hem of her dress, asking to be held. Reaching down and picking up the child, she saw Eradan's eyes watching Aragorn.

Little Aragorn reached out and touched the sling on Eradan's arm. "Hurt?" he asked softly. Gilraen was always surprised at how sensitive and intuitive her small child could be.

Eradan smiled at the child. "It does not hurt too much, not anymore. I will be as good as new very soon. Do not worry about me." He reached over with his free hand and ruffled Aragorn's hair. A strange smile crossed his face before he stood up and bowed to Gilraen. "I do thank you for your kind words, my Lady. I will not take any more of your time today." Before Gilraen could say a word to call him back, he had rounded a corner of the garden and was out of sight.

"What an unusual young man," she said softly to Aragorn as the child climbed down out of her lap and pulled on her dress, indicating that he wanted to move on, to go explore somewhere else. She laughed and stood up, following her ever-inquisitive child to the next place that caught his attention.

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In several more instances, Aragorn came across Arathorn out with Gilraen and young Aragorn. Though he tried to refrain from intruding, Arathorn and Gilraen would insist that he come sit and speak with them. In doing so, Aragorn often felt on his guard, as if he had to watch what he said. When Arathorn asked him personal questions, Aragorn relied heavily on the memories of Eradan that he had access to. He was determined not to be caught in a lie. However, the more time he spent around his family, the more comfortable they all began to feel with each other. Aragorn could not help laughing at the antics of his younger self, and he began to see what his brothers meant when they commented that no one could have met Aragorn at age two and failed to fall in love with him.

In an attempt to keep himself from feeling split in two, Aragorn tried to immerse himself completely in Eradan's personality and life. Though he knew that Arathorn and Gilraen were his parents and the small child playing in the grass was himself, Aragorn began to force himself to see Arathorn as his Chieftain and not his father. Having had experience at taking on the roles and names of others, Aragorn forced himself to become Eradan. Not only would it make him less likely to be caught out, it made his life much easier if he stopped expecting to wake up back in his normal life every night when he went to sleep. The disappointment of waking up in Eradan's body every morning would crush him if he did nothing about it. As he became more comfortable as Eradan, he began to relax around the others and did not have to be on guard every moment of the day. He noticed the others beginning to relax around him as well. Their scrutiny faded as they seemed to find nothing out of the ordinary about him.

The day after his stitches were removed and he was released from the healers, Eradan grabbed his weapons and headed down to the practice field. It had been too long since he had held a weapon, and he had to start working with his healing muscles, to get them accustomed to fighting once again. Also, he had only fought once in this body and he was not completely sure what its strengths and limitations were.

Finding a quiet corner on the archery range, Eradan strung his bow and nocked an arrow, aiming at the target down the range. He felt his left arm begin to shake and forced the slight movement to still before he took in a breath, released it as he had been taught, and then released the arrow. He groaned as it flew down the range, far to the right of the target. Shaking his head in disgust, he took another arrow from his quiver, nocked it, and once again took aim. His weakened arm protested again as a twinge of pain radiated from his shoulder. The shaking was worse this time, and he ended up releasing the arrow before he had a firm aim on his target. This time, the arrow did not even reach the target, hitting the ground several feet in front of the target. Eradan grumbled softly to himself. He had not missed his target so badly since he was a child just learning to shoot a bow.

"You are not ready to try archery yet," a voice sounded from behind him. "Your injuries are not nearly healed enough to allow it."

Eradan turned to see Elladan and Elrohir behind him. He hung his head in embarrassment at the thought that they had seen his poor performance. "The healers released me yesterday," he said as he looked back to them.

"The healers may have released you, but that does not mean you are ready to once more pick up a weapon. If you strain the muscles before they are fully healed, you will set your recovery back and perhaps lead to further injury." Elrohir approached him and gently took the bow from his hands. "I saw how your arm trembled, Eradan. That tells me that you are attempting this far too soon."

Eradan took a deep breath and nodded. "I fear you may be right." He reached up and rubbed his shoulder gently. There was still a faint twinge of pain coming from his shoulder. "I will hold off on the archery for a few more days. But I must be ready for battle by the time we head out again. I will not be a burden or risk endangering the rest of the patrol. My injuries were not that serious. I need to start training again."

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other, then back to Eradan. "You are right handed, are you not?" Elladan asked.

"Yes," Eradan replied.

"Since it was your left shoulder which was injured, do you think you would be able to start practicing with your sword?" It was Elrohir who asked this question.

"I should be able to do this," Eradan answered. "Would one of you care to work with me?"

Elladan looked to Elrohir and nodded at him to indicate that Elrohir should work with Eradan while Elladan watched. This would help give them an idea of how skilled he was in sword work, and how slowly they needed to take things as he was still recovering.

"I will," Elrohir answered, crossing over to lay Eradan's bow down as he picked up the sword Eradan had brought with him. Handing the sword back to Eradan, he picked up his own sword and took a position further out in the field as Elladan backed up to find a good vantage point. Eradan took his sword in his hand and took up a ready position across from Elrohir.

When he saw they were both ready, Elladan gave them the cue to start. He watched as the combatants slowly circled each other, exchanging a short series of thrusts and parries to get a feel for each other. Shortly after starting, the sparring began in earnest. Elladan watched intently as Elrohir gave the young man a good workout, using moves that would be fairly easily deflected, yet still give them a good idea of how skilled he was. After half an hour of easy sparring, Eradan was panting slightly and sweat soaked the hair around his forehead and temples. Elladan called a halt to the fighting and walked over to see Eradan lean over slightly and hold a hand to his side, where he had been injured.

"Have you re-injured your side?" Elladan asked in concern as he reached the young man.

"Not really," Eradan replied with a grimace. "But I think that may have been more of a workout than I was quite ready for. I could feel the muscles pulling with my movements."

"Then why did you not call a halt to the practice?" Elrohir asked in frustration. He hated to think that he might have hurt the young man that he was growing rather fond of.

"Because I needed the practice," Eradan answered as he walked over to where he had left his supplies and reached down for the waterskin he had brought with him. After taking a long drink of water, he poured some of the water over his head to help cool him off. "I do not know how long it will be till we leave, but I must be able to last much longer in battle than I did here, or I will not survive."

The twins looked to each other. They could well understand the young man's drive to heal and regain his fighting ability before he headed back out on patrol. However, if he drove himself too far, too fast, he would end up doing himself more harm than good.

Elladan crouched down next to where Eradan had sat on the ground. "Eradan, we will help you regain your ability to fight, but you must tell us when you are in pain. You cannot rush your recovery without causing more harm."

Eradan hung his head. The twins were right, he knew that. If a patient of his had been doing something like this, he would have sat the person down and had a talk with them, just like the twins were doing now. As a healer, he knew that pushing his body at this point was not wise.

"Very well," Eradan said, looking back up at Elladan. "You are correct in this matter. I will trust to your judgment as healers as well as warriors. If you will agree to work with me and help me to regain what I have lost and perhaps improve my skills, I will promise to let you know when I am in pain. I do not wish to cause further injury to myself."

"Good," Elrohir said from where he stood nearby. "That is enough practice for today, I think. We will meet back here tomorrow morning and continue your training. In the meantime, I would suggest you stop by the healing ward. They have a cream that will help ease your sore muscles, and perhaps help to ease the pain of your healing injuries as well."

"Thank you, both," Eradan said as Elladan stood, then extended a hand to help him to his feet.

"You are quite welcome," Elrohir answered.

Eradan nodded his head in their direction as he gathered up his things and headed back up to the house. The twins remained behind to get in their own practice. The next morning began their daily routine of practice and training with Eradan. As his injuries healed, he was able to fight for longer periods of time, and it was not long before he was able to start practicing with his bow as well. In all his practices, though, Eradan was always careful to show no more skill than would be expected of someone his age. The others took great joy in seeing how quickly he picked up each new move, however, and spent as much time training him as they could fit into their schedules. Arathorn had even begun accompanying them, and seemed to enjoy working with the twins and Eradan.

In the time he spent with Aragorn and Gilraen, he began to be as a big brother to the child. He would play with Aragorn and pretend to have long conversations with the talkative child, even when he could understand no more than two words out of ten. Aragorn soon began calling him Erda, as he could not quite pronounce his full name. In this idyllic few weeks while the more seriously wounded Rangers were recovering, Eradan was gradually accepted as one of the family. Arathorn seemed to see Eradan as something like a foster son, or a ward under his protection. In moments when Aragorn allowed his true self to surface, he found that thought to be quite ironic. But those moments became fewer and fewer as Eradan suppressed Aragorn's thoughts and memories in order to live the life he now faced.

When at last the day came for the Rangers to ride out once more, Eradan hated to say goodbye to Gilraen and the young child he thought of as a brother. Knowing as he did, that young Aragorn would have a good and safe childhood here, though, he was more at peace with the thought of leaving them behind. As the patrol left Imladris behind, Eradan rode at Arathorn's side, with the twins nearby.