My birthday mathom to all.  Thanks to those who have encouraged me, and particularly Lindelea who has listened to so many of my ideas.

IV

            “Dearest one?”  Gilraen tapped a second time at the door to the chambers assigned to her son, now that he was recognized as a Man grown.  “Dearest son of mine—may I enter?”

            She was uncertain as to how she might find him.  After all, Master Elrond had appeared most grim when he had left her once she had assured him that Estel had truly lost his heart to his daughter after seeing her first on her return to Imladris.  The Lord of Rivendell had left her more abruptly than she had ever known him to act, and she knew that his subsequent interview with the young Man had distressed them both.

            “Enter, Naneth,” she heard from behind her son’s door, so she opened it with a degree of trepidation.  Would she find him in the depths of despair or perhaps even grief, having learned the impossible task laid upon him if he were to win the permission of Elrond to take to wife the one of womankind who had truly stirred his heart?  How might she reassure and comfort him?

            He sat upon the wide seat in the entrance chamber, an open book in his lap.  He had sought guidance or solace within a book?  But when he looked up to engage her eyes, she saw that his face was set in determination rather than consternation.

            “I am glad you have come, Nana.  I have much to ask of you.  My—Master Elrond, I mean, has laid a hard task upon me, one that I intend to accomplish.  Of course, I do not know that I shall ever manage to stir the heart of the one I find I love to return her own affection, but I must prepare for that possible day. 

            “He has laid it upon me that I must become Lord and King of both the ancient kingdom of Arnor and that of Gondor to the south ere he might grant me permission to take the one I love to wife.  But how am I to do this when all I know of these peoples is what is written of them in this book?”  He held it up to show it was the volume that Elrond and others had written of the doings of the Kings and peoples of the two realms founded by the descendants of those who had returned to Middle Earth on the wings of the storms engendered by the fall of Númenor.  “Yes, I know your brother who I understand rules the remnant of the land of Arnor in—in my name.  I know his wife Anneth, and others who were chosen to stand as witnesses to my survival when it was put about that I died as little better than a babe in arms.  But how am I to earn their trust?  And do I even wish to become their Chieftain?  Tell me, Nana, how is it that the Men of the remains of Arnor become accepted as Men grown, as guardians and leaders of her lands and the peoples that fill them?  How do I prove myself worthy to be accepted as a Man of Arnor, for I must do this before I can look to one day become more than mere Chieftain but to serve as Arnor’s King.”

            Gilraen realized he did not need her solace, but truly her guidance.  Did Elrond realize just how much determination the two of them had engendered in the heart of the son of her lost husband Arathorn?  “Well, Aragorn...,” she began.