"If only we had known."
Elladan, son of Elrond, whispered distraught as he stared at the group of Elves
that had retreated from the Houses of Healing after a long night filled with
distress. They were scattered over the rooms, not one willing to sleep even as the
twelfth hour broke and the hot warm sun made its way through the stain-glass
windows. Outside, life proceeded as it did every day.
Only a few moments ago there was a better certainty that Strider would live. His
fevers had come down and the wounds slowly seemed to heal. He had awoken
and spoken to them with a clear voice, and his eyes no longer held the physical
pain that one felt from the inside.
"We should have known," Elladan repeated. "How could we not?"
"If this is anybody's fault, it is mine," came the voice of the beautiful dark-haired
woman who stood graciously next to Théoden King. They knew her as Moira, Lady
of Rohan. The woman stepped forward, approaching the Elves.
Lord Elrond noticed her weary expression but her eyes were beautiful and large
and filled with feisty thoughts. He liked her and bowed for her, respecting her.
"I was too busy occupying myself with things that did not matter," the Lady of
Rohan continued in sorrow. "If I had listened to my own thoughts, this would not
have happened."
"This is not anybody's fault," replied Lord Elrond firm. "Except that of the Man who
brought Strider there. Lady of Rohan, we are forever grateful to you that you
have found him. Without you, he would have perished."
"Please name me Moira," the dark-haired woman said fatigued. King Théoden's
eyes watched her in concern.
"My Lady, you should rest."
"I have slept," she said, "but I shall not rest at ease until this is over."
"It will be over soon," Elrond spoke determined, "when Strider awakens more
clearly and tells us what overcame him. Please, Lady Moira. Sit and rest. You look
unwell."
Moira smiled bravely, sitting at the large table where the Healers shared their
food. Théoden King invited the Elves to sit while his servants hauled fresh food
and offered it to them.
"Will you tell us then now who he is, and what has happened to him?" Moira asked
quietly, refusing food until she had received some replies. "I beg you to explain,
Lord Elrond, for I have a feeling about this Ranger that I cannot shed. Something
that tells me that we were on the brink of faring ill, all of us, should he have
died."
"I do not know if –"
"Please, Lord Elrond. I beg of you to tell me. I could tell the distraught in your
eyes when you thought him on the brink of death."
Lord Elrond knew he should not lie about Aragorn's identity, for he knew that
Théoden King already had heard rumors of Isildur's Heir living amongst the Elves.
They were rumors that dated back from the days when Arathorn perished by the
hands of Orcs and his only son was taken away from his home by his mother, to
disappear off the face of Middle-Earth. Many had thought that the last Heir of
Isildur no longer existed, and that he was slain by the Orcs just like his father. It
was the Elves' hopes that Sauron believed it too while biding his time.
But the rumor had continued to live a life of its own, passing into the lands of
Gondor and Rohan from father to son, and was well-known amongst Rohan
royalty. A rumor, that saw the light of day again when Aragorn himself fought
with Théoden's father against the enemies of Rohan. Even though he had never
revealed himself or his true nature, the tales of his bravery had surpassed his
name.
Lord Elrond had only to look into the concerned eyes of the great King Théoden
who kept Rohan together in times of upcoming war and vicious attacks of Orcs.
Théoden nodded slowly, allowing the Elven-Lord to tell the truth. Elrond knew that
Théoden had already guessed who Strider really was.
"Come," Lord Elrond said, aware of the many ears that would hear the truth. "Let
us sit in your Golden Hall, and send forth your guards."
Théoden King applied and took only those whom he trusted with his life. As the
doors of the Golden Hall closed, the small group settled in chairs facing each
other. Théoden took place upon his throne, his face distraught with sorrow.
"I know that you are concerned about your land, Théoden King," Elrond spoke,
"and I am sorry that the troubles of my kind have been forced upon you. Yet I
fear that this concerns you also, for Strider's fate has been linked to that of
people of your country."
"Tell me your tale, Lord Elrond, and I shall listen," Théoden said.
"Have you heard of Isildur and the story of the One Ring, My Lady?" Elrond turned
his attention to the Lady of Rohan.
"Of course," Moira said. "They are stories that are being told from father to son
and from mother to daughter. The Ring that Lord Sauron once created would
reign over all the races of Middle-Earth, but it was taken from his hand by Isildur.
I do not know what happened to that Ring, but we have all felt that Mordor is
once more coming alive. We fear it all."
"That, we do," Elrond said. "For it is a future that is bound to happen. A future, in
which Strider plays an important part. Strider - or Aragorn as he was born to be –
is Isildur's sole Heir and Heir to the throne of Gondor. He has been living with us
for many years, choosing exile to fight his own fights against the darkness that
threatens us all."
Moira's eyes lit in wonder. "So the stories about Isildur's Heir's upbringing with
the Elves are true!" Lady Moira turned towards Théoden, only to find her King
smile.
"And you knew!" she added.
Théoden nodded. "It is not every day that Lord Elrond of Rivendell brings my land
a visit. If he does, there must be a good reason. I have seen Lord Aragorn once
before, when he was but a young warrior traveling Middle-Earth and fighting with
my father, and I was still a young boy. Yet I remembered him, for he has not
changed much. He fought with my father and I am certain that one day he shall
fight with me against the forces of darkness."
"He is a Dúnedain then?" Moira asked in shock. "Able to live many more years
than average Man? I have heard stories of them, but I never thought they were
true. There are so many different folk and so many differences between our
races."
"Aye, he is," Lord Elrond confirmed, "and that has been his savior for it makes
him stronger than most Men. He would have perished in that quarry had he been
anything but a Dúnedain."
"He is a Man but also part of the Elves," Legolas said firmly from his seat. "He has
our blood in him, and our friendship and loyalty. We are his family and we shall do
anything to protect him."
Moira placed her hand in a friendly gesture upon Legolas' arm.
"It makes me proud to see a bond between Man and Elf that is so strong that it
can withstand even death. I have seen how Lord Aragorn reacts upon your voice.
You must be very close to him. I wish I had such good friends who would go to
such lengths to protect me."
"He is my friend and we have suffered through many ordeals together," Legolas
spoke proudly. "I am his friend, and I consider him my brother."
Moira smiled.
"Two days ago we lost him from our group of travelers," Lord Elrond continued.
"We were crossing the Lands of Rohan on our way home from a long journey
when we passed a small village a few miles away from here. We camped outside it
and had planned to stay overnight. Aragorn took watch. When we woke up early
morning, he was gone and learned that inside the village a young girl was
murdered. Her body lay inside her cottage. We found Aragorn's belongings there –
possessions he would not shed off him had he not been forced to – and traces of
his blood. We followed a trail that died in the Plains and searched for him for
many hours. Our last hope lay within Edoras, where we hoped that one of you
might have found him."
King Théoden rose from his throne distraught. "How did that girl die? It is not the
first time this has happened in my lands. I have heard of two other women."
"She died by stabbing. We hoped and prayed that Aragorn was not murdered by
the same coward that killed her, but we feared that he had been. We do not know
what happened in her hut, nor do we have the answers to solve this riddle. She
was not killed by Orcs, for their scent was not upon her. The only one who can tell
us now, is Aragorn."
"Then I shall this killer and bring him to justice," Théoden exclaimed. "Murder
amongst kinsmen is the most horrid crime that can take place in any country.
These are hard times for our races, for even now we can feel that there are many
dark forces at work that will soon roam this world once they are strong enough to
do so. I invite you, Lord Elrond, to stay here for as long as you want, and I shall
help Lord Aragorn recover from this ordeal any way that I can. I have great
memories that I want to share with him, if he can still remember them."
"I thank you for your hospitality, Théoden King," Lord Elrond bowed his head and
stood up. "May this be the beginning of a life-long friendship amongst our kind
and yours. Perhaps one day we shall fight side by side, but I hope that that time
will not come quickly."
Théoden bowed his head in return. "I hold you to that promise, my friend Elf."
Both King and Elven-Lord crossed arms and smiled.
Legolas watched and knew that this was the beginning of an old allegiance
becoming anew again. Perhaps, even in these darker times, hope still lived. And
perhaps Aragorn would feel it too.