Sword and Arrow

Chapter 7

A/N: This chapter has elvish, so find translations at the very bottom!

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Aragorn reached out and brushed the cold stone, pulling the creeping vine off the statue it clung to. His hand wandered to the stone plaque set at the base, tracing over the Tengwar letters. They read, 'Gilraen. Onen i-Estel Edain, u-chebin estel anim.' He sighed, pulling a clump of moss away from the letters and brushing leaf litter off the plaque so the white marble was clean. He sat back on his knees, taking in the fruit of his labors: the moss and vines had been cleared off a smooth marble statue of a woman cradling her infant child. He reached up and brushed the back of his hand against her chin. "Mother." The words escaped his lips without his meaning to. It had become a ritual to him, visiting this grave in the middle of the forest every time he came to Rivendell, and cleaning her statue. He bowed his head, scraping a fistful of soil off the grave and holding it to his chest.

"Anirne hene beriad i chên în. Ned Imladris nauthant e le beriathar aen."

Aragorn's head rose with a start at the sound of his foster father's voice. He sighed.

"In her heart, your mother knew you'd be hunted all your life," Lord Elrond continued. "That you'd never escape your fate." He stepped closer to Aragorn, a glittering star clad in blue and silver in the middle of the shadowed forest. "The skill of the Elves can reforge the Sword of Kings, but only you have the power to wield it."

Aragorn shook his head, his eyes still fixed on his mother's memorial. "I do not want that power," he quietly said. "I have never wanted it.

"You are the last of that bloodline!" Elrond insisted. "There is no other." Finally, Aragorn turned to look at him. "You are avoiding your destiny, Estel," Elrond continued. "You know what you must do, yet you hesitate to do it. Are you afraid?"

The question caught Aragorn off guard. "I... Yes! Of course, I'm afraid!" He stood up, taller than his adoptive father by at least three inches. "I am afraid, and it is a perfectly reasonable reaction, my lord." Elrond internally winced. He knew it was going to be a bad argument when Aragorn started calling him 'my lord'. "Every king there has been- every one of them, of Eldar and Edain- has befallen a terrible fate. Finwë? Murdered by Morgoth. Fëanor? Killed by Balrogs, though I do suppose it was his fault. Fingolfin? Also killed by Morgoth. Fingon was also killed by Balrogs. And you saw Gil-Galad killed, my lord." Aragorn knew this was a low blow. Elrond had never forgotten Dagorlad, and it still gave him bad memories to this day. But he had an argument to win.

"But you are not Eldar, Elessar," Elrond said evenly. Again, Elrond calling Aragorn 'Elessar' signaled the start of a bad argument. "You are Edain."

"Amazing difference that makes, my lord. I hadn't thought of that at all," Aragorn said sarcastically. "Elendil? Killed by Sauron. Anarion? Also killed by Sauron. Isildur? Killed by orcs. The Kings of Numenor didn't stay true to the Valar for long, did they? They worshipped Sauron and fell to him. Tragedy has befallen every king of Gondor." He paused for breath, panting. "Do you see why I'm scared?!" His voice had risen, and Lord Elrond took a step back.

"Yes," he admitted. "I do. But, Elessar, you have a duty, and you must do it!"

Aragorn glared at his foster father. "My duty is to protect Gondor and Arnor, and that is exactly what I have been doing for the past sixty years."