Title: Finding Hope
Author: Kalmiel
Spoilers: J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit, The Lord of The Rings, The Book of Lost Tales Parts 1 & 2, The Unfinished Tales and The Silmarillion for good measure.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of J.R.R. Tolkien's marvelous characters. I just borrow them occasionally. (Although if offered Aragorn, I would gladly accept). I make no profit off of this; it is merely for enjoyment only.
Author's Note: I would like to thank the lovely and talented Nefhiriel, whose excellent stories inspired me to write my own. If you have not read any of her fics, you need to. (My personal favorites are The Wrong One, and He's Gone). Also another talented author worth reading is HarryEstel, the writer of The Love of a Family and Estel & Greenleaf .
Bows Hannon-Le, Mellyn nín, hannon-le.
A/N: Okay, yes I know full well that Aragorn's mother, Gilraen, did not die during the orc-attack, and lived in Imladris until 2954. Also I know that Aragorn's father was killed when he was only a year old , but this is the wonderful world of fan-fiction, and I have changed it. Just thought I'd let you know, before the angry emails began… shudders. Man, I hate it when I'm flooded with those.
Also I apologize if any of the Elvish is incorrect. I tried to research it as much as humanly possible, but unfortunately I am not an expert on the subject.
"Do you see it?"
Elladan Peredhil, the eldest son of Lord Elrond of Imladris asked.
His twin brother, Elrohir, nodded grimly. "A red dawn rises. Blood has been spilled," he added. "We should probably head for home."
"Indeed, I have no desire to remain here, and end up injured. Ada would murder us. "
Elrohir conceded to that with a small smile. He didn't want to either, as if they did, they would end up confined to the House of Healing at home for a long time. As they had so many time before.
They had been hunting for the past two weeks, and so far it had been remarkably peaceful. Boring, actually. No yrch, no wargs, no sign of evil of any kind.
Until now…
So they were riding towards home when Elrohir drew his steed to a stop. "Did you hear that?"
Elladan frowned. He hadn't been listening very carefully, as he been in his own world, brooding. But when his twin spoke, he strained his ears… and indeed heard the sound.
A faint noise, a weak desperate-sounding barely audible cry.
He waited, and heard it again, even softer than before, broken off into two separate parts as if whatever was making the noise did not have any strength left.
As if it were almost dead.
Elrohir frowned. "What in the name of Arda is that?"
Elladan's fair brow wrinkled. "I do not know. But whatever it is, it sounds grievously injured. We must find it."
It was easier said than done, as not long after they started off in the direction they thought the cries were originating from, they stopped.
So it was more pure luck than skill that they found him.
A small human boy, unconscious, pinned to a tree by vicious yrch arrows through his thigh and chest.
The twins launched themselves off their mounts, and to the child's side.
"Oh, by the Valar, he's only a mere babe!" Elladan breathed.
Elrohir nodded, his face grim. "What shall we do, Muindor nín?"
Elladan sighed. He and Elrohir were both healers, taught by their adar, the greatest healer in all of Middle Earth. But they were used to treating injured elves, never a injured mortal child.
"We will remove the arrows, and take him swiftly to ada. Because you know, as I do, that the yrch frequently poison their weapons, and I fear this was no exception. You can feel the heat emanating from him; already he burns with a fever."
His twin nodded glumly. Elladan knew that he was loathing to pull out the arrows; as they would cause the small boy terrible pain.
But it would have to be done, if they wanted to try to save him.
Elladan hoped that the child would remain unconscious; as the agony would be terrible. Most likely with the boy ill, he would…
But as soon as Elrohir pulled the arrow from the child's thigh, the boy screamed weakly.
Elladan stroked the boy's dark brown unruly curls, which were now damp with sweat. "It's all right pen-nîn tithen. We're going to help you."
He realized belatedly that he had spoken in Elvish, and that the child would not have understood a word he just said.
But to his surprise, fever-glazed silver eyes flickered open, and the child replied in kind. "I-I am not little. I am five."
Elladan started. He was about to ask the little one his name, but he saw that he had lost his tenacious grip on consciousness.
Elrohir finished pulling the second arrow from the boy's chest. "Done. Did I hear right? Does he understand and speak Elvish?"
"Yes."
"He must be from a ranger camp then. I don't know of any other men that understand our any of language."
Elladan scowled. "But where are his parents? Have they not noticed that he has gone missing? He is a five-year-old boy, for Ilúvatar's sake! They should know better than to let him wander in the woods alone." he said harshly.
His brother frowned. "I do not know, Elladan. All I do know is that we need to get this boy to ada. He's very ill. We can come back later to find answers."
But little did they know, they would find their answer before they even arrived at Imladris.
They were back on their horses; the unconscious child riding slumped in front of Elladan, whose strong arms was circled protectively around him.
They had not gone far when they heard another soft moan.
The brothers exchanged glances. What in the name of Arda was going on?
But they didn't have time to question it, as the sound came again. Soft, and filled with pain.
Urging their mounts harder, they picked up the pace, going as quickly as they could through the trees.
Until they stumbled across it.
It was horrifying to behold. It was a ranger camp, all right, or albeit the remains of one. As the inhabitants were now all dead.
Men, women, children… all lying scattered along the hard ground. The ground that was now soaked in crimson human blood.
The twins were silent for a long moment.
"I guess this is where our tithen pen came from… and he is the sole survivor, it seems." Elrohir said, glancing at the boy laying limply in Elladan's arms.
Elladan nodded, a frown wrinkling his fair features. Had the poor boy witnessed this butchery? If so then…
But the moan interrupted him, reminded him why they had came to this place of death in the first place.
"One must still be alive." Elrohir began to search, as did Elladan.
Elrohir found her in the middle of the camp, and he could see that although she was still alive for the moment, she was not going to live much longer. As she had been beaten viciously, and a ferocious-looking sword protruded clear through her abdomen.
He was amazed that she was still drawing breath at all.
And it stabbed his heart, for he knew her well. He and Elladan had often fought beside her husband against the dark servants of Sauron, although they hadn't seen one another for six years. As the twins had been caught up in their own vendetta against the creatures, desiring no else's company.
Dropping to his knees beside her, he took her hand. "Gilrean. It is I, Elrohir Peredhil, with my brother Elladan. We are here to help you."
The woman's eyes fluttered open, and she smiled at Elrohir, her dark eyes full of knowledge. "Yes, Elrohir, I know. But I am afraid it is too late, I am beyond aid, and will soon join my husband," she drew in a pained breath. "But you have saved my son, Aragorn, so I am in your debt."
For her eyes had flickered up to Elladan.
The twins exchanged incredulous glances, and Elladan wondered if his mouth was hanging open.
Arathorn and Gilrean had a son? This little boy in his arms was now the future King of Gondor?
"So Arathorn has passed then?" Elrohir asked quietly. He hadn't seen his friend, who was also his long-descended kindred among dead; but that wasn't saying anything. There was so many…
"Yes," Gilrean coughed weakly, and the twins winced to see blood trickling from her mouth. "So now Aragorn is the last of the line of Kings…" her voice trailed off, and Elrohir thought that she was gone. But her body stiffened, and Gilrean marshaled the last of her strength. "I have but one request. Please… try-try to keep Aragorn safe. For he will be hunted all of his life, as today has proved… As he is the one…" she trailed off, unable to continue to speak, the blood running more quickly from her delicate mouth.
Gilrean, now knowing that her son still lived, let her eyes close, and she slipped away quietly.
Elrohir watched helplessly as her breath left her, and cursed when she didn't draw another.
Even though he knew she had no chance as soon as they had arrived.
Elrohir placed his hand gently on her forehead.
Suddenly, Elladan shifted into view. "Come, Elrohir. We will have to mourn Arathorn and Gilrean later. Aragorn grows hotter still, and I fear that if we don't get him to ada quickly, he will soon join his parents."
TBC...
Elvish-
Ada- Dad
Adar- Father
Arda- Middle Earth
Imladris- Rivendell
Muindor nín- My Brother
pen-nîn tithen- My little one
Tithen Pen- Little One
Ilúvatar- All-father, God.
Valar- The Ruling Powers of Middle-Earth