My stories sometimes track Tolkien's version of Middle-earth, sometimes Jackson's.

Thanks to the following reviewers of Episode 20 of Elf Interludes: CAH and ziggy3.

This chapter may incorporate incidents and/or quotations from the book and/or movie versions of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. The chapter may also draw upon posthumous publications edited by Christopher Tolkien, such as The Silmarillion.

Vocabulary

gwador-nín—'my brother,' especially a sworn brother or brother by adoption; Sindarin

Episode 21: The Patrol

Estel stumbled and put out his hands to break his fall. Legolas glanced back, concerned. This was the third time the young man had lost his footing. It was true Estel was numbered amongst the Dunedain rather than the Eldar, but he had been raised in Imladris and while not as graceful as an elf, could move with a sure-footedness more elven than human. Legolas walked back to where Estel stood ruefully picking grit from his palm. "We will camp here, Estel."

"We needn't stop on my account."

"It is nearly sundown, and on the far side of those rocks is a spring. If we do not camp here, we shall have to press on long after dark before we reach another water source."

Satisfied that he was not forcing a halt, Estel agreed. Legolas took their water skins to the spring and filled them while Estel cleared a space for the fire ring. When Legolas returned, Estel took a long draught from his water skin. Then each of the companions whittled a sharp point onto the end of a green stick. Spearing bits of the cony that Legolas had shot earlier that day, they held the skewers over the fire, turning them to evenly cook the meat.

"Careful, Estel," called Legolas. "You are going to burn your dinner!"

Estel jerked awake. He had begun to doze, his skewer drooping so that the gobbets had dropped too far into the fire and begun to smoke. He pulled the skewer away and peered at the charred chunks of meat. "I like my meat well done," he said gamely. He took a bite. After chewing doggedly for awhile, he swallowed with an effort. Legolas noticed that he did not take a second bite.

"I have meat to spare," Legolas offered.

Estel shook his head. "I am not hungry. Truly, I am not," he protested at Legolas's doubting expression. The young man lifted his water skin and drained it. "Need more water," he muttered. He arose with an effort and staggered a few steps before falling upon his hands and knees. Legolas jumped to his feet.

"I will fetch the water," he said firmly.

He took both water skins and topped them off. "I wish we had brought a camp kettle," he thought. "I could make Estel a broth."

When he returned to Estel, the young man was simultaneously shivering and sweating. 'An ague', Legolas worried to himself. Estel had suffered several as a child, and Legolas had observed Elrond treating them. "Estel," he said firmly, "you must wrap yourself in your blanket."

"I want to, but I don't want to," said the young man through chattering teeth. "I'm freezing, but I'm unbearably hot, too."

"You must sweat out whatever ails you," Legolas said firmly.

"Ada," Estel muttered as Legolas wrapped both their blankets around him. 'Now he is hallucinating', the Elf worried.

"Ada," Estel repeated. "Ada used to tuck a shawl around me when I was sick."

Legolas exhaled in relief. Estel had not gone off his head but was merely recalling a scene from his childhood.

Estel was very thirsty, and Legolas returned to the spring to refill the water skins. As he knelt beside the basin, he suddenly sensed that someone else drew near. Ruefully, the young elf realized that in his eagerness to fetch water for his foster-brother, he had set aside his bow and quiver, an error a novice might make on his first patrol.

Legolas sat back on his haunches and listened intently. He heard a twig snap on the far side of the rocks-the side where Estel dozed fitfully. Then he heard a second twig snap.

Silently, Legolas laid down the water skins and rose to his feet. He loosened his small utility knife in its sheath. Then he slipped aside into the forest. He was going to circle round and come up behind whoever had stumbled upon their camp site.

Soon the young elf peered out from a thicket at a person who crouched muttering beside Estel. The stranger's back was to Legolas. Still, the elf could make out that he wore a threadbare sea-blue robe; that a long scarf of the same color, its ends frayed, was wrapped around his neck; that his hair was long and tangled, emerging from beneath the broad brim of a battered peaked hat (likewise blue); and that he wore no sword. The man was not altogether unarmed, though, for a stout staff lay on the ground beside him, and like Legolas he wore a small knife. As the young elf watched, the stranger drew this blade. Drawing his own knife, Legolas leaped from cover and sprang at the man. But before he could reach the stranger, a kingfisher flew into his face. Buffeted by its wings, Legolas recoiled a few steps. "Hold, Alcedo!" the stranger exclaimed. The man was on his feet now. He held out his arm, and the blue-backed bird left off attacking Legolas and flew to the man's outstretched limb. Perched upon it, the kingfisher warily studied the young elf and scolded him with its distinctive churring sound. "He's a friend, Alcedo," the man assured the blue bird. He drew a minnow from his waist pouch. "Occupy yourself with that," he soothed the bird, who seized the fish and flew off to a branch.

"Now then," the man said, turning to Legolas. "What do you mean drawing your knife and leaping at me all sudden like?"

"You drew your knife first," Legolas retorted.

"Course I did—needed to shred some willow bark. That young man has a fever. Elf that you be, you must know that willow bark will bring down a fever."

"I do," Legolas shot back, stung that this man would think him unaware of something so basic. "But," the young elf continued, "I haven't got a kettle to steep it in. Nor a pot, neither."

"I have," the man replied, gesturing to his pack where it lay beside Estel. "Now if you will fetch some water, I will prepare a potion."

Legolas glanced between the man and the dozing youth. Then he nodded and went to retrieve the water skins. When he returned, he found that the man had built up the fire with dry sticks that burned cleanly. 'He has some woodcraft', Legolas thought approvingly as he handed one of the skins to the man, who poured the water into a camp kettle and then cast into it the willow bark shavings. After the willow had steeped sufficiently, the man produced a wooden cup from his pack. After filling the cup, he handed it to Legolas. "You dose him, my lad. He might misdoubt accepting a potion from the hands of a stranger."

Legolas started at being addressed as 'my lad.' The phrase and the brisk tone were familiar. He looked searchingly at the man. Broad-brimmed, peaked hat; worn robe; long scarf; sturdy staff which, Legolas now noticed, was topped with an intricate finial. The stranger had a beard, too, that was a tangled as his hair.

"Well?" the man said sharply.

Legolas winced. The sharp tone was familiar, too. He knelt by Estel and gently shook him awake. Supporting Estel's shoulders, he held the cup to his friend's lips. "Ugh!" gasped the youth. "What foul brew is this!?"

"One that will do you good," said the stranger, who stood at Estel's head. Startled, the young man twisted about and gaped. "But you are not—"

"No, I'm not," the man interrupted. "Finish your medicine, Aragorn."

Alarmed at hearing that name uttered, Legolas threw down the cup and leaped to his feet. "If you have poisoned Estel I shall kill you!" he cried.

"Why should I poison Aragorn," the stranger replied calmly, "when you have cracked his pate and so are a fair way toward doing him in yourself?"

Legolas looked down at Estel and flushed. In his haste, he had suddenly let go of his friend's shoulders and the young man's head had fallen back. Fortunately, Estel's skull had landed on a tunic that had been rolled up as a pillow. Still, the young man was rubbing the back of his head and looking a little dazed.

"I'm sorry, Estel," Legolas said contritely. "But why," he continued, turning to the man, "did you call him Aragorn?"

"I have a message for him by that name."

Legolas grew tense again. Who would send a message to Aragorn, who was known to all as Estel?

"What is the message?" he demanded suspiciously.

"Aragorn," the man replied.

Estel was now sitting up on his own.

"Very well," he said. "You can give me the message if you won't give it to Legolas."

The man nodded. "Aragorn," he repeated.

"I am listening."

"And I have delivered the message."

"That was the message—'Aragorn'?"

"Yes."

"And what am I to answer?"

"As to that, you answered to the name of Aragorn, and that was all the answer that was wanted."

The man stooped to pick up the cup. He refilled it and handed it to Estel. "Drink your draught, for I want my cup back straightaway. I have my own errands to run and now I have humored Olórin, I would return to the road."

"Who are you?" demanded Legolas, "and why do you speak and dress after the manner of Mithrandir, or Olórin as you name him.

"Must I eschew a robe because Olórin wears one?"

"No."

"And I may be allowed to wear a scarf, is that not so?"

Legolas saw a twinkle in the stranger's eye that likewise reminded him of Mithrandir. Suddenly he felt at ease. "You needn't pretend you don't understand," he replied, smiling. "It is not the robe or the scarf. It is the robe and the scarf and the hat and the staff and the beard and hair. Aye, and your manner both brusque and kind. I expect you will pull out a pipe by and by and the picture will be complete. Though I don't know what to make of that kingfisher."

"Legolas, you are forgetting Radagast," Estel interjected. "Our friend here is like Mithrandir in some respects, but in other ways he may be like the Brown Wizard."

"Well reasoned, Aragorn," the wizard answered. "Like Aiwendil the Bird-Friend, I have many allies amongst birds, mammals, and other creatures. I have seen Olórin speak fair to the Chieftain of the Great Eagles, and he is prodigiously polite to horses, but my comrade Pallando and I have often counseled that he should pay like heed to lesser creatures."

"Now I need not ask your name," said Legolas. "For if your comrade is Pallando, then you must be Alatar. You and your friend are the the Ithryn Luin, the Blue Wizards."

"The Blue Wizards?" said Estel. "Erestor told me they were named Morinehtar and Rómestámo."

"You have not recovered from that knock on your head, Aragorn," Alatar chided. "You own more than one name and should not be surprised if others, too, are called sometimes by one name, sometimes by another."

"By another," repeated Estel thoughtfully. His cheeks were flushed but not, thought Legolas, with fever. "Aragorn," the young man murmured. "Aragorn," he said more loudly, as if he were trying it on for size.

Alatar held out his hand. "My cup, if you please. I have promised Pallando that I would meet him on the banks of the Greylin a fortnight hence. He is a prompt sort of fellow and expects the same of others. If I keep him waiting, he will bristle like one of Aiwendil's hedgehogs."

Estel drained the cup and handed it to Alatar. "Thank you," he said. "It tasted foul, but I feel it beginning to work."

"That which seems foul may be fair, and fair foul. You have heard the proverb that 'Not all that glitters is gold'?"

"Everyone knows that proverb."

"But some folk are ignorant of its obverse: 'Not all that is gold glitters'. Keep that in mind, young sir!"

"Sir?" Estel was not used to that honorific.

"Aye, sir—and much more, besides."

Legolas scowled. Alatar was speaking of matters that had been kept hidden from the world and were rarely discussed even by the few to whom the knowledge had been vouchsafed. The wizard smiled. "Do not be troubled, young Greenleaf," he said to the elf. "Return to Imladris if you think I have spoken out of turn. Lord Elrond will set your mind at ease."

The wizard slung on his pack and picked up his staff. He whistled, and the kingfisher left its branch to perch on his shoulder.

"It is full dark now," Estel said. "You are welcome to remain in our camp."

"Nay. As I have said, I would keep tryst with Pallando. I have turned aside to deliver Olórin's message, and now I must regain my path. Stay well!"

"Go well," Legolas and Estel chorused in reply.

The wizard strode off briskly and was soon hidden by the deeper dark beneath the trees. Estel looked after him for a long time. He shook his head at Legolas's efforts to get him to eat a little more. The moon began to rise, and Estel's eyes glittered as he gazed fixedly in the direction the wizard had taken. "I must return to Rivendell," he said suddenly.

"Estel, we have only just begun our patrol," Legolas protested.

"I should like to be called Aragorn," the young man said determinedly.

"I do not think that would be wise."

"Not wise to go about under my proper name?"

"If it were known that Aragorn son of Arathorn roamed the wild, then the woods would fill with his enemies."

"Yet how am I to rally men to the cause of Isildur's heir if I am not known to be he?"

Legolas hesitated. Estel's question was a just one. At some point he would have to reveal himself, at least to such as could be trusted among the Men of the North. Had that moment arrived? Legolas studied the young man. Over the past year he had changed. He was bearded now; his voice was that of an adult; his lanky frame had become muscular; and his movements were restrained and deliberate, with none of the wasted gestures of an impatient youth.

"You are a man," the elf exclaimed.

"And this has escaped your notice all these years?" Estel replied dryly.

"A man full grown," Legolas corrected. "Estel—"

"Aragorn," interrupted the same. "For I am sure I may trust you with my name."

"Yes," agreed Legolas. "Est-ah-Aragorn."

Aragorn grinned as his friend stumbled over his name, and for a moment he looked boyish again.

"I will call you by the name of Isildur's heir," Legolas continued, "and I reckon it will be safe for the folk of Imladris to call you by the same. How much further the name should be allowed to spread I do not know."

"Which is why I must return to Rivendell. I would seek the counsel of our foster-father."

"Very well," agreed Legolas. "No doubt Mithrandir would wish you to take such a step, else why send Alatar with his message. The matter of your name is more important, seemingly, than this patrol. Sleep while I watch, and we will set out tomorrow after we break fast."

"I can take my turn at watch, Legolas."

"No, gwador-nín. Husband your strength, for more will be required of Aragorn than was ever asked of Estel. When you are offered aid, you should accept it and not stand on pride, for pride is no firm foundation for one who would be Isildur's heir!"

Aragorn smiled. "Glorfindel always said that a man who willfully shivers outside a shelter is as much exposed to ridicule as to cold, and a man who continues hungry when the pot is full has a head as empty as his stomach—and everyone will know it when his belly rumbles!"

Legolas laughed. "And a warrior who passes up a chance to sleep had better keep his sword sharp, for assuredly his wit is not!"

Still smiling, Aragorn rolled himself into his blanket and fell asleep as quickly as any grizzled veteran.

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"You knew how it would be, Elrond. You knew that one day Estel would depart on a patrol from which he would never return."

Elrond came to stand by Gandalf on the balcony that overlooked the elf lord's private garden.

"Yes, my friend, I knew I should lose him one day. But foreknowledge was no protection against sorrow when the man strode across the threshold and announced that the child was no more."

Elrond glanced sideways at the wizard.

"You did not seem surprised at the news," the elf remarked dryly.

"Well, well, I am a wizard, after all. Second sight, visions and visitations, that sort of thing. Sometimes they come so thick that I can't see for seeing, in a manner of speaking."

"Remarkable that you always find your way to meals in spite of that impediment," Elrond observed.

"Sense of smell," Gandalf returned.

"I should have thought your sense of smell blunted by the smoking of pipe weed."

"On the contrary, it is sharpened by the exercise. By the by, speaking of sharpening, now that Aragorn has accepted his name, he should be furnished with a weapon more suitable to his station."

"You mean that a sword should be forged for him from the shards of Narsil."

"Yes," replied the wizard, setting aside all banter.

"Mithrandir, Aragorn is entitled to his name by virtue of his birth; the sword, however, he must earn."

"So it seems Aragorn is Estel still."

"Hope aspires to wield a blade of legend," replied Elrond. "But," the elf lord continued, "it must not be such a hope as wishes for something without striving for it. A child longs for a sunny day so that he may play in a garden; he receives his wish yet can never be said to have achieved it, for he did nothing to bring about the event."

"Wishful thinking will not chase away rain clouds," agreed Gandalf. "Yet a blaze kindled with hope may drive off darkness. Aragorn must have a sword to strike the spark that will kindle that flame."

"When he merits it," Elrond rejoined steadfastly. "Aragorn is a man, but he has not yet been fully tested. It will take more than a few patrols for him to prove that he is the one who can wield that sword."

"He can," spoke a third voice.

Elrond and Gandalf turned toward Legolas, who stood on the threshold of the balcony. "By your leave," said the young elf.

"You are welcome to join us," said Elrond. "But first fetch a bottle of wine. It is dry work arguing with Mithrandir."

Legolas quickly returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses. Politely he poured for his elders and then filled his own goblet. After the young elf had taken several sips, Elrond gestured that he should speak.

"I have often seen Aragorn wield a blade against our foes," the young elf began. "He is an excellent swordsman, keen-eyed and agile, dexterous and swift.

"I do not doubt Aragorn's skill with the sword," Elrond replied. "But Isildur's heir must both wield a weapon and command an army, and until he can govern the one, it little boots him to possess the other. He must persuade and inspire, organize and manage, strategize and plan. If it were not so, any Ranger might take up the sword of renown."

"But what opportunity will he have to become such a leader whilst dwelling here?" demanded Legolas, frustrated on his friend's behalf.

"Scarcely any," Elrond replied calmly. "Aragorn must therefore leave Imladris. He must go amongst the men he would lead, walking the streets of their cities, bargaining in their marketplaces, fighting in the ranks of their armies. He must study their ways, perfect his use of the Common Speech, and rise in their councils. He must do so as neither Aragorn nor Estel but under an obscure name so that by his efforts alone he wins-or loses-men's loyalty and trust."

Elrond paused and looked carefully at Legolas, who was becoming increasingly excited.

"Legolas," the older elf said gently, "you must understand that this quest is for Aragorn alone. He will hardly escape unwanted scrutiny if he is accompanied by an elf."

"Oh," Legolas said and stopped, clearing his throat as if something were caught in it. He looked down at his glass and rolled it in his hands as if suddenly fascinated by the eddying wine.

"You are what men call a wet blanket, Elrond," Gandalf erupted. "First you discourage my hope—yes, hope!—and now you have quenched the lad's enthusiasm. I shall have to set things right. Legolas! No, look up. I shall not address your braids!"

Gloomily, the elf raised his head and met his mentor's eye. "You are too old to sulk," the wizard chided him. "But," he added more kindly, "I shall give you a reason for cheer. You will not journey with Aragorn on this quest, but I promise that you will accompany him on another, far greater Quest."

Now it was Elrond's turn to look distressed. "What have you seen?" he demanded. "Into what danger would you send my foster-son!"

"I have seen nothing," Gandalf replied insouciantly. "Nor will I be the one to send Legolas into danger. It needs no seer to know that Legolas will choose to accompany Aragorn when the time comes for Isildur's heir to wield Isildur's sword. You needn't think you can stop him."

"Thranduil may have something to say on the subject," Elrond warned.

"I am sure he will, but he would do better to save his breath to cool his porridge."

Legolas could not help himself. He giggled at the thought of his father blowing into a bowl of porridge. Elrond and Gandalf looked at him in surprise, then both laughed. The tension broken, the conversation moved on to other matters.

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"May I see the sword, Estel?"

"Yes. But tell me, Legolas, why have you resumed calling me Estel? I had thought after all these years that you had grown accustomed to calling me Aragorn.

"Hope is much on my mind nowadays. If you object, I will certainly call you Aragorn, O, Aragorn son of Arathorn son of—"

"Enough!" Aragorn interrupted. "The Fellowship will have departed without us by the time you finish reciting my genealogy."

The man handed his friend the sword. The elf hefted it, sighted along its blade, and swung it several times before returning it to Aragorn. "This is a good sword," he said nonchalantly.

"Thank you," Aragorn said dryly. "I am sure Elrond's finest smith will be glad to hear that you approve of his handiwork. Now, regarding this little matter of a quest, do you suppose we might get on with it?"

Legolas picked up his bow. "Together again!" he proclaimed cheerfully.

"Just like old times!" Aragorn rejoined.

"As bad as that?" teased the elf.

Then the two, friends and foster-brothers, clapped each other on the shoulder, resumed the demeanor of warriors, and set forth on the Patrol that had been awaiting them all their lives.