A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first oneshot and first story for The Hobbit. Since watching the movie, I've really been interested in the idea of Thorin meeting Aragorn while in Rivendell. I don't know how many of these stories are out there, but this is my go at it. Anyway, here it is!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings or any recognizable characters or places you may see within this story. It all belongs to its respective creators.

To Be Kings

Thorin Oakenshield was mad, no, furious, that Gandalf had led them to Rivendell, to the elves. He and his company had arrived there three days ago, and would be there for a while yet, waiting for the right moon to read the moon ruins on his map. Currently, he was pacing around in one of the many gardens there, alone, muttering insults about the "pompous pointy-ears" in Khuzdul. Words and names much worse than that were also present.

How can Gandalf not see they are not to be trusted?! he thought to himself, a dark scowl marring his face. The elves of Mirkwood pledged loyalty to us, and when we in our darkest hour, what did they do? They turned around and left us! They didn't even offer relief to my people!

The King-in-Exile growled aloud, and kicked a stone off the pathway he walked. Spotting a nearby bench under a large tree, he promptly stomped over to it and sat down with a huff, his ice-blue eyes sparking with anger and his arms folded across his chest.

Thorin soon found out he was not so alone in that Elvish garden after all.

"What's got you so angry, sir?" asked a high voice, like that of a child.

The king whipped around, looking every which way. He nearly pulled out his new sword, Orcrist, before realizing he had left it in his room.

"Up here," came the voice again. Thorin looked up.

A little ways up the tree, swinging his little legs back and forth on a thick branch, sat not an elf child, but…

A human? the king thought in surprise. The child looked to be male, around ten years of age (at least, that was Thorin's guess; he was absolutely horrid in guessing the ages of Men). The lad had slightly wavy dark hair almost to his shoulders and piercing grey eyes. Despite his youth, the boy had a faint air of something Thorin thought would be akin to nobility.

"You're no elf," remarked the dwarf, peering up at the child.

"Nope."

"Why are you here then, child?"

"Why are you here, master dwarf? That would be the better question."

Thorin raised his dark eyebrows. Not many people spoke to him in such a manner, other than Dís, his sister, and Gandalf. Normally, he would have rebuked someone for talking like that, but this time, he didn't. The king sensed the lad was merely curious and didn't meet royalty very often. Besides, he reminded the dwarf of Kíli when he was younger.

"I'm here with my company, awaiting advice from the Lord Elrond," Thorin answered slowly. At this, the boy's intense eyes widened with excitement. He then promptly scrambled down the trunk of the tree and plopped down on the bench beside the king.

"There are more dwarves here?" asked the child. Thorin nodded.

"I've never met a dwarf before. Mama and Ada have been telling me about them in my lessons, but you're the first I've actually met. Ada says they don't like coming here," said the lad, talking fast.

No wonder, thought the dwarf. Then, he realised he didn't understand one of the words the boy had used. "Ada?" he asked, knowing the confusion was showing on his face.

"Mama says his real name is Lord Elrond, but he says for me to call him Ada. Elladan and Elrohir, my brothers, call him that, too. They say it means "papa" in Elvish. Ada takes care of Mama and me, so I guess it's okay to call him that," the child explained.

So, Elrond has taken in a human child to raise. Hmm. Thorin stroked his beard thoughtfully, pondering the significance of the lad. It then occurred to him to ask the boy his name.

"What's your name, child?"

The lad, oddly enough, seemed to hesitate a moment before answering, as if he was not sure how. Finally, though, he did. "My name is Estel."

Estel. That's an interesting name. "Well, little Estel, my name is Thorin Oakenshield."

"Thorin Oakenshield? That's a very noble name. Much better sounding than plain old Estel. Why do you have two names?"

"I earned the second one in a battle, long ago." Thorin went a little quiet, remembering the deaths of his grandfather and brother, and the disappearance of his father. Estel did not notice his sadness right away.

"You've been in battle? Elladan and Elrohir have, too. They sometimes let me spar with my wooden sword. They say I might be really good when I'm older if I keep it up," said the lad excitedly. However, a thoughtful expression found its way to his face. "Mama says battle is not all glory and victory. The legends just make it sound like that. She says that war is scary, messy and sad. She says Papa was killed in battle. I don't remember him, though. She says I look like him."

Thorin regarded the boy. at the moment, the boy seemed to carry a wisdom, wisdom beyond his few years. He might make a great leader when he's older, thought the king. The two sat on the bench in a comfortable silence, until Estel broke it with an interesting question.

"Can you keep a secret, Thorin?" he asked, his gray eyes becoming even more penetrating than before, if possible.

"What sort of secret?" inquired the dwarf, his eyebrows raised.

"My name. Mama says I can't tell anyone my real name. She says bad people will try to hurt me if I tell anyone, so everyone calls me Estel," said the child simply.

"Why tell me, then? You've never met me before. I could be a spy of sorts."

"You don't seem like a spy. If you were, you'd look fairer and feel fouler."

"So you mean to say I look foul but feel fair?" asked the king, chuckling slightly at the lad's logic. Estel looked a bit sheepish about that.

"Well... Anyway, Mama says my real name is Aragorn."

"Aragorn, hmm? That's a very strong name. You should be glad come the day you are able to use it."

Estel, or Aragorn, smiled at this. He then grew serious, though. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"

Thorin put his hand on his heart, saying, "I solemnly promise to never speak to anyone of your true name, and Mahal forgive me if I break this oath."

The King-in-exile stood up. "It was good to meet you, Estel. I must return to my company now. Farewell."

"Wait! Can I meet them? If all dwarves are as interesting as you, they sound like folk I'd like to meet," yelled the boy, jumping up. Thorin considered this for a moment, and then replied, "All right, then. You shall follow me and meet the Company of Thorin Oakenshield."

So, following the path out of the Elven garden, the child and the dwarf started walking to the rooms where the dwarves were staying, chatting the whole way.

…

Hours later, Thorin leaned over the balcony of the guest chambers, watching the moon. The dwarves and Bilbo had really taken to Estel, especially his nephews. They exchanged stories of pranks and such, causing most of the company to laugh. The company found out that Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond's twin sons, were not as stuffy as they once thought; indeed, they were usually the pranksters in the lad's stories. Thorin chuckled, remembering the child's hilarious description of the time the twins had hung an elf named Erestor by his toes from a branch over the Bruinen River. All the dwarves, but mainly Kíli, Fíli, and Bofur, were sad when Estel's mother, a golden-haired woman named Gilraen, had walked in and made the boy come with her for a bath.

The king soon heard quiet footsteps behind him. Seconds later, Gandalf was standing beside him, smoking his pipe. They stood in silence for a moment, until Gandalf decided to ask a question.

"So, Thorin, where did you find little Estel?"

"I was actually in one of the gardens, walking around. He apparently had never seen a dwarf before, and we talked for a bit," answered Thorin, turning to face the wizard. "He seemed oddly… noble for a child of his age. He seemed like a nice lad to talk to, and he wanted to meet the others when I was leaving."

Gandalf regarded the dwarf for a minute. "I think you were drawn to this boy because you share similar backgrounds, Thorin Oakenshield," he said finally.

"What?"

"Tell me, did Estel mention anything about another name of his?"

"Well, yes. How did you know?"

"I have my ways. What did he say of his name? And do not worry of any promises you made; I am well aware of who he is. His secret is safe with me."

Thorin huffed, relenting. "He said his name is Aragorn. It doesn't ring any bells for me, though. What do you of the name?"

Gandalf looked at the dwarf, finally asking, "Tell me, Thorin Oakenshield, what do you know of King Isildur of Gondor?"

"The one that cut the One Ring from the hand of Sauron? I know he was killed by orcs long ago and his line was…broken…" Thorin trailed off realization dawning upon him. The Grey Wizard was already shaking his head.

"No, Thorin, his line still lives yet," the conjurer corrected. "It is preserved in the Dúnedain of the North. In Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

"He is heir to the thrones of Gondor and Arnor then?" asked Thorin, almost whispering. It was not every day you met one, a child no less, who turned out to be heir of two thrones, after all.

"Indeed, if he chooses to pursue that goal," replied the wizard. There was a moment of thoughtful silence, until Gandalf said, "Remember, Thorin. Elrond, his sons, the Dúnedain who remain in the north, myself, and now you are the only ones who know of Estel's heritage. His father, Arathorn, was killed by orcs who knew an Heir yet lived. They, thankfully, are no more, but we must never reveal to anyone who the child is. In time, the burden of his line will come to his knowledge, but for now, it is best that Estel does not have to bear that load."

The King-in-exile understood the reasoning of the Wizard and Lord Elrond. He sometimes wished that Fíli, as his heir, did not have to bear the burden of his bloodline. He certainly did not wish one as young as Estel to bear it.

"I promised Estel today that his secret would be safe with me. I intend to keep that promise, Gandalf," said Thorin gravely. He turned to go to his room. "Good night."

…

After two long, positively dull weeks, Thorin and Co. had gotten the answers they needed and were ready to make their escape into the Hidden Pass. Gandalf would cover their flight and meet them in the mountains, after some meeting he had to attend. How glad I am to leave this place. These bloody Elves are far too prissy for my taste, thought the dwarf king. He packed the few possessions he had with him and was just depositing his pack with the others on the balcony when a familiar, albeit sleepy voice caught his attention.

"You're leaving?" asked little Estel. The lad was standing in the doorway, wearing a long white nightshirt. He was rubbing his grey eyes, which had a tired and slightly confused look about them.

"What are you doing up so late, little one?" inquired Thorin, slightly amused.

"Couldn't sleep. Why are you leaving?" the child questioned again.

Thorin sighed. How could he explain to the child his quest without actually telling him? "Estel, can you keep a secret?" queried the dwarf. The boy nodded. "Long ago, my home was taken from me by a vicious dragon. My people and I became wanderers, outcasts. That was not the secret, though. The secret is this: I go to reclaim my home. Many, including your ada, don't think it is such a wise idea. This is why, Estel, my departure must remain our secret. Sound fair?"

Estel nodded again. "You're keeping a secret of mine. It's only fair," said the lad simply. If only you knew just how big your secret is, thought Thorin.

He turned to the lad. "Keep up your sword training. Your brothers are right: you have the makings of true warrior." Thorin had seen the young boy practicing with the sons of Elrond and his natural talent was evident. Estel brightened at this.

"I hope you get your home back, Thorin," said the child. At that moment, Estel let out a huge yawn, reminding Thorin of his nephews when they were young.

"Sounds like someone needs to get back to bed, little one," remarked the dwarf. The lad nodded, then did something rather unexpected: he hugged the King-in-exile. Thorin was caught off guard at first, but eventually returned the gesture. He looked down at the young boy, saying, "Goodbye, young Estel. Perhaps our paths shall cross again, but for now, farewell."

"Maybe. Farewell," was all the lad said. Estel then turned and left the room, sleep finally calling him.

And so was the first and last meeting between Thorin II Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain, and Elessar I, King of the Reunited Kingdom of Gondor and Arnor, who was also called Aragorn or Estel.

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