Post by Admin on Jan 3, 2021 0:43:20 GMT
Author: Jessica Kleeberger
Rating: K+
“Na-na!” the baby exclaimed before subsiding into contented coos and gurgles as he inspected the small wooden toy clutched between his chubby fingers. Gilraen brushed back a strand of blonde hair that had come loose from her braid and smiled at the man who sat cross legged beside on the floor, gazing earnestly into the child’s wide grey eyes.
For the umpteenth time, Arathorn asked patiently, “Aragorn, can you say ada?”
“Da.”
Arathorn’s face shone with pride and joy. At least, that is, until Aragorn abandoned the toy in favor of gripping one of his father’s brown locks. Gilraen knelt beside the pair and gently pried Aragorn’s fingers loose, prompting a relieved sigh from her husband.
“To think that Aragorn shall be celebrating his first birthday tomorrow,” she said in awe as she cradled the baby on her lap. “Time passes swiftly.”
“Aye,” Arathorn acknowledged with a teasing smile. “Why, it is already this lad’s bedtime!”
Both were glad to retire immediately after Aragorn fell asleep. Arathorn had only just returned that afternoon from patrolling with Elladan and Elrohir, and Gilraen’s day had been just as challenging thanks to preparations for Aragorn’s birthday. While she was baking, the child had toddled into the kitchen and emptied a sack of flour all over himself. Merely remembering the small blizzard that had ensued made Gilraen grateful for the comfort of her bed.
O0o
It seemed only moments after she fell asleep that Gilraen saw a man trudging down a dusty road, scraggly locks of hair concealing his face. She immediately knew he was a Ranger by the green cloak he wore, fastened at the shoulder by the star broach of the Dunedain. The man settled himself on a fallen log beside the road, tugging back the folds of his cloak to reveal a patch of dark blood dried on his shirt. He withdrew a broken blade from a sheath at his side and gazed at it, cradling the hilt almost reverently. He lifted his head, and though his grey eyes had seen sorrow and combat, Gilraen recognized them. Aragorn! A shiver travelled through Gilraen’s limbs as she helplessly watched her son sit alone, staring at the blade with confusion and pain in his eyes.
With a start, she woke. Gilraen bolted upright, struggling to free herself from the sheet wound around her ankles, unable to fight a sudden need to see her child safe and sound. She rushed into Aragorn’s room and stood before his crib, allowing the soft whisper of his breath to soothe her racing heart. Gilraen longed to pick him up, to cuddle him against her breast, to smell the sweet, soapy scent that lingered on his hair, to feel his small fingers curl trustingly around hers, to hear a lisped “Na-na!” from his tongue. She ignored the impulse, unwilling to disturb his peaceful slumber, and instead returned to her bedroom.
As she snuggled back under her blankets, Arathorn turned to her sleepily, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you well, my love?”
Gilraen nodded and recounted the details of her dream. “It was foolish for me to let myself become so troubled by it,” she confessed, “but it felt so real.”
Arathorn was silent for a few moments before he squeezed her hand and whispered, “Mayhap it was. Your parents both have the gift of foresight. It would not be strange for you to possess the same ability.”
“Arathorn, you mean- I have seen his future?” Tears trembled on Gilraen’s lashes as she remembered the pain, the loneliness, the doubt and despair in Aragorn’s eyes as he gazed at the shards she knew were Narsil. The hope of the Dunedain- that was what Ivorwen had called Aragorn as she had cradled her newborn grandson in her arms exactly one year ago. Oh, what a sweet privilege that was, the ability to bring new life to their people even as cool drops of rain could revive a parched field. And yet, what a heavy expectation it was for one person to carry, to live up to. Was that part of the struggle and the burden she had witnessed in Aragorn as he studied his ancestor’s hilt during her vision? Gilraen snuggled up against Arathorn’s side and made herself relax in his comforting embrace, but it was many hours before her worries quieted enough to let her rest.
O0o
“What is my name?” Ivorwen coaxed as she knelt on the floor, assuming the same posture her son in law had taken the previous day.
“Gra-ma.”
The normally serious Ivorwen let out a most undignified crow of delight. In reply, Halboron smirked and commented, “Aragorn certainly has someone wrapped around his little finger.” He and his wife watched Aragorn almost wistfully, and Dirhael made a teasing remark about how he expected them to gift Aragorn with a cousin someday. Aragorn lost interest in his relatives when the conversation showed no signs of ending and instead began to study the soft, floppy toy horse Halboron had brought him as a present.
As Gilraen smiled at the innocent scene before her, suddenly Aragorn’s chubby cheeks and gleeful grey eyes faded. She saw once again the vision of her grown son, alone and injured, hungry and weary, grappling with the weighty burden his heritage had laid upon him. Gilraen jumped when she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder.
“What troubles you, my daughter?”
“How did you know something was worrying me?” Gilraen asked, allowing a small smile to cross her lips as she turned to Dirhael.
“Your eyes betray your thoughts. They are clearly far away,” he said simply. “Tell me what is wrong.”
Gilraen related the details of the dream, and with a few words of encouragement from Dirhael, began to pour out her worries. Although her father was a stern man, Gilraen knew he would understand the burdens of foresight.
Dirhael listened quietly until Gilraen had finished, then said softly, “It is hard to know that your loved ones shall suffer. Nothing injures a parent’s heart more deeply than to know there is nothing you can do to ease the pain your children shall have to endure.” Sorrow flickered in Dirhael’s eyes, then was replaced by sad resignation as he studied her face.
“How do you endure it, Father?” Gilraen asked, leaning against his sturdy frame and breathing in the scent of earth and fresh air that lingered on his clothes.
“By living in the present. There are enough pleasures to enjoy and cares to tend to in the present without worrying about the future. That we can do nothing to change, so for now I will do what I can- enjoy my grandson, love my family, and do whatever I must to protect them,” Dirhael replied without hesitation. He returned Gilraen’s embrace and fell silent, looking slightly uncomfortable. Very rarely did Dirhael communicate what was in his heart, so Gilraen especially appreciated the words of wisdom he had shared. Nonetheless, she would need some time to ponder their meaning for herself.
“Thank you, Ada.”
Dirhael glanced at the child sitting on the floor, now occupied with gnawing the toy horse’s ear. “Do not worry, Gilraen. I foresee that no struggle shall hold Aragorn back. He will rise above his ancestors and accomplish much good on Middle Earth.”
O0o
Aragorn babbled with delight, the stream words undiscernible except for the occasional “Na-na”, “Da” or “Gra-ma” as Ivorwen placed a honey cake, decorated with the early blossoms of spring, on the table.
“A most blessed birthday, little one!” she said, bending over to kiss Aragorn’s brow. He wiggled on Gilraen’s lap and eyed the cake impatiently, drawing chuckles from those gathered around the table. Although he did not know the cause for their merriment, Aragorn offered a charming grin, revealing a couple of shiny new baby teeth.
Gilraen smiled and snuggled the baby as she listened to the laughter and spirited conversation that travelled around the table. An unwelcome thought cast shadows across her mind. He shall have few glad times such as this when he must go out into the world and claim his inheritance. Darkness and danger shall pursue him often.
“And I will do all I can to shelter you from that while I may,” she whispered in Aragorn’s ear. “There is nothing I can do to protect you from what will happen, but for now you shall be safe and happy. Every child deserves such a childhood, no matter if they are the heir of a great kingdom or the child of a peasant. I promise I will do whatever I must to grant a few years of innocence, of joy, of safety, to you, no matter the cost. “
Gilraen cuddled Aragorn close and added softly, “That is my gift to you. Happy birthday, my little one.”
Rating: K+
“Na-na!” the baby exclaimed before subsiding into contented coos and gurgles as he inspected the small wooden toy clutched between his chubby fingers. Gilraen brushed back a strand of blonde hair that had come loose from her braid and smiled at the man who sat cross legged beside on the floor, gazing earnestly into the child’s wide grey eyes.
For the umpteenth time, Arathorn asked patiently, “Aragorn, can you say ada?”
“Da.”
Arathorn’s face shone with pride and joy. At least, that is, until Aragorn abandoned the toy in favor of gripping one of his father’s brown locks. Gilraen knelt beside the pair and gently pried Aragorn’s fingers loose, prompting a relieved sigh from her husband.
“To think that Aragorn shall be celebrating his first birthday tomorrow,” she said in awe as she cradled the baby on her lap. “Time passes swiftly.”
“Aye,” Arathorn acknowledged with a teasing smile. “Why, it is already this lad’s bedtime!”
Both were glad to retire immediately after Aragorn fell asleep. Arathorn had only just returned that afternoon from patrolling with Elladan and Elrohir, and Gilraen’s day had been just as challenging thanks to preparations for Aragorn’s birthday. While she was baking, the child had toddled into the kitchen and emptied a sack of flour all over himself. Merely remembering the small blizzard that had ensued made Gilraen grateful for the comfort of her bed.
O0o
It seemed only moments after she fell asleep that Gilraen saw a man trudging down a dusty road, scraggly locks of hair concealing his face. She immediately knew he was a Ranger by the green cloak he wore, fastened at the shoulder by the star broach of the Dunedain. The man settled himself on a fallen log beside the road, tugging back the folds of his cloak to reveal a patch of dark blood dried on his shirt. He withdrew a broken blade from a sheath at his side and gazed at it, cradling the hilt almost reverently. He lifted his head, and though his grey eyes had seen sorrow and combat, Gilraen recognized them. Aragorn! A shiver travelled through Gilraen’s limbs as she helplessly watched her son sit alone, staring at the blade with confusion and pain in his eyes.
With a start, she woke. Gilraen bolted upright, struggling to free herself from the sheet wound around her ankles, unable to fight a sudden need to see her child safe and sound. She rushed into Aragorn’s room and stood before his crib, allowing the soft whisper of his breath to soothe her racing heart. Gilraen longed to pick him up, to cuddle him against her breast, to smell the sweet, soapy scent that lingered on his hair, to feel his small fingers curl trustingly around hers, to hear a lisped “Na-na!” from his tongue. She ignored the impulse, unwilling to disturb his peaceful slumber, and instead returned to her bedroom.
As she snuggled back under her blankets, Arathorn turned to her sleepily, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you well, my love?”
Gilraen nodded and recounted the details of her dream. “It was foolish for me to let myself become so troubled by it,” she confessed, “but it felt so real.”
Arathorn was silent for a few moments before he squeezed her hand and whispered, “Mayhap it was. Your parents both have the gift of foresight. It would not be strange for you to possess the same ability.”
“Arathorn, you mean- I have seen his future?” Tears trembled on Gilraen’s lashes as she remembered the pain, the loneliness, the doubt and despair in Aragorn’s eyes as he gazed at the shards she knew were Narsil. The hope of the Dunedain- that was what Ivorwen had called Aragorn as she had cradled her newborn grandson in her arms exactly one year ago. Oh, what a sweet privilege that was, the ability to bring new life to their people even as cool drops of rain could revive a parched field. And yet, what a heavy expectation it was for one person to carry, to live up to. Was that part of the struggle and the burden she had witnessed in Aragorn as he studied his ancestor’s hilt during her vision? Gilraen snuggled up against Arathorn’s side and made herself relax in his comforting embrace, but it was many hours before her worries quieted enough to let her rest.
O0o
“What is my name?” Ivorwen coaxed as she knelt on the floor, assuming the same posture her son in law had taken the previous day.
“Gra-ma.”
The normally serious Ivorwen let out a most undignified crow of delight. In reply, Halboron smirked and commented, “Aragorn certainly has someone wrapped around his little finger.” He and his wife watched Aragorn almost wistfully, and Dirhael made a teasing remark about how he expected them to gift Aragorn with a cousin someday. Aragorn lost interest in his relatives when the conversation showed no signs of ending and instead began to study the soft, floppy toy horse Halboron had brought him as a present.
As Gilraen smiled at the innocent scene before her, suddenly Aragorn’s chubby cheeks and gleeful grey eyes faded. She saw once again the vision of her grown son, alone and injured, hungry and weary, grappling with the weighty burden his heritage had laid upon him. Gilraen jumped when she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder.
“What troubles you, my daughter?”
“How did you know something was worrying me?” Gilraen asked, allowing a small smile to cross her lips as she turned to Dirhael.
“Your eyes betray your thoughts. They are clearly far away,” he said simply. “Tell me what is wrong.”
Gilraen related the details of the dream, and with a few words of encouragement from Dirhael, began to pour out her worries. Although her father was a stern man, Gilraen knew he would understand the burdens of foresight.
Dirhael listened quietly until Gilraen had finished, then said softly, “It is hard to know that your loved ones shall suffer. Nothing injures a parent’s heart more deeply than to know there is nothing you can do to ease the pain your children shall have to endure.” Sorrow flickered in Dirhael’s eyes, then was replaced by sad resignation as he studied her face.
“How do you endure it, Father?” Gilraen asked, leaning against his sturdy frame and breathing in the scent of earth and fresh air that lingered on his clothes.
“By living in the present. There are enough pleasures to enjoy and cares to tend to in the present without worrying about the future. That we can do nothing to change, so for now I will do what I can- enjoy my grandson, love my family, and do whatever I must to protect them,” Dirhael replied without hesitation. He returned Gilraen’s embrace and fell silent, looking slightly uncomfortable. Very rarely did Dirhael communicate what was in his heart, so Gilraen especially appreciated the words of wisdom he had shared. Nonetheless, she would need some time to ponder their meaning for herself.
“Thank you, Ada.”
Dirhael glanced at the child sitting on the floor, now occupied with gnawing the toy horse’s ear. “Do not worry, Gilraen. I foresee that no struggle shall hold Aragorn back. He will rise above his ancestors and accomplish much good on Middle Earth.”
O0o
Aragorn babbled with delight, the stream words undiscernible except for the occasional “Na-na”, “Da” or “Gra-ma” as Ivorwen placed a honey cake, decorated with the early blossoms of spring, on the table.
“A most blessed birthday, little one!” she said, bending over to kiss Aragorn’s brow. He wiggled on Gilraen’s lap and eyed the cake impatiently, drawing chuckles from those gathered around the table. Although he did not know the cause for their merriment, Aragorn offered a charming grin, revealing a couple of shiny new baby teeth.
Gilraen smiled and snuggled the baby as she listened to the laughter and spirited conversation that travelled around the table. An unwelcome thought cast shadows across her mind. He shall have few glad times such as this when he must go out into the world and claim his inheritance. Darkness and danger shall pursue him often.
“And I will do all I can to shelter you from that while I may,” she whispered in Aragorn’s ear. “There is nothing I can do to protect you from what will happen, but for now you shall be safe and happy. Every child deserves such a childhood, no matter if they are the heir of a great kingdom or the child of a peasant. I promise I will do whatever I must to grant a few years of innocence, of joy, of safety, to you, no matter the cost. “
Gilraen cuddled Aragorn close and added softly, “That is my gift to you. Happy birthday, my little one.”