1 - Youth - Revalations

The day was grey and the sky hung full of clouds. A girl sat with her legs pulled to herself, the green cloak pulled tightly around her. She looked over the Bruinen and watched as autumnally leafs fell into the stream and tumbled along the rippling waves.

She obviously pouted and picked up a stone once in a while tossing it into the stream with all her might, watching as it sunk.

Elven voices were heard in the distance and she knew all too well, what they said. It only made her pout more. Angrily she tucked at her dress, growling, struggling with the fabric, trying to wrap it around her legs, to fit her more like trousers. She rubbed the bruises on her legs and scratches.

After some time a stern, tall man arrived – her father. Standing behind the young girl, his arms crossed and a raised brow directed her way, even if she kept looking at the Bruinen. “Rómeniêl,” his voice was stern as he addressed her and stepped closer. “Turn around and face me, young lady.” A suppressed anger swung in his voice and ordered more than asked. But Rómeniêl kept her eyes fixed on the Bruinen, pursing her lips and taking a firm hold of another stone tossing it angrily into the stream.

“Rómeniêl Arandil, turn to me and look at me!” The voice of the impressive man behind her became angrier, hardly able to suppress the anger. She knew she was her father’s challenge, but she had set her mind not to give in this time. She was silent and just tossed another pebble into the stream. “Child! Turn around and talk to me. I will not accept such behaviour of anyone of the line of the Arandil.”

Something snapped in her and she growled, opening her mouth a couple of times to take short angry breaths of cool air in. “Of the line of the Arandil! The Elendili! Your blood! The protectors of the line of kings!” her voice was clear and angry, it almost sounded like that of a woman rather than a child’s. “Father, I’ve heard all that before. Where is that line of the king? Whom would you protect if all of that line was gone. No, you prefer him before me!”

Falling silent again she took another stone, holding it in her hand, squeezing it as if she could crush it. “You make me wear these dresses and try to cage me. If all this Arandil business is so important and with all the training, why am I not allowed to do as he does? I was able to hold on to the wild horse while he fell of and broke his leg.”

Now she turned towards her father, staring into his grey eyes with her green. She held the stern gaze that could so easily defy any word of argument with his own men. She was wilful they said, stubborn and wild. She ran with the Elves and took on the challenges set to the young Elves and to him. “You prefer Estel before me! You would give all to make him your son and be rid of me!” She now screamed at her father and tears welled up in her eyes. She bit her lips and tightened the grip around the stone in her hand. She didn’t want to cry in front of her father, but the tears made their way out and streamed down her face, filled with anger.

The lordly, stern man took a step back for a moment, almost stumbling, and his expression faltered. The stern look on his face softened and made way for surprise, even shock. He looked down at her, defeat in his eyes.  Only slowly he recovered but the stern expression was gone, as he stepped closer, squatting down and examining the face of his daughter. “Child,” his voice had grown quiet and soft. “You don’t understand. You are my daughter, my only child; never would I trade you for anything. But he- he is the hope of our people. You will understand one day. Isn’t he like a brother to you?”

Rómeniêl turned abruptly away from the hand he tried to lay on her shoulder and tossed her long dark hair back. He was right, Estel was more than a friend, more than a comrade in play and more than just a kinsman. After all they had been the only human children on their journey to Rivendell and they had both been the only human children in Rivendell itself. How lonely had she been when her father had taken her to Gondor on one of his journeys. But she was not willing to admit defeat yet, determined to stay angry for now.

The Captain of the Rangers sat beside his daughter and looked into the stream as she had done. “It is time to tell you a tale.” He spoke softly now and from the corner of her eye, she could see that he battled with himself again. She felt almost sorry, but still was too hurt and stubborn to show it.

“Our people have lived hidden and still do. Once we were a great people, you have heard the tales of Númenor. But as the days darkened we failed. Only few of us remain and the line of kings is endangered. You have learned this and you know it, your mother has taught you well in the lore of our people and you always had been an eager leaner of lore, as you have been skilled with all the challenges put before you.” Some pride rang in his voice, though his face stayed calm. “Estel and you have been the only children of our kind in Rivendell for long and I know you asked me so often. There is a reason and it will be a burden for you. But time has come to reveal what not even Estel knows. You will have to be what we Arandils are – a secret keeper. Will you do that?” He turned to her and his eyes seemed sad. Rómeniêl had never seen her father that concerned other in the moments that he had been called for council with Lord Elrond or his men. She just nodded and held his gaze. “Let me tell you a story, my child.”

Rómeniêl’s father looked into the Bruinen again and began to tell a story of how once a child was born, that gave the Dúnedain hope. He spoke of the line of kings of Arathorn, the last king of the Elendili, the chieftain of the Rangers of the North. He spoke of the ring of Barahir and how it was hunted by orcs, trying to bring down the line of the kings, of Sauron. Rómeniêl knew the names, knew the tales, but in her heart she realised that there was more behind all this, that hadn’t been told to her. Sighing he finally added: “I was a young captain and my father had put high hopes in me. I, like all men of my line, had vowed to protect the line of kings. Arathorn had trusted his life and that of his family to me, as had all chieftains before into our family. I wasn’t able to save him, but I was able to save his son and his wife. We accompanied Elrohir and Eladan to Rivendell to keep him and you safe. I wouldn’t leave you or your mother behind. For I love you too much.”

“Estel is the name given to that child after we left our home. After we fled and after his father was killed. His father, the chieftain of the Rangers of the North, was our king. Estel is the name given to him, but it is not the name he was born with, not the name he will carry once more in many years. His true name is Aragorn, son of Arathorn of the line of the kings.”

The news hit her like a fist in the stomach and young Rómeniêl gasped. Her father raised his hands to her lips to silence her questions. “I failed the king. I will not fail his heir. Many years ago, Estel’s father fell and we had to bring him here. I didn’t want to leave you and your mother behind. It is the oath of our family to protect the line of the kings. And as Arathorn fell, so the line of kings is threatened. You will understand one day what meaning it has. But for now you will have to be quiet.”

His hand stroked over her wet cheeks and wiped her tears away. “Another burden for you my child. The life of the Dúnedain is a hard life and it might have hardened my heart too much already for the sorrows and burdens a girl can take on. Estel is mine to protect, I cannot fail him and I cannot even allow my own daughter to put him at risk.”

Rómeniêl swallowed hard and cast her eyes down, her face flushed and she bit her lips harder, trying to force the tears of guilt that replaced the tears of anger down. “I’m sorry Ada. But I,” she stuttered. “I didn’t mean to put him in danger, but I wanted to prove that I am just as skilled as him. I wanted to prove I’m worth your love.” She felt the burden she had put on her father. “Estel doesn’t know who he is? And I’m not allowed to tell him? Will I have to protect him one day?”

Her head was swimming and she turned the stone she held in her fingers. Her father took her hand and the stone, dropping it aside. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “No word to him. No word to anyone than me or your mother. Promise that you will not put him in danger like that anymore. I will not ask you to protect him, don’t put yourself or him into danger.”

The concern in his voice triggered something in her. For the first time in her life Rómeniêl felt a sense of purpose and she felt for the first time, that he didn’t love him more. Her father, whom so often seemed cold and distant loved her. It dawned to her mind that his distance was a way to protect her. She nodded and agreed. “I promise, Ada. Not a word shall slip my lips about this. Will you tell him one day?”

Her father shook his head. “No, Lord Elrond will do so when and if the time comes. Then he will hopefully become what he was born to be – the hope of the Free People and the King of Men.”