Gwynnyd's 2005 Birthday Presents
3. My Son
I am finally allowed to enter the chamber I share with my fair Gilraen. And there you lie in your mother’s arms, now clean and sleeping so peacefully. I can hardly believe that you are mine own son and I feel like the happiest man alive.
And then you are in my arms and I look down at you. You are so tiny that I fear I might break you, my son. You open your eyes and I see that they are of a wonderful silver grey. Black hair and grey eyes, it is plain to see that the blood of Númenor runs strong and pure in your little veins.
I wish I could hold you in my arms and never let go, I already love you so much.
I cannot give you silk, velvet or sable, for us it is wool and linen and leather. In our world there are no better or lesser men, we all have to struggle for survival. That is the lot of the Dúnedain of the North in their fallen kingdom. But we do not forget who we are and where we come from.
Perhaps you come to Gondor one day, the southern kingdom. There the glory of Númenor still holds sway.
But for now you know no evil, no hatred or death. I wish I could keep you save from the perils out there, but I can offer you no such thing. All too soon you will be given your own sword and bow and then you will be grown up and I must take you with me out there into the wild. You will have to face Orcs, Wargs and other evil beings like so many before you. But you will overcome all dangers, toils and snares in your way; you will be brave and courageous. And thus I name you.
“Aragorn, son of Arathorn he shall be called,” I am so proud as I speak your name for the first time and you smile up at me, it seems that you like your name. 'Kingly Valour' has such a noble meaning for such a tiny one. But you will grow into a fine man and for a brief moment I see what could be. Maybe it is you who restores our kingdom and bring back happiness to our people.
Garo Estel Aragorn, ion-nîn. Guren pêd enni cerithach naid belig.*
I whisper so softly that only you can hear me.
And another heir of Isildur is born in Eriador, not Arnor. You would be the crown prince of the realm, you know. You deserve better than this, but the only thing I can promise you is that I will try to protect you with all that I have. I love you, never forget this, my son, my beautiful little Aragorn.
*Have Hope Aragorn, my son. My heart tells me that you will do great things.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.