Remembrance by Dwimordene
Mar. 12th, 2012 11:05 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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b2memB2MeM Challenge:O65: Roles and Names of Aragorn: Son
N33: Roles and Names of Aragorn: King; Aspects of Aragorn: Father
Format: short story
Genre: Angst
Rating: K
Warnings: Brooding youthful self-centeredness?
Characters: Aragorn, Halbarad, dead people
Summary: It is hard to live by half a ghost.
Remembrance
Their new Chieftain – Vána be praised for such renewal! – spends long hours closeted with the Ranger captains and the Lady, or on the road about the Angle, gaining his bearings in this land, among his people.
Sometimes, though, he disappears – an uncanny habit, or a Rangerly one, but hard for a people so long bereft to bear. ‘Tis Halbarad who discovers his retreat.
“You are grave today,” he risks jesting. Aragorn looks up, shakes his head a little, lips twitching. Halbarad, after a moment, takes that as invitation to sit with him beneath the shady tree, and he eyes the white stone graven with the arms of Elendil’s house. And about it, many smaller white stones – for the long line of Rangers, most especially those who did not come home.
“My br – the brethren, Elrond’s sons, say that my father fell in the hill country south of here,” Aragorn says. “They say they will show me the place one day.”
“That is good of them.” The grunt that answers is telling in its disinterest. “Surely they would only seek to help you,” Halbarad protests.
“They do.”
“What, then, if I may?” Halbarad presses, if gently – Aragorn is his chieftain for all he is young, and for all he likes him well. Aragorn eyes him speculatively.
“What do you know of my father, Halbarad?”
“Father says he was a good captain,” he answers promptly, for everyone says this. “He says the old Chieftain, Arador, trusted him with the Angle after the Fell Winter – that your father kept the Angle when the winter struck, and your grandfather and great-grandfather were caught on the Roads.”
“And?”
What else to say? That everyone remembered Arathorn as valiant, brave, and dreadfully unlucky? That he had put the Angle’s needs above his own, and married twice when he could not get an heir with the woman he had loved so long? That he had kept his people as well as he could in his time?
“He was a good man, I hear,” he finally settles for.
Aragorn looks at him with dark eyes. “Do you love your father?”
“Of course!” Instant reply, and Halbarad bristles a bit, all unthinkingly, confused and unsettled.
“And when he dies one day – bravely, perhaps, or fortunately, in his bed – you’ll mourn him, and lay a stone by your family’s marker, and be glad to be called ‘Son of Hirthon’?”
“I – yes. And why wouldn’t I be?”
“He’ll be gone when that happens, will he not?”
“We will remember him.”
“But only you will remain. He will be gone, and you will have what you need of him to make him yours – you’ll remember the time he struck you in short temper, or tripped on a stone, or faulted you for something your sister had done. You’ll remember how he argued with your mother. You’ll remember he was gone the day you tumbled a girl the first time.”
Halbarad shifts uncomfortably. “I will remember other things, too,” he insists, and gets a shrug.
“You will remember a whole man,” Aragorn replies. “And that man will lie in the earth, and what remains alive shall be an amputation – someone else, almost, for someone else. Someone to be sung of, perhaps, among Rangers or the Dúnedain. I hear much of Hirthon’s daring – he has an eye for tactics, to hear him speak in counsel,” the Chieftain admits, and Halbarad has, for a moment, a vision of his father, lying pale amid a pool of his own blood, which seeps through wounds wrought by orc-blades. He shivers.
’Tis not true sight, he tells himself, and hopes that is the truth. He feels Aragorn’s eyes on him, risks a look, and sees him frowning with concern.
“Are you well?” he asks.
“Aye,” he says, perhaps too quickly, and so hurries on: “Only I do not understand why you say this.”
Aragorn sighs softly, and fixes his gaze upon that stone again. “I never had a father, unless it were Elrond,” he confesses. “For long, I thought he must have done something terrible, for my mother to be sent away from her home with me, and for no one to wish to speak of him to me. And then I learned otherwise. And since I came here, I have not ceased to learn otherwise.”
“It is to honor him,” Halbarad says quietly. “Most men would wish to hear their father honored.”
“Then perhaps I am not most men. Or else a poor son,” Aragorn answered. A pause, then, in a low, quiet voice: “I have heard Elrond honored – in song, even, by my mother, who had it from her mother and down the line for Ages. But I know he breaks more quills than he ought, and that he did once have me shuck the stables for nothing I had done. And I saw his face that day, when we – ” Aragorn pauses then, and he shakes his head, waves a hand. “Never mind,” he says to Halbarad’s raised brow. “He is not my father, but I know him beyond the songs, and should he die, I will not mistake the man they sing of for the one who is gone.”
Halbarad ducks his head. He sees it now, the trouble. “It is only,” he says after a time, “that it is hard to speak ill of the dead.”
“I know it. But no one else is his son. No one else has to say, ‘I am Arathorn’s son’ and so live by him.”
They lapse then into silence, for what can be said? Halbarad does not know what captains might say behind closed doors, or in their cups, when no one else is about to hear them. But plainly it is hard to be so close-companioned to half a ghost.
“If I have children, will you tell them of this?” Aragorn asks suddenly.
“If you have children?” Halbarad demands, rather sharply.
“When, then. Will you tell them?”
Halbarad considers. “No,” he says at length; “For I’ll not say now that they shall not know you, to need my tales; nor will I commit to the idea that on your death, you’ll merit any better memory than the whole of you deserves!”
At that, Aragorn laughs, ruefully. “Well served, sir,” he acknowledges the hit. Then holding out his hand: “Thank you.”
Halbarad takes it. “If you would thank me, then can we leave this place?”
Aragorn does not waste words, but rises, and pulls Halbarad up with him. And he claps him on his shoulder, and gives him a friendly shove on ahead, ere catching up to walk shoulder to shoulder with him. It is a small thing, a little living warmth to counter the cold splendor of his dead, perhaps, and Halbarad for a moment is tempted to say what’s desired, to reassure and promise, Yes, I will remember this to others, when your time comes.
Instead, he holds his tongue, and drapes an arm about Aragorn’s shoulders. For kings and sons of kings need tempered friendship, lest one day they linger on in memory as dark and terrible specters to haunt their people. He never knew Arathorn, but for just a moment, he sees him – and sees him smiling.
N33: Roles and Names of Aragorn: King; Aspects of Aragorn: Father
Format: short story
Genre: Angst
Rating: K
Warnings: Brooding youthful self-centeredness?
Characters: Aragorn, Halbarad, dead people
Summary: It is hard to live by half a ghost.
Remembrance
Their new Chieftain – Vána be praised for such renewal! – spends long hours closeted with the Ranger captains and the Lady, or on the road about the Angle, gaining his bearings in this land, among his people.
Sometimes, though, he disappears – an uncanny habit, or a Rangerly one, but hard for a people so long bereft to bear. ‘Tis Halbarad who discovers his retreat.
“You are grave today,” he risks jesting. Aragorn looks up, shakes his head a little, lips twitching. Halbarad, after a moment, takes that as invitation to sit with him beneath the shady tree, and he eyes the white stone graven with the arms of Elendil’s house. And about it, many smaller white stones – for the long line of Rangers, most especially those who did not come home.
“My br – the brethren, Elrond’s sons, say that my father fell in the hill country south of here,” Aragorn says. “They say they will show me the place one day.”
“That is good of them.” The grunt that answers is telling in its disinterest. “Surely they would only seek to help you,” Halbarad protests.
“They do.”
“What, then, if I may?” Halbarad presses, if gently – Aragorn is his chieftain for all he is young, and for all he likes him well. Aragorn eyes him speculatively.
“What do you know of my father, Halbarad?”
“Father says he was a good captain,” he answers promptly, for everyone says this. “He says the old Chieftain, Arador, trusted him with the Angle after the Fell Winter – that your father kept the Angle when the winter struck, and your grandfather and great-grandfather were caught on the Roads.”
“And?”
What else to say? That everyone remembered Arathorn as valiant, brave, and dreadfully unlucky? That he had put the Angle’s needs above his own, and married twice when he could not get an heir with the woman he had loved so long? That he had kept his people as well as he could in his time?
“He was a good man, I hear,” he finally settles for.
Aragorn looks at him with dark eyes. “Do you love your father?”
“Of course!” Instant reply, and Halbarad bristles a bit, all unthinkingly, confused and unsettled.
“And when he dies one day – bravely, perhaps, or fortunately, in his bed – you’ll mourn him, and lay a stone by your family’s marker, and be glad to be called ‘Son of Hirthon’?”
“I – yes. And why wouldn’t I be?”
“He’ll be gone when that happens, will he not?”
“We will remember him.”
“But only you will remain. He will be gone, and you will have what you need of him to make him yours – you’ll remember the time he struck you in short temper, or tripped on a stone, or faulted you for something your sister had done. You’ll remember how he argued with your mother. You’ll remember he was gone the day you tumbled a girl the first time.”
Halbarad shifts uncomfortably. “I will remember other things, too,” he insists, and gets a shrug.
“You will remember a whole man,” Aragorn replies. “And that man will lie in the earth, and what remains alive shall be an amputation – someone else, almost, for someone else. Someone to be sung of, perhaps, among Rangers or the Dúnedain. I hear much of Hirthon’s daring – he has an eye for tactics, to hear him speak in counsel,” the Chieftain admits, and Halbarad has, for a moment, a vision of his father, lying pale amid a pool of his own blood, which seeps through wounds wrought by orc-blades. He shivers.
’Tis not true sight, he tells himself, and hopes that is the truth. He feels Aragorn’s eyes on him, risks a look, and sees him frowning with concern.
“Are you well?” he asks.
“Aye,” he says, perhaps too quickly, and so hurries on: “Only I do not understand why you say this.”
Aragorn sighs softly, and fixes his gaze upon that stone again. “I never had a father, unless it were Elrond,” he confesses. “For long, I thought he must have done something terrible, for my mother to be sent away from her home with me, and for no one to wish to speak of him to me. And then I learned otherwise. And since I came here, I have not ceased to learn otherwise.”
“It is to honor him,” Halbarad says quietly. “Most men would wish to hear their father honored.”
“Then perhaps I am not most men. Or else a poor son,” Aragorn answered. A pause, then, in a low, quiet voice: “I have heard Elrond honored – in song, even, by my mother, who had it from her mother and down the line for Ages. But I know he breaks more quills than he ought, and that he did once have me shuck the stables for nothing I had done. And I saw his face that day, when we – ” Aragorn pauses then, and he shakes his head, waves a hand. “Never mind,” he says to Halbarad’s raised brow. “He is not my father, but I know him beyond the songs, and should he die, I will not mistake the man they sing of for the one who is gone.”
Halbarad ducks his head. He sees it now, the trouble. “It is only,” he says after a time, “that it is hard to speak ill of the dead.”
“I know it. But no one else is his son. No one else has to say, ‘I am Arathorn’s son’ and so live by him.”
They lapse then into silence, for what can be said? Halbarad does not know what captains might say behind closed doors, or in their cups, when no one else is about to hear them. But plainly it is hard to be so close-companioned to half a ghost.
“If I have children, will you tell them of this?” Aragorn asks suddenly.
“If you have children?” Halbarad demands, rather sharply.
“When, then. Will you tell them?”
Halbarad considers. “No,” he says at length; “For I’ll not say now that they shall not know you, to need my tales; nor will I commit to the idea that on your death, you’ll merit any better memory than the whole of you deserves!”
At that, Aragorn laughs, ruefully. “Well served, sir,” he acknowledges the hit. Then holding out his hand: “Thank you.”
Halbarad takes it. “If you would thank me, then can we leave this place?”
Aragorn does not waste words, but rises, and pulls Halbarad up with him. And he claps him on his shoulder, and gives him a friendly shove on ahead, ere catching up to walk shoulder to shoulder with him. It is a small thing, a little living warmth to counter the cold splendor of his dead, perhaps, and Halbarad for a moment is tempted to say what’s desired, to reassure and promise, Yes, I will remember this to others, when your time comes.
Instead, he holds his tongue, and drapes an arm about Aragorn’s shoulders. For kings and sons of kings need tempered friendship, lest one day they linger on in memory as dark and terrible specters to haunt their people. He never knew Arathorn, but for just a moment, he sees him – and sees him smiling.
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no subject
Date: 2012-03-12 06:55 pm (UTC)I love this, obviously. A wonderful interaction between Aragorn and notdead!Halbarad--for all his angst, Aragorn's still terribly incisive in his frustration that the ordinary, human traits and failings of men are never memorialized in song. Hence, there are some ways in which he can't really know Arathorn, for all he's praised: And that man will lie in the earth, and what remains alive shall be an amputation – someone else, almost, for someone else. I also love his account of less than perfect foster-dad Elrond--pretty refreshing. I imagine that Aragorn's been so steeped in Legend and Great Tales from his infancy, he craves their antidote.
Their exchange about Aragorn's as-yet-unborn heirs is heartbreaking, of course, because Aragorn will outlive Halbarad, and his friend will never meet his children. For kings and sons of kings need tempered friendship, lest one day they linger on in memory as dark and terrible specters to haunt their people. Aragorn needs a friend like Halbarad, and it's good that he has him. *hugs Halbarad*
no subject
Date: 2012-03-13 04:34 am (UTC)Dynasty + premature deaths + have/are the phallus split = significant daddy-backed identity issues.
I also love his account of less than perfect foster-dad Elrond--pretty refreshing.
Thank you. With a foster-father like Maglor, Elrond has to have his less than perfect moments as a parent.
I imagine that Aragorn's been so steeped in Legend and Great Tales from his infancy, he craves their antidote.
I think he mostly craves someone he could actually love and be a son to, even if only in imagination, because it's impossible to be the child of everyone else's hero. Yet that's what he's mostly getting - the hero, whom he can't know, can't love when it's a yardstick he feels everyone measuring him by, and can't reject, claim, or lay to rest as his father.
Their exchange about Aragorn's as-yet-unborn heirs is heartbreaking, of course, because Aragorn will outlive Halbarad, and his friend will never meet his children.
Which is why we write AUs!
*hugs Halbarad*
Eledhril's giving you the eye - just thought you should know.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-13 12:18 pm (UTC)Re: Elrond as parent: good point, that!
Yet that's what he's mostly getting - the hero, whom he can't know, can't love when it's a yardstick he feels everyone measuring him by, and can't reject, claim, or lay to rest as his father.
It's kind of amazing Aragorn turned out as...not crazy as he did?
Eledhril's giving you the eye - just thought you should know.
He would, wouldn't he? *waves* Hi, Eledhril!
no subject
Date: 2012-03-13 07:42 pm (UTC)The easy part is lumping the prompts together. The hard part is separating them sufficiently that I have more to say when a duplicate prompt comes up, or saving something back for related prompts that haven't yet arisen! It's a challenge, but hey, Aragorn is worth it.
Re: Elrond as parent: good point, that!
I've had occasion to be reminded of it recently.
It's kind of amazing Aragorn turned out as...not crazy as he did?
Isn't it?
no subject
Date: 2012-03-12 07:12 pm (UTC)I know how he feels though; having missing pieces that so need to be found, and fitted in to get the bigger picture. Not just of the father he did not know, but how that father "made" him; how he relates to the man who gave him name and rank and life. If he looks in a mirror does he see his father's image? how about his father's reactions and thoughts? All these are such deep and valid questions and emotions.
I think you did a great job capturing that missing-ness, that emptiness needing filling and the last lines from Halbarad were perfect. Aragorn may never hear the truth of his father but he seems well on the way to leaving something behind for his own son(s).
no subject
Date: 2012-03-13 04:38 am (UTC)Exactly - it's not just about Arathorn, it's about who Aragorn is, and about not suffocating under the weight of this heroic ideal, the sum of other people's hopes and desires in a very selective memory, but whom he cannot relate to or understand himself through.
Aragorn may never hear the truth of his father but he seems well on the way to leaving something behind for his own son(s).
:-D I'm so glad you liked this! Thanks for commenting!
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Date: 2012-03-12 07:25 pm (UTC)*flinch*
Those lads really know how to turn up the angst *g*
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Date: 2012-03-13 04:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-13 04:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-12 07:40 pm (UTC)Aragorn and Halbarad had such a deep, warm relationship and it is one of the tragedies of Tolkien that it could not be continued.
Praise be for AU fanfic.
Thank you for this. :)
no subject
Date: 2012-03-13 04:42 am (UTC)Aragorn and Halbarad had such a deep, warm relationship and it is one of the tragedies of Tolkien that it could not be continued.
AND THE TRAGEDY IS WHY WE LOVE THEM! (Okay, so that might have just been me... *cough*)
Glad you enjoyed, Jenni!
no subject
Date: 2012-03-13 06:23 pm (UTC)Tragedy is my favourite inspiration for creating drama, and of course Tolkien's stories are full of it. It's a never-ending pool of ideas! :)
I loved it. Now that I'm back in the fandom, I'll have to get caught up. ;)
no subject
Date: 2012-03-12 11:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-13 04:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-13 01:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-13 04:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-13 12:00 pm (UTC)- Erulisse (one L)
Sent from my NookColor
no subject
Date: 2012-03-13 04:18 pm (UTC)For those who are leadership in politics or in commercial interests (these days especially), I think yes, that there's no escaping the fact that when a leader dies, the surviving political leadership goes into high gear to make hay out of that death. What sort of hay depends on what the goals of the society are, but I imagine that even if you agreed with the goals of the Dunedain, it would be hard to have your unknown father's memory become a morale-booster or to be constantly measured against that one-sided image.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-14 04:56 am (UTC)I can so appreciate Aragorn's feelings here!