Mellon Chronicles 3 - Hope

Hope

AUTHOR: Siobhan

DISCLAIMER: The Mellon Chronicles are the complete fanfiction works of Cassia & Siobhan. I make no claim to them or The Lord of the Rings. It's respective plot is copyright of J.R.R. Tolkien. The works posted here are purely for the enjoyment and remembrance of fans.

ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMER: Please know that when Tolkien says that Aragorn's parents died when he was young and he therefore was 'raised in the house of Elrond' we have taken that to mean that Elrond was something of an adopted father to his long-distant nephew, Aragorn and Elrond's twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, were something like older brothers to the young ranger. We realize that this may not fit everyone's view of the situation, but it is our view and that shows in our stories. Please do not take offence, or flame us on this if you see it differently. Thanks!

ALSO PLEASE NOTE: Yes, I know that Aragorn's father was killed when he was two and his mother was actually still alive. But please accept the use of artistic license in this story and enjoy it for what it is. Thanks!

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Hope~

By Siobhan

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He awoke with a start, fighting off the bed sheets that had wrapped themselves around his arms and tummy while he was sleeping. Sitting in the middle of the huge elven bed, five year old Aragorn tried hard to calm his breathing. He wiped the tears from his eyes on the sleeves of his sleeping shirt and sniffed quietly in the dark. It was the same dream he had been having ever since he had been dropped off here in Rivendell only two months ago now.

He never told anyone about the demons that haunted him in sleep; the ones who had killed his parents. He saw them again and again. And always it ended the same. Lord Elrond was kind to him and the elder elf had been very patient with the young boy and although he liked his new family, he still missed his parents terribly. Thoughts of his mother broke out in a sob and he began to hiccup as he sat alone in the dark crying.

A slight breeze blew outside Elrond's house whistling down the gorge that Rivendell had been built into. The trees near Aragorn's room bowed under the gentle onslaught, their branches scraping against his window harmlessly. The noise was enough to startled the little boy and without further thought he slid off the tall bed and pelted down the hallway to Elrond's room.

Standing in front of the tall oaken doors, Aragorn stood on his tiptoes and grasped the gold ornamented doorknob slowly turning it and releasing the door catch. Nervously he glanced inside the huge room.

Stopping himself, he chanced a look back down the dark hallway searching for signs that any of the elves were awake. No one was present however and the only sound was the moaning of the wind as it sighed through the gully passing on its way to the higher mountains. Swallowing back his fears, Aragorn squeezed through the narrow opening in the doorway and quietly padded up next to Elrond's bed.

The tall bed was covered in silken sheets that fell in folds from where the elf lay sleeping. Aragorn could barely see the top of the sleep couch so he quietly climbed the wooden frame, catching hold of the sheets, and pulled himself up to lean over the elf and stare at him.

Elrond was asleep on his back his mouth slightly open and his hands resting across his chest. But it was the elf's eyes that caused Aragorn's heart to seize in his chest. Lord Elrond's eyes were open. The child watched him for a few seconds to see if he would blink, perhaps the elf were merely awake and thinking. But when Elrond did not move or blink, horror swept through the child. The only people he had ever seen who lay perfectly still with their eyes open were dead people.

Tears welled up in his eyes afresh as fear spiked through him. Pressing his hands against Lord Elrond's shoulder he shook the adult, calling out his name through the sobs that wracked his small body.