Chapter 12

Aragorn walked back from the lake, the sun bearing down on him from the tangle of branches. His hair was still wet, and he felt cool and refreshed. Boromir walked after him, alternating between chuckling and frowning.

'I'm sorry, my friend,' said Aragorn. 'I think you've lost your chance. I doubt you'll ever find yourself in a similar situation.'

Boromir nodded sadly. 'But it would have been fun…' He frowned up at the trees. 'Do you think he would have done it?'

'Promised to do it, or actually gone through with it?' asked Aragorn. 'Because he might have said he would to make us let go of him and then run away laughing.'

'But if we could have gotten him to…' Boromir broke off again; chuckling at whatever ideas he had in his head.

'If we had gotten him to, he would never live it down, not if he lived for ten thousand centuries,' Aragorn declared, smiling.

Boromir nodded in agreement and wrapped an arm around Aragorn's shoulders. 'Why did Elrond have to show up just then?'

'Elvish conspiracy,' said Aragorn.

Boromir sighed again, then chuckled. 'It would have been glorious.'

'An elf singing a dwarf a love song—glorious?' Aragorn raised his eyebrows incredulously.

'Hilarious, then,' said Boromir. 'Whatever you want to call it, I would have enjoyed every minute of it.'

'As would I,' said Aragorn. 'Don't tell him what we were planning, even if he begs, there might arise another opportunity to trick him into it, and then…' he grinned wickedly.

Boromir nodded. 'I won't say a word. I wonder what Gimli would have thought.'

'He would probably have thought that Legolas was going mad, and he might even possibly have died of embarrassment,' Aragorn speculated.

'I would have loved to see it,' Boromir sighed wistfully.

'We might still, my friend,' Aragorn consoled him, 'We might still.'

'Did you enjoy your swim?' asked Gimli as they stepped in through the front door.

'Yes,' said Boromir, trying not to laugh as he looked at the dwarf.

'What's so funny?' asked Gimli.

'Nothing,' answered Boromir, suppressing a chuckle.

Gimli frowned disbelievingly. 'You'd better tell me.'

'No, Gimli,' said Aragorn. 'You're better off not knowing.'

Gimli folded his arms stubbornly. 'Tell me…' he said threateningly.

'No,' said Boromir.

Gimli frowned. 'Men!' he scoffed.

Aragorn and Boromir ignored him and turned to Merry and Pippin who were sitting on the sofa, drawing.

'I'm no good at this,' Pippin complained, throwing his pencil down in frustration.

'Now, Peregrin,' said Merry commandingly. 'That isn't the attitude to have. If you think you are no good, you will be no good, all it takes is a little practice.'

'It's too hot to draw!' Pippin proclaimed.

Merry sighed. 'Pippin, you are impossible. Oh, hello, Strider, Dad,' he said, looking up and noticing them.

Aragorn smiled. Merry and Pippin had gotten in the habit of calling Boromir 'Dad', not that Boromir seemed to mind, and it was a lot shorter.

'What are you drawing?' asked Boromir.

'A mess,' said Pippin.

'We are drawing the flowers in that vase,' said Merry, nodding to a glass vase on the coffee table filled with drooping pink roses.

'He's drawing the roses,' said Pippin. 'I'm still drawing a mess. See?' He held up the sheet of paper to show a few scribbles in the general shape of roses. 'This is hopeless.'

Aragorn nodded.

'And now you're encouraging, I mean, discouraging him!' scolded Merry. 'It isn't hopeless, Pip, you'll get the hang of it; you just have to believe in yourself.'

'Sorry,' said Aragorn, sitting down in the armchair.

'Let me see yours, Merry,' said Pippin.

Merry held up a paper covered with heavy lines resembling rather stiff roses. 'It's only this good because I believed in myself,' he explained.

'You must not have believed very hard,' Aragorn rejoined.

'I am choosing to ignore that last comment,' sniffed Merry.

'It's better than I could do,' said Boromir. 'How about you, Aragorn?'

'I don't draw,' said Aragorn.

'You don't, or you can't?' asked Merry.

'I don't,' said Aragorn.

'But can you?' asked Merry.

'I can get by…barely,' he said.

'So is it better or worse than you could draw?' asked Boromir.

Aragorn took the paper and turned it back and forth. 'Better.'

'Ha!' said Merry. 'Now just try insulting me!'

Aragorn sighed. 'All right, I apologize.'

Merry beamed.

'It's still too hot to draw,' said Pippin.

'It's too hot to do anything,' said Merry.

'You should have gone swimming with us,' Boromir told them.

'I can't swim,' said Pippin, 'and I'm afraid of the water, it's too deep.'

'You could have gone wading,' Boromir said.

Pippin shook his head. 'No, I don't think so.'

Boromir shrugged.

Gimli walked over to them and sat down beside the hobbits on the sofa. Aragorn and Boromir snickered; the dwarf gave the men a suspicious look and folded his arms again.

'Did Elrond say when to expect them back?' asked Aragorn.

'He said that they might be back around six,' Gimli said.

'And you didn't want to go?' Aragorn asked.

'No,' Gimli answered. 'I didn't really.'

'And we didn't want to go either,' said Merry, 'but now I wish we had because I'm bored.'

'Why don't we watch a movie?' asked Pippin excitedly, 'there is a movie coming on in just five minutes.'

Gimli frowned. 'I don't trust those thing,' he declared, glaring at the television. 'I think that someone must be using them to spy on us.'

'And why would that be?' asked Merry.

'Because,' said Gimli, 'If we can see them, they can see us.'

'It doesn't work that way,' Merry replied. 'Legolas researched it on the computer, he says that they can't see us at all.'

'I still don't like it,' said Gimli.

'Why don't we?' asked Boromir. 'It might be fun.'

Merry nodded. 'The television hasn't killed us, Aragorn. We watched it quite often when we were trapped in that miserable apartment.'

Aragorn nodded reluctantly. 'Fine,' he consented.

Aragorn found that, much to his surprise, he enjoyed the show. He looked over at Boromir who was watching with rapt attention, and at Gimli, whose eyes were darting over the screen nervously, trying to find something sinister, and at the hobbits, who seemed quite delighted.

It was a science fiction show about an alien from another world; it seemed to somehow fit their circumstances. He watched as Eliot protected E.T. from the adults in the world, wondering to himself. What was it about children that would accept things as they were, accept legends and myths as true, believe in the improbable, believe in fairies? Why did adults become so set in their own ways, so determined to believe only the thing they could explain? When did this change occur, was it what separated children from adults? Why was everyone so afraid of the unknown? But what did it matter? It seemed that they were trapped in E.T.'s plight, with no Eliot to turn to, and no glowing space ship to whisk them away to safety. He sighed and leaned back in his chair.

The front door opened and Frodo and Sam walked in, followed by Legolas, and after a moment, Elrond. Elrond seemed lost in his own thoughts and Aragorn immediately went to him.

'How was the concert?' he asked.

'It was beautiful,' said Sam, 'Just beautiful.'

Elrond smiled a little. 'It was.' He walked past Aragorn and disappeared into the bathroom.

'What have you been doing?' Legolas asked Aragorn.

'We watched a show called E.T.,' said Aragorn.

'Oh? Did you like it?'

Aragorn nodded. 'It was good.' He looked over at Merry and Pippin who were trying to relate the entire show to Frodo and Sam in half a minute. 'The hobbits liked it.'

'That's good.' Legolas looked suspiciously at Boromir and Aragorn. 'All right, I want to know, what were you going to make me do?'

Boromir and Aragorn exchanged looks and walked quietly away.

Legolas followed them. 'I want to know!'

'Oh, that's just too bad,' said Aragorn.

'Please, I'm dying of curiosity,' Legolas begged.

'The only way we'd ever tell you,' said Boromir, 'Would be if you were to promise us that you would do it.'

Legolas scowled. 'No deal.'

'That's just too bad, then,' said Aragorn.

'Fine,' said Legolas. 'I don't want to know. It was probably something dreadful anyways.'

'I wouldn't say that,' said Boromir. 'I think you might call it rather sweet.'

'I've had enough of you,' said the elf, pulling out a cookbook.

'What are you going to make?' asked Pippin.

'I don't know,' said Legolas.

'Would you make peetsa?' Pippin pleaded. 'They had peetsa in the movie, and it looked so good.'

'What's peetsa?' Legolas inquired.

'Pizza,' corrected Boromir, 'And it's a flat bread cooked with things on top of it—mainly cheese and tomato sauce.'

'Ah,' said Legolas, 'that sounds just fine, Pip, I think I will make some.'

Aragorn left Legolas cooking and went to find Elrond, who he had last seen sneaking off upstairs. He crept silently up the steps and down the hall to Elrond's room; hearing the sound of muffled weeping, he stopped. He had three options, barge in and demand to know what was wrong, thus destroying Elrond's pride, and getting a result; knock first, wait to be let in, demand to know what was wrong, thus preserving Elrond's pride and getting no result; or to walk away and leave him alone, which didn't seem a good thing at all. He hesitated, uncertain of what to do.

Finally, deciding that the rashest decision might be the most effective, he took a breath, turned the knob, and stepped in.

Elrond was curled up on his bed, holding tightly to himself, shed tears wet his pale cheeks, and unspent ones glittered in his deep grey eyes. His dark, dark wild hair lay tangled across his face, clinging to the tear tracks, caught in his trembling lips. His long hands caressed his arms hesitantly, desperately. He looked up when Aragorn walked in and whispered an inaudible word in his grief.

'I…' Aragorn tried.

But Elrond was too quick for him; he sat up, brushing the tears off his face and pushing his hair back into relative order. 'Please, pardon my state, Aragorn, but you should have knocked.' He wiped his eyes again. 'Is something the matter?'

Aragorn could have laughed at the irony of the question. 'Wouldn't you know that better than I?'

Elrond gave him a composed smile. 'I am quite all right, Aragorn.'

'I don't believe that.'

Elrond nodded. 'I suppose that you might not.' He got up and looked out the window. 'But I assure you, I am quite fine.'

Aragorn placed a hand on his back; Elrond was trembling a little. 'I still don't believe it.'

Elrond shrugged his shoulders. 'Believe what you like.'

'If you talk about it it might make you feel better,' Aragorn suggested.

Elrond smiled a little. 'Aragorn, I thank-you for your concern, but there is nothing you can do to help me.'

'Nothing?'

Elrond turned to him. 'Nothing.'

'And you're sure of that?'

'Yes.'

Aragorn stood in the silence that followed, while Elrond paced a little up and down the wooden boards. Finally, he stopped and turned to the ranger. 'Aragorn, tell me, you seem upset. What troubles you?'

'It troubles me that you're so sad,' said Aragorn.

Elrond sighed. 'Aragorn, as I have told you, there is nothing you can do to help.'

'And why not?'

'Because,' said Elrond quietly. 'Because…because, my dear, you are part of the problem.'

Aragorn nodded, and swallowed hard, not certain of what to do next.

Elrond stopped pacing and sat back down, twisting his foot nervously against his ankle.

'I'm sorry,' he said lamely.

Elrond nodded. 'There isn't much you can do to help it.'

Aragorn shifted back and forth, the floor felt warm under his bare feet.

'I wish these doors had locks,' Elrond whispered.

'Locks won't solve your problems,' said Aragorn, 'it does you no good to lock people away form you, out of your heart and life; it doesn't help. Remember, you told me that.'

Elrond shook his head. 'Did I?'

'Yes.'

'And do you believe everything I tell you, Aragorn son of Arathorn, Lord of the Dunedain?' Elrond asked gently, although Aragorn thought he caught a bitter tone in his voice.

'I try to listen to your advice, you are very wise and…'

'Yes, I am wise,' said Elrond sadly. 'But I still do not have all the answers.'

Aragorn sat down next to him and put an arm around him. Elrond reached up and placed his hand over his.

'Estel, you do not have to comfort me.'

'But if I don't, who will?'

'I…' Elrond began, but fell silent.

'You have learned how to comfort yourself? Is that what you want to tell me? That you have no more need for love?'

Elrond smiled. 'Is that what you want—to love me? Estel, you can love me.' He held Aragorn's face between his hands. 'I do not deny you that, but what comfort can you hope to give me? You who wish to take away one that I love?'

Aragorn hung his head, but Elrond tilted it back up. 'I love you, Estel.' He kissed Aragorn between the eyebrows. 'You don't have to worry about me.' He looked lovingly into Aragorn's eyes, and Aragorn felt his heart break again. He couldn't stop the tears. Elrond held him close as he cried, running his hand over his hair soothingly.

'I am so sorry,' Aragorn murmured.

'There, there,' whispered Elrond, 'it is all right, I understand. How could you not love her?'

'I didn't want to hurt you,' Aragorn whispered.

Elrond kissed the top of his head.

Aragorn pulled away from him. 'I came here to comfort you,' he said.

Elrond nodded. 'Then you knew.'

'Yes.'

'You should have knocked.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Of course you're sorry, you've always been sorry, ever since you learned the word.'

Aragorn hung his head again.

'No, Estel, you need not be ashamed. You have done much good with your life, even if…'

'Even if no one takes me seriously and I will never be a good king, even though I have to be one?'

'Estel, everyone takes you seriously, a little too seriously, in fact, people are scared of you.'

'I know,' Aragorn sighed.

'And you will be a good king; it helps that you don't want to be.'

'Why does that help?'

'It means that you will not be motivated by selfish desires.'

'Right.'

Elrond nodded. 'You just have to believe in yourself.'

'There you go again!' said Aragorn. 'You're giving me more advice, advice that I just happened to hear from Merry a few hours ago. Now, answer me, do you really believe that?'

Elrond parted his lips and twisted his hair nervously about his finger.

'Do you?' Aragorn demanded.

'Well…no.'

'See, now if I ever give you bad advice, it will probably be your fault,' said Aragorn.

'I am sorry,' said Elrond, 'Advice should not be given lightly.'

'Then be honest with me,' said Aragorn. 'I'm a bad leader and…'

'I do not think that you are a bad leader,' Elrond interrupted.

'Don't you? Well, if I'm such a good leader, how come, when I try to give instructions, people dumps socks over my head?'

'Dump socks over your head? Who dumped socks over your head?' asked Elrond, surprised.

'Legolas,' said Aragorn, 'he said I was being too grumpy.'

Elrond hid a smile.

'Yes, I suppose it's very funny.'

'I am sorry, Estel. I suppose that could be rather discouraging.'

Aragorn nodded.

Elrond rubbed his shoulder. 'But this is your fate in life, and you must accept it or run away, and…'

'It never helps to run away from your problems,' Aragorn finished.

'No, it sometimes does help to run away,' said Elrond, 'but that wasn't what I was going to say. I was going to say that you must either accept it or run away, and if you run away you may find…ai, Estel, I've forgotten what I was going to say.' He buried his face in his hands. 'It does not really seem important now; it probably made no sense.'

Aragorn ran a hand down his back. 'Have I ruined your trust in your advice?'

'No, Estel, it just seems that I have lost you.'

'Lost me?'

'Yes, Estel, I have lost you.'

'I understand,' Aragorn assured him uncertainly.

'Do you?' asked Elrond. 'Ah, I remember now, if you run away from your fate you will find that you have lost yourself, for your fate is who you are in a way, and if you lose yourself, then you loose what you were trying to save, for you would no longer be you.' He sighed. 'And yet, to be someone else, perhaps…'

Aragorn put his arms around him again. 'I understand,' he said again.

Elrond smiled at him. 'No, I am all right, Estel. I am content to be myself.'

'Of course you are; you're Elrond.'

'Yes, I am Elrond. And you are, Aragorn, and that is just the way it is.' He placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder.

Aragorn smiled at him gratefully. 'Why is it that when I come to comfort you, you wind up comforting me?'

'Perhaps it is just my fate?'

'Perhaps,' said Aragorn slowly. He studied Elrond, wondering how much of him he would ever understand.

'Why do you look at me like that?' asked Elrond.

'I love you,' he said.

Elrond smiled. 'I love you too.' He took his hand. 'And I believe in you, Estel, even if Thranduil's son dumps socks on your head.'

Aragorn couldn't help but smile.

Elrond smiled back and lay down, looking up at the ceiling. Aragorn lay down beside him and looked up at it; it was water stained and rather bumpy. He closed his eyes and lay still, peace settling for the time on him. Elrond did not say anything else, and there was a long, gentle silence. Finally, it was disturbed by a knock on the door. Elrond stirred, and Aragorn wondered if he had fallen asleep.

'What is it?' asked Elrond, sitting up.

'Dinner's ready,' said Boromir.

'We're coming,' said Elrond, getting to his feet.

Aragorn got up too and went downstairs.

Everyone settled around the table and Legolas served them their pizza, Aragorn looked suspiciously at the messy plate the elf handed him.

'Legolas,' said Pippin. 'I think you put too much cheese.'

Legolas shrugged. 'I like cheese.'

Aragorn ate his food in silence, watching the reactions of the others. He didn't know if it had too much cheese or not since he didn't know what a pizza was supposed to be like, but he liked it. Boromir, however, lost no time in pointing out that it was burnt.

'It's just a little burnt,' said Legolas.

'It's still burnt,' said Boromir.

'Well, don't eat it then!' snapped Legolas.

Boromir stopped complaining.

Gimli, who had probably been about to insult the pizza by the look on his face, didn't say anything either.

Pippin and Merry told Elrond all about the movie, and Elrond listened quietly, nodding occasionally, as he carefully ate his pizza with a knife and fork, despite Pippin's assurance that you ate it with your fingers.

After dinner, Aragorn went out for a smoke in the moonlight. He looked up at the stars; the movie coming back to him. I wonder if there really is life on other planets he thought, letting out a breath of smoke.

The door opened, and a moment later, Boromir sat down next to him. 'Beautiful night, isn't it?' he asked.

Aragorn nodded.

Boromir looked up at the stars. 'I wonder…'

Aragorn shrugged.

There was a long silence broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant barking of a dog.

'We should get a dog,' said Boromir absently.

'The hobbits don't like them,' said Aragorn, twisting his pipe thoughtfully back and forth.

'Why not?' asked Boromir.

'At least Frodo and Sam don't, they're scared of them,' Aragorn answered.

'They're scared of a lot of things,' said Boromir, drumming his fingers on his knee.

'I know.'

More silence.

'It is too great a burden for him!' cried Boromir suddenly.

Aragorn turned to him slowly. 'It is too great a burden for anyone,' he replied.

'But why Frodo?' demanded Boromir. 'He is so small, so scared, so…'

'It is his fate,' answered Aragorn.

Boromir shook his head. 'We do not know that. He is afraid of dogs, how can he bear the weight of the world? How can we ask this of him?'

'I do not know.'

'And now, if he carries it and we are unable to destroy it, what will happen to him?' asked Boromir.

'He will fade,' said Aragorn.

'And you ask this of him?'

'I will do anything in my power to save him,' Aragorn affirmed.

'And what if your power is not good enough?'

Aragorn didn't answer.

Boromir clenched his fists. 'I hate Sauron,' he seethed, 'who is he to try to take our world? Who is he to demand that we be his slaves? Who is he to rob lives? Forcing us to fight him over and over, holding back the evil that he lives on. What did we ever do to deserve this? Why is evil allowed to live? Why, Aragorn? Why?'

Aragorn lay a hand on his shoulder, but found no words to say.

There was another troubled silence.

Boromir pressed his fists against his face, his elbows on his knees. 'If we ever get back, what can we do to stop him? He will take everything.' Boromir shook with unshed tears. 'Is there no hope?'

'No, Boromir, there is always hope,' said Aragorn gently.

'Hope of what?'

'Hope that that old saying is true.'

Boromir turned to him. 'What old saying?'

'That good always overcomes evil.'

'But can it?' asked Boromir, looking deeply into Aragorn's eyes.

Aragorn turned away. 'I don't know, Boromir.'

Silence.

'Boromir?' Aragorn whispered.

'Yes?'

'I…'

Silence.

'Goodnight, Boromir,' said Aragorn, getting to his feet.

'Goodnight, Aragorn.'

Aragorn crept into the house leaving Boromir alone on the steps staring glumly at the distant stars shimmering in the warm night sky.