Disclaimer: Everything here belongs to Tolkien and his people (New Line Cinema, I guess). I’m not earning money, I don’t own these characters (oh boy, I wish I did, man) and I haven’t gotten anything to say about this matter. Oh yes, one last thing! Thanx soooo much for casting such great actors that fit the parts sooo perfectly! Uh and Mr Jackson, could u please direct star wars episode 3?

 

NOTE: This is an A/A story, and if it might seem more like A/L or ARW/L at first, it’s not. Story was written with the people playing Aragorn, Arwen, Legolas and Elrond in mind. In other words, I mean the people in this fic to look like the people in the movies. Sorry anti-lotr-movie-ists and anti-liv-tyler-as-arwen-ists

PS In case someone wants to know how I picture that Eldarion kid, all you have to do is go see E.T., and have a good look at Elliott. That’s what MY Eldarion looks like J

 

 

Aragorn woke up the next morning and realized that the old man – Ihelian, or whatever his name – was sitting by his bed “I suppose you feel rested?” said Ihelian.

Aragorn nodded. He hadn’t felt better in a long while “well then, do you feel like having a look around?” the old man asked. “Look around” mumbled Aragorn “where?”

“Here, of course” replied the Ihelian “my house. It’s rather large. But I just didn’t want you to feel like a prisoner, you know. Locked up in this tiny room…” Aragorn grinned “Sure, I’d love to.” He got up rather clumsily and would have almost toppled over, if Ihelian hadn’t supported him and mumbled something that sounded like “easy does it…”

The house, if one could call it a house and not a mansion of some kind, was bigger than Aragorn had thought. He didn’t want to know exactly how this old man had managed to build it in the middle of the ash mountains of Mordor. There were more staircases, landings, rooms and hallways for Aragorn to remember in one day. “I suppose you will have some problems moving around here in the close future” commented Ihelian “but you will be able to find your way around sooner or later. As long as you remember that the course from the entrance to your chamber is left, right and right again, through the kitchen and up the spiral staircase to the left, down two more steps and then to your right, you will have no problems.” He said all of this extremely fast.

They entered a gigantic room, and this time the walls weren’t plastered with stone, but with books. There were thousands of them; thick volumes the size of a small table and tiny ones, perhaps the size of Aragorn’s palm.

Ihelian looked around as though the room was the most beautiful site in middle-earth. “Welcome” he whispered “to the library. One of the biggest works of my life. I have written every one of the 5467 books myself.” Aragorn didn’t know exactly what to say. “And about what exactly do you write?” he asked. Ihelian turned around and said, as though it were the simplest thing in the world “About alchemy”  “A-alchemy?” Aragorn responded. Ihelian nodded “Alchemy and all kinds of other arts of science.” Aragorn and looked at the books. But the old man stopped him “You have seen my house, and you know my name, but  I do not know who you are. You haven’t told me a thing.” Aragorn looked into the old man’s eyes. He had been afraid of this. But what was he supposed to do? Ihelian had saved his life. “My name is Aragorn. And I come from the north.” He said finally. Ihelian nodded and went over towards a bookshelf, and started dusting it. Aragorn watched him. “Why is it you actually live in Mordor?” he asked, while he examined a book cover  “It’s not exactly an ideal place to stay, is it?” Ihelian stopped polishing his books and gazed into the distance “I suppose not” he said “I came here many, many years ago. I don’t know why. I suppose that, even though this land is deemed to be evil, I could find a strange kind of peace here. To be here without anyone else. Just me, making my experiments…” He trailed off and fiddled around with a piece of cloth. Aragorn bit his upper lip. “Do you live here alone?” He wondered. Ihelian looked up “Oh no. My apprentice lives here with me. He’s going to finish that what I’m doing here when I’m gone.”

With that, the old man looked up at Aragorn “You’re going to meet him soon, I hope. He actually should be here right now, doing his work. But enough of that now. I suppose you are sleepy. Remember: From the Entrance hall to the left, right and right again, through the kitchen and up the spiral staircase to the left, down two more steps and then to your right and your back in your chamber” Trying to remember all of this, Aragorn left the chamber. He took a wrong turn once, but eventually found his way back to his room. He wearily jerked open the door, when something jumped back with a little yelp. It was a young boy, not much older than nine. He was holding Aragorns sword, and had probably been examining it. When he saw that it’s owner had returned he quickly placed it onto the straw bed muttering something that sounded rather like “sorry” Aragorn stared at the boy, who did exactly the same thing. Finally Aragorn opened his mouth “W-what’s your name?” he asked “E-eldarion” mumbled the boy “That’s a nice name” said Aragorn “Are you Ihelian’s apprentice?” Eldarion nodded. He looked rather embarrassed “I’m sorry, Sir, about touching your sword, I mean. I just was…well, I was curious” he looked up at Aragorn “when you came here, the sword was all” he made a face “covered with this smelly orc-blood. My master let me clean it” Aragorn looked down at the sword “You did a good job, I see.” The boy beamed “I’m learning sword-fight myself, you know…just with a wooden sword. My master keeps a real one for me until I’m older. He said ‘Young boys and good swords don’t go together’.”  Eldarion and Aragorn stood in silence for a while, simply staring at each other. Then Eldarion turned and left the room.