Stories > Authors > Laurelin's stories > Of Eldir and Dori
On the late night of September 22, 3020 (which also happened to be
Bilbo’s 113th birthday), Eldarion, the only son of Aragorn was born. His
mother, Arwen, went through a tough labour, of which her life was almost
forfeit. Her pain eventually came to an end and a handsome young boy
she had. Eldarion had the cutest face in a thousand leagues; his hair
and eyes were of a deep mahogany
brown, and his skin olive. All who looked upon him were weak at the
so poised, mature, and noble he was.
Eldarion spent his childhood helping his mother, whom he loved greatly.
would play games with her and listen to her tell the tales of her
fathers. She told of the Lands of the Undying and how her people
departed from Middle-earth to live there. Of Rivendell and the Last
Homely House, and of Lórien and her childhood she sang. Eldarion
loved her stories and often pretended he was in them, but what he loved
most was the Elves and their languages.
Aragorn taught Eldarion since youth how to ride and how to fight. But
Eldarion never had the will for that, nor the feet or skill for it
either. Nevertheless, Aragorn pushed him on never to fail, for he knew
well that if Eldarion, his
only son, could not fight, then the world might come to darkness.
Aragorn also managed to allow time for Eldarion’s studies. Overall,
he had a taste not for victory, but in his study he was complete. In
his classes on Healing and Counseling he excelled and soon after became
a wise man.
There was also another trait of Eldarion that was very odd among his
people. For when he walked among horses or, even worse, tried to ride
one, they became uneasy and nervous. None knew why. His presence was
not alarming nor coarse. It could be his looks, by a chance, that they
couldn’t bear but that would be odd now, wouldn’t it?
In his late twenties, Eldarion went into a battle alongside his father
to fight for his country in a long grievous battle. He was
placed in the lead, but due to his frail skill he fell hopelessly in
the beginning. While he was severely injured and suffering, a woman came to him
at his prayer.
“Suilannad-inyëiën Dori Olardarion
Stonewall Valley arinyë-harana tulto.” (Greetings I am Dori,
of Olardarion of Stonewall Valley and I am here to help you.) said she.
“Hello, Dori, I am Eldarion Haraniön. Le
quentë Quenya?”(Eldarion, son of the King. You speak Elvish?)
said in return.
“Tancavë. I learned from want. I
the Elves when they were near, though they never came back to us. They
me you only spoke Elvish, is that not true?” Dori replied, waiting for
“Many say so, for I speak Elvish fluently and
Only in need would I not. It has its loveliness.”
“Yes, It does,” she said smiling.
“Le harya vanya-hen.”(You have beautiful
eyes.) He spoke painfully and slipped into a fever.
“Has he gone mad already? It’s only been a couple of hours!”
slowly passed, and then there was movement in him again. He felt life
in him once more.
“I will put some Lothlas oil on your head and Voinyar
on your wounds to ease the pain. You will heal in time,” she said
“I could use some Athelas on my torn ligaments and Anglamar liquid to
heal me from hurts.”
“You know your plants well, though it’s not known for sons of the King
to be among healers… at least not in my village. Tell me, where have
“My father taught me. And I enjoyed listening. I have mastered in
and will soon become Evinyatar.”
“That sounds interesting. I learnt from my mother, before she died…
many years ago.”
“Nia absenen.” (I am sorry)
“No need for pity; she died in peace and in peace she
rests. You must take some rest, Master; you have a long time to spend
you fully heal. Although you will never be rid of your grief nor pain
much of it may yet wane.”
He took rest. For one and a half years she took care of him. That was
until he was well enough to venture on, though he would never be able
to fight again (for which he was truly thankful). Soon enough he
was able to
walk, though not able to yet go free. One day, he was walking through
gardens upon the palace roof, a stone walkway fitted between two garden
They were filled with the beautiful colours of flowers all about; some
pink, some yellow, and green and white. Dori was near on the watch
sure he wouldn’t hurt himself. To her he said, now looking over the
to the Pelannor Fields:
“Dorianna Maeth Rinn of Stonewall Valley: long
spent together and that’d be forever if it were let. You came to me at
to aid me in my pain (suddenly a sadness and quick pain entered him) and if
you had not been not there, I would be gone. Iquista nyarinn manen le nar.”
(Please tell me how you feel.) he finished as Dori walked up to him.
She replied, “I feel shredded, sort of torn in
pieces all blowing to different places. Of maybe caged, unable to
Ni lá-ánadswes!” (I can’t breath!)
“Nor I since I met you. It’s a hard decision to make, Ni ista.”
“Tancavë. Moving to Minas Tirith would be a big change,
than I expected from you... or too little. And all just for the sake of
“Lau! lau! le avá hanyan! (No! no! you don’t understand
me!) I want you to move to my halls and I will care for you the way
that you cared for me. Let us heal this land of grief, despair, and
thou come if pardoned… Nar le tulnni?”(are you coming?)
“Ainuyaxë! Ma? Nar le aquet an ni na vesta le? (Holy Cow!
Are you asking me to wed you?) Though my heart is blended, my head sees
me turning into stone right here and now.”
“Are you refusing?”
“No! I do not answer, not even if wanted… Chickens fly! Monkeys climb!
Lizards lie! I need air… I need breath… (Breathes) Ni avá
“Very well then. Goodbye, my Lady,” he said as he kissed her hands
and turned to leave.
But at that moment she insisted, “Eldir! I would have followed you, my
Lord, my Patient, my Love.”
As she said this, Eldarion paused and came to her and swept her off her
“We are not parted nor defeated. We are one.” And he kissed her.
They lived together in his home for many promising years. He
counseled people, and she healed. Five years after marriage, they bore
two beautiful twins, Aradir and Dorthea. Araen, a sister of Eldarion,
taught Aradir how
to wield sword, and Dori taught Dorthea how to mend wombs.
“My King, our people are failing in war; we need strength to defend.
Your sister is wounded. What’s your plan of action?” Methlor asked the
“Ni selma mahta te… I will fight them,” Eldir answered.
“You, my Lord? But you cannot fight physically nor mentally!”
“I am Hru, Methlor. To be that is to serve my people. That
defense. I will fight. I must fight. An Gondor!”(For
Gondor!) Then, he went to his Armoury.
“Why do you go on so? You are Aragorn’s son, not Aragorn himself. You
are not bound to Isildur’s fate. Do you want my sorrow? Do you want my
grief? I will be nothing without you. You’ll be nothing more than a
beloved memory. You know that. You know your fate is at hand. You do
have the strength,” Dori said, coming out through the shadowed door.
“But even so, there is still hope,” Eldir answered.
“You are too much like your father.”
With that, he went to the stables
hop a horse with Dori struggling behind him.
A grace was
bestowed upon him that night, for when he came to the stall of a pure
white horse (which his father gave to him when he was young, though he
was never able to ride him) something happened that was, indeed, a
miracle. Eldir walked slowly into the room and put his hand out to pet
Starmist, so that he might become used to Eldir’s presence. At first
the horse shivered, but then he stood still, liking the soft strokes
of his master. Eldir saddled him with
his silver effects and hopped on. Lightly kicking him on the sides, he
for the horse to trot towards Dori. To Dori he explained, “Dori, if I
“And you know
“Yes, but if I
shall fall, I say to you, Dorianna Maeth Rinn of Stonewall Valley, long
spent together, though it was not forever. You came to me in my need;
not for you I would no longer be. You married me and we were happy. But
now I walk into a trap: my doom it may be. Námarië,
My Fair Sweetness, in our son there is hope. Maybe he will be skilled
the blade, better than I. Námarië na le.”
And forevermore I will. You I will never leave, but my heart draws me
still. Mara mesta, my wise man! May my love for you never fail
and ever you
will remember. Námarië!”
And he rode off into
darkness of no return.
He left to the battle, and took the Orcs at
unawares and them he
slew. His sword whistled in the air and his voice called in the morning
breeze. He fought greatly and bravely. Victory was won. But it was then
that an Orc that they thought was dead took up his last strength and
against Eldir he spent huge blows. And through the darkness whistled a
poisoned dart and struck Eldir in the breast.
Immediately was he taken to
the Houses of the Healing, where Eldir called for Dori. She he saw, but
only for one moment-- before he faded.
She wept at his side, being
indeed glad to see him before his passing,
but also taken by despair. “Eldir! Eldir! Tulin at-na ni!
No! No! ELDIR,” (Come back to me!) but he never returned. In sadness
wept and grieved over her loss.
She decided to
leave Minas Tirith and go back to her past home at Stonewall Valley and
her throne behind, for she could not bear the burden alone nor did she
want it. To Arawen, Eldarion's oldest sister, she left Aradir, so that
he might be the next King. With her she took Dorthea. She would never
again love a
man as she had loved him.
In My Heart I did know
that someday you would go,
and leave me here to be
alone to drown in an unsinkable sea.
In your heart you always knew
that you would soon leave to
war only once to return.
You’d lie in peace and I’d learn
that life wasn't meant for me alone.