Many treasures and great heirlooms of virtue
and wonder the Exiles had brought from Númenor.
‘Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age’, The Silmarillion
Frodo was staring at him in confusion, his large blue eyes longing
for answers to the question he had since they first met.
Who are you?
Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment, remembering...
“I know you’re a secret, but just a short walk? Maybe up around the back of The Hill? We can walk for a bit along The Water. You left last time before I could show you anything.”
“I’d love to. And I’m not that much of a secret, at least not in the Shire -- just my name.”
“Will you ever tell me about it?”
“Perhaps...”
It was time. Bilbo already knew almost everything, and Frodo had shown remarkable restraint and discretion with what little he did know.
Aragorn smiled, his eyes meeting Frodo’s. “I will tell you all that you wish to know, this evening; perhaps more than you wish to know.”
“Truly?” Frodo lit up with joy, and threw himself into Aragorn’s arms. “Oh, I’ve been wondering about you for so long, Estel. I knew you were special, and that you were Chieftain for a reason, and...” He pulled back, suddenly serious. “I can keep secrets, I promise.”
“I know that,” Aragorn said. “Are you cold, little one? You’re shivering a bit.”
“Yes,” Frodo admitted. He had been drenched in water before entering the passageway, and the air within the chamber was quite cool. He pulled the damp cloth off his face.
“What do you say to lunch outside in the sunshine? I’m sure you’d like to get dry.”
“But... what about the chest?” Frodo blurted out. “Aren’t you dying to open it? Maybe that’s the treasure!”
Aragorn burst out laughing. Neither the lure of warmth nor food could dampen his young friend’s innate curiosity. He gazed curiously at the silver chest. The gems and crystals with which it was decorated flashed and glittered.
“I’m dying to open it, as well,” Aragorn admitted, “but it will be here when we return.”
“I suppose,” Frodo sighed. “I am getting hungry, and Scamp shouldn’t sleep too much, or she’ll be awake all night.”
“Spoken like a good parent.” Aragorn stood up and looked about, still amazed at what they had found. “Leave the torches burning, and we will put them out before we go back to camp. I want to examine these paintings more closely.” He and Frodo walked to the doorway where Elladan waited, then the three of them stepped back into the passage.
“Do you have to tell the door to close?” Frodo asked.
Aragorn touched the door gently, and it moved easily. “I think we can just push it closed when we finish here.”
“That was exciting when it opened, wasn’t it?” Frodo enthused. “It was just magical. Elladan, you said the trees are aware, so maybe stones can be aware, too. Isn’t that what the Dwarves think?”
“Yes, it is,” Elladan said, looking thoughtful. He had never thought of that comparison, and found the idea intriguing.
“Mind the tree root, Estel,” Frodo teased.
“I will; that was a most humbling way to approach Elendil’s chamber,” Aragorn said ruefully.
“I’m glad you weren’t the one carrying Scamp,” Frodo said, with a hobbit’s practical logic. “She would have been squished.”
“Your concern for my safety is heartwarming,” Aragorn chuckled.
Frodo grinned happily; Estel hadn’t changed, no matter who he really was.
The three friends walked back along the passageway and re-emerged into the sunlight. The sun seem to blaze even more brilliantly after the dark, cool interior of the hillside, and Frodo lifted his face to the warmth.
Elladan sighed with relief. He didn’t enjoy being underground; it reminded him too much of the dark, terrible place from which he and his brother had rescued their mother from the Orcs so many years before. Shaking off the memory, he woke Scamp and lowered the pup to the ground, where she stood looking up at Frodo quizzically.
“Time for lunch,” Frodo announced, and retrieved packets from Arthad’s saddlebag. The three friends sat on a flat stone, sharing out the food they had brought. While Elladan cut up fruit with his sharp knife, Frodo praised Scamp extravagantly for what she had helped them discover. She looked quite pleased with all the attention, and also with Farmer Cotton’s biscuits and some dried beef.
After an hour in the warm sun, Frodo found himself yawning.
“I wish to hunt for game,” Elladan announced, unfastening Scamp’s sling. “Romaryn needs exercise, and we need to keep this young hobbit well fed.”
“That’s right,” Frodo grinned.
“I will return soon.” Elladan mounted Romaryn and rode east, toward the Brandywine.
“Frodo, why don’t you stay out here while I return to the chamber to look at the wall paintings?” Aragorn asked. “And yes, I will bring the chest out to examine,” he said in answer to Frodo’s look. “I am as eager as you to see what lies within.”
“What about sketching the floor?”
“Tomorrow we can spend all day here,” Aragorn replied. “We must head back to the Shire after that, or Bilbo will have a search party out looking for us.”
“That’s true,” Frodo sighed. He yawned again, and lay down on the warm stone, using Scamp’s sling as a pillow.
~*~
Frodo awoke to the sound of hoofbeats, and opened his eyes to see Elladan dismounting from Romaryn. Scamp was racing about full of energy, chasing squirrels and digging into enticing holes.
“What is the time?” Frodo asked, sitting up.
“The afternoon progresses,” Elladan said, looking around. “Is Estel still within the chamber?”
“I don’t know,” Frodo said. “He wanted to spend time alone when we found the carving of Lúthien. Let’s--”
Just then, Aragorn emerged from the curtain of vines, carrying the silver chest. Elladan smiled at him.
“Did you enjoy your time alone, my brother?”
“I did,” Aragorn said. “What an amazing place. I looked at every face in every painting, trying to imagine what it was like here. I also went over every inch of that chamber; if there is something else hidden within, I did not find it. I suspect this chest is all that remains of the treasures of this city.”
“Did you open it yet?” Frodo asked, hopping down off the rock. “Is it locked? Did you shake it?”
“No,” Aragorn smiled. He knew that Frodo was more excited by the idea of treasure than by the actual value of anything they might find. He set the chest down and sat on the grass. Elladan and Frodo quickly joined him.
Elladan admired Aragorn’s restraint in leaving the chest unopened until now. He fervently hoped that all things for which his foster brother waited so patiently would someday come to him.
Aragorn took a deep breath, then slowly unhooked the ornate clasp and raised the lid. Within the chest was something long and bulky, shrouded in many layers of blue and silver cloth. Frodo watched breathlessly as Aragorn gently unwrapped the item until it lay revealed. He heard Elladan gasp, and Aragorn stared at the chest’s contents in speechless wonder.
“Elladan,” Aragorn whispered at last, “you must take this to your father.”
“I know,” Elladan said, and Frodo was amazed to see tears on the Elf’s cheeks. “I cannot believe it.”
“I’ve seen one of those before, but not that small, or so beautiful,” Frodo said. “Is it special? Out of a tale you’ve heard?”
What lay before them was a miniature harp exquisitely wrought of gold and mithril, each string shining. With great care, Aragorn lifted the instrument from the chest, held it for a moment, then handed it to Elladan.
“Frodo,” Aragorn said, his voice almost inaudible, “this harp exactly matches one owned by Elladan’s father. Lord Elrond told us that his was one of a pair gifted to both him and his brother, Elros -- who became the first king of Númenor. Elros died long, long ago. This could only have been his, brought to Middle-earth by Elendil. This was obviously greatly reverenced, and is perhaps the only heirloom of the first king still in existence.”
“Lord Elrond’s brother died?” Frodo asked, puzzled. “I thought Elves lived forever.”
Aragorn smiled sadly. “That is part of the tale I will tell you this evening. The fates – and choices – of Elrond and Elros influenced all who have come after them, including myself.”
“Father will treasure this,” Elladan murmured. He brushed a gentle finger across the strings. Although badly in need of tuning, each note sounded clearly. “He believed that any possessions once belonging to his brother were lost forever.”
“I suppose we can strap the chest to Romaryn,” Aragorn frowned, “although--”
“Nay,” Elladan said. “I will wear the harp, such as minstrels carry them. We should return the chest to Elendil’s chamber; one heirloom of Númenor should remain at Annúminas, do you not agree?” He looked into the empty chest and smiled. “I will leave within it another rare treasure, although not the equal of what we are taking.” He withdrew from the pouch at his waist the translucent piece of ‘star glass’ that Frodo had given him at Bag End. “A remnant of a star in honor of a star-shaped city.” He gently placed the shard within the chest.
“We can wrap the harp in these cloths again, to keep it safe while you travel,” Frodo offered.
“That is precisely what I had in mind,” Elladan agreed. He smiled at Frodo. “Our supper is already roasting back at camp. We should return.”
Frodo got to his feet, then grinned suddenly. “Estel, you’ll need a bath before supper. Your hair is still full of dust.” His eyes sparkled. “Isn’t this all just amazing? I wish those gems in the walls hadn’t all been crushed; I’ve seen pearls, but I’d love to see an opal.”
“They were not all crushed,” Elladan said softly. With a slow smile, he reached into the pouch again and drew forth a handful of small stones. The sunlight ignited a fire within each, bringing forth sparks of green, red, orange, and blue. To Frodo’s amazement, Elladan handed him several of them.
“Frodo, Lord Irmo sent you a dream of great value, and I wish to honor it.”
“Thank you!” Frodo gasped. “Oh, wait until Bilbo sees these. I thought all I could bring him were drawings for his map!” He held one of the irridescent stones up to the sun, and smiled at the brilliant colors. “These would make wonderful necklaces or rings for Merry’s mum, and Aunt Dora.”
Aragorn and Elladan exchanged looks. Gems from Valinor were beyond price, but the hobbits would enjoy them for their beauty, not their history.
Frodo carefully wrapped the opals in the lunch cloth, then went to wash his dusty feet in the stream.
“I will return this to the chamber, and extinguish the torches,” Aragorn said. He stood up and lifted the chest. “Elladan, walking in Elendil’s very footsteps is an extraordinary experience. Should your father ever place the scepter of Annúminas in my hands, I will have a more profound knowledge from whence it came.”
“That chest will still be here, waiting,” Elladan said softly. “Perhaps the scepter will someday rest within it.”
“I hope to see that day.”
“Aragorn,” Elladan said, motioning towards Frodo, “what are you going to tell him?”
“Everything he wishes to know,” Aragorn said firmly.
“So,” Elladan said, “you were correct. There was a danger in allowing Frodo to leave the Shire… but that danger was to you, not him. Now there will be one more person who knows who you are.”
“Yes,” Aragorn smiled in utter confidence. “One more person whom I am certain can be trusted with my life.”
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