The Forbidden Child

Half A Century Passed

Fifty years later Eve, who now went by her birth name Lessien, had forgotten all about Legolas and their short-lived romance. She forgot him and rarely ever recalled him but when she did, she was mortified by her actions. Her seventeen-year-old self was a nagging pet peeve of hers.

After he left, Lessien had recovered from her wounds that left their mark on her chest and shoulder that were the beginning of a whole story of scars. And after he left, her life sped up.

Lessien began to train with her father and with her inbred knack for combat as well as intense conditioning performed by her father, she was soon mastering the art of the broadsword. Half a decade later, Aragorn was confident in Lessien and so the two simply set out into the world.

Lessien went on many adventures that are not accounted here that built her strength and endurance and also increased her wisdom. She saw the world as she always dreamed to and did things she never thought herself capable of doing. She fought in battles, met many persons, and learned quite a few lessons.

Only a few of the places she had been to were Bree, the Iron Hills, Erebor, Lothlorien, Central Rohan, the Mirkwood forests, Angbad, and the Dead Marshes that had all evolved and been built upon. Nothing now was how it had been when she first visited. She had been all over Middle Earth fighting in countless battles and completing unnumbered quests.

So, fifty years had been good to Lessien. She looked much sweeter than before and was lovelier than she had been as a young girl. She had grown a couple of inches, almost catching up to her father in height, and she looked like a woman now.

-

"Wake up, ada," Lessien said softly.

The two were back at home, reunited after one of many of their contrasting escapades. She was excited to see her father after the many months they had been apart.

Aragorn seemed too deep in his sleep to respond to his daughter's morning greeting.

Lessien grinned and grabbed the bundle she kept at the head of her bed and hit her father playfully with it. "Ada! Wake up!" she called again, unable to stop smiling.

Aragorn groaned and turned over, though Lessien caught a small smile on his face.

Lessien knelt down by his bedside. Being reunited with her father, her one constant companion for the past half a century, made her giddy and childish. "Ada, you have come back and you know what that means."

In reply, Aragorn pulled his blankets over his head.

"You know what that means," Lessien repeated in a singsong voice.

Aragorn did not reply.

"Oh, Ada, it is tradition after all. Do not tell me you have forgotten it," she pouted and grabbed her father's hand and tugged it.

"It means a sparring match," Aragorn whispered.

At those words, Lessien bounded to her feet, grabbed her sword, and called, "Meet you out there!"

It was tradition to greet one another with a healthy sparring match after being apart so long and therefore Lessien retreated far into the wood, a wide grin on her face, and her light laugh on the air. Though she was sixty-eight and could be the most serious woman on Middle Earth, sometimes she still felt seventeen. Even when she had spent her childhood away from her father, practically all of that was forgotten. It was as if they had known each other their whole lives.

"How was Bree?" Aragorn's clear voice questioned behind her.

A sly smile crept onto her face. "It was good. Orcs are patrolling the borders and getting close to the Shire which is strange but I took care of it." She whirled, facing her father. "And how was Erebor? How do the dwarves fair? I hear that orcs are gathering at an alarming rate in the old fortress Gundabad."

In a flash, Lessien attacked. Their swords met in between them, making a cross. The two kept in the position, faces growing near to one another.

Aragorn did not seem interested in discussing the subject. Instead, he attempted to intimidate his daughter. "I will beat you Lessien Tiwele. I will win," he claimed through bared teeth.

Lessien frowned slightly but overall kept a straight face. There was something wrong if her father did not want to discuss it. He was afraid. He was always afraid recently. Lessien recalled the grim terms they had parted on. There had been no fallout but the gathering number of orc packs was increasing and the Rangers were spread too thin.

Still, that was something to discuss later.

Lessien cried, "How embarrassing is it going to be when I beat you today, Father?" She brought up her knee, putting her booted foot on his chest, and pushed him back. As he staggered, she flicked his sword out of his hand and caught it midair.

Lessien performed the smooth move with an unmistakable ease and charisma. The fact she had been able to use it on her father worried her. He was extremely distracted. His mind seemed elsewhere. He looked tired and old, even though he seemed only forty to others when in actuality he was almost ninety years old.

Lessien could conceal her frown no longer. "Father, what is it?"

Aragorn pressed his mouth into a thin line. There was no use concealing things from his daughter for she was far too bright. "I fear the stirrings of war have began in the East. The struggle to fight the oncoming Age of the Orcs will soon begin. I am afraid it will be unlike any war you and I have ever faced before." He watched Lessien's face carefully, expectantly, wondering on how she would react.

Surprisingly, the girl had a small smile on her face as she offered her father a hand. "Well, this is what we have been training for, after all, is it not?"

Aragorn shook his head and grinned as she helped him up. It was so like her to say that. "Well then, I think you will be eager to hear of our next strange quest."

From his belt, he produced a small parchment envelope, holding it out for Lessien to read. It was already opened and the seal remained in tact, a grey wax imprinted with an intricate 'G'. The envelope was thick, as was the yellowing parchment covered in neat calligraphy that was inside. It read:

    To Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur

    and Lessien Tiwele, Elven Ranger of the North,

Sauron grows in power and Mordor's horrors are upon us, ready to be released. Orcs patrol all of Middle Earth. No one is safe. Spies watch every move we make. Unexpectedly, hope is stirring in the Shire of all places. The Ring of Power is there, possessed by the most unlikely of creatures. A hobbit. Frodo Baggins. He is our last hope. If they fall and are overcome by Ringwraiths, Middle Earth will fall as well. They need an escort to Rivendell and I depend on you both to meet them no later than July 31st at the Prancing Pony in Bree. The hobbit whom the Ring is concerned with will go by the name of Underhill and he will not know I sent you so be cautious.

Good luck and beware, for times have never been so dark.

Gandalf the Grey

"We leave in the morn," Aragorn declared softly.

Lessien gulped. This was the beginning of something big, she knew. Some nerves ate at her but she concealed it. Besides, it was rare when Strider and her were called upon together.

She wondered how her father felt. They were to take these creatures to Rivendell, where both of them were banished, and a place that held so much heartache for Aragorn. Perhaps their banishment would be ignored in times of such worrisome threats.

    So, Lessien started packing their supplies while Aragorn got the horses ready.

    Meanwhile, Aragorn was deeply disturbed and anxious. If he went to Rivendell, he would return to a land he had been banished from. Perhaps he would see Arwen. What would she think of him? Would she forgive him? Would Elrond's heart be softened? Ultimately, his concerns did not matter. Middle Earth was at stake, it was Rivendell or an unavoidable despair.

And now the only question that Lessien faced was what, exactly, is a hobbit?