The Lastborn: A Middle Earth Story(Book 1)(EDITING)

Chapter 3: Home

He sprang back in surprise. Standing before him was a figure, clad in dark armor that was engraved with intricate elven lettering. Two ebony daggers hung at his side, curved and exotic in appearance. He stood several inches taller than Aragorn, and a hood and scarf obscured his face, so that all Aragorn could see were his piercing green eyes glaring at him. They didn't look quite human, somehow.

The moment of sizing one another up passed. "Mellon nin, did you need something?" Aragorn inquired cautiously. Something about the figure made him uneasy.

He stood still, staring the Ranger down without even blinking. The silence rolled deafeningly on for what felt like several minutes, though it was likely only a few seconds.

Finally, he shifted and spoke: "I am here to speak to you of your journey. I heard you ran into trouble on the way back." His voice was euphonious, deep yet almost beautiful; it did not match his intimidating appearance at all.

"Who are you?" Aragorn asked. He certainly didn't intend on telling this stranger about their encounter in the forest.

""I go by Caledorn," the stranger replied, lowering the scarf from his face and pulling back his hood. His hair was dark and his face strikingly handsome, and clean-shaven, but for a jagged scar running down the left side. Aragorn, however, immediately noticed the stranger's pointed ears.

"You're an elf," he breathed in surprise.

"How observant of you," Caledorn replied, his tone surprisingly sarcastic.

This elf is an enigma, thought Aragorn, growing increasingly doubtful as he studied the elf. He could not be from Rivendell, or Lorien; His hair was dark, like one of the Noldorin, but his armor was like nothing any elf he had seen wore. This is strange... first a man speaking Elvish, who seems to be working with the enemy, and now this mysterious elf appears. He could not help but be suspicious of this Caledorn, if that were even his true name.

"Why are you here?" he asked, looking intently at him.

"I come to bring news," Caledorn answered, "as well as speak of what you saw in the forest." He seemed to note the skeptical look on Aragorn's face. "I bring you two messages, one from Lord Elrond of Rivendell – there is a matter he would have you look into. However, we had best discuss that in a safer setting.

"The second message comes from Lady Arwen. She wishes to see you soon." He paused. "I can tell you do not believe me," he observed drily, looking at Aragorn with an almost mocking tilt of the head. "She told me to give you this." He extended a folded letter, which Aragorn accepted slowly.

It was Arwen's signature on the paper, that was clear enough. Aragorn did not see how he could have falsified it. While unusual in appearance and manner for an elf, Caledorn might be trusted after all – at least for now. He turned and motioned for the elf to follow him, making his way to Halbarad's tent.

Gerithor had all but forgotten about the incident that had taken place the previous night. Walking beside his father, laughing and discussing parts of the hunt, he was filled with the joy of returning home and approached their house with anticipation.

"Elena!" Gerimond called as he slowly opened the door. "We're home!"

Gerithor was immediately assailed with the scent of roast chicken, taking it in with a satisfied smile as he followed his father inside.

Gerithor's mother emerged from the kitchen, joy beaming from her face like the auburn hair that curled around it. Gerithor gathered her small figure happily into his arms, and she hugged him tightly. "I'm glad to see you, Mother."

His sister Rayna entered the room a moment later, a baby on her hip. Several years older than Gerithor, she had married a man from Breeland called Altar, who had died but a year later and left her with their young son Alif. Alif adored his young uncle, and the feeling was mutual.

Upon seeing Gerithor, the baby boy squealed in delight. Gerithor strode across to them with a grin spreading over his face, and kissed his sister on the cheek. "Rayna," he greeted her.

"You smell bad," she said laughingly, but returned the kiss and handed Alif into Gerithor's waiting arms.

"See, little fellow, your uncle Gerithor's back!" he said, tossing the baby high into the air and laughing at Alif's contagious giggles.

"Gerithor..." Rayna began disapprovingly. "I was just ready to put him to bed, and now you've made him all excited." But her stern tone was only a facade, and her face broke into a smile for her little brother once again. He had been gone so long, and they were all happy to see him.

"So you finished the trials!" Elena exclaimed.

"Aye, Mother, and it was quite a trial indeed!" answered Gerithor cheerfully, returning the babe to his cradle.

"Where is the deer you killed?" Rayna asked him.

Gerithor's smile faded. The memories of last night came flying back. His face sharpening into worry, he handed Alif off to his sister and strode back to the door.

"Where are you going?" his mother questioned, concern in her voice. He half-turned.

"I need to talk with Aragorn. I will be back by dinner time." With that he opened the door and slid out into the twilight, leaving his perplexed family behind.