Blood of Old Númenor

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It wasn't often that the Dunedain of Fornost saw their chieftain visibly anxious. Young though he was, Arathorn's son already had a reputation for keeping a cool head even in the most dire of circumstances. Still, since the party of rangers had departed for the North Downs and Angmar beyond it was plain to see how Aragorn suffered. They all sympathized with him too. It was far easier to bear the undertaking of a dangerous mission when you yourself took on a share of the risk. Aragorn was a young man, and that made it all the harder that he should be village-bound while the others journeyed north into peril. None heard it from his lips, but everyone couldn't help but wonder if Aragorn regretted voicing his bold idea. Only time would tell whether the gamble would pay off, but for now all there was to be done was wait and go about life as normally as possible.

The end of another long day of work saw the village congregate yet again in and around the main hall. Although the Dunedain did not dine together for breakfast or the midday meal, dinner was something they had always done as a community. It gave everyone a chance to relax among friends and enjoy a good tale or two. Although the absence of five and twenty rangers did not seriously dent the presence of several hundred people in the village, it did cast a pall on their evenings. The jesting was slightly less merry and the stories less carefree in tone within the hall. The party had been gone for near on a fortnight now, and the tension could only grow with time.

Pipe in hand but as yet un-smoked, Aragorn sat on the end of a long bench alone, listing to Daernon tell the story of the Children of Hurin. The tale's melancholy air was just about right for how he was feeling at the moment. The embers of the central hearth would soon burn down, and folk were already beginning to steal away back to their own homes. Aragorn didn't feel like sleeping yet though. Indeed, he hadn't slept more than strictly necessary since the day he had sent the rangers north. Besides Elladan and Elrohir, whom he thoroughly regarded as brothers, he counted each and every single person on that patrol as a friend. That even included Legolas, the reserved yet amiable elf from Mirkwood whom he had only known for a season. Yes, Aragorn was doubtful that he would get a full night's sleep until the day Beringil's hunting horn could be heard blowing through the trees.

A shadow passed across the floor in front of him, and a moment later Nerwen slid across the bench to sit beside him. She was distantly of the same lineage as Aragorn, but her inheritance had passed through a daughter rather than a son. With the Dunedain being so few in number, everyone in the village was more than possibly related by four or less degrees. It was a sad thought, but likely the blood of Numenor was facing its last age. Meeting Nerwen's dark eyed gaze, Aragorn didn't feel the need to attempt what they both knew would be a weak smile.

"You will worry yourself back into another bout with Winter Sickness, Cousin." Nerwen remarked. The two of them were really more like second cousins twice removed, but they addressed each other as such anyways. "Do you not trust that the rangers are in good hands?"

Shifting, Aragorn sighed and put his pipe away. "It's not that. You know as well as I that Beringil could lead a battalion of Hobbits through the deserts of Harad and back, to say nothing of having three elven warriors with them."

"But...?"

Aragorn looked faraway into the embers of the fire, Daernon's voice fading into a drone in the background.

"But I cannot help but fear that I have made a brash decision. Beringil tried to counsel me against sending rangers into the north. His thoughts were that it was too dangerous, even with enemy numbers depleted after the battle of the Lonely Mountain. What if he was right?"

Nerwen frowned, but the glow of the firelight betrayed no accusation in her face.

"Your own father made such decisions, and his father before him, Cousin. It is the fate of a chieftain to shoulder the burden of responsibility."

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