Becoming Strider: Aragorn Before the Lord of the Rings

In a time before the events of The Lord of  the Rings, a child was born who belonged to the ancient line of the Kings Gondor and Arnor.  The venerable lineage of this boy stood as a whispered promise of hope amidst the gathering  gloom that threatened to engulf Middle-earth. Join us as we uncover the events that forged  Aragorn's character and journey through the lost adventures of his youth, the secret trails  he wandered as a ranger and the silent battles fought in the dark corners of the world. 

Discover the courage forged in solitude, the wisdom gleaned from ancient lore, and  the strength honed by countless trials. This is not merely a tale of a young king  finding his way in a world teetering on the precipice of darkness, but of a boy  who carried the burdens of generations, whose heart remained steadfast in  the face of overwhelming darkness. In the secluded heart of Eriador's  untamed wilderness, dwelled Dírhael and his beloved wife Ivorwen.

Each had  been blessed with the gift of foresight, offering them the ability to peer into the future  and glimpse events that were yet to unfold. Beneath their watchful gaze,  their daughter, Gilraen the Fair, blossomed into a radiant young woman. Like  a light shimmering through the forest mist, her beauty captivated all who beheld her. 

But a man of great power saw her most keenly, drawn to her in ways that spoke of  fate and the stirrings of destiny. Arathorn, son of the Chieftain of the Dúnedain, made it known that he desired to wed the  young Gilraen, binding his fate to hers. But Dírhael, her father, was hesitant.

For Gilraen  was as yet too young, according to their customs, to be considered for marriage. And yet more  concerning, his gift of foresight allowed him to see that this path would lead to great  sorrow. For, he looked into Arathorns future and saw that he was destined for only a  brief journey in this world.

Therefore, he would not consent to his beloved daughter  being bound to such sorrow and early widowhood. Yet Ivorwen, also possessed the gift of sight  beyond sight, and in the union of these two souls, she beheld something more; a glimmer  of hope, faint yet fierce. A hope that would one day rise to light the Dúnedain's  path.

Though the winds of sorrow stirred, she believed this love would bring forth  something far greater than the sum of their lives. To this marriage Dírhael was opposed; for Gilraen  was young and had not reached the age at which the women of the Dúnedain were accustomed to marry. ‘ ‘‘Moreover,’’ he said, ‘‘Arathorn is a stern man of full age, and will be chieftain  sooner than men looked for; yet my heart forebodes that he will be short-lived.

’’ ‘But Ivorwen, his wife, who was also foresighted, answered: ‘‘The more need of haste! The  days are darkening before the storm, and great things are to come. If these two  wed now, hope may be born for our people; but if they delay, it will not  come while this age lasts.

’’ Thus, Dírhael yielded to the course of destiny,  allowing his wife's vision to take root for the sake of their people’s future. And so it came  to pass that Arathorn was granted his desire, and he took the fair maiden’s hand in marriage. In the following year, tragedy struck as  Arador, the father of Arathorn, as he fell doing battle with hill trolls.

And so, the mantle of  Chieftain passed to Arathorn. Barely a year later, in the year 2931 of the Third  Age, a son was born to Gilraen; the fragile light of hope that was  foretold. And they named the child Aragorn.

This boy would grow up in the shadow of loss,  for when he was but two years old, his father rode out in pursuit of orcs, never to return.  A single arrow found its mark, piercing through Arathorn's eye and stealing him from this world,  leaving behind his son and a grieving widow. Dírhael's grim prophecy had come to pass  in all its cold finality.

Gilraen the Fair, now a widow wrapped in grief, knew the weight  of her burden. Her son was the last glimmer of hope in a world growing dim. And so she  took him away to the sanctuary of Rivendell, seeking safety and wisdom beneath the watchful  care of the great elf lord; Elrond Halfelven.

Elrond was as kind as summer and stepped into the void left by Aragorn’s lost father  with a heart full of affection. In Elrond, the young Aragorn found a beacon  of virtue, a paragon of wisdom and fortitude. Under Elrond’s vigilant watch, Aragorn was gifted  with lessons that would become the bedrock of his strength and character, fostering within him the  virtues that would one day define his greatness.

The face of Elrond was ageless, neither old nor  young, though in it was written the memory of many things both glad and sorrowful. His hair was dark  as the shadows of twilight, and upon it was set a circlet of silver; his eyes were grey as a clear  evening, and in them was a light like the light of stars. Venerable he seemed as a king crowned with  many winters, and yet hale as a tried warrior in the fulness of his strength.

He was the Lord of  Rivendell and mighty among both Elves and Men. In a quest to shield the child from harm,  Elrond bestowed upon him the name Estel, meaning ‘‘Hope. ’’ The child’s true name  and lineage were shrouded in secrecy, for Elrond was acutely aware that the dark  forces sought to unveil Isildur's Heir, if that ancient bloodline  had not already been severed.

Aragon would immerse himself in the ethereal  splendour of Rivendell, a sanctuary cradled beneath the whispering embrace of the snow  capped peaks of the Misty Mountains. Here, amidst the timeless beauty of this secluded haven, he would blossom, his heart entwining with  the serene essence of this hidden refuge. ‘Have you often been to Rivendell?

’ said Frodo. ‘I have,’ said Strider. ‘I dwelt there once, and still I return when I may.

There my heart is; but it is not my fate to sit in peace,  even in the fair house of Elrond. ’ When Aragorn was but a boy of ten summers,  Rivendell's quiet halls stirred with the arrival of a company of wanderers, their journey taking  them to the far-off Lonely Mountain, Erebor, nestled over the Misty Mountains  and beyond the edge of the wild. Gandalf the Grey, wise and mysterious, and the  unlikely hero, Bilbo Baggins, were both in the company of Thorin Oakenshield and his loyal band  of dwarves.

They lingered for over a fortnight in Rivendell, yet whether or not their paths  crossed with the young Aragorn remains a mystery. During his time spent in Rivendell, Aragorn would  forge a brotherhood with Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Elrond and Celebrían. It was  through their bond that Aragorn would be initiated into the warrior's way, mastering the art of  tracking and vanquishing orcs amidst the wilds.

The twins frequently set out on their quests  to hunt orcs. For these forays were fueled by a profound and burning loathing, a fire  that blazed fiercely within their souls. Their relentless animosity toward the  orcs was born from a sorrowful tale.

Their mother Celebrían, once set out on a  journey to visit her own mother, Galadriel, in the realm of Lórien. Yet fate, ever cruel  and unyielding, had other plans. As her company traversed the Redhorn Pass, she was seized by the  orcs, who dragged her into the shadowy depths of their caves.

There, in the cold and darkness,  they unleashed unspeakable agony upon her. Her sons, Elladan and Elrohir, learning of  their mother’s plight, spurred their steeds with great urgency. But when they arrived, they  found her already marked by a venomous wound.

They returned her to Rivendell where  Elrond wielded his healing art with a fervent hope. Although he was able to mend  her body, his efforts could not repair the wounds of her spirit. The following year,  unable to dwell any longer in Middle-earth, she departed for the Undying Lands,  leaving a void that echoed with sorrow.

In the wake of this loss, Elladan and Elrohir were  consumed by a fierce and unrelenting fury. They rode with grim determination alongside Aragorn and  the Dúnedain Rangers. Every hunt, an unyielding quest for retribution against the darkness  that had stolen their mother away from them.

After he returned from one of  these orc hunts with the twins, Elrond sensed the moment had come for Aragorn  to learn of the destiny that awaited him. Thus, the boy nurtured in  obscurity was on the brink of discovering that he was the  last hope of a royal bloodline. At the age of twenty, Aragorn stood at the  precipice of a profound awakening.

The veil of his past was to be drawn back and the full  splendour of his true identity was to emerge, revealing a destiny that had  long slumbered in waiting. But when Estel was only twenty years of age, it  chanced that he returned to Rivendell after great deeds in the company of the sons of Elrond;  and Elrond looked at him and was pleased, for he saw that he was fair and  noble and was early come to manhood, though he would yet become greater in  body and in mind. That day therefore Elrond called him by his true name,  and told him who he was and whose son… Aragorn stood as the final echo of Isildur’s  bloodline.

Yet, the stream from which he sprang flowed far deeper and carried the legacy of many  more remarkable figures than some may realise. Aragorn’s lineage is a grand symphony of  greatness, woven with the threads of mighty ancestors: formidable men, elves of ancient  lore, and a Maia; an entity akin to a demi-god. This illustrious heritage courses through  Aragorn’s veins, imbuing him with great power.

To truly grasp the grandeur of  Aragorn’s lineage, we must delve into the rich tapestry of his family tree and  witness the echoes of his storied heritage. Aragorn's parents, Arathron II and  Gilraen were heirs to the ancient and noble line of the Dúnedain Chieftains.  This legacy stretched back through the ages, tracing its roots to the Arvedui and Fíriel.

Arvedui stood as the fifteenth and final  King of Arthedain, a realm among the three great Dúnedain kingdoms that were born from  the division of Arnor. His royal bloodline, a thread of destiny woven through  the ages, reached back to Isildur. Isildur was the eldest son of Elendil. 

Alongside his brother Anárion, he forged the realm of Gondor. In  the fateful War of the Last Alliance, it was Isildur who severed the Ring from  Sauron's hand, claiming it as his own. Fíriel was the last Queen of Arthedain and  was able to trace her lineage back to Anárion.

Anárion was the youngest son of Elendil. As  mentioned a moment ago, he and his brother Isildur jointly ruled Gondor, while their father  dwelt in the Northern realm of Arnor. However, following the death of Elendil, Isildur took  up his father's seat and ruled in Arnor while Anárion ruled the southern Kingdom of Gondor. 

Although Isildur never renounced his claim to the Kingship of Gondor, this arrangement  would lead some to believe that only those descended from Anárion could lay  claim to the Kingship of Gondor. Although Aragorn was indeed  a descendant of Anárion, this was on the maternal side and  therefore some, such as Denethor, the steward of Gondor, would dispute  Aragorn's claim to the throne. And now we come to Elendil who was  once a powerful Lord of the Dúnedain upon the island of Númenor under the the  ill-fated King Ar-Pharazôn the Golden.

Ar-Pharazôn, the final sovereign of Númenor,  fell prey to the dark whisperings of Sauron, forsaking the light for the malevolent  embrace of Melkor worship. Ensnared by such corruption, he led his people  into a fateful clash with the Valar, resulting in the cataclysmic  destruction of Númenor. Yet, amidst the ruins and sorrow, a glimmer  of hope remained.

Elendil, true to his faith, guided the faithful amongst the Dúnedain  to the shores of Middle-earth. There, he forged the mighty realms of Gondor and  Arnor, assuming the title of High King. Elendil, though not crowned as king of Númenor,  bore the noble blood of its royal family, flowing from the venerable Tar-Elendil, the fourth King  of Númenor via Silmarien, Tar-Elendil’s daughter.

Tar-Elendil himself could trace  his lineage back to the dawn of Númenor's very inception and to its founder Elros. Elros, the Half-elven, was the son of  Eärendil and Elwing and brother of Elrond. As he is Elrond’s brother, this  also makes him Arwen's Uncle, making this the point at which  Aragorn and Arwen's family trees join.

Born of both mortal and elven blood, Elrond  and Elros were offered the choice to be counted amongst elves or men. Elrond embraced  the eternal grace of his elven ancestors. Yet, Elros relinquished the promise of everlasting  life in order to walk the fleeting path of men.

Elros, born of Earendil and Elwing, descended from  legends etched in the lore of the First Age of Middle-earth. His parents, whose names shine with  the brilliance of myth, were legendary figures in the grand sagas of old. Earendil, the mariner,  ventured across the western sea, pleading with the Valar for their aid in overthrowing Morgoth. 

Then, with a Silmaril blazing upon his brow, he carved a path through the heavens,  earning the revered title of the Evenstar. Venturing deeper into the annals of  time, we find that Eärendil’s mother carries the noble blood of Fingolfin, the  High King of the Ñoldor in the realm of Beleriand. This illustrious line flows back  to Finwë, the inaugural King of the Ñoldor, who led his people on an epic pilgrimage from  Middle-earth to the sacred shores of Aman.

On Eärendil's paternal line, two legendary  forebears emerge; Tuor and Huor, two great warriors and champions of mankind, whose  deeds are etched in the annals of history. Returning now to Elwing, the beloved wife  of Eärendil, we discover that Aragorn's heritage winds its way back to two legendary  figures of the First Age; Beren and Lúthien, whose names resonate with the echoes  of ancient heroism and undying love. Lúthien’s heritage is fascinating,  for her mother is one of the Maiar; a class of celestial beings who existed at the  very dawn of creation, whose voices shaped the fabric of the world during the sacred  music known as the Ainulindalë.

Thus, Aragorn carries a sacred essence  within him, a whisper of the divine that may go some way to explaining some of the  extraordinary gifts and abilities of his kind. But the wonder does not end there. Thingol,  Lúthien’s father, was the revered King of Doriath, a sovereign whose life began in Cuivienen,  in the era when the world was young.

This is the storied heritage of Aragorn,  a lineage that stretches across the ages, entwining grandeur and mystery. His  bloodline, a blend of elven grace, a Maia’s divine essence and the rugged spirit of  humanity, forms a unique and resplendent legacy. Upon the unveiling of this noble ancestry, Elrond, would offer Aragorn the sacred relics  of his venerable house.

These relics, treasured heirlooms of the Kings of Men, had been  safeguarded through the ages by Elrond himself. The first was the Ring of Barahir, a piece of legendary splendour. Forged by  the Noldor in the blessed realm of Valinor, this radiant circlet came into being as the  twilight of the Years of the Trees drew near.

From its celestial birthplace, it journeyed  through the ages and across the western sea, finding its way into the hands of Elendil and  his noble descendants via the Kings of Númenor. The second relic was the Shards of  Narsil. During the Siege of Barad-dûr, King Elendil wielded Narsil with valour, but  fate was cruel.

As he fell beneath Sauron's wrath, the blade broke in half. . In that  fateful moment, Elendil’s son, Isildur, seized the broken hilt shard and used it  to sever the One Ring from Sauron’s hand.

Some years later, after Isildur's fate had been  sealed during the Disaster of the Gladden Fields, the shards of Narsil were salvaged and  brought to the sanctuary of Rivendell, where they would await their destiny  in the quiet refuge of Elrond’s halls. The third was the Sceptre of Annúminas,  a silver staff that journeyed from the lost land of Númenor to the heart of  Middle-earth. Carried by Elendil himself, the staff was a symbol of  the Kings of the Dúnedain.

Yet Elrond chose to keep the Sceptre from Aragorn, telling his fostered son that he must  first earn the right to wield it. Awakened to his noble heritage, with Narsil’s  fragment glinting in his grasp and the Ring of Barahir adorning his hand, he found his  existence illuminated with a newfound purpose. But fate had yet more magic to weave  into the fabric of his journey.

For soon, Aragorn was destined to encounter the fairest  vision in all of Middle-earth; Arwen Undómiel. ARWEN UNDÓMIEL Arwen, the cherished daughter of Elrond, had  long dwelled in the realm of Lothlórien with her grandmother Galadriel. And now, she had returned  to Rivendell, her arrival unknown to Aragorn.

Aragorn roamed solitude in the woods  near to Rivendell as his spirit soared with unspoken joy. He sang with the  abandon of one who has found new hope, and all seemed well in the world that  day. But as his song wove through the air, his gaze fell upon a figure among the delicate  white trunks of the birch trees.

He paused, struck with wonder, as if he had stepped  into a dream conjured by his own longing. For Aragorn was, at this very moment,  reciting a verse from the Lay of Luthien, recounting the fateful meeting of Luthien  and Beren amidst the Neldoreth forest. And it seemed that before him, here in Rivendell, Luthien had appeared like a vision, draped  in a shimmering garb of silver and blue.

For a heartbeat, Aragorn stood transfixed,  his breath caught in wonder. Yet, apprehensive that this moment of grace  might slip away forever, he called out, "Tinúviel, Tinúviel! " echoing the cry  of Beren from the ancient days.

And so, there in those fair woods, Aragorn  and Arwen’s paths intertwined. As the days after their meeting drifted by,  Aragorn grew quiet and reserved. Gilraen noticed this unspoken transformation in her son and coaxed  from him the story of his encounter with Arwen.

Thus, Gilraen spoke to her son of the daughter of  Elrond, describing her as the embodiment of grace and beauty in a world that had forgotten such  splendour. She reminded her son that the union of mortal and Elvenkind was a relic of a bygone  era, a memory from a time when their people were at the height of their glory before the blood and  the strength of the Dúnedain had begun to wane. And Elrond too perceived of Aragorn’s affection  for his daughter.

Summoning him to his chamber, Elrond's voice became a vessel for prophecy,  foretelling a future shaped by destiny: “Aragorn, Arathorn’s son, Lord of the Dúnedain,  listen to me! A great doom awaits you, either to rise above the height of all  your fathers since the days of Elendil, or to fall into darkness with all that is left of  your kin. Many years of trial lie before you.

You shall neither have wife, nor bind any woman to you  in troth, until your time comes and you are found worthy of it. But as for Arwen the Fair, Lady of  Imladris and of Lórien, Evenstar of her people, she is of lineage greater than yours, and she has  lived in the world already so long that to her you are but as a yearling shoot beside a young birch  of many summers. She is too far above you.

And so, I think, it may well seem to her. But even if it  were not so, and her heart turned towards you, I should still be grieved because  of the doom that is laid on us. ” Elrond felt the weight of  destiny pressing upon him, knowing that soon his children  would face an agonising crossroads: to remain bound to him and accompany him to the  undying lands where they would reunite with their mother or to sever their ties of kinship and  remain, dwelling as mortals in Middle-earth.

With the words of Elrond ringing in his  ears and an agonising longing in his heart, Aragorn bade him farewell. On the morrow,  he said his goodbyes to his mother Gilraen, to the sanctuary of Elrond, and to Arwen,  before venturing forth into the wild. Aragorn, embracing his destiny, stepped  into his rightful role as the sixteenth Chieftain of the Dúnedain as he ventured forth  into the untamed expanse of Middle-earth.

Beneath the fading echoes of the once-mighty  kingdom of Arnor, Aragorn's people still lingered; remnants of the glory of a bygone era.  This realm, once resplendent, had been torn asunder by long centuries of division  and as a result of the harrowing Angmar Wars. Yet, amid the ruins and scars, the spirit of  the land refused to surrender.

Clinging to their love for a land that had shaped them,  the people of this once mighty realm became the Rangers of the North, a noble force who  long stood vigil over the Northern lands. ‘But my home, such as I have, is in the North.  For here the heirs of Valandil have ever dwelt in long line unbroken from father unto son  for many generations.

Our days have darkened, and we have dwindled; but ever the Sword has  passed to a new keeper. And this I will say to you, Boromir, ere I end. Lonely men are we,  Rangers of the wild, hunters – but hunters ever of the servants of the Enemy; for they are  found in many places, not in Mordor only.

’ Upon ascending to the role of Chieftain,  Aragorn toiled for nearly three decades in a relentless crusade against Sauron.  His journey was marked by arduous trials and relentless hardship, leaving him with  a rugged look that spoke of his burdens. Yet, to the people, he still appeared as a figure  deserving of reverence, as a king in exile, who, even in these hard times, could not help  but reveal the essence of his noble spirit.

In those days, Aragorn crossed paths with a grey  pilgrim, a wizard cloaked in mystery who called himself Gandalf. What Aragorn could not yet fathom  was how deeply this meeting would shape his life. Gandalf, who would soon become not  only a trusted companion but a mentor, imparting unto him knowledge as vast as the  lands they travelled.

Side by side, they ventured through untamed wilderness and faced many  dangers. Yet, as the seasons turned, the wizard began to place more burdens on the shoulders of  the young Ranger, trusting him to walk alone. It was at Gandalf's quiet urging that  Aragorn's eyes shifted to a quiet and peaceful area of Arnor known as the Shire.

For  years, the Rangers had guarded its borders, a silent shield for those who lived unaware  of the wider world’s dangers. Stirred by a growing sense of the Shire’s importance, Aragorn  doubled the strength of the watch that protected this unassuming haven, where the Shirefolk dwelled  in peace, blissfully unaware that they might hold greater weight in the weaving of the fate of  all Middle-earth than they could ever imagine. Between the years 2957 and 2980 of the Third Age, Aragorn would steadfastly defend the West against  the shadow of Sauron in any way that he could.

Thus he became at last the most hardy of  living Men, skilled in their crafts and lore, and was yet more than they; for he was  elven-wise, and there was a light in his eyes that when they were kindled few could  endure. His face was sad and stern because of the doom that was laid on him, and yet  hope dwelt ever in the depths of his heart, from which mirth would arise at  times like a spring from the rock. In these long years, yearning  to shroud his true identity, Aragorn donned a number of aliases and  earned acclaim under these mysterious names.

The foremost of which was the name of Thorongil.  Drped in a cloak adorned with a silver star, he moved with a swiftness and possessed a sharp  vision akin to that of an eagle. Hence, the name Thorongil emerged, which, in the ancient tongue  of Sindarin, translates to "Eagle of the Star.

" As Thorongil, he first served under King Thengel  of Rohan, the father of King Théoden. Then, his path led him to serve the Steward Ecthelion  II of Gondor, who, besieged by the encroaching darkness of Mordor, desperately sought  stalwart men to safeguard the realm. However, Thorongil was more than just  another sword at the command of the Steward.

His counsel was thoughtful and  wise, his words like steady hands guiding the Steward. He even warned Ecthelion of the  shadow which grew within Saruman’s heart, urging him not to be swayed by the  White Wizard. Instead, he encouraged the Steward to place his trust in Gandalf, whose  loyalty remained true in these darkening days.

Thorongil also rose to greatness in the midst of  battle, mastering the ways of both land and sea, a leader whose mere presence  inspired awe and reverence. In those foreboding times, as shadows  gathered and Ecthelion braced for the storm of Sauron's return, Thorongil foresaw  the peril threatening the Southern Fiefs. For, the fierce and merciless Corsairs  of Umbar were readying an attack.

With a force provided to him by Ecthelion,  Thorongil took to the sea. Under the cover of darkness, his ships, like harbingers of doom,  swept silently through the night. Suddenly and without warning, their shouts erupted in the night  as the ships of Gondor brought fire and death.

The battle waged on and in the tumult, a desperate  close quarters combat ensued as the men of Gondaor and the Corsairs drew their swords. Thorongil  soon found himself facing the savage Captain of the Corsairs in a one-on-one duel. In this  clash of steel, Thorongil slew his fearsome foe, drowning the hopes of the Corsairs,  leaving them adrift and rudderless.

Thorongil vanquished the Corsair threat with  minimal losses to his own ships and men, earning great renown for his strategic  brilliance in the battle. Accordingly, great glory awaited him in Minas Tirith,  where he would have received a hero's welcome. Yet, he did not return to the White City.

From  the shores of Pelargir, he sent word to Ecthelion, a message of sombre farewell. He spoke of  distant roads that beckoned him with haste, and told the Steward that destiny would not  guide his steps back to Gondor for many a year. A part of the reason for this  decision may have had something to do with the whispers of tension that  were stirring regarding Ecthelions son.

Denethor was sharp-eyed and guarded,  may have sensed the hidden truth of Aragorns heritage and feared that he and  Gandalf conspired to one day surplant him. And so, to the deep sorrow bewilderment of his  companions, Thorongil ventured across Anduin, and there, they caught their last glimpse of  him. He stood in stillness, lost in thought, his gaze fixed upon the brooding  peaks of the Mountains of Shadow, which loomed dark upon the borders of Mordor.

But what errands called Aragorn away  from Gondor with such haste? Tolkien tells us that Aragorn was “exploring the  hearts of men good and evil” and learning about the “plots and devices” of  the servants of the Dark Lord. For many other realms of men existed in the  East and South.

There, in lands both wondrous and perilous, he sought the hidden truths  of men; seeking out the light and darkness within their souls. He would unveil the  schemes and secrets of those who served the Dark Lord and delve deep into the shadows  cast by the lingering spirit of Melkor. ‘I have had a hard life and a long; and the  leagues that lie between here and Gondor are a small part in the count of my journeys.

I  have crossed many mountains and many rivers, and trodden many plains, even into the far countries  of Rhûn and Harad where the stars are strange. ’ It may seem peculiar that Aragorn chose to venture  into these unknown lands where few others deemed it worthy to venture. Yet, there were forces  at work here that acted against the will of the Dark Lord who held sway.

For, in those distant  reaches of Middle-earth, the two Blue Wizards still dwelled, fighting a silent battle, waging  their hidden war against the will of the Dark Lord in those far flung reaches of the world. Their  mission, secretive and perilous, was to fracture the dark grip of Sauron, a force that cast long,  brooding shadows over those desolate kingdoms. Without their defiance, the united might  of the East would have risen as one under Sauron’s banner like a storm, ready to  consume the free peoples of the west.

Perhaps Aragorn travelled to these  forsaken realms to aid them in efforts, knowing that in the these lands, the seeds of  rebellion must be sown if the West was to prevail. Their task was to circumvent Sauron: to  bring help to the few tribes of Men that had rebelled from Melkor-worship, to stir  up rebellion . .

. and after his first fall to search out his hiding (in which they  failed) and to cause [? dissension and disarray] among the dark East .

. . They must  have had very great influence on the history of the Second Age and Third Age in weakening  and dis- arraying the forces of East .

. . who would both in the Second Age and Third Age  otherwise have .

. . outnumbered the West.

Aragorn walked many paths, but few were  as dark and perilous as the one that led him into Moria. He spoke of this to the  Fellowship. His voice was low as he told them how he had passed through the Dimrill Gate,  venturing into the deep, forsaken halls of stone.

The memory, he confessed, was evil, making  him hesitant to venture once again into such blackness. To do so even once spoke not only of  his courage but of a will tempered by hardship. It is even told that Aragorn ventured into the  desolate expanse of Mordor.

The shadow of Sauron loomed once more calling all evil things to him,  yet Aragorn, with the fortitude of a king and the courage of a warrior forged in the fires of  destiny, dared to traverse the black land. It was as he emerged from the  depths of the all-encompassing darkness of Mordor that he yearned to  return to the light of elven realms, seeking solace and respite. Little did he  know that within this longing for peace, a serendipitous meeting awaited, one that  would forever alter the path of his fate.

At the age of forty-nine, weary from the trials  that had marked his path, Aragorn found himself longing for solace. The weight of countless  dangers bore heavily upon him, and his heart yearned for the tranquil haven of Rivendell, where  he could seek respite before venturing further. But first, his journey brought him  to the edge of Lothlorien.

There, the Lady Galadriel welcomed him into  the secretive embrace of her lands. Unbeknownst to him, Arwen Undómiel lingered  once more among her mother's kin. She had changed little since Aragorn last saw her,  although she now possessed a deepened air of solemnity, and the sound of  her laughter had become scarce.

Meanwhile, Aragorn had matured into his full  glory, both in body and spirit. Galadriel, with a gaze that spoke of ages past, bade  him shed his weary garments. She robed him in silver and white, draping him in a  cloak of elven-grey and adorning his brow with a radiant gem.

In that moment, he  took on the bearing of a noble Elf-lord. And as Aragorn approached Arwen beneath  the golden-bloomed trees of Caras Galadhon, her heart knew its course and her fate was sealed. For a time they dwell together, under the  sylvan splendour of Lothlórien’s glades, until the moment of his departure drew  near.

On the Midsummer’s eve, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and Arwen, daughter of  Elrond, ascended the hill of Cerin Amroth. There, amidst the eternal grasses, Elanor  and Niphredil, they walked barefoot, their souls entwined. From that sacred hill, they  gazed eastward toward the encroaching Shadow and westward toward the distant Twilight, where the  undying land stretched across the sea.

There, in the heart of that ancient realm, they  pledged their love and rejoiced in their union. ‘And Arwen said: ‘‘Dark is the Shadow,  and yet my heart rejoices; for you, Estel, shall be among the great  whose valour will destroy it. ’’ ‘But Aragorn answered: ‘‘Alas!

I cannot foresee  it, and how it may come to pass is hidden from me. Yet with your hope I will hope. And the  Shadow I utterly reject.

But neither, lady, is the Twilight for me; for I am mortal,  and if you will cleave to me, Evenstar, then the Twilight you must also renounce. ’’ ‘And she stood then as still as a white tree, looking into the West, and at last she said:  ‘‘I will cleave to you, Dúnadan, and turn from the Twilight. Yet there lies the land of my  people and the long home of all my kin.

’’ When Elrond faced the weight of his  daughter’s choice, he remained silent, though the sorrow in his heart was palpable.  The fate he had long dreaded was now upon him. And so, when Aragorn returned to Rivendell,  Elrond summoned him.

Yet Elrond spoke to him not with scorn but with love, revealing that,  though Aragorn was cherished as his own son, Arwen’s immortality was a gift too  precious to be surrendered for anyone less than the King of both Gondor and Arnor. Therefore, for Elrond, triumph over Sauron  would be bittersweet. But for Aragorn and Arwen, it held the promise of a future in  which they may find peace and joy.

As the shadows deepened and a shroud of fear  crept across Middle-earth, Sauron’s might swelled, and the towers of Barad-dûr reached ever  higher, looming like a menace over all. Yet, even as the world trembled beneath this  growing dread, Aragorn strode forth once more, stepping into the storm, his path lit by the  flame of purpose, undaunted by the darkness. Arwen lingered in Rivendell, her soul ever bound  to Aragorn, though his path carried him far beyond her sight.

From a distance, she guarded him with  her thoughts. And with a heart full of hope, she crafted for him a banner of unmatched splendour,  worthy only of one destined to claim Lordship of the Númenoreans, to walk in the footsteps of  Elendil and claim the throne of his forebears. In the year 3001 of the Third Age, as  Sauron, no longer veiled in shadow, gathered strength once more within the land  of Mordor, Aragorn met with Gandalf.

Together, they hunted for whispers of Gollum, the  wretched creature whose fate was tangled with the Ring. But their search, at first, yielded  nothing. For Gollum, drawn by a sinister force, had crossed into the black lands of Mordor and  fallen into the clutches of Sauron.

There he was imprisoned and tortured, and in the shadows  of despair, he languished, bound and broken. Around this time, Gilraen bid Elrond  farewell and made her way back to her kin in the wilds of Eriador, choosing a  life of solitude. She seldom saw her son, as Aragorn’s destiny led him to  wander through distant lands.

Yet there came a time when Aragorn returned to the  North and they met once more. In the stillness of their reunion, Gilraen's voice, heavy with the  weight of time and sorrow, wove solemn words. ‘ ‘‘This is our last parting, Estel, my son. 

I am aged by care, even as one of lesser Men; and now that it draws near I cannot face  the darkness of our time that gathers upon Middle-earth. I shall leave it soon. ’’ ‘Aragorn tried to comfort her, saying: ‘‘Yet there may be a light beyond the darkness; and if so, I would have you see it and be glad.

’’ ‘But she answered only with this linnod: Ónen i-Estel Edain, ú-chebin estel anim, and Aragorn went away heavy of heart. That words that Gilraen spoke to her son were: Ónen i-Estel Edain, ú-chebin estel anim This translates to: I gave Hope to the Dúnedain,  I have kept no hope for myself Note that the word Estel is capitalised.  This is because the name that Elrond gave to Aragorn was Estel; Hope. 

Gilraen’s final words to Aragorn then, carry a double meaning. She didn’t merely  offer them hope; she gave them her son, her greatest gift, her heart’s most cherished  treasure, to guide them through the shadows. Just as Gilraen had foreseen, she did not  live to witness the War of the Ring.

Before the following spring could bloom, her light  faded, and Aragorn’s world grew a shade darker. And so, the years marched on, bringing  the War of the Ring ever closer, like a storm gathering at the  horizon, inevitable and vast. Gandalf's suspicions grew like shadows at dusk, dark and creeping, as the weight of a  terrible possibility began to press upon him; the ring Bilbo had chanced upon by the dark  waters of Gollum's lake may well be the One.

Accordingly, seeking more information regarding  this ring, in the year 3009 of the Third Age, Gandalf and Aragorn renewed  their pursuit of Gollum. The wood was full of the rumour of him, dreadful  tales even among beasts and birds. The Woodmen said that there was some new terror abroad, a  ghost that drank blood.

It climbed trees to find nests; it crept into holes to find the young;  it slipped through windows to find cradles. Aragorn combed the wild and forgotten places of  Middle-earth. Wandering the misty banks of Anduin, the darkened depths of Mirkwood, and  the windswept plains of Rhovanion, all the way to the shadowed borders of Mordor.

And it was close to the borders of the Black  Land that Aragorn finally overtook his elusive quarry. He had tracked Gollum into the  Dead Marshes, braving the faces of the dead and their candles, and this is where  he finally captured the wretched creature. Aragorn now faced a daunting task, he needed to  lead Gollum to Thranduil’s halls in Mirkwood, far to the north.

Every step was fraught with  danger and Sauron’s spies were everywhere. So, Aragorn took an unexpected road,  driving Gollum through Emyn Muil. They then crossed the mighty  Anduin at a quiet place.

Here, he bound Gollum to a log and, braving the  current, swam across the wide waters. From there, they pressed north, slipping through  the fringes of Fangorn's ancient woods, its looming trees bearing  silent witness to their passage. The journey then led them over the waters  of Limlight, and the murmuring streams of Nimrodel and Silverlode which flowed  down into the realm of Lothlórien.

Aragorn then took care to steer clear  of the grim shadows of Dimrill Dale, his path bending eastward  as they passed over Gladden. As they neared the great Carrock, Aragorn would  have felt a sense that the most perilous part of the journey had ended. As, although  Anduin once again crossed their path, this time Aragorn had allies.

For the  Beornings protected these lands and they lent their aid to Aragorn's cause  helping him to cross the great river. From here, Aragorn and Gollum entered Mirkwood, and here within the woodland realm,  Thranduil's dungeons awaited. Nine hundred miles they had travelled, each step  a burden heavier than the last, but with iron resolve, Aragorn pressed on.

For fifty long days,  weariness clung to him, yet he never faltered. Having accomplished this gruelling task, Aragorn  turned westward towards the Shire and Bree, where he was soon to meet four new companions. Following Gollum’s capture,  Aragorn and Gandalf journeyed westward together before going  their separate ways once again.

Upon his return, Aragorn stood watch  with his loyal Dunedain Rangers as they vigilantly watched over the Shire, ever  searching for the servants of the enemy. Soon, news arrived from Gildor Inglorion,  who was the leader of the Elves that Frodo encountered as he was leaving the Shire.  Gildor's news was regarding the Black Riders, whose dark presence had been noted by the  elves.

But Gildor also spoke of Gandalf, who had vanished, leaving no word  behind as to his whereabouts. These dire tidings fell heavily upon Aragorn.  He was now aware that the malevolent forces of the enemy were moving faster than  ever, converging upon him like a storm.

Aragorn also received word from Gildor  that Frodo had ventured forth from Bag End. Aragorn stood at a crossroads, where every  path which now lay before him whispered of uncertainty. He would undoubtedly have  liked to search for Gandalf.

Yet he knew that he must find the hobbits as soon as  possible and guide them safely to Rivendell, as Gandalf had intended. For, they  carried the weapon of the enemy and with the Black Riders abroad, they could  not be left without a guide or a protector. Therefore, he chose to take up vigil  upon the East Road.

And then, at last, they came. The hobbits. Fragile yet brave,  stumbling through a world so much larger than themselves.

Without hesitation,  Aragorn followed and observed them as they sat in the glow of the flickering  hearthlight of The Prancing Pony in Bree. After observing their clumsy attempts to veil  their identities and intentions. Aragorn sought out a private audience with the hobbits.

His  voice was grave as he warned them of the Black Riders that prowled in the shadows. He  proposed himself as their guide and, after Frodo received a note from the  absent-minded Barliman Butterbur, which bore Gandalf's endorsement  of Strider, Frodo consented. As the weight of responsibility settled on  his shoulders once again, Aragorn’s courage and leadership would be needed more than ever,  for the days of darkness were now upon them.

Mordor would soon stir, and the earth  would tremble beneath the march of war. Sword would sing and shield would splinter,  and the air would ring with the drums of war. The flame of hope that was foretold by his  grandmother burned now, brighter than ever.

And Aragorn was ready. Ready to face the evil rising from the East and to lead  the West in it's darknest hour. Not as Estel, not as Thorongil and not as Strider, but as Aragorn—son of Arathorn,  king Elessar, the flame of the West.

Thank you very much for  tuning into Realms Unravelled. Before I bid you a fond farewell, we would like to take this opportunity  to light the beacons and call for aid. If you did enjoy this video, we would ask  that you kindly click the "like" button below.

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. .  Farewell fellow explorers of Middle-earth.