Title: Little Child

Author: Elentirmo aka Misty

E-mail: mistycracraft@yahoo.com

Rating: G

Beta: Eleniel

Summary: A lullaby connects the generations

Disclaimers: First off, I own none of Tolkien's characters, that goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway. Second, the lyrics of the songs in this story also do not belong to me. The lyrics taken from 'When the Children Cry' belong to White Lion and whoever produced the album. Basically, they're not mine. Also, the lullaby was written specifically for this story and belongs solely to Aranel. She was kind enough to offer to write a lullaby for my story, and I took her up on the offer. I'd like to thank her for her poetry. Without that lullaby, this story would have turned out quite differently.

Authors note: The initial inspiration for this story came from a song I heard on the radio, as so many of my stories start. The song 'When the Children Cry' directed much of the story, but once I included the lullaby from Aranel, the story became much more centered around the lullaby than the original song. Sometimes my stories diverge from the initial ideas and I typically just go with it. Let me know what you think.

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When the Children Cry - White Lion

Little child

Dry your crying eyes

How can I explain

The fear you feel inside

'cause you were born

into this evil world

where man is killing man

and no one knows just why.

What have we become

Just look what we have done

All that we destroyed,

You must build again.

When the children cry

Let them know we tried

'cause when the children sing

the new world begins

Little child

You must show the way

To a better day

For all the young

'cause you were born

for the world to see

that we all can live

in light and peace.

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Arathorn gazed in wonder at the small bundle in his arms. He reached down again and counted. Yes, there were ten little fingers and ten little toes on his perfect, healthy son. His son! He still had a hard time believing it. "Welcome to the world, Aragorn," he said softly. Glancing over at Gilraen, he was careful not to wake her. The midwife had left some time ago, and Gilraen had fallen into an exhausted slumber nearly an hour ago. Arathorn had been holding his son in his arms since that time. He was somewhat afraid to move, actually; his hands were much more accustomed to holding a bow or a sword than a child. He reached down and stroked Aragorn's cheek with a callused finger. The baby's skin was so soft, so smooth. He moved his hand to touch the fine dark hair with which his son had come into the world. Aragorn's eyes had only been open momentarily, but it had been long enough to see their silver color. Aragorn's coloring already marked him as a son of Númenor.

As he watched his son sleep, he was nearly overcome with a feeling of love like he had never felt before. It was almost a physical pain. He had never known he could love someone this much. There was nothing he would not do to protect the precious life he held in his hands. The world had seemingly shrunk to the confines of this cabin. If he never ventured outside again, he would be perfectly content. The only sounds to be heard were the soft breathing of the cabin's inhabitants and the crickets outside. Aragorn's brow wrinkled as he slept, and Arathorn wondered what he was dreaming. What would one so small dream of?

As the thought flickered through his mind, he found himself pondering the future. What kind of life did fate have in store for his son? They were descended directly from the kings of Númenor. His son should be growing up as a prince of Gondor, not as the son of a Ranger of the north. The life of a ranger was not an easy one. Arathorn was already beginning to regret the time he would have to be separated from his son. Rangers often had to spend weeks at a time away from home. Until now, that had never been such a hardship. But now, looking at his son, he knew he wanted to stay right where he was. The rest of the world could wait. Arathorn wanted to be there to watch his son grow up. He could imagine no greater joy than being there to witness all the important moments of his son's life: his first smile, his first word, the first time he rolled over, crawled across the room or took his first step.

Arathorn smiled as his mind jumped forward a few years. He wanted to see his son grow into a man. In his mind's eye, he could see Aragorn standing tall and strong and looking like the kings of old. Arathorn's smile faded as his mind automatically put a sword at his son's side. "Oh, my son. I wish you had been born into a time of peace. I have seen too much battle, and my heart quakes at the thought that you will some day face danger. If I could, I would keep you safe and protected for the entirety of your life. If only that were possible." He sighed and studied his son's face intently. "I have so much to teach you about the world you were born into and your place in it. You are royalty, Aragorn, even if we do not have a kingdom at this time. The race of man has made so many mistakes. Evil roams our world freely, and we hold no small responsibility for that. But I believe that there is also much good left. You represent all that is good among men. You will make this world a better place. I regret placing this burden upon you, but I believe that you will be the one to set right the many wrongs of our race. Our hope now rests in you."

As if he had heard and understood his father, Aragorn sleepily opened his eyes and looked at his father. For a long moment, they simply regarded each other, silver eyes staring into silver eyes. Then, suddenly, Aragorn's tiny face scrunched up, and he let out a wail.

Arathorn looked at the small being in his arms in panic. What was he supposed to do now? He didn't have any experience with crying infants. He glanced over to where Gilraen still lay asleep in the bed. It was hard for him to believe that she was able to sleep through this noise, but he was loathe to disturb her slumber. He gingerly cradled the bawling infant in his arms and started rocking back and forth. When that had no effect, he remembered something from his childhood. A melody came to mind and he hummed before the elvish words came back to him. As he began to sing the lullaby, he drifted back across the years to when his father had sung the same song to him.

Sleep now, my child, fear not the dark

No evil finds you now

Cry not, dear one, smile as the lark

You're safe with me, I vow

Lean back, lean back and close your eyes

High hope the stars will bring

Dream on, dream on, hope strides across the skies

A light from the dark will spring

Arathorn smiled at his son. Aragorn had stopped crying and seemed to be staring at him in rapt wonder. Arathorn continued the elvish lullaby.

When unseen foes surround you,

Dream sweetly, sleep without tears.

Tremble not, your heart be true,

Child of hope, you'll break all fears.

Child of hope,

Stride across the sky.

Light of Gil-Estel,

Fore'er will never die.

Then renew you for the day;

There are many paths to tread,

Down new roads and secret gates,

Child of hope, doubt you will shred.

Child of hope,

Stride across the sky.

Light of Gil-Estel

Fore'er will never die.

As Arathorn finished, Aragorn lay quiet in his arms, scrutinizing him. The elvish seemed to have captured his attention.

"That lullaby has been passed down through many generations of our family; it may even have been sung by Elros Tar-Minyatur, the origin of our line. One day, I will take you to Rivendell to meet Lord Elrond, his twin, so that you may learn from him. Though Elros chose to be mortal and died long ago, Elrond still acknowledges our kinship, and each new generation of our line is taught at Rivendell. I learned from Lord Elrond as did my father, and his father before him. When you are old enough, I will take you to him as well. You will like him, I think. He may seem a little stern and forbidding, but he loves and protects his family fiercely. His sons, Elladan and Elrohir are also twins. There are no two better warriors anywhere, but when they are not in battle…" His voice drifted off for a moment as he thought of the mischievous natures of the twins. "Perhaps it would be better if you did not spend too much time with them. I fear what they would teach you." Pausing for a moment, he noticed that Aragorn's eyes were once more closed in sleep. "We are not as closely related to the elves as once we were, but never forget that elven blood flows through your veins as well as human. The friendship between elves and men is very important to the future of our world…You are very important to the future of our world. I have never been as gifted in foresight as some in our line, but I feel that you were born for a specific purpose. You will defeat the shadows and bring unity and peace to our lands." He smiled briefly. "I am sure that all parents feel their children are born for some great destiny, but I know this in my heart."

After a pause, he went on to tell Aragorn of the various lands he would one day see and the people he would meet. Before long, he felt eyes watching him. Looking up, he saw Gilraen smiling across the room at him.

"The hour is late, my love. Come to bed."

"But I have so much yet to tell him," Arathorn protested.

Gilraen laughed softly. "He is asleep and cannot possibly understand you. There will be time for you to tell him all he needs to know. It does not have to be said this night."

Arathorn looked at her a little sheepishly. His enthusiasm had managed to get the better of him. "You are right," he conceded. He carefully stood up with his son in his arms and walked toward their bed. "We have time."

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Little child

Dry your crying eyes

How can I explain

The fear you feel inside

'cause you were born

into this evil world

where man is killing man

and no one knows just why.

'When the children cry' - White Lion

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Two years later

Elrond paused in writing a letter to the ruler of a neighboring realm. A sense of foreboding swept through him. There was something wrong; he had felt uneasy all day, but he could not pinpoint the source. His heart sank at the thought that his sons may be in trouble. He looked away from his desk at the sound of hoofbeats clattering in the courtyard. Before he even stood up to see who had arrived, he knew that he was about to find out the source of his misgivings. Hurrying to the front door, he saw his sons dismounting their horses. They were dirty, disheveled, and covered in a dark sticky substance that could only be orc blood, but they were alive and riding under their own power. Elrohir carried a small bundle carefully in his arms. Elrond knew the twins had been on their way to visit the Dúnedain led by Arathorn. They had not been expected back home for at least a couple of weeks.

"What has occurred, my sons?" The grief emanating from his sons frightened him. He quickly looked them both over, searching for signs of injury. Besides a bandage on Elladan's arm, they seemed relatively well.

Elladan looked at him with a mixture of despair and rage in his eyes. "Arathorn and Gilraen are dead, my lord. They were ambushed by a band of orcs. We arrived too late to help them. We made sure, however, that none of those foul creatures were left alive."

"What of their son?" Elrond asked in a near panic. Arathorn and his family were all that remained of his brother's line; all that was left of the line of kings. "What of Aragorn?"

Elladan looked over at his twin. Elrond followed his gaze and watched as the bundle in Elrohir's arms moved slightly. "He saw the whole thing," Elladan said softly. "Gilraen was able to hide him from the orcs, but from his hiding place, he witnessed the whole battle. We found him once all the orcs were destroyed. It was our decision to bring him here. T'would not be safe for him to return to the village, and we are all the family he now has remaining."

Elrond nodded. Elladan was in his stoic, warrior persona. When grief and pain weighed too heavily upon him, he would often retreat into a formal manner to hide his feelings. Elrond knew both of the twins considered Arathorn a great friend as well as family. They would never have considered leaving Aragorn in the care of anyone else. "You made the right decision," Elrond told him. "If his parents no longer live, then his place is indeed here with us." He looked once more at his sons. "I want you both to get cleaned up and let the healers take a look at you. Then you need to rest."

"What of Aragorn?" Elrohir asked, cradling the small boy to his chest.

"I will take him," Elrond said.

"You, Ada?" Elrohir asked doubtfully.

"Yes, Elrohir. I do have some experience with children." Elrond's voice was dry as he looked at his son.

Elrohir flushed slightly. "I did not mean that as it sounded, Ada. I merely meant that he does not know you. He has had a very traumatic experience, his life has been torn apart. If he wakes and does not see a familiar face, he will be scared."

Elrond sighed. "You make a valid point. Very well. As soon as you have cleaned up and been cleared by the healers, you may join us in the room across the hall from Elladan's. I will arrange for that room to be made into Aragorn's room." He walked forward and reached to take the child from Elrohir's arms. Elrohir reluctantly handed him over.

Elrond easily adjusted to the weight of the small boy and held him up against his shoulder. Aragorn stirred in his sleep, then relaxed against Elrond, hiding his face in the elf lord's neck.

"Go," Elrond said. "We will be fine."

The twins nodded somberly to him, then headed to the house of healing. Elrond watched them go with pain in his heart. The news they had brought was tragic indeed. He glanced sideways at the dark head resting on his shoulder. His own children had not been this small for thousands of years. He had nearly forgotten how it felt to hold a child so small, so helpless, knowing that they depended completely on you. He swallowed the lump in his throat and went to find Erestor. After a brief conversation, Erestor left to make the necessary arrangements.

Elrond made his way to what would be Aragorn's room. He sat down in a rocking chair and waited as one of the house servants came in and changed the sheets on the bed. Aragorn whimpered and squirmed in his arms. As Elrond looked at him, he saw tears streaming down the boy's face. His heart went out to the child. "Oh, tithen pen," (little one) he said softly. "If I knew how to take your pain from you, I would do so in an instant." He thought of how he had soothed his children when they were this small. He leaned back and, cradling Aragorn, began rocking back and forth. A lullaby came to mind, and he began to softly sing.

Sleep now, my child, fear not the dark,
No evil finds you now

Cry not, dear one, smile as the lark

You're safe with me, I vow

Lean back, lean back and close your eyes

High hope the stars will bring

Dream on, dream on, hope strides across the skies

A light from the dark will spring

The effect was immediate. Aragorn's tears and whimpers ceased. He sighed deeply and relaxed against Elrond. Elrond smiled; this lullaby had always been one of his favorites. His mother had sung this same lullaby to him and Elros when they were children. He and Elros had added the verse about their father, Gil-Estel after Eärendil had first appeared in the night sky. Every time Elrond sang this song, it reminded him of his childhood, his family. They were all gone now, but he still had very fond memories of their time together. Elrond continued to sing, seeing how it calmed Aragorn.

Child of hope

Stride across the sky

Light of Gil-Estel

Fore'er will never die

As he sang, he considered the child in his arms. Aragorn was now the last of the line of kings. He would not be safe if anyone were to know he was here. He would have to be given a new identity for his protection. 'Child of hope'; the line from the lullaby came to mind, and Elrond smiled. No name could fit better, for this child was the last hope of men.

Eventually, his sons came into the room, clean and obviously exhausted. Even in their grief, however, they could not help but smile at the sight of Elrond rocking Aragorn and singing the lullaby that he had sung to them long ago. Elrond gestured for his sons to lay down on the bed. Elladan was about to protest, but Elrond simply shook his head and raised an eyebrow, indicating that he did not want to hear it. Elladan nodded, and both twins lay down on the bed. Elrond stood up and carefully laid Aragorn between the twins. If he were to wake now, at least Aragorn would find himself with people he knew. And Elrond knew the twins also needed the comfort of each other's presence and the knowledge that Aragorn was safe. This was what all three of them needed tonight. Tomorrow would be hard on all of them, but for tonight, they would sleep peacefully. He sat back down in the rocking chair and sang all three of his boys to sleep. A smile quirked his lips as the thought flickered through his mind. It was amazing how quickly Aragorn had made his way into Elrond's heart. But he knew it was true. From this moment on, Aragorn was his son.

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…When the children sing, the new world begins.

'When the children cry' - White Lion

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Many years later

King Elessar retired to his chambers after a long day of meetings, councils and negotiations. Somehow, hours of meetings seemed to tire him far more quickly than hours of tracking or even of battle. His fatigue faded as he took in the scene before him. Arwen sat in a rocking chair with Eldarion, their two-month-old son, cradled in her arms. She was softly singing a lullaby that Aragorn recognized instantly. He crossed the room and crouched down in front of the rocking chair. Leaning forward, he kissed his wife, then pressed his lips to his son's forehead. Sitting back on his heels, he rested a hand on his son's head and added his voice to Arwen's as they sang to their son the same lullaby their fathers had sung to them.

As a sense of peace and contentment stole over Aragorn's soul, he remembered both of his fathers and thanked them for loving him and believing in him. Without them, this moment would not have been possible. 'Thank you, Ada,' he thought with a smile on his face.

The End