Tales of the North
Through the Dimrill Gate: 1. Memory
"Aragorn, do you remember what you said when we were at the Gates of Moria, that you had been in Moria once before?" Frodo had asked. "Would you tell me about that journey?"
Aragorn shook his head, "I remember, yes, but I will not darken this fair day by tales of Moria. I may tell you some other time."
That evening, Aragorn stood on an east-facing balcony in his quarters, looking towards the Pelennor. In the deepening dusk he could still just about make out the mound where lay the fallen of the Grey Company.
He sighed as he thought that he had not been entirely truthful with Frodo. True, he did not recall his entry into Moria these many years ago with any fondness, but his main reason for not giving the hobbit his tale had been that he did not want to talk about Halbarad with any who had not known his kinsman, not yet.
Leaning on the balustrade as he looked out, Aragorn raised his glass of wine in a silent salute, and went back in memory to a day well over sixty years ago.
Aragorn shook his head, "I remember, yes, but I will not darken this fair day by tales of Moria. I may tell you some other time."
That evening, Aragorn stood on an east-facing balcony in his quarters, looking towards the Pelennor. In the deepening dusk he could still just about make out the mound where lay the fallen of the Grey Company.
He sighed as he thought that he had not been entirely truthful with Frodo. True, he did not recall his entry into Moria these many years ago with any fondness, but his main reason for not giving the hobbit his tale had been that he did not want to talk about Halbarad with any who had not known his kinsman, not yet.
Leaning on the balustrade as he looked out, Aragorn raised his glass of wine in a silent salute, and went back in memory to a day well over sixty years ago.
