7. On Elven Prophecy
Aragorn stood watch, pacing softly about the camp, eyes scanning all directions, listening for any sound of other living things.
They had seen none save birds that day. All his skill and experience told him the Fellowship was quite safe. For the time being; they would reach the pass of Caradhras in a week, and that assuming they met no Orcs, or worse, beforehand!
He sat down for a moment, pondering the troubles that lay ahead. One enemy in particular troubled him - the Witch King. It was almost certain the Fellowship would encounter the Nazgul again, and the closer to the Black Land, the more powerful would the wraiths be. They would not be driven off with torches again, of that he was certain.
Aragorn pondered Glorfindel's famous prophecy concerning the Ringwraith - "Not by the hand of Man shall he fall." Was even Anduril an insufficient weapon against the dread King? How should he fight him, should they meet? He unsheathed the blade - perhaps the answer could be found by fixing his mind on it.
Legolas sprang up at the sound, instantly on guard. "What is it? You drew."
"I was wondering what I might do if we meet the Nazgul again. Whether this sword would be sufficient to slay one, if we are forced to confront them."
"Why not?" Legolas asked. "Is it not forged from Narsil, the same blade that laid Sauron himself low?"
"It is, but even so, it may be of little use against the King of Angmar. No man can kill him, if the prophecies are to be believed. And I have no reason to doubt them."
Legolas wavered for a moment. "That particular prophecy may have, ah, expired. I was still mastering my tengwar and learning to use a bow when it was made."
"Glorfindel does not say such things lightly."
Legolas knelt and thought for a long moment. Some of the great Eldar indeed had the gift of true foresight. Cirdan, most certainly. Galadriel and Elrond had not prophecied wrongly, as far as he knew. But Glorfindel? Something he could not remember made him doubt.
Three days later...
"Ah-hah!" exclaimed the Elf. "Now I remember."
All turned to him in surprise - it was a bitter cold, windy, miserable day and none had spoken for over an hour.
"Aragorn, my father told me a story long ago, concerning your Seer. It was told to him by his own father, who in his youth, knew the Elf concerned quite well."
"Your Seer once said that, without fail, he would wed Idril Celebrindal."
The Wood-Elf beamed as if he had won a triumph. The others, save Aragorn, gaped at him as if he were mad. Gandalf, realizing the substance, shook his head in exasperation and turned back towards the Mountains.
Aragorn grinned. If, beyond all hope, they defeated Mordor, a certain large-egoed Elf-Lord would hear of this.
A/N: In honor of Darth Fingon and his wonderful tale "Lauron-Nama."
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