Third Age: 2960

Embers popped in anguish as a woman tossed a log onto the fire. It was the only sound in the tiny cabin in the woods. She straightened herself with a sigh and moved towards the window overlooking the snow-covered valley. She was used to the quiet, true, but she still couldn't help feeling the pang of loneliness in her chest. She wondered if her son would make it home any this winter.

With a shake of her head, she turned back to the fire, barely placing a wooden spoon over the rim before the small pot boiled over. He would be fine, she told herself. He was a born warrior, a king, in all but gold, just like his father. She smiled at the thought as she dropped potatoes into the pot. They were so much alike.

A half-hour later she lifted the pot away from the fire, content with the tenderness of the vegetables. Something tapped the door and she froze. The wind blew against the house and the shutters upstairs rattled hard. It was only a matter of time before one came off. She had fixed the ones on the lower level, but couldn't get up the ladder to check the ones upstairs.

As if on cue, the wind gushed against the house, followed by a pop and the wooden shutter crashed to the ground. Gilraen cursed under her breath. How was she going to get that back on? The wind only continued to blow in response. She turned back to the steaming pot of stew. No sense in worrying about it now.

Something hit against the door but this time she paid it no mind. It was probably the wind.

Then, a muffled voice, "Naneth?"

She knew that voice. Her face lit up and she dropped the spoon, uncaring of the boiling water that briefly splattered her skin as she bolted for the door.

She pulled back the latch and swung the door open. Her son stood the doorway, a grin lighting his face when he saw her.

"Estel!" she exclaimed and standing on her toes, threw her arms around his neck. His beard was cold against her cheek, the ice had frozen to it.

"Come in, come in," she said as she pulled him inside and over to the fire. She reached up to brush the snow from his hair but he beat her to it. He gave her a look and she smiled. She couldn't help wanting to mother him anytime he came home. It happened so scarcely these days...

"How have you been, my son?" she finally asked. "I haven't heard from you in months." Sadness tinged her voice, but there was no anger. She was the wife of a late chieftain, she knew what life was like out there. You're lucky if you come home most times, much less get to send word back partway through.

"I'm alright," he said with a small smile. She looked at him closely. Darkness had settled under his eyes, dragging the corners down with it and bandages wrapped around his forearm. Her heart ached at the sight.

"How have you been?" he asked. "I saw the shutter fly off on my way in. Is there much else wrong?"

She shook her head. She knew he hated himself for not being able to help her as she aged, but she understood middle earth needed him more than she did. "No, I've been able to keep up with most of it myself. Don't worry about me. Lord Elrond has sent his sons out here on more than one occasion to make certain the house stays in good shape."

He nodded gratefully which turned into a shiver. She motioned for him to take a seat while she poured a bowl of stew for him. He took it gratefully, warming his hands with the dish.

His shoulders slowly slumped as the warmth melted his defense. "It's getting worse, is it not?" she finally asked. He nodded slowly.

"Their dying, naneth. Everywhere I go I lose at least a few of them and there's nothing I can do about it." He hung his head, placing his elbows on his knees.

"I'm sure you're doing all you can, my son. That's all you can do. War is coming. I can feel it in my soul." He nodded but didn't look up. She reached and took the empty bowl from his hands. "Get some sleep. Valar knows you need it." At this, he smiled at her and stood. He knew better than to argue with his mother.

-------

The wind had died down by the next morning and Gilrean woke in peaceful silence. Until something banged against the side of the house and she jumped up, reaching for the knife on her bedside table, ready to take on whatever might come at her through the window.

Gently, she pulled back the curtains. Light streamed in but nothing was there. She heard it again and pressed her cheek against the cold glass. Aragorn leaned off the ladder, holding the shutter in place as he nailed it in. She smiled, shook her head, and turned for her shoes.

"What are you doing up so early?" she asked as she stepped around the corner. "You were supposed to get some sleep."

He shook his head. "Couldn't sleep," he said and hammers it one last time. Then he smiled at her. "Having this shutter open was letting all the cold air in."

She shook her head. She knew better than to believe that story but decided to let it go for now. "I'm going to put some tea on, would you like some?"

He stepped off the ladder, holding his bandaged arm close. "Please. I haven't been able to shake the cold these last few days for some reason."

A little while later found mother and son seated by the fire, nursing a mug of black tea. Estel shivered once more and Gilraen handed him a blanket. He took it with a small smile, wrapping it up around his shoulders, and continued telling her yet another name he had decided to go by, Thorongil, as well as of his adventures with Thengel, the king of Rohan. 

She listened intently, part of her not wanting to know the danger he had put himself in, and the other, desperate to know what he had been doing all those days where she looked out the window, waiting for him. 

The last of his story trailed off and he shivered again. She studied his face, flushed from what she thought was the heat of the fire. Her brow furrowed.

"Are you well, my son?"

He looked at her and she stared back, daring him to try and lie to her. Finally, he dropped his head and lifted his bandaged arm. Her heart sank.

"I injured my arm awhile back. It wasn't much but I could not clean it properly until it was too late. Fever took me and it's only by some luck that the patrols found me and brought me back. I didn't want you to worry. I asked them not to tell you until I was better recovered."

She wanted to hit him. "I am your mother, I was built to handle a little worry. You should have let them tell me."

Estel smiled. "I know, but Arwen was there. She took care of me when Lord Elrond could not. There was no sense in you worrying."

Gilraen nodded. She knew the love he carried for the daughter of Lord Elrond and also that she returned it. Her son was no longer hers to care for. She had known that for a while, but now it was different. He had the love of an elleth and it was no longer her place to sit at his bedside when he needed a hand to hold. The thought shattered a piece of her selfish heart and her eyes burned.

"Naneth?" She looked up as he knelt beside her. "Forgive me," he said. "I did not wish to bring you sorrow."

She shook her head, drawing in a deep breath. "You needn't apologize. I am just glad you are well and that you have found a woman you love and who will take care of you when you get into trouble." A grin spread across her son's fevered face and her heart lifted. "But for now, you must rest some here. I won't have you back on that ladder for a few days yet." He opened his mouth to protest but she beat him to it. "Off you go. I will be in with a hot pan to keep the covers warm in a moment."

Estel shivered, drawing the blanket closer to himself as he stood. "Thank you, naneth."

She didn't respond, simply shooed him into the guest room, and then turned to the stove. The door clicked shut and she let her shoulders drop. How many other times had he been injured, perhaps near death, and she never heard of it? It sent shivers down her spine and set a lump in her gut. 

She knew every time he left that he may not come home. But the thought of him coming home mortally wounded and not knowing until it was too late brought unbidden tears to her eyes. Perhaps she would talk with Arwen. Maybe she could talk some sense into her son. Regardless, it was a burden of a mother, she supposed. One she did her best to carry silently. For she was proud of her son, even if what the world demanded of him broke her heart and aged her beyond her years.

I've had half of this in my drafts since last NaNo and I finally found the motivation to finish it!! Yay! XD Hope yall enjoyed it!