Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Lord of the Rings', whose rightful owner is JRR Tolkien. All that you see and recognise, I do not own.

Namaarie, Estel

Not all farewells are for the passing of a soul.

I see you, mellon nin.

I have watched you for the past two days, watching as the events of the past year finally catch up to you.

You stand now, at the threshold of an entirely new life, different from that which you have previously led.

You wander as if in a bemused state, somewhat distant and detached, to what goes on about you. It is as if you are physically here, but your mind and thoughts wander a completely different realm. When anyone speaks to you, your answers are vague, and your eyes stare ahead, but yet, they do not see.

But I understand, my brother, you must accept what lies ahead, and adjust to the change, for a large change it will be.

And yet I mourn, Aragorn, truly I mourn.

For your entire life, I have known you. You did not know, and no one ever told you, but I had met you when you were barely a month old, and your father and mother were still alive.

I was traveling with my escort, and we came upon your camp. I knew of the existence of your bloodline, despite the belief of many that it was broken.

Your mother allowed me to greet the heir to the throne. You were so small, tiny, when I held you in my arms, and despite the innocence in your stare, and the quiet gurgles that you made, you had a strong grip on my finger.

There was something in your gaze that held mine, and with one look, you had captured me.

It was only until I visited Rivendell, after the death of your father, that you thought we met for the first time. One day, I shall inform you of that misperception, but not today. Nay, today, you already have too much on your mind.

Estel, you were named, for you were the hope of Men. I remember saying to Lord Elrond that nothing was more befitting for a King, who would one day return to sit upon the throne of Gondor. And when that day came, the fabled white tree of Gondor would once again blossom with the promise of a brighter future.

He and I were sitting in his spacious study, and we spoke of grave things. I can easily recall them if I wish, but those matters were not what I always remember first whenever I recall that day.

What I do remember sharply, was when the door creaked open, and I saw your small head peep in, your eyes curious, and you scrambled in. You were, of course, vastly different from when you were but a babe, but your eyes, they were the same, and even now, they are the same.

In an act of innocence, an example of the naïve trust that all children displayed, you climbed onto my lap, much to my surprise and amusement, and looked deep into my eyes.

My entire life, I have looked straight in the eyes of Elven rulers: my father, Lord Elrond, Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadrial… countless nobles and advisors, but none pierced my soul as yours did.

Again, with a single gaze, you captured me. But even this meeting did not last long, for I soon left Rivendell, but not first exchanging names with you.

When I next rode into Imladris, you were waiting to greet me, and I clearly remember how you ran up to me as I dismounted, and tugged ever so endearingly on my leggings, demanding that 'Leglass' come and play with little Estel.

I remember having to deny you, for I carried urgent news, and my heartstrings gave a tug when your mouth quivered and your eyes filled with tears. And I hastily promised to spend time with you after my business was done.

Those two hours after dinner, playing with your younger self, were the two most enlightening hours of my life, up until then. Whenever I gaze back now, I recall the intelligence that lurked in your gray eyes, and the quiet strength that somehow belied your small physique.

I remember when you watched as I practiced my archery, and begged me to teach you the art. You were too small then, so I said that I would teach you the moment your Adar proclaimed you ready to learn.

When I next met you, you carried a trainee's sword, and that was your message to me, subtle yet loud, and I taught you the art, which you learnt ever so diligently.

I mourn, Aragorn, because when I first befriended you, I knew that it was the child within you who had captured me, and that one day, I would be forced to let go of that child. Despite what Estel became, I would always mourn the loss of that child, whose innocence and trust in everyone and everything was attractive to me, for the times were growing dark.

We did not meet for a long time, in human standards, after that, for Lord Elrond told you of your true heritage, and you retreated into the wild to square with that.

You did not have to say it, but on those many adventures, and journeys we embarked on together, I learnt to read you, as you did me. I saw the hesitance in you, the fear, of what your bloodline represented.

But also on those journeys, I saw how much you had grown since we last met, and I began to see Estel fade away. It was then that I insisted on calling you Aragorn, because although you doubted it, I had faith in you. Your name was not a sign of weakness, but of strength. It was the embodiment of strength of the race of Men, and I told you often that you should be proud to bear it, just as I was proud to call a Man my brother.

Aye, I recall the times when we ventured into the wild, and often came back bearing many wounds, much to the chagrin of our respective fathers, but not even their harshest lectures, nor could their threats could deter us.

I saw in you the adventurous spirit that burned so brightly in my own. There was a need to explore the lands, and eagerly devour what knowledge that was available. Your visits to Rivendell became less and less, as you spent more time in the wild, growing and maturing, and again, I saw how much more the sweet innocent child disappear.

You saw much of the world, more so than I, then, and what you saw and what you did, altered you.

But it was not until you came to Mirkwood, with Gandalf and the creature Gollum, did Estel truly begin to die.

It was to both our disappointment that you could not stay long, but we met not long after, sadly, at the Council of Elrond.

I had heard of your journey with the Hobbits, and although I did not know it then, you were beginning to take up what was yours. Then, at the Council, I was enraged, almost disappointed, when you bade me to sit down, and you did not defend your name.

But never was I more proud when you volunteered your sword to the Ringbearer. It was what prompted me to give my bow and aid, for I would not let you, a brother, walk into battle without me.

This was the beginning… the beginning of the emergence of Aragorn, son of Arathorn, King of Gondor.

During our quest as the Fellowship, you were still prone to sudden bouts of childishness, and that was amusing, but even so, you were considerably less childish and mischievous than you were on our other journeys.

A great burden had been placed upon your shoulders, for although you were not required to lead as of yet, you knew what the outcome of our quest would be, should it be successful. It was the fate from which you had tried to avoid so desperately, for you felt afraid.

Much of Estel the child died when Gandalf fell in Moria, for Mithrandir appointed you leader in his stead, and I saw how you could not bear to turn away from this task, for all of us had needed you then, to be a beacon of strength, when we had lost our pillar of support.

And you shouldered this burden admirably, and the leader in you rose up.

Our time in Lothlorien was soothing for you, and I could see that, for the creases in your forehead smoothed away, and even occasionally, you smiled and laughed.

But as we left, again, you frowned. I know that you often looked to me for aid, and even if I were able to ease your task of leadership, I would not have.

For you must understand, Aragorn, this is not my journey. The lessons to be learnt, and the knowledge and experience to be gained were yours, and not anyone else's. I was ready to support you, and follow you come what may, for even if you had no leader you could follow, at least you had a brother on whom you could lean.

Much of your life, you expressed to me your fears, and many times over, all of us have said, "You have Isildur's blood, yet you are not Isildur himself." But yet you replied ever somberly, "His blood, his weakness."

And even so, when Frodo offered to you the One Ring, you turned him away.

You faced temptation, my friend, and you overcame it.

When Gandalf returned as the White, your burden did not lessen, for Mithrandir returned as a guide. It was up to you, to make the choices that would craft the being that you would become, and I saw Estel crumbling away at the weight, his tiny shoulders far too small to carry such a burden, but I rejoiced, for I saw Aragorn come forward, and willingly take that weight from his childhood self.

You rode with the Rohirrim, and so did I.

The one time I lost hope, you tenaciously held on, refusing to acknowledge defeat, and you made me see the error of my ways. It was Estel's optimism that I saw, but Aragorn's steadfast hope and belief.

But it was when you drew Anduril out of its sheath, when you cast aside the title of Ranger, and made for the Paths of the Dead, that you cast aside your fear and hesitation. It was when you brought your company of Men, and bade them to stand and fight before the Black Gates that you accepted your title as King.

I followed you, and I never felt more proud to follow such a Man. Many times, I was willing to ride out to battle under the command of Elves whom I know and revere, but never was I so willing to give my life for you.

And now, I stand at your doorway, watching as your attendants drape your coronation robes on your body. You ever patiently allow them to do so, and you look into your mirror, and catch my eyes.

There is no fear, no hesitation. Those emotions disappeared long ago. There lingers only calmness, and acceptance. You are not yet King, but we all know that you were King long before you even stepped foot in Minas Tirith.

There is understanding in those gray depths, you know of the farewell that is written in my eyes.

In but an hour, you shall kneel before Mithrandir, and accept the crown. In an hour, you shall stand before your people as King.

Estel has all but faded, but he has left lingering traces upon you, and forever shall those stay, for his touch will remain on you always, even as he disappears. These traits will always remind me of the child within you. Traits such as how your eyes twinkle each time you smile, and how you like to fiddle with your clothing when you are nervous.

Aye… where you go, there is no place for a child, for you step into a world of heavy responsibilities and endless duties, but you will always retain in you, somewhere, a remnant of Estel.

No more will Estel have the sudden urging to play a prank on the twins, nor skive from his duties. No… that child is going, leaving, never to return. I may jest in the future, and call you a 'child', but both you and I will know that it will no longer be true.

Aragorn, Elessar… When you become Elessar, you will release the last of Estel that resides within you.

You will always be Estel to the Elves who have raised you, but no longer will you ever be just Estel.

And so it is to Estel the child that I say, "Namaarie."