For Aragorn, the news was almost overwhelming, particularly the latter revelation.

The title “chieftain of the Dúnedain” was something he could still accept. Over the years, his mother had told him many things, hinting more than once that his identity was far from ordinary.

In truth, even if Elrond hadn’t spoken, he had already begun to suspect some of it.

But that second piece of news…

Arnor, the fallen northern kingdom, its remnants were the Rangers of today. The chieftain of the Dúnedain was in truth a descendant of the royal house of Arnor.

Moreover, since the last king of Arthedain, one of the three Dúnedain realms formed from Arnor’s division, had intermarried with Gondor’s royal line, his descendants also carried the blood of Gondor’s kings.

In other words, every generation of the Chieftain of the Dúnedain held a legitimate claim to Gondor’s throne.

And yet, for various reasons, ever since Gondor lost its last king until now, through over nine hundred years, none of them had pursued that throne. Instead, they remained in the North, waging constant struggle against the evil forces that plagued the land.

When Aragorn’s identity was formally revealed, the great hall fell into a brief silence.

He lowered his head in thought for a moment. At last, he chose to accept this reality.

“By my name I swear: from this day forward, I will think always of my people, and I will fight for all the Free Peoples.”

“Well spoken.”

Elrond smiled, and Aragorn’s mother nodded behind him, clearly relieved.

Garrett too looked at him with approval, which gave Aragorn a great deal of confidence.

“I am ready to set out.”

The world lay before his eyes.

“Before you go, there is something else for you.”

Elrond took out a golden apple.

“This was a gift from Garrett to you ten years ago. Now the time has come for it to be entrusted to you.”

Aragorn’s gaze was immediately drawn to it.

Elrond explained further:

“The golden apple has the power of protection and healing. It can draw life back from the very brink of death.”

“Thank you.”

Aragorn accepted the golden apple and gave his thanks to Garrett.

“Do not be hasty, Aragorn.”

Elrond glanced at Garrett and said, “Garrett has something else to give you. You may look forward to it, I myself do not know what it is.”

Under the curious eyes of both Elrond and Aragorn, Garrett stepped forward. He produced a white gem, shining like the stars themselves.

At once, dazzling light was reflected in the eyes of everyone present.

“This is…”

Aragorn was still stunned, but his mother stepped forward first, pulling him with her to bow solemnly to Garrett.

“The Elendilmir, the Star of Elendil, heirloom of the Dúnedain, and the symbol of Arnor’s royal authority.”

Elrond revealed the gem’s origin.

“It was lost for thousands of years. I never thought it would be found again.”

“Yes, who would have guessed that this jewel had been hoarded away by some shameless scoundrel? It took me some effort to reclaim it,” Garrett spoke with no restraint.

“You truly went to great trouble.”

“All the Dúnedain will thank you.”

In truth, after the loss of the Elendilmir, Isildur’s son Valandil had commissioned the Elves to craft a second jewel to replace it. Yet while the second star was beautiful, it lacked both the history and the power of the original. At best, it was an exquisite imitation, lovely to look at, but of little real use.

The true gem’s radiance was such that creatures of darkness shrank in fear of it. Worn upon the brow, it kept orcs at bay, they would venture only to strike from afar.

And now it had returned.

Among the Dúnedain, this would cause a stir.

“I have a request,” Garrett spoke again.

“Please speak.”

Aragorn’s attitude was deeply respectful.

“When you return to your people bearing this jewel, I hope you will seek out a Dúnadan named Halbarad. You’ve met him before, ten years ago, when he and I visited Rivendell together.”

“It was he, and the Rangers in his company, who first mentioned the Elendilmir. Without that, I might never have noticed it. I fear they might miss this news.”

“I will,” Aragorn answered at once.

His mother gave him a light pat on the back, as though reminding him of something.

He instantly understood and added, “I will never forget.”

The renown of the Dúnedain had once more risen greatly.

But it no longer mattered, whether their reputation grew or not made no difference now.

At this point, with a single wave of Garrett’s hand, he could summon as many Rangers as the chieftain of the Dúnedain himself.

Once Aragorn’s lineage had been revealed by Elrond, and the heirlooms delivered, Garrett and Elrond withdrew, giving Aragorn time to take it all in.

The two of them walked out onto a terrace, sat on opposite sides of a stone table, and began to converse idly.

“I’m curious, whose hands kept that gem hidden for so long?” Elrond brought up the subject.

“Do you really want to know?”

At Garrett’s words, Elrond suddenly felt uncertain.

“Was it someone… unspeakable?”

“No, no. It’s just that once you know certain things, it’s hard to see someone the same way again. Your view of them might change.”

“Even so, you still wish to know?” Garrett pressed again.

Elrond said solemnly, “I don’t see what good secrecy does. Whatever has happened, I can promise you this, I will always stand on the side of justice.”

“Very well.”

“In truth, it was Saruman who picked up the Elendilmir and hoarded it away. I fought, well, let’s say I bargained with him for a long time before he agreed to hand it over. Of course, it was a fair exchange. I gave him something he wanted in return.”

“Oh.” Elrond nodded blankly.

From the sound of it, the process must have been rather intense.

“I see.”

He did not comment further. After all, the outcome was good.

“Let’s speak of something else.”

Garrett changed the subject, “What do you have in mind for Aragorn’s training?”

“I intend to send him to roam the Wilds east of the Misty Mountains. There are still things of note there.”

As for Eriador, west of the Misty Mountains, even without Garrett saying so, even if he hadn’t noticed it himself, that land had already become his domain. In that region, most decisions were no longer anyone else’s to make.

“Why not let him serve for a time as an apprentice Ranger?” Garrett suggested.

“The Rangers of Eriador still stand watch daily against enemies that might appear at any moment. They have never once relaxed their vigilance.”

Elrond thought for a moment and said, “That… could work. I’ll ask him about it later.”

To serve under that legendary chieftain for a time could indeed count as training, and also as a valuable credential.

Elrond was already planning for Aragorn’s future.

“Then it’s settled. Just send him to Wayfort when the time comes.”

“Agreed.”

Once things were decided, Garrett did not linger.

The next day, he departed.

That same night…

Aragorn stood before the garden fountain, staring at the tranquil water, lost in thought.

Light footsteps came from behind. He stirred and turned quickly, only to meet a face that was neither young nor old.

Elrond.

He felt a pang of disappointment but swiftly composed himself.

Before he could speak, Elrond came straight to the point: “I know of your feelings for Arwen. But I will not permit it.”

The words came too suddenly, without a trace of warning.

Aragorn froze where he stood, feeling for the first time that his kindly foster father could also be utterly merciless.

Yet Elrond’s authority, like that of a true father, brooked no defiance.

“Unless…”

As Aragorn’s heart twisted in pain, Elrond’s words took an unexpected turn.

“Unless you can become King of Gondor and Arnor. Only then will I allow the two of you to be together.”

Aragorn fell silent.

King… the burden was far too heavy.

“You already possess the Elendilmir. Now I will entrust you with another relic.”

Elrond gestured, and Aragorn followed him.

Before long, they arrived at a statue. In its hands lay a stone pedestal, and upon it rested a broken blade.

It was none other than Elendil’s sword: Narsil, the very blade that cut the Ring from Sauron’s hand.

The Elendilmir, and the sword Narsil, two sacred relics of the High Kings of Men, symbols of the thrones of both Arnor and Gondor.

Aragorn understood this.

He did not sleep that night.

At dawn the next day, Aragorn bid farewell to Elrond and his mother, and set out westward.

He was to begin his apprenticeship at Wayfort.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep