[ From youth Aragorn has learned the smallness of Men, of their rushed lives and fierce passions, burning harsh and bright like short, thick wicks on candles. Men's lives are like candle flames, burning out easily, quickly, dying off and leaving little behind. So many generations had lived in the time of a single Elf. Aragorn had always looked upon himself and known that if he dies, he will die having lived but a fraction of an Elf's life, and his life as a Man is truly inconsequential.
Yet now he sees that even the Eldar cannot shy away from this fate. If Middle Earth- Arda- is but a single stream in a stream of many, that all these worlds lead towards an ocean- Aragorn has walked the Anduin, and he knows just how many streams lead to that one river, and how many rivers run alongside it, separate by mountains and countless lands and Men, before they run into the ocean.
His hand curls at his side, but he merely exhales quietly. It is frightening, the expanse of these worlds. It is frightening, how little their deeds seem to matter, for no matter how many scribes Aragorn employ to write down the tales of Boromir, of Faramir, of Halbarad and the Rangers, of Elrond and of Isildur- there will still be so many who will never hear of their names, their courage, and their deeds.
He does not say this.
Instead, he only asks: ]
You speak of a ship on a stream, yet streams must pass into the ocean and ships have destinations mapped.
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Yet now he sees that even the Eldar cannot shy away from this fate. If Middle Earth- Arda- is but a single stream in a stream of many, that all these worlds lead towards an ocean- Aragorn has walked the Anduin, and he knows just how many streams lead to that one river, and how many rivers run alongside it, separate by mountains and countless lands and Men, before they run into the ocean.
His hand curls at his side, but he merely exhales quietly. It is frightening, the expanse of these worlds. It is frightening, how little their deeds seem to matter, for no matter how many scribes Aragorn employ to write down the tales of Boromir, of Faramir, of Halbarad and the Rangers, of Elrond and of Isildur- there will still be so many who will never hear of their names, their courage, and their deeds.
He does not say this.
Instead, he only asks: ]
You speak of a ship on a stream, yet streams must pass into the ocean and ships have destinations mapped.
To where are we headed?