A Sense of History: Straight Road
The next in a series of articles about ships passing to and from the West, Simon uses "The Fall of Númenor" to attempt to arrive at Tolkien's reading of the exordium to "Beowulf."
Arwen had felt a song rising in her chest since she had crossed the Bruinen several hours earlier. Much though she loved Lothlórien, Imladris was home. She had dismounted some time ago and let Haldir lead her horse back to her father's house. For her part, she longed to walk along the familiar paths of her youth. She knew these trees, and among them she could not help but feel safe. That was no small thing after her experience with her grandmother's mirror.
Behind her, Arwen heard a high-pitched voice call out to her. "Tinúviel! Tinúviel!"
She turned around to him and smiled broadly. The song that had been building within her, combined now with the absurdity of that greeting, nearly made her giggle like a child. "Who are you?" she asked. "And why do you call me by that name?"
His grey eyes grew strangely solemn. "Because I believed you to be indeed Lúthien Tinúviel, of whom I was singing. But if you are not she, then you walk in her likeness."
Had that line come from Glorfindel or her brothers, she might have rolled her eyes. It had been their favorite torment growing up. But this boy was a stranger to her and so she hid her irritation behind a mask of courtesy. "So many have said," she answered gravely. "Yet her name is not mine. Though maybe my doom will be not unlike hers. But who are you?"
His shoulders straightened and he held his hands behind his back, as if he were a schoolboy making a recitation. "Estel I was called," he said; "but I am Aragorn, Arathorn's son, Isildur's Heir, Lord of the Dúnedain." He smiled impishly. "I welcome you to Imladris."