~written winter of 2017~

Aragorn.

Where can I start?  I know I could write forever about my favorite fictional character; Aragorn has been a role model for me for a long time.  While he has been a favorite of mine since I found him in The Fellowship of the Ring, some of my fondest memories with him have come from the second book, The Two Towers; maybe the most poignant of them being his first sight of Gondor in The Lord of the Rings–and his decision to turn away from it to help rescue two little hobbits, simply out of love and loyalty.  But one memory from The Two Towers is a little less pleasant:

“At last Aragorn stood above the great gates, heedless of the darts of the enemy.  As he looked forth he saw the eastern sky grow pale. Then he raised his empty hand, palm outward in token of parley.

“The Orcs yelled and jeered.  ‘Come down! Come down!’ they cried.  ‘If you wish to speak with us, come down!  Bring out your king! We are the fighting Uruk-hai.  We will fetch him from his hole, if he does not come.  Bring out your skulking king!’

“‘The king stays or comes at his own will,’ said Aragorn.

“‘Then what are you doing here?’ they answered.  ‘Why do you look out? Do you wish to see the greatness of our army?  We are the fighting Uruk-hai.’

“‘I looked out to see the dawn,’ said Aragorn.

“‘What of the dawn?’ they jeered.  ‘We are the Uruk-hai: we do not stop the fight for night or day, for fair weather or for storm.  We come to kill, by sun or moon. What of the dawn?’

“‘None knows what the new day shall bring him,’ said Aragorn.  ‘Get you gone, ere it turn to your evil.’

“‘Get down or we will shoot you from the wall,’ they cried.  ‘This is no parley. You have nothing to say.’

“‘I have still this to say,’ answered Aragorn.  ‘No enemy has yet taken the Hornburg. Depart, or not one of you will be spared.  Not one will be left alive to take tidings back to the North. You do not know your peril.’

“So great a power and royalty was revealed in Aragorn, as he stood there alone above the ruined gates before the host of his enemies, that many of the wild men paused, and looked back over their shoulders to the valley, and some looked up doubtfully at the sky.  But the Orcs laughed with loud voices; and a hail of darts and arrows whistled over the wall, as Aragorn leaped down.” (528)

This scene scared me the first time I read the book, simply because I didn’t know if Aragorn was right.  And I couldn’t handle my beloved Ranger taking such a risk, because I didn’t want him to be wrong.  But Aragorn is a risk-taker, as a general rule.  He never hesitates to do what he believes should be done, regardless of what others are doing.  Aragorn is a leader, and he isn’t afraid to go against the grain. Which, really, is part of why I love him so much.

Maybe another reason I love him is because he reminds me of my real life hero, my Dad.  I don’t remember making the connection the first time, but I can’t get it out of my head.  If it is only because they are both leaders and role models in my life, so be it. But I think it is more: the risk-taking, if nothing else; the occasional, biting sarcasm; the unexpected kindness and compassion that comes out in almost overpowering ways, just when you needed it.  And I love them both to death.

My Dad, along with my lovely Mother, took a big risk a year ago: they dedicated time, energy, money, and heaven knows what else to fly halfway across the world to China and come home one sweet, three-year-old boy richer.  Love can come fast, or it can come slow; but in those first few months it came fast. So less than a year later, we were devastated to hear the diagnosis of duchenne muscular dystrophy, and to hear the physical therapist talk about wheelchairs and life expectancy.  It hurts–how broken the world is. The way some things will only get worse in the foreseeable future. We pray for healing, yes, but God doesn’t always move the way I want him to.

Our boy was having surgery on his hand in the morning, and we all knelt to pray.  And my Father asked for healing–For a release from duchenne–For heaven on earth–For restoration from the wrongness of it all and freedom from the brokenness.

And I could not stand it.

If God would heal him, I would love it.  If not, I would accept that–I would learn to accept it.  But the not knowing? It killed me. It scared the crap out of me.  I could look defeat in its face and accept there would be no deliverance.  I could rejoice in knowing deliverance would come.  One way or the other, whichever way, I would take.  But I could not handle not knowing. I could not face Death without certainty.

And once again, Dad was my Aragorn–the fighter, the leader, the risk-taker.  He looks out into the darkness, and defies it. He stands strong, “heedless of the darts of the enemy,” alone in the dark, and insists that the light will come.  And it scares me to death. Because I don’t know if he is right–and because I want him, desperately want him, to be right.

And I don’t know.  But I challenge myself to hope with him, to believe with him.  Because there was another Hero once, who defied darkness, to its face.  It cost Him everything, but He won. I stand by His victory, whatever shape it takes, and believe the morning will come again, even if it is “a night as long as years”.

I have heard for so long about the bloodied Hero nailed to the cross.  I have read about the hero standing on the castle battlements with a sword in his hand. That night, however, I found another hero, hunched over in a dim living room with folded hands.