The king strode through the nursery suite, and the maids dropped curtseys as he passed; they called out “my lord king,” and he greeted them briefly with a smile and a nod. But when he turned into Eldarion’s room, he met with a somewhat different scene from what he had expected. His four-year-old son was standing in the middle of the room, brandishing a wooden sword and shouting, “You might be a play-acting spy! What do you say to that?” Seeing his father, Eldarion put on a ferocious face and charged. “Strider!” he shouted.
“Arwen,” the king said, as he held the small body whacking at him with the wooden sword. “What are you teaching our son?”
Arwen began to laugh helplessly at the sight of her husband’s surprised face. “The Prancing Pony,” she gasped. “I told him the story of the hobbits and the Ranger, and he just found out that you are Strider. He is being Sam. Such great timing!”
Aragorn closed his hand around the small arm brandishing the wooden sword. In fact, the scowl on his son’s fair Elfin face bore an uncanny resemblance to Sam Gamgee’s look of suspicious disapproval. He was about the right height, too. “That’s enough, my son. Shall we discuss this, perhaps?” and he knelt down to look at his son face to face.
Eldarion let out a peal of delighted laughter and threw his arms around his father’s neck. “Is it really true, papa? You are Strider?”
“Oh, it is really true,” Aragorn said. “But you are Strider, too.” He picked up the boy and they joined the queen on the bed.
“No, I’m not,” the prince said. “I am Eldarion.”
“And is Eldarion your only name?”
“I am the son of Elessar,” he said proudly.
“And what is the name of our House?” Aragorn asked him.
“Oh!” the prince said. “Telcontar. Is that what you mean?”
“Most certainly. And that is ‘Strider.’”
“Strider!” the boy shouted again. And he began strutting around the room. “Here is Eldarion being Strider.”
“Arwen,” Aragorn said to his wife, “promise me one thing.”
“And what is that, my love?”
“Whatever you do, do not tell him about Gollum.”