Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me but the wondrous mind of Tolkien. All I have are my Aragorn and Éowyn dolls so don't sue thanks.
AU fic not slash but Aragorn/ Legolas friendship. Enjoy and don't forget to R&R. Thanks everyone J
I looked upon Aragorn as he sat silently upon the makeshift throne erected in his honour. To all but those whom knew him well, he looked ever much the magnificent ruler, with Andruil placed lovingly across his lap as the joy around him overflowed. Drunken Gimli and Merry danced on rickety tables, threatening to fall with every jump and stomp of their feet, while Frodo looked on wearily, Sam supporting him as always. How could I with my thoughts, dampen this joyous mood? The war was over and we had won, though the outcome in every battle of good cost us dearly. At least the Ring of Power was no longer in the hands of the Ringbearer, but beneath the molten liquid, which called Mt. Doom home.
In a few days we would leave the Fields of Cormalen and make for the city of Gondor, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their king. The man who now sat, with a frozen smile on his face as he observed the activities. How much had he aged in this last year I could not say, except he looked grimmer and carried a heavy weight upon him. I knew, despite his bravery, there were minute doubts in his mind about his ability to govern a kingdom on the verge of ruin. From the steps of a free willed Ranger, a King must come forth and lead his people to the Golden Age. Long had the people of Gondor awaited the return of Isildur's heir, and eagerly they counted in every breath, each footstep he ventured towards them . They were waiting and he knew it. In my heart, I have always known of Aragorn's greatness and he would rule over his people with righteousness and love. Yet, here he sat silently brooding.
The seventy summers I have known this Child of the Edain, have been fraught with so many emotions, my friend, comrade and fellow warrior yet I have followed him into the bowels of the earth, along the downtrodden Paths where no Man, Elf or Dwarf have gone willingly except our brave company and I would do it in an instant for I follow this man to the end. Our friendship from his childhood years to the budding manhood where he hunted swiftly in the lands far from where he called home and finally the King has made me all aware of his nuances. It is a trait that only Arwen and I know all too well. Yet as I sit at the corner of the tent looking on, I know he thinks of her.
No, not the Evenstar of our people, made in the likeness of Luthien herself, but the blonde, mortal Shieldmaiden of the Rohirrim, Éowyn. I too, tremble of the thought and what it may mean to us all in the end. Hide as he will, Aragorn feels for this Child of Eorl. He has touched and withdrawn his emotions for this wild, beautiful flower of Rohan as quickly as I draw my bow. Valar! I do not envy his predicament and yet I know, truly he shall remain true to the vows he and Arwen pledged, despite the warring occurring within his heart.
Long have I suspected there laid more than an admiration for the Lady of Rohan and how could I blame him? They were akin, like beautiful portraits, to leave one breathless, but always to be admired apart because of Fate and its strange ways.
I wanted to go to him, comfort him, shake him from this stupor but I knew he would reprimand me with one silent action and recklessly cast those feelings aside, pretending the troth he pledged so lovingly and rashly with Arwen would last through the years. I often wonder, did he think they would be another Beren and Lúthien? I have not voiced this question nor do I think I ever shall.
Arwen Undomiel, the crown jewel of the Eldar. Does she suffer as her beloved? Nay, Arwen is wise in years and beyond mine and hers. I know she awaits patiently the word from her brothers to take her place as Queen of Gondor, Aragorn's words bind them together, even though his heart may not belong to her anymore. Yet, it is not for my old friend in which my sympathies lie, but for the Lady Éowyn.
How I pitied her plight as she pleaded to him that dark night in Dunharrow. I felt a surge of admiration for her fearlessness in forsaking all thought of danger and following Aragorn into Paths where none of us would have returned to tell the tale, for love of family and desire to fight for her country. Even in his cruel rejection of her, she stood adamant in her desire to accompany him. In that brief encounter, I wished the gift of hearing was not bestowed upon me.
It is unfair to compare either of them, though my heart knows that The Lady of Rohan, is the better choice for him, even if he does not admit it. I predict it shall pass, he will wonder, as his hair begins to turn silver and the rumbling of his bones on cold, frosty nights pains him, whether Arwen stayed for love of the troth they pledged in the recklessness of his youth or merely to enjoy the time in the glory of his reign as the ever beautiful, ageless Queen of Gondor.
How I berate myself for these thoughts but I know I am not alone. Gandalf and Lord Elrond both are concerned by the shape of things to come, which none of us are privy too. I feel more for Elrond as he too shall have to leave behind his only daughter when Aragorn time comes to fade into the night, while she will roam the Forest of Ithilien unable to return to her family into the West. It is a difficult choice for anyone to make, but Arwen has made up her mind.
Éomer has sent word for his sister to join us before the crowning and I notice how Estel's eyes light with the mention of her very name. Yet, we all know she will not come. Though her body healed of the Black Madness by the king, her heart has not and she will not suffer unduly in his presence. His gaze interlocks with mine as I nod imperceptibly to him, a sad smile gracing his features.
Excusing himself for a brief repast, he slips out of the tent, wishing for some brief moment of privacy, but I cannot give him that tonight. There are questions to answer and I must fulfill that duty as a friend and confidante as I follow him stealthily outside.
The night is chilly as the bonfires surrounding us flicker in the wind like the stars above and I find him staring mournfully at the black pennant engraved with the Tree of Gondor, flapping above his tent, its jewels flashing with every tendril of firelight seeking its beauty. Arwen's pennant.
"I love her Legolas. Yet I wonder whether her choice of this mortal doom with me has to do with the fulfillment of a love gone by or the glory to come." He whispers as I stand beside him.
"None but Arwen can answer that Aragorn, but what of the other? Without her, we would not be standing here. After all, her Battle with the Witch King was a turning point to the War." I reply. It was cruel to say but he needed to hear and listen to all the thoughts in him.
"She, so stern but filled with a light, I have not even seen in anyone for almost sixty winters. Her sacrifice is renowned and will always be sung by the heralds as long as breath flows through this body. How I feared for her life Legolas, as she lay unmoving in that House of Healing. Fearful that this young woman was willing to sacrifice life and limb for those she loved and for the people of Middle Earth and that I had a part to play in the malady of her sickness by my rejection of her." Aragorn admits as he clenched his fingers painfully.
"We all played our part in Fate's hands and none but the Ainur themselves can change, if it may be so. Cast away blame Estel, Éowyn's choice to battle was hers and her choice alone to make. She will live with the consequences of her actions, whatever they may be. The question I ask you now, is will you follow her lead?" I ask slowly as he looks up in astonishment that I have voiced the thoughts of many.
"Can a heart feel love for two people at the same time?" he confesses, his head drooping slightly at the inevitable answer.
"You ask answers meladrim. What matters now, is the choice you must decide before we return to the City. Whether you must hold on to a promise in a waning relationship or the uncertainty of beginning a new one, with one whose trust you may have broken that night in Dunharrow. Whatever, your choice you only Estel will live with the knowledge of whether right or wrong was done. I will tell you though; your affection for the White Lady of Rohan is plain in my eyes since our first encounter." I respond truthfully to him as he gasps shaken.
"I thought it was kept well in check? That my meetings with her were nothing more that political." He attempts to steel himself.
"Éowyn, Aragorn. Say her name." I pleaded wondering again the strangeness of Fate in that; I am the cause of Arwen's imminent doom. "Your encounters, to the others did appear casual, to all but me and even Merry chanced upon discovery in a drunken stupor which I quickly quelled. I have only wished for your happiness in all of our years together and you know, what your choice will be, when we return to the City." I reply as I bid him goodnight in the greeting of the Elves.
My tent flap beckons to me eagerly but I spare a moment to look at him, standing erect as he looks towards the City of Gondor, a smile upon his face as he whispers "Éowyn."