Behind Stone Doors

By The Last Evenstar

Disclaimer: If any of these characters were mine, I'd cash all but Aragorn in and buy us a beach house. Plainly, I am not at a beach house with Aragorn (darn!), and thus can be determined that I do not own any characters. If I ever get my beach house, I'll have a party for everyone who reviews.

A/N: This idea came to me while I was watching RotK for the fourth time, but it's taken me a while to actually get started. I have high hopes for this story, and I plan to continue it if it is well received. (Read: Please review me!!!!)

Chapter One: The Solemn Procession

Arwen laid her head against her husband's shoulder and felt the tears sting her eyes. "I wish you did not have to leave."

He tightened his arms around her and gently kissed the top of her head. "No one wishes it was so more than I do, my Queen."

She smiled bitterly and looked up at him, cold tears obscuring her vision of the handsome man beside her. "Promise me you will come back safely."

He but on a brave face. "It's practically naught but a skirmish, Arwen. Gondor's victory is certain."

"Then why are you so afraid?"

He shook his head. "I don't know why I bother to reassure you."

She laughed through her tears. "It's still more than a skirmish, though. The army from the South is formidable."

"We conquered them three years ago; we can beat them again." He sighed and pulled her close. "This regrouping is their last attempt to lay claim in Middle-Earth. They suffered greatly at Pelannor Fields, and are sending the last remnants of their army in a foolish attempt to make a stand. This defeat would mean their end and ensure a peaceful Age, but I do fear their strength, for they are said to bring with them the very last of the Mumikil – a large herd."

The elf shivered and felt her tears come again. "And there will be no miracles this time." She stared up at him in desperation. "You do promise? You won't leave alone here?"

He cradled her head against his chest. "I swear on my kingdom; on my honor, that I will return to you, lady fair." He cupped her face in his hand. "Have I failed you before?"

She tried in vain to stop the tears from pouring down her pale cheeks. "No," she whispered. Aragorn drew her closer and kissed her softly. She held on to the moment, savoring it desperately while trying not to think about the possibility that it may be the last of such times.

Through her tears, she managed to smile for her husband's sake. "You are a powerful warrior. I know you can hold your own in any battle."

He chuckled sardonically. "Now who's giving out false reassurance?"

"I mean it." She closed her eyes and fought back her distress. "It does me no good to be parted from you, though."

He looked into her glistening eyes and smiled wryly. "Meleth nin, the only reason I fight these battles is because I have you to return to." He looked down at the Evenstar pendant on his broad chest. "It pounds against me like a heartbeat, reminding me why I must continue." He kissed her softly on the lips. "For you, for us, and for our children yet to come."

A smile played at her lips in spite of the anguish she felt. "Oh, and how can you be so sure?"

"Just as I am sure that I will return."

"And how is that?"

"Because I have faith in us," he said simply. "We will make it, meltha. We have not worked so hard for nothing."

Tears were now falling freely down her face. "Ui-melon, Estel. [I will love you forever, Estel.] No matter what happens next."

For long moments they lay there, holding each other fiercely. Arwen felt on her soft cheek the warm sensation of Aragorn's tears mingling with here own.

The next morning, Aragorn stared vagrantly out at the crowds before him. He sat regally atop his war-horse, and knew he was expected to speak. Yet even as he opened his mouth, the words seemed empty and hollow; an inane promise to comfort the hopeless. "Men of Gondor! Today we ride to destroy the last of the opposition! By defeating the men of the South we ensure the peace created three years ago by the defeat of Sauron! We outnumber their armies in number and in worth! Ride now, Gondorians, and preserve the peace of Middle-earth!"

"Not with them beasts," someone murmured in the crowd. Aragorn pretended he did not hear, though in truth his heart sank to the very depths. The armies of Gondor were greater in number, that much was true, but it would be a rare miracle if they defeated all the Mumikil without suffering a heavy loss.

There were no dead armies to summon. No muster would arrive to save the men of Gondor. It was up to them, and Aragorn could already feel his will failing. "In my absence," he announced unsteadily, "Gondor will look to the rule of Queen Arwen Undomiel." He gazed at his wife, standing a few feet away, knowing full well it could be the last time he saw her lovely face.

Arwen stepped forward ceremonially, and only Aragorn could see her fear. "Ride hard and well," she said, her voice ringing throughout the silent walls like a ghostly echo. "Return safe and triumphant." She suddenly seized his hand and squeezed it tremulously, and he felt the extent of her faith and love in him.

"I will not let you down," he promised her softly, his eyes never leaving hers for a moment.

"[I love you, my King. Come safely back to me.]," she whispered, then released his hand and stepped back, her face falling into shadow once more.

With a last look at his Queen, Aragorn turned and spurned his horse into a walk. The men mounted as well; he saw Faramir embrace Éowyn before climbing onto his gray steed. As they rode, silent and solemn as a funeral train, out the gates of Minas Tirith, girls threw sprays of white flowers into their path. Aragorn watched absently as the fragile blossoms were crushed beneath the animals' sturdy hooves. His thoughts strayed to the nation he rode to fight for, and to the Queen that hung in the balance. I will not fail you, he promised silently. My Evenstar, my fragile blossom, I will let nothing crush your heart. I will return.

As the last troops left the gate Arwen threw aside her position and ran to the edge of the outer wall. She gazed out on the stream of warriors, her heart breaking for those already doomed. Fading into the distance, she saw, straining her eyes, the image of Aragorn, riding at the helm. This King would not hide behind his men. He would fight to the death for every one of them, and it scared Arwen that he may have to.

Éowyn came up from behind and linked arms with the distressed Queen. "He is a powerful fighter. They both are. There is no doubt in my mind that they will ride home bearing the flag of victory."

Arwen wiped a tear from her cheek. "Good, you're still here. I was given strict instruction to keep you in my sighs until the warriors were gone."

The shieldmaiden laughed, despite herself. "Not this time. I learned my lesson about war the hard way."

The elf watched as the men blended into the horizon. "Too bad not everyone did."

Éowyn shivered, even though the day was warm. Arwen saw that she gripped her right forearm fiercely. "Those who return will know. You will see in their eyes the horrors of death."

Arwen smiled wanly at the young women. "Aragorn and Faramir have seen many battles, yet they still live to believe in hope and light."

"Pity not all of us were so lucky." Éowyn shivered again, and turned. "Let's go inside, then. Many things to be done."

Arwen let her go ahead. For a moment longer she lingered behind the stone doors of Minas Tirith, feeling already the coldness about her shoulders where Aragorn's absence had already left its mark.