Hello and welcome to the revised version of Evanescent Light! I've tried to make ammendments according to some of the reviews I recieved and hopefully this is slightly better now. Of course, it is still Aragorn/Eowyn and I advise you not to read this story if you do not like the pairing, as it is likely to offend you. I've read the books and I know how Aragorn and Arwen's love stood, I'm just musing. That is what fanfiction is for after all! Thank you for your attention D

Evanescent Light

Aragorn and his companions had come to Dunharrow. They did not intend to linger there for more than a day, for Aragorn, heir of Isildur sought to take the Paths of the Dead. Only he could muster an army more deadly than any known before to man. The fair face of Éowyn of Rohan had blanched when she learned of his proposal, but she could not protest for fear of offending the high company she shared. It was not until the King Théoden and his comrades had retired to their quarters that she was allowed to have her say.

As Aragorn came to the booth where he was to lodge with Legolas and Gimli, and his companions had gone in, there came the Lady Éowyn after him and called to him. He turned and saw her as a glimmer in the night, for she was clad in white; but her eyes were on fire.

"Aragorn," she said. "Why will you go on this deadly road?"

And Aragorn sighed as he looked down on her. He already knew the White Lady too well and had almost been waiting for her. He did not see how he could make her understand.

"Because I must," he said gently. "Only so can I see any hope of doing my part in the war against Sauron."

He searched her eyes to find a hint, any indication that could tell him something of her heart. But it was in vain. All he saw was a cold sheet of ice, shielding from him any sentiment that she might have been feeling, like an indestructible barricade. A barricade he had beheld too many times before.

"I do not choose paths of peril, Éowyn-" he began, but Éowyn cut across him. She knew that he did not need her to tell him that his quest was without hope.

"Death is all that you will find on that road," she said, her voice trembling with the first emotion that she had let pass through her cold exterior in a long time. "The dead do not suffer the living to pass."

"They may suffer me to pass." He answered shortly, though his heart did not feel the hope and certainty that his tone conveyed. And Éowyn heard his heart.

"Aragorn, they care for no-one," she whispered. "They had no honour in life and they have none now in death!"

Aragorn looked down at the ground, unable to meet the honesty in her gaze and too proud to listen to the truth in her voice.

"I will at least try," he replied tonelessly.

And he turned to go, for there were no more words to say. But before he could lift the flaps to his booth, Éowyn pulled him sharply back by his arm. He was caught off his guard for he had not expected such strength from a woman who looked as delicate as a slender lily.

"No!" she cried, in a voice that was louder and more passionate than she had intended. Aragorn could see that she made no attempt to conceal her feelings now. Her soul was bared to him and what he saw there filled him with a dread he had never known.

There was a yearning that dwelled deep in the confines of her heart to feel safe and at peace. She had not known peace since she was a very young child and had but forgotten how to feel the happiness it brought. He could see a secret fear of being consumed entirely by the darkness that had haunted her for almost as long as she could remember. Her heart had been poisoned by words and she silently cried out for someone to draw her back to life. Nobody had heard her soundless plea until now. The desperation gleaming in her eyes bought a lump to the back of Aragorn's throat. But through all that darkness and sorrow, he perceived one ray of light, a single glimmer of hope; it was love. Love for him - a love that was not permitted to be requited.

He stared at her, shocked into silence. He desired nothing more than to nourish that small hope and make it flourish into something bright and beautiful, to make the shadows wither and die in its light like only he could. What was holding him back? The conflict raging inside him bought a cold expression of indifference onto Aragorn's tired, weather-beaten face, and a tear glistened unshed in Éowyn's eye when she beheld it.

"I would not see a thing so high and excellent cast away needlessly," she said in distress. "This is madness!"

"It is the only way," he replied with the unshakable hope that was conveyed in his very name.

Éowyn took a deep, steadying breath.

"Then let me ride in your following," she said helplessly.

"No," said Aragorn at once. "You belong here with your people. The road is perilous and I would not see you take it."

"I do not fear death!" she said furiously. "You cannot stop me, Aragorn."

"Please, Éowyn," he implored. "You said you would not see a thing high and excellent cast away without reason. Nor would I."

Éowyn paused, taken aback. She pondered his words for a moment, but then shook her head.

"I am sorry, my Lord. If I cannot gain your blessing in this, I shall just have to go without it."

This was too much for Aragorn. He would make her understand. Without a moments thought, he took a rough hold of her arms and pulled her hard against him. He held her eyes with anger, a concern and an inner strength that secretly terrified Éowyn, but she looked squarely back at him, trying vainly to ignore the new feeling that was now being awoken inside her; a feeling that was aroused by Aragorn's touch on her skin, his breath on her face.

"I will not have you put in danger before your time," he hissed. "Do you think I do not know how little chance there is that we will return? We cannot win this war. Hope is lost and you would do well to die here, protecting your people in their last defence since die you must."

Their eyes were fixed unwaveringly on one another and the power of their gaze was staggering. They were both severely unnerved by the fire they now saw in the other's eyes. Aragorn's anger melted away as suddenly as it had come. But he could not look away. Éowyn lost herself in the starry depths of Aragorn's deep grey eyes and found more than just the understanding and pity she had become accustomed to. And he in turn became aware of the beauty radiating so compellingly from inside Éowyn. Why did he feel so weak? Why could he not bring himself to look away from her pale, stricken face? He could do nothing but drink in her soul through those beautiful eyes, admire the deep red colour of her perfectly shaped lips…

Without any warning or a moment's deliberation, Aragorn bent down and caught those lips with his own. For a moment, Éowyn was stunned. Her mind was numbed and overwhelmed by the love she held for him and she found that she could not move her lips to return the kiss she so desperately needed. Upon feeling and understanding this, Aragorn groaned with a desire beyond his control and pressed his mouth harder against hers, winding his strong hand around the back of her neck so that she could not pull away.

And it was in that moment, when she yielded to his passionate embrace, that they both saw hope in the darkness. A small glimmer of truth and the need to fight for what was right and good. Their hearts melted into one, their souls became a whole and just through this one kiss, all the hardships they had ever endured became as meaningless as the stars that twinkled in faraway galaxies, as together they built a Heaven in Hell's despair.

And Éowyn, as she ran her fingers through Aragorn's dark hair, wondered at the unjustness of the world that would not let her revel in this paradise forever. The intensity of his kiss made her moan softly into his mouth and her legs would have given away from underneath her had not Aragorn wrapped her securely in her muscular arms.

When finally they broke apart with reluctance, they were both panting with an intoxicating exhilaration. They could have stayed in one another's arms unto the ending of the world, if only life was just.

But life was not just. Both of them knew of the jewel that still lay at Aragorn's throat, everlasting yet untouchable. As long as the light of the Evenstar endured, the Star of the Morning was out of reach.

"I would apologize," Aragorn breathed, still gazing into Éowyn's eyes. "But I fear I feel no regret."

"Then don't," she said softly. "When the sun rises, this will have faded like a dream."

"A dream," he repeated silently to himself. "A shadow and a thought."

He touched her face gently, one last time.

"I wish you joy, Éowyn," he said with sincerity. "I have wished you joy since first I saw you. Nothing would heal my heart more than to see you smile again."

And smile she did. Not a joyful smile, or a smile filled with happiness, it was true. A sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. She kissed him fleetingly on the cheek and turned to leave. But there was one last thing she had to say before the dream was over.

"Aragorn, please believe me when I say I will never forget you, no matter what happens. No matter where our paths lie, I will always love you."
And before Aragorn could respond, she turned and vanished into the night, leaving him to stand alone outside his companion's booth. He touched his cheek where Éowyn's kiss still lingered. He could still feel her on his skin and knew deep down that though years may pass, her kiss would stay there. Not on his cheek, but in his heart.

The following morning, the light of day was in the sky but the sun was not yet risen above the high ridges in the East, and Aragorn and his company were mounted and ready to depart. Éowyn stood and watched them from a distance, clad as a rider and girt with a sword. Aragorn looked back at her for a long moment, as if trying to imprint her onto his heart before he had to leave her forever.

"Enough," he murmured. "Enough now."

And he rode away.

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