Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J. R. R. Tolkien's estate and New Line Cinema.
Dedicated: For WickedForGood13.
Shades of Moonlight and Sunshine
A new full moon.
Surely he won't be there. It has been months since… They've no right meeting on the edge of the lands of summer and winter all these years. It is only a matter of time until this fragile thing – enmity transformed into friendship – they share shatters. He is the golden prince, hope of his people. And she the untamed maiden surrounded by coldness and hopelessness.
However, he is at the glade. For a moment she stares as he briskly paces back and forth with bowed head. Yet he turns to her the moment she steps from the trees' shadows. Even from a distance the maiden can clearly sense the tension surrounding him, note his hands curling into fists.
She dodges him when he races wildly towards her. Clenching the hilt of her sword, she pauses at the faint cry that follows the prince's grunt when he misses her. He sounds almost in pain. The fire is gone from his eyes when he faces her, replaced by desperation.
"Eowyn," his voice cracks.
She does not flee again. The prince stands before her, rests his hands on her shoulders. His eyes swiftly take her in from head to toe before roving over her face. Carefully he pulls her nearer. His breathing is heavy, hands trembling, a storm of emotions playing over his face.
Without warning he jerks her into a tight embrace and she gasps. Her body goes rigid while his shakes. She is stunned. Never have they had hugged before – rarely have they even touched, a seemingly impassable barrier between them.
She whispers, "Aragorn?"
He mumbles against her hair, "Three days after our last meeting, I felt a sense of fear that pierced me like a knife. I knew it was yours. Your fear, your anger. Then you did not come during the next four full moons. I was sick with worry."
Eowyn's eyes widen in astonishment. Aragorn realized she had been in trouble? "You...but how…?" she stammers.
The prince pulls away but does not release her. His stricken expression gradually changes to an intent puzzled frown. He gazes at her searchingly.
"Do you not know?" his words are low, hope and distress warring in his tone.
The shieldmaiden swallows hard, feels her heart starting to race. "Know what?" she asks calmly in an equally quiet voice.
Something like heartbreak fills Aragorn's eyes. "Do you truly not feel it?" he says, tightening his arms around her. "The bond between us? Drawing me to you and you to me?" He leans in until their noses nearly brush. "Is it possible your world of whites and blacks has not been replaced by colors?"
Eowyn inhales sharply, and her walls of doubts and denials comes crashing down at the final question.
That very first night she had barely comprehended at the time, so focused on their surprise encounter and duel, then suspicious when Aragorn did not kill her. Afterwards she refused to dwell on it, told herself there had to be a different explanation; the prince gave no sign of noticing any change in his surroundings, how beautiful the world now appeared. But now—
"Soul mates," Aragorn proclaims fiercely, crushing her against him. "As you are mine, I am yours."
She shakes her head instinctively, struggles to push away. She can feel his growl rumbling down her spine. "We are enemies," she states firmly.
Hurt flashes momentarily in Aragorn's face before his expression hardens as he shakes his head. "You are not my enemy!"
Eowyn squirms harder to get away. "You are the prince of the sun and I princess of the moon! We have nothing to do with each other!"
"Eowyn…," her names comes out a quiet sigh, and she stills at the callous knuckles that lightly brush her cheek. The next instant chapped lips find her own. The kiss is not hard or forceful as she expects, but soft and sweet. This unexpected gentleness undoes her, and a tiny sigh escapes Eowyn as she leans into Aragorn.
When the kiss ends, the shieldmaiden reluctantly opens her eyes. The desperation and fight have gone out of Aragorn; instead he regards her with a mixture of resignation and tenderness. His arms drop to his sides.
"Eowyn," he repeats her name gently.
She averts her gaze, flushes. The calling washes over her like a warm caress; she shivers.
"Do you not see the colors?" Aragorn asks sadly. "See the dark blue sky? The green grass? The sunshine in your hair?"
Slowly, Eowyn raises her eyes to his. For a long minute they watch one another. "In the shifting light your eyes appear silver or blue. I've long wondered what color they truly are," she admits.
The prince's smile is of radiant joy, and when the maiden rests her head on his chest, he embraces her again, lovingly, protectively.
The storm is far from over. But now they have new hope: for the morning to come, for peace, to be together.
THE END