"Does it ever terrify you, brother?" asks Elessar on that morning after they have returned to Minas Tirith. He has invited Éomer for a brief walk in the gardens before the great festivities begin for the day. The King of Rohan has joined him gladly, as he is ever curious to see more of the White City.
"Does what terrify me?" asks the Lion back, briefly glancing at Aragorn from the corner of his eye.
"The way your men look at you – how they expect you to have all the answers. And the weight of your duty", says the older man quietly. He has only been for one day in the city, and he is already feeling like it has been a grave mistake to come here. But now it is too late to turn back.
"Every day", Éomer says, grimacing ever so briefly. "This is everything I did not expect my life to be."
Then he looks at Elessar, even smiles. He notes, "Sometimes it surprises me how much we have in common, brother. Neither of us wanted to become kings, yet here we are."
"Aye", answers Aragorn. Somehow, he is able to keep his voice even. "But perhaps our friendship will make better rulers from both of us."
Truth is stranger than that, though.
In the days of his youth, there was pride in knowing who he was, and that the throne of kings was his to claim. Much has changed since then, and often he has felt like his fate has pursued him with cruel determination... and the years of his life eventually turned the idea of a crown into a reluctant thought.
Even as the days of war have gone by, and as each passing day has brought him closer to his heritage he has found it hard to give up Strider, the free ranger of the north... and the son of Éomund has certainly not made it any easier. But now, as he watches the young King of Rohan and sees how calmly he has accepted his fate, Aragorn finds courage in the Rohir's demeanor.
You make me into a better man that I am.
As if he knew on some level what Elessar is thinking, Éomer smiles and gives a little laugh. He says, "And the knowledge that you guard south, and that I can rely on your wisdom and aid, is the only reason I am able to do my duty."
And Aragorn understands: they still stand back against back, like they did on the day when Sauron fell.
Still I wish for more.
The ladies of the court flock around the King of Rohan, which does not come to Elessar as a great surprise. He is young and he is king, unmarried and fair to look upon. As he walks through the crowd, he stands out: tall he is, more so than most men, and the green and gold of his clothing only ever emphasises it. In the middle of all this stone, he is somehow a foreign sight; vivacious in his rich colours, and pulsating with so much life. Now more than ever, his fire burns bright.
Oh, if you only knew how very beautiful you are...
Deep inside, Aragorn has feared this moment: what if there is a woman here that pleases the Lion's eye? Of course he knows it must happen – that sooner or later a woman must arrive and take that place beside the Lord of the Mark. But he'd rather it occur in Rohan while he cannot see.
But surprisingly, the ladies do not seem to spark Éomer's attention too much. He is polite and gracious, but all the while he wears that face Elessar has started to know as the one his fellow king only wears among strangers he is not too eager to deal with.
It is a selfish of him of course, but somehow Aragorn finds himself relieved by this. How painful would it be, to see that face alight with love for someone else?
On that night of feast, Elessar sees him slip out from the great hall, and excusing himself, he follows the young king outside to the garden. The night is rather beautiful; he can almost taste the spring in the air. He wanders forward but does not see the Lion, not until he comes to a terrace where one can view the city below and the Pelennor fields. There stands the King of Rohan, lost in his thoughts.
"I take it you found yourself exhausted back inside?" asks Elessar as he stops to stand beside the horselord. The younger man snorts and glances at him.
"Aye. I began to long for more than just fresh air", he answers with a look of suffering. "Tell me, brother, how do you do it? It seems to me you aren't assaulted as mercilessly as myself."
This makes Elessar laugh.
"I believe they are still too intimidated by me to really consider me in such a way... and your presence does not help, brother. You are fairer and younger of the two of us, and a king as well", he comments.
The horselord sighs, but says nothing. He looks down and Elessar wonders what he is thinking of now.
"You have not considered finding a queen here?" asks the King of Gondor at last, daring to voice the question that worries him so.
"Aye, I have thought of it. But I do not wish to wed just any woman I meet here. I would wish... I would rather she be someone I can love. So far, none of those fine ladies has made me feel so", says the Lion softly.
Aragorn can understand that, and he rests a hand on the strong shoulder of the man beside him.
"She will come, in time. You're still young, my friend", he says quietly, though he is not so sure where and how those words come. It is expected of him, after all... and then, even if the matter is so unpleasant as this, he'd like to see that troubled look on the horselord's face disappear.
Something like a smile appears on Éomer's face.
"You are quite right, Aragorn. But then, you usually are", he comments. "Now, shall we go back inside and give the unmarried ladies another chance of chasing after us?"
"If you insist", says the older man, summoning a face of great suffering. It makes the Lion laugh, and as his voice mingles with the sounds of music from inside, they return to the hall.
He is there when the King of Rohan sees her for the first time.
They are conversing with each other, talking about something mundane as the great hall slowly fills with guests. The return of the King has gathered a crowd in Minas Tirith, and it is the fourth day of the festivities. That is the time and the place when Aragorn feels like losing.
For in the middle of their talk, Éomer becomes very silent and still. His eyes widen and he stares at something Elessar cannot see. He has lost all awareness of the conversation, and at first he doesn't even hear when Aragorn calls his name.
As Elessar turns to see what has captured his dear Rohir's attention so, the Lord of the Mark finally speaks those fateful words.
"Who is that woman?"
Quickly, Aragorn's own eyes fall on the target of the Lion's interest. She is a young lady of noble blood, dressed in blue and silver; her dark hair and grey eyes speak of Númenorian descent, and she is lovely in the fresh glory of her youth. Yet there is something more than that, and he realises she must have some Elven blood in her. That narrows it down enough for him to know who she must be, for among the Gondorian nobility there is only one family that traditionally claims such ancestry. She is Prince Imrahil's daughter, one of the highest-born ladies in the realm.
"She is the Princess of Dol Amroth", says Elessar. It is only with great effort that he is able to hide the sorrow in his voice... for he sees the look on the Lion's face as he watches the princess, and its meaning is not lost to him.
"Could you introduce me to her?" Éomer asks quickly, and there is suddenly such light in his eyes – the older king has never seen it before. Somehow, it turns his heart heavy, so heavy.
"Of course", he says nevertheless, and the Lion hears not the silence in his voice.
And so they approach the princess, who is talking with a young dark-haired man that can only be her brother. The two children of Imrahil turn to look at them, and Aragorn feels a bit like walking to his own execution. And still he summons a smile to his face, even though he does not know how he is able.
The princess curtsies and her brother bows at the two kings, both looking curious and surprised... from the corner of his eye, Elessar can see that Éomer's gaze is fixed on the young woman. To his shame, he thinks: Oh, let her be like the other frivolous ladies of the court...
"I take it I have the honour of addressing to the Prince and Princess of Dol Amroth?" Aragorn asks, and his voice sounds like that of a stranger, as if it was not even himself who is speaking.
"That is right, my King. I am Prince Amrothos, and this is my sister Lothíriel", says the young man. He looks amazed that the two kings would pay attention to the two of them, and his blue-grey eyes quickly pass between Elessar and Éomer.
"Of course. Allow me to introduce you King Éomer of Rohan", Aragorn is able to say; the tall Rohir beside him picks up the princess' delicate little hand and presses a kiss on her knuckles.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady", says the Lion. Has he ever spoken so softly and gently before?
And she smiles as an answer, and her smile is a genuine one, friendly and warm. Of course there is no pretension in Imrahil's children...
"Likewise, my lord", she speaks for the first time, her voice clear and bright.
Elessar looks at the man beside himself, sees how the smile on that fair face widens, and he knows he has lost him.
Then again, I never even had you in the first place...
From that first moment, he knows how it will go... and as the festivities progress in the White City, Elessar watches his intuition come true.
The King of Rohan is completely infatuated. In the great balls set in the palace, he will only ever dance with her. He invites her to walk with him in the gardens and to riding trips. He brings her all kind of gifts from flowers to little delicacies and asks if she would give him the honour of showing him around in the city. He even visits the house of her father.
And the worst part is, Princess Lothíriel is just as taken with him. She is positively thrilled. If she at least were reluctant or acted like the overly eager ladies of the court, Éomer might even lose his interest. But that is not how Lothíriel is, and it seems to Elessar that all she does only makes the King of the horselords become more infatuated with her. In each other's presence, they see and hear only the other, and she makes him smile like no one else is capable.
He has not often seen two people fall in love quite so quickly, or be so... so made for each other.
It hurts to acknowledge that, but it is true... and the only reason Elessar can bear it is because it makes his beloved horselord so happy.
"When are you going to ask for her hand?" he asks one day, not long before Éomer is set to return to his own kingdom – something which the King of Gondor already abhors.
"Soon, I suppose. I do not wish to ask for it so soon after we first met. Perhaps when she comes to Rohan? It would seem proper to me, to ask her to marry me in that home of my ancestors", says the golden-haired king. That incredulous smile comes to his face, the one he wears every time Princess Lothíriel is mentioned.
"She is a fortunate woman", says Aragorn softly.
"Hmm. I rather feel it is myself who is fortunate here. She's everything I could ever dream of, and more", answers the Lion, his smile widening. But then his brow knits and he frowns, "Do you think she will be unhappy in Edoras? She is a princess of a great Gondorian house, after all..."
"I am sure she will be happy with you. And in any case, you can always visit Gondor whenever you wish", Elessar answers.
"Of course", says the younger man. He smiles again, "Quite a land this is, brother. I come here as a Marshal, alone and unsure of future will bring... and I go back as a king and with the name of a princess in my heart."
"Our fates take our strange ways", Aragorn says. It takes a lot to keep the heaviness from his voice. He continues, "and sometimes, one cannot tell where they may take us in the end, or what might be their purposes."
Indeed, I cannot tell the reason my heart is so in your power...
Éomer reaches to pat Elessar's arm, and he smiles.
"I hope your road becomes as clear to you as mine own has become to me, brother."
Whatever it might be, I hope it crosses with yours.
It is difficult to let him go. Difficult... and it feels wrong. On that morning when the King of Rohan is set to leave for his own realm, along with his riders, it is all Elessar can do from begging the Lion stay for a little while more. And yet he needs to learn and live with it, for this moment of parting was always in store for them – will always be in store for them – and in future, Éomer's absence will last months and months at a time.
I can't just live from your light. I have to learn and breathe on my own.
Before he goes, the Lion embraces him, and for one fleeting moment he allows himself be lost in the circle of those powerful arms. Yet there is something harsh about it as well: it is an embrace of a brother, and laden with steel and leather of the young King's armour. But it is all he can have.
Like the kiss, he breathes in this moment, lives forever in it.
But then Éomer pulls back, and his arms and heart are empty again, and they will only be more so once this golden man is gone.
Farewells are exchanged, and the King of Rohan rides away... Elessar watches him go, seals his heart, and eventually returns inside.
And the palace is empty, so empty.
Hours turn into days, days turn into weeks. Elessar is busier and surrounded by more people than ever, yet he feels alone in the middle of the crowd.
Sometimes, the white palace of the king feels like a prison, and he wishes to escape it... ride north, even beyond Edoras – to the wild lands of his youth. There are even moments when he thinks of the days of war with longing. Though it was a time of shadow, in retrospect it also feels like everything was so much simpler then.
It was a time he was with me.
There was no guarantee of survival, but there was surety that whether they would live or die, they would do so together.
The nights are long, and though he tries to find solace in work and wear himself down with it, there is no peace in dreams.
I will always feel only half real, and half alive... my dearest Lion, will I ever be free of you?
And often he will stare off towards west, hoping to see the White Horse upon green, and to know that he is coming... but the Lion is in his own land, far away yet always present in the chambers of Elessar's heart. He wonders, how is the younger king doing in his realm? Is it as difficult for him as it for Aragorn to assume that position of power and duty? Does he stay up late, endlessly mulling over the questions of ruling? Where and how does he find peace, or does it escape him as well?
I wish I could see you now, my king.
Long time ago, Aragorn made a promise.
Life was different then, and simpler. He was younger, more carefree and innocent. In the forests of Imladris he saw a vision and fell in love with it, and for the many years of struggle it was that vision which kept him alive... kept him going.
Arwen Undómiel, a star of twilight for the Eldar.
When she comes to the city, to fulfil the promise they made to each other so long ago, he can still see it – still feel it. He loves her yet, and always will. Yet that love is now mingled with emotion he cannot name. He has been so scared of this moment: what will happen when they are reunited? What will move in his heart when he sees her again?
And what if the light of Rohan's young sun outshines that of the Evenstar?
But in looking at her timeless face, Elessar understands that somehow the two loves of his life can coexist in his heart... that his love for her does not diminish that which he has for the Lord of the Riddermark, or the other way around. It is painful, yes... for of the two yearnings of his heart, only one can ever be fulfilled.
It is the ancient Elven strain of his blood, and the ancestry of Beren and Tuor, that Arwen commands. It is a high love, in the planes of the mind and in the sorrowful truth that the two of them are the last remnants of Elder days. It is sharing a burden, an understanding, a calm and a constant.
But the Lion... for him, it is passionate and spirited and fire and desperation. It is being alive. If Arwen is the water of his spirit, then Éomer is the blood of his veins. Love of the Edain, born of the hopeless briefness of their lives, and somehow made even stronger by that very fact. It is a love that endures death.
Arwen understands him in ways no one else ever will. But the mere presence of Éomer makes him feel more alive than he has ever been before.
On the day that he weds Arwen Undómiel, Elessar is happy that the King of Rohan is not there. He fears what he might feel if that tall looming presence was there among the guests... but for sure he knows it would be painful, and all the world would surely see what kind of love he hides in himself.
The Lion is not there, and for now, even if it is only a day, he can pretend he can move on.
She knows what moves in his heart, of course. Yet she does not seem betrayed, not sad for the love that he bears for another. Somehow, in the luminous depths of her eyes, he sees sympathy and understanding.
Quietly, he buries his face in her hair, and sighs.
"I am sorry for being able to give you only a half of my heart."
Her arms are a comfort when they come to rest around him. For a while, he forgets.
"It is all right, Estel. I am happy with whatever you choose to share of your heart with me... and perhaps he can give you the fire that burns not in me."
To himself, he wonders: why must it be so, that he should be so blessed with many things, and have the love of Evenstar, and still have this ache and yearning?
But such is the way of human heart, he muses. It will always want more, and it will always long for the things it cannot have.
He returns to Minas Tirith on a bright day of July.
As soon as the word of his arrival reaches Elessar, he feels the anxiety gnaw at his breast, and there is a powerful wish in him to ride and meet the King of Rohan as he travels through the city. This restlessness only leaves him that moment on which the Lion arrives to the Court of the Fountain, and his presence fills that empty space that has been there ever since his departure.
He approaches, smiling as he strides towards Aragorn, and then grabs the King of Gondor in what can only be called a bear hug. Breath is knocked out of Elessar, both for the strength of Éomer's arms, and for this sudden closeness that nearly has his heart bursting.
"Welcome back", he says when he finds his voice again. It is all he can do from pulling the horselord into a kiss... there in the front of his wife!
I had almost forgotten, how you always get to me...
"Glad to be so, brother", answers the Lion, smiling as he speaks. Then he turns to Arwen and greets her with a gracious bow. It is somehow absurd to see them both here – the two loves of his life. Briefly, he wonders what it would be like, to have them both...
But that moment quickly passes, and they make their way inside.
Elessar finds the Lion in the terrace that overlooks the royal gardens.
He has fallen asleep on an ottoman, resting on his back and snoring softly as he sleeps away the exhaustion of the travel and his many concerns. Laying there, with sunlight caressing his face and features smoothed in sleep, he looks so peaceful... and Aragorn stares, not wanting to disturb this vision of calm.
Yet he cannot resist it either and he quietly approaches the sleeping man. Runs fingers over the bearded cheek, touches fingertips to the slightly parted lips, brushes a stray lock of hair away. It seems to him that the young king smiles in his sleep.Oh, he is beautiful. And his heart yearns.
But then Éomer stirs and sighs, and Elessar pulls away, trying to look like he has only just arrived. The dark eyes flutter open as the Lord of the Mark returns the waking world.
What would you do, if I were to touch you when you are awake?
"Hello, brother", he greets, speaking in tones hoarse from sleep. "I am sorry – I did not mean to doze off like that."
"It is fine. You have earned a bit of rest, Éomer", says Aragorn and smiles. Indeed, the days ahead will not be easy for the young king. He has come here to claim the body of his beloved uncle, and it is a task of great pain.
"Is something amiss, my friend?" asks the Lion as he sits up. His hair is tousled and feet bare, and a bit of naked chest shows from the neck of his robe. Elessar is certain he would be fair to look at even if he were dressed in the manner of orcs.
"I merely thought you would want to know that the company of Prince Imrahil will soon be arriving", says the older of the two kings; he wonders if he should have let a servant take care of bringing this message. Perhaps that is so, for that familiar sense of pain comes to him when he sees the smile on the Lion's face.
She will be here soon, and you will not see me...
"Thank you, brother", Éomer says and stands up. "I suppose I should go and make myself presentable then..."
As he passes by his friend, the back of his hand briefly touches Aragorn's.
It is a long while that Elessar can move again.
The last time he saw these fields of green and gold and the Golden Hall of the King of Rohan, he was but a weather-beaten ranger of north. And the man who now rules there was a Marshal, for Théoden King yet lived and the world was a simpler place.
Éomer King bids his guests welcome to his capital and Meduseld fills with grander company than it has ever seen before. Here are not only the lords of the west, but also the mightiest of the Eldar this side of the sea – even Mithrandir and the Ring-bearer.
When they have a moment alone, the Lion wonders in concern what might these grand people think of his home, but Elessar smiles and touches the hand of his beloved horselord.
"My dearest friend, you have the respect and love of all these people, and you have much to be proud of, as do your people", he reminds the Lion, and Éomer smiles.
"What would I ever do without you, Aragorn?" he asks.
For him, that question is far lighter than it is for the King of Gondor.
The days in Edoras are fast and fleeing, and Théoden King is laid to rest among his forefathers. For one brief moment, Elessar can see the tears in the Lion's eyes; great was the love this man had for his uncle. Silently, Aragorn looks upon the body of Théoden, and thinks: fear not, my lord. I will watch over your kin from now on, and defend and love them, for they are as precious to me as they were to you.
Late on that same night, at the time when most of the guest have already retired for bed, Aragorn seeks his host to bid good night. It is from behind the Golden Hall that he finds the King of Rohan, along with a barrel of ale. Shoulders slumping and head bowed, his very figure breathes grief.
In silence, Elessar sits beside the younger man and places a comforting hand on those powerful shoulders, the same way Éomer did before the Black Gates. The Lion offers him a drinking horn, which he quietly accepts.
Together they sit there, all the way until morning, and watch the sun rise.
After he returns to Minas Tirith, life falls into a routine. The good thing is that much of Aragorn's day is spent with the matters of the realm, and he barely has time for idle thoughts and dreams of what will never be. Of course, the absence of Éomer is an ever-present ache in his heart.
But there are times when he forgets about it, and those are the moments of light with his Queen. With her there are many sweet hours, and Elessar is reminded that indeed he does have much to be happy about. Yet still sometimes, his love for her is mingled with regret, for he knows he will never love her the way he would want to, and he can never give her more than just one half of his heart. All the while in his spirit...
Oh, my Lion! How do I free myself of you?
Riders from the Mark come every now and then, bringing words from the Lion. He writes of the rebuilding of his kingdom and the fight against the small bands of orcs marauding in the borderlands. Sometimes, he even includes small drawings along with his letters: there is bit of an artist in the warlike King of Rohan. Aragorn never tells his friend but he rather loves those little pictures and he keeps them with his most prized possessions.
Aside for occasional orc attacks, there is finally peace in the two kingdoms, and Aragorn rests easier with the knowledge that the friendship and alliance of Rohan is with him.
Time goes on. The year grows old and finally turns into a new one, and one day of spring Éomer returns to Minas Tirith with his sister, to give her hand in marriage to Faramir Steward of Gondor.
On that night of wedding feast, the King of Gondor drinks a bit too much of wine.
It is not only because every time he puts down one glass, a servant appears with another. It's also because this is the same night the betrothal of King Éomer and Princess Lothíriel is announced, and though he does all he can to be happy for his dear horselord, he can't help his regret and melancholy.
The young king himself is blissful. His face is aglow with happiness, and he rarely leaves the side of his bride on that night. And he keeps exchanging incredulous smiles with the princess; one could even argue they are just vaguely aware of other people around them.
Elessar is not much of a drinker and so he eventually starts to feel the effects of wine. But those effects do not include a numbing sensation to dull the ache in his heart, the one that is worse than ever since the time he realised his devotion will never be answered with the same intensity. Instead, it turns ever more piercing.
But after the daughter of Imrahil has retired for the night, Éomer comes looking for Elessar, and asks to join for a drink; Aragorn gives into this eagerly.
Somehow – and unclearly, that is – they end up in that terrace where he once found the younger king sleeping, smoking pipe-weed and drinking wine. Afterwards Elessar cannot remember half of the things that they speak of on that night, but it matters not. For tonight they are alive and they are together, and they sit side by side under the stars. And Gondor's king sits close enough to his fellow ruler to feel the heat of the Lion's body... idly he thinks how easy it would be to let go, tonight of all nights. He tries to think of Arwen, but it is impossible when Éomer is so close, and Elessar's thoughts turn murky and confused.
His head turns so heavy, and he rests it on the Lion's shoulder, fighting the sudden feeling of sleepiness. It is so warm there, so calm.
I am at peace. Let me stay here, for now... for ever.
"Are you still awake, friend?" asks his dear Rohir as he pours some more wine. He downs the drink with one take; his hands are starting to tremble in a way that shows he too is less than clear-headed now.
"Aye", Aragorn murmurs, but his eyelids are so heavy...
But then he is startled as the younger king grabs him by his chin, forces him to look up. Elessar cannot speak, cannot think. Suddenly, he is painfully aware of everything.
Please...
A voice seems to whisper him: if you don't kiss him now, you will regret it forever.
His head is swimming, his breath threatens to turn into gasps, and each beat of his heart is a painful burst inside him.
Leap of faith...
And leap he does, and then, he feels it once more, and the taste of pipe-weed and wine floods his mouth in one devastating kiss. It's clumsy and violent and mad, there is music in his head and he fears he may pass out any moment now, but he holds on – to this one flawless moment. And the golden mane of his beloved horselord is both soft and rough at the same time and it is so wrong, he shouldn't be doing this, nor should his dear one allow it... and how can something that is so wrong be so exquisite, so very wonderful?
He sees stars, and then he falls.
It turns out that they both pass out on that terrace. Aragorn wakes up on his own bed and later hears he has been carried there by none other than Captain Éothain of Éomer's guard, but the Lord of the Mark himself is too heavy to be moved about: in the end, Arwen merely decided to spread a blanket over the sleeping man and let him snore away in peace.
Éowyn and Faramir laugh heartily when they hear how the two kings decided to honour the marriage between the White Lady and the Steward, but thankfully no one appears to know what precisely did happen on that terrace... and he hopes no one ever will.
It is a memory that belongs just to the two of them.
As for the King of Rohan... he wakes up on the terrace, and never even remembers how he has gotten there. In the deep quiet of his heart, Elessar knows not if it is for the better or worse. But it seems to him that the younger king does remember something, for on that morning when they see each other for the first time, a frown briefly appears on his features. Then he shakes his head, as if to rid himself of some unpleasant thought... and he smiles, and all is as usual.
Whether he does remember, Aragorn can never tell. And he never dares to ask.
In his dreams, it will come back to haunt him... for no one else kisses with such a fire.
The next time he visits Edoras is when the King of Rohan weds Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth.
Ever since that fateful day after the war, he has feared this event, even if he has know it must come sooner or later. It is two yeas after the war ended and the two are desperate to be married.
Somehow, it feels like time has been running towards this point especially fast. Ever since the wedding of Éowyn and Faramir, the sadness in the King of Gondor's heart has grown... as if the Lion's marriage to the princess somehow makes the abyss between him and Elessar wider than it already is. He knows that drunken kiss is ever more unlikely to be repeated now, yet he clings to it, even when he knows he cannot live in a memory.
But what does one do when the future spreads on the front of you vast, and the things of beauty, those golden moments of relief, are behind?
When he looks at his reflection in mirror, he loathes himself and thinks: be content with what you have.
The Princess is beautiful and radiant on that day when her father places her hand in that of the King of the Mark. And the Lion of Rohan beams as well, and he has never looked happier than he does when he pulls his bride into his arms. Quietly, Elessar watches and sighs to himself; he remembers that one mad little moment when he even considered forbidding her from marrying Éomer... it is something he is no proud of, but at least he had the good sense of realising what a horrifying intention it was. His dear Rohir would never have forgiven him.
And the King of Rohan kisses his new Queen, and the two of them become utterly ignorant of everything else around them. A cheer rises around them and Elessar joins it, somehow finding the required strength in himself.
I must endure... for you belong to her now.
It is also the night when Aragorn has one of his last conversations with Mithrandir. His mission fulfilled, the White Wizard has no purpose in Middle-earth now, and he will pass away to ancient West.
"It will be strange, my friend, when you are not here to guide us anymore", he tells Gandalf quietly as they watch a lively dance that is taking place in the Hall.
Mithrandir smiles, and his bright blue eyes shine with warmth.
"It is up to you now, King Elessar", he answers. "You, and Éomer King. And I feel that I am leaving these lands into good and capable hands."
"Hopefully that is true", says Aragorn softly. As he so often and unthinkingly does, his eyes seek for the tall shape of the King of Rohan.
"I say it is, as long as there is love and friendship between your kingdoms", Mithrandir speaks; sharply, the King of Gondor turns to look at the White Wizard. And in those all-seeing eyes he sees just what he expects. Of course Gandalf would know... perhaps he has known from the beginning.
He sighs and lowers his face, wondering if he should feel shame. Mithrandir's hand comes to rest on his shoulder.
"Love is never wrong, my friend", he says gently, "but be careful of where it leads you."
"You cannot take it away?" asks Elessar in a moment of weakness.
"I would not, even if I could. It is one of the most beautiful gifts Ilúvatar has given us... and especially his Children. Despair not, my friend. It may yet have a purpose that is hidden for now", Mithrandir says ever so softly.
Night turns late, and the happily wed couple is escorted to their marriage bed. It is not something Aragorn does with light heart, but he endures for the sake of the Lion's happiness. And happy he is, when he is finally left alone with his Queen and wife.
But in the Hall, celebration continues well into the night. At some point, Elessar ventures out to seek a bit of solitude, and perhaps some peace on this night.
As he gazes at the stars, he wonders: will I ever be able to let go of you?
Perhaps he just imagines it, but it seems to him that the wind whispers: "Náhwær..."
A/N: I'm having some problems with the newest chapter of House of Sun, so you get an update to this thing instead. Hope you like it!
I said in the first chapter's Author's Note that this piece would follow the movie as far as the events go. However, here I've mostly gone by the book canon: Arwen arrives to Minas Tirith only after the war has ended and Aragorn crowned, Éowyn and Faramir wed some time during 3020 of Third Age, and Éomer marries Lothíriel in 3021 (which of course is the last year of Third Age).
I believe the pace of the story will get faster after this; there's probably going to be one chapter more unless something turns out.
Thanks for the comments!