The words echoed through Aragorn as he sought peace in the darkness of his closed eyes.
" If these two wed now, hope may be born for our people; but if they delay, it will not come while this age lasts."
Now, as Aragorn knelt before the pale white statue of this woman hidden among the green trees of Rivendell, he pondered on what has been. Aragorn had never known his father, apart from the tales Lord Elrond had told him. He used to spend long hours with his head in this woman's lap, gazing up at her wise grey eyes, embracing the love of his father that she now bore.
Aragorn knew that the grief had claimed her, that the sadness within pained her. He never wanted her to be pained, yet he could not let her den it. She was the only real connection that Aragorn felt he had left with his true people, but now, the heavy weight of loneliness confined him.
He opened his eyes to look at the sharp features that he knew so well. He let a single tear fall before he rose.
Just like he did a year ago, he sighed, rose, and turned his back on his mother's statue.
