CHAPTER 25

Minas Tirith

The word of victory had reached the hold of Dunharrow and Aema had been anxious to ride out. The victory had been seven nights passed when word came and yet days of riding had laid before them. She knew Éomer was alive only because the currier himself had laid eyes upon him and her heart had rejoiced when he told her so. Of Éowyn or others she knew nothing as of yet.

The devastation was evident as the company climbed each level of Minas Tirith. Though she had never before seen the city, its former glory radiated through the destruction and scattered debris. As most of the riding company stayed behind on a lower level she kept climbing with only a few followers. As she reached the stable yard of the sixth level she was not greeted with ceremony, neither did she expect it in the aftermath of war. There was but one awaiting her arrival. Hurriedly she handed Ar's reins over to the attendant. Tugging her gloves off she walked up to the old man patiently leaning on his staff;

'Master Gandalf. It is a joy to lay eyes upon you once more.' She inclined her head in respect for the wizard.

'You shall be welcome to Minas Tirith, child.' He said with a smile. 'Come, let us speak of matters in a more secluded place.' She followed him in silence to the seventh and last level of the city. There he took her to a small garden, overlooking the edge of the vast field below. They were seated under a shadowing tree and Aema spoke;

'I know not much of the events past the battle. I merely received word of victory four nights ago and have been journeying since. Tell me Master Gandalf, where do we find ourselves now?'

Then Gandalf began reciting the events of the days passed. It was now Aema heard of the black gates, the madness of Denethor, the slaying of the Witch King and the recovery of Éowyn, the ring bearer and the others.

The sun had traveled far across the sky when Aema finally asked Gandalf;

'What of Lord Éomer then? He was with you at the black gate? Did he also return with you?'

'Indeed, Éomer King is sound, awaiting your arrival in the halls of the citadel I am sure.'

Aema's eyes widened;

'King?' she almost whispered.

'Aye, I am regretting having to bring you the news of Théoden's passing. An honorable man he was, and an honorable death he faced.' Gandalf knew more of Aema's presumable thoughts than he let show and was regarding the queen as the news settled in her mind. She spoke at length;

'It it grievous news you bring indeed. Yet I am grateful for all the lives spared. Tell me on more thing, The Royal Marshal of Romen, Commander Malíec. I have not received word of him.'

'Your Commander is sound. He led the Romen men to valor. As of his whereabouts this day, I do not know but he is to be found within the city.'

Though relieved of her friend's well being, she was struggling with the turmoil within and Gandalf thought it best to leave her in solitude. He bid her farewell and left her to her thoughts.

Letting out a long, shaking breath it seemed she had been holding in for a long time she rested her head in the palms of her hands. She had well known that with Théodred's passing Éomer was next in line for the throne of Rohan. Indeed she had known, but in her naivety and irresponsible infatuation she had chosen to ignore the future all had thought uncertain. Unable to focus on the faring of the world she was consumed with sadness. She, the Queen of Roman had fallen in love with a man, who's sole responsibility now lay with his people. On this day, a day of joyous victory, Aema's heart broke in two. The happiness she had denied herself for so long had been so close she had touched it before it shattered and turned into dust. They had their duties, duties that did not pay heed to a heart's desire. As a queen she still rejoiced in the departing shadow, but as a women she grieved the loss of her love. And in this moment, shadowed by a tree, in a garden of the proud city of Minas Tirith, Aema was merely a woman.