Book Seven The End of All things
i The Steward's daughter and the future king
The gathering that had so spontaneously arrived in Eären's room gradually dispersed, leaving her at length to rest. When all had departed, however, Mithrandir sat with her for a moment more, saying quietly, "Have you spoken with Faramir today, my lady?"
"As you see," she said, glancing round at the debris of the party that had just dispersed, "I have had but little leisure. Yet I will go, now that I have a moment to spare."
"He must of course be told – of his father's dead," said Mithrandir now, and his eyes held hers steadily, though not without pain.
Her heart sank. She had somehow managed not to think of this at all so far.
"You are right of course, Mithrandir," she said contritely. "I had forgotten that he does not yet know all. But - would it be wise to tell him so soon, for the manner of our father's passing may disturb his mind again. . .?"
"How then will you keep it from him?" Mithrandir asked quietly, and she saw at once that it would be impossible. The moment Faramir was fit to ask questions, she would be faced with a choice – of telling the truth or of deliberately lying to him, and that she could not contemplate.
"Very well," she said, and gritted her teeth. "I shall do my duty – have no fear."
He smiled, and patted her hand.
"But what of Boromir?" she asked now, in further anguish. "How much does Faramir know?"
"I think you will find he knows," said Mithrandir. "For as soon as Pippin and I arrived in the City, Denethor called us to the Hall for a grilling upon the subject. It seems that Faramir also heard Boromir's horn, even as you did in Imladris – but later he recovered the horn, in two pieces, from the Great River, and it was brought to Denethor. Moreover, Faramir saw Boromir's body float down the Great River, as in a dream or a vision. Do not forget that you are both alike in this long sight."
She sighed at this, thinking how strange it was that both of them had shared an awareness of Boromir's passing, even though from the opposite ends of the world.
"You are a worthy lady, Eären," Mithrandir now said, kindly. "Remind me to tell you so, when this plague is scoured from our land!"
As soon as her visitors had gone, Eären looked in upon Faramir, who was much improved, his fever greatly lessened, though he was still very weak and unable to move much or rise from his bed. He was however delighted to see her, and they talked for as long as his strength lasted.
Faramir, it seemed, was curious about who it was that had drawn him out of the shadow land so powerfully, for he and Aragorn had never met.
"It was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, who called you," she told him, wondering how this news would sit with him, and with what astonishment she herself had first received it. "He is now Captain of the Hosts of the West," she added, "for he took command when none was able to withstand the might of the Dark Tower but he. He is the heir of Isildur, even as your dream once foretold, and he is the bearer of the blade that was broken. Anduril is its name now, and had you seen it flame forth upon the field of the Pelennor, I think you would have been as amazed as all of us saw it."
Faramir listened in wonder, as she explained to him the story of the fellowship of the ring, the defence of Rohan, and now of the White City. After asking a few questions, he reflected a long while upon this narrative. At last he said, thoughtfully, "When he called me, it was with an authority that I could not refuse. I felt that I would have liked him, had I met him."
She smiled, and smoothed his worn brow with a tender hand.
"He cannot fail to like you, Faramir," she said, with great affection. "For who could fail to? I shall look forward to your meeting."
"You have not yet spoken of our father," said Faramir shrewdly, and she saw how right Mithrandir had been, as usual – that she would keep nothing from him for long.
"I have sad news to bring you, Faramir. Prepare yourself for it," she said now, with a deep sigh, and then she told him, as gently as she could, the dreadful tale of their father's end, with little embroidery, sensing that the Faramir she knew could bear the truth better than any false comfort.
Faramir lay silent a long while, when all was told. Finally, he said sombrely, "What matter for grief is here. I tried every way to do right by him and by our country, Eären, after you and Boromir had gone. Yet there was no pleasing him! I could not understand why he so despaired, beyond what seemed useful or sensible to me - but now it is clear to me that the Dark Lord put these evil imaginings in him. Yet I think, from what you say, that at the last, it was his remorse over my wound that drove him beyond the edge of his reason."
"He loved you greatly, Faramir," she said - for what she had feared the most was that her beloved brother might feel that their father's act of desperation in The Hallows was an act against him. "In his madness, I believe he was truly trying to save you. Pippin the hobbit thought so, and he was by him near the end. He sought to do penance for his guilt, I think, over your loss, by saving your body from desecration at the hands of the Enemy. No doubt, he felt that he should not have sent you on such a perilous errand, to the Causeway Forts. And indeed he should not."
Faramir sighed deeply.
"Then perhaps I was not wrong in opposing him so often," he said. "At the time I feared that I was self-willed beyond reason, for we seemed forever to be at loggerheads."
"I thought the same," she confessed, relieved to find that their experience had been so similar. "I also had been led to believe that I was self-willed beyond reason. No, Faramir – we were not self-willed children, but remarkably obedient to our father's stern will, perhaps to a fault. When I was in Imladris, the Lord Elrond made me understand this, for he showed me that refusal does not always mean hate. It may also mean love - and a desire to do what is best for all. I think I grew up not knowing the difference, and that was an ignorance I bore, to my own cost, for too long."
Faramir grew sleepy, as he thought this over, and she saw his strength was failing, and said, "We have talked enough for one day, dearest. Sleep and rest now, and we shall talk again tomorrow."
He smiled and held on to her hand a while, and so he slept. She was grateful that he did not speak of Boromir that day.
Eären now returned to her own room, and Lord Hallas brought her a beautifully cooked dinner of good Gondorean food, which she had not eaten for too long – rich, chewy, moist dark bread, meat succulently broiled over a spit, many-coloured vegetables grown in the lush gardens behind the Steward's House, and a heaped pile of simmered fruit in a tall silver goblet. While she ate, and relished every mouthful, washed down with a fine Gondorean wine, they chatted a while, and he gave her what news he had gleaned of the day's events.
"Tell me what news is given of the fallen, Hallas," she said now. "For I think my friends have been kinder to me in this than I am comfortable with."
"The tale is a sad one," said Hallas. "Yet none, I think, as personal to you as those you have already heard. Unless it be – "
"Yes?" she prompted, bracing herself, for blows came upon blows in this age, she thought wryly.
"Lord Halbarad, ranger of the Dúnedain, kin of Lord Aragorn, it is said, will ride no more to the north country, " said Hallas gently.
Her heart sank, remembering the kindness of Halbarad to her in Imladris, when he had pledged himself to avenge the death of Boromir. That pledge, it seemed, had cost him his life. She grieved also for Aragorn, that his closest kin among men had perished in the tumult. Moreover, Halbarad had been a close friend of Elrond, she knew, and of his sons. How lightly the sons had worn their grief in her presence, she thought now - and she felt guilty for it. It made her the more resolved in her decision to ride with the host to the Morannon Gate.
"That is a grief to me too," she said sombrely, now. "We must bury him with all honour, for he gave his life for my father's house. I see it is time I saw to some things for myself, Lord Hallas, for there are too few to direct all things necessary in this hour. Pray send a message to Frea, my maid, and ask her to fetch my clothes, for I will go home to the Steward's House tomorrow early. And ask her to clean and mend my battle tunic and shirt, and all my gear, for I would be ready to ride the day after."
"Are you sure that is wise, my lady?" Hallas asked doubtfully, though he knew her better than to argue.
"I have never been surer." she said firmly. "And ask Frea to bring me a dress, and to make my room ready for tomorrow night, for it may be my last opportunity to wear my own clothes and sleep in my own bed. But if Faramir is awake at any time during the day, pray send for me, and I will come, for I am mindful that I may never see him again, once the host rides forth."
Hallas looked at her in wonder, at the steely calm with which she spoke of desperate things.
"Very well, my lady," he said, and bowed his head sadly.
Early the following day, after another night of blessedly restful sleep, Eären rose and her maid Frea came to brush her hair and help her dress. It was a quiet grief to Eären when she saw that Frea brought her the blue linen dress that the Lord Denethor had given her upon her last birthday. Yet, with a brief sigh, she resolutely put it on.
"You are grown thin, my lady." said Frea in surprise, seeing that the dress barely hugged her waist now. "I hope your stay in the north has not starved you to death!"
Eären smiled, for Frea was a favourite of hers – a plump and comely girl from the country of Lebennin, who had served her ever since she came of age, and who was as close as any friend to her. She had a kind of pleasant innocence and frankness of the sort that Eären treasured, for she had not quite managed to acquire the more restrained manners of the court of the Steward, even now.
"No, Frea. For there is magic in the vale of Imladris," she said, thinking now mournfully of the plenteous feasts they had shared in the Lord Elrond's hall, and of the enchanting evenings she had spent in the Hall of Fire, where good wine and quaravas flowed free. "I ate and drank well indeed – like a queen. For elvish food has a strength in it that is not in men's - but adds no flesh, I think! I hope one day you may see that place."
When they were ready, Hallas brought her a soothing herbal drink to take home that night in case her wound should pain her, and a servant took her belongings back to her room in the Steward's House, where she left Frea to attend to it.
Now, without further waste of time, she put on her blue cloak and went forth to the stables on the Sixth Level of the City. Brégor gave a loud whinny of pleasure in greeting, and she saw that he was as bright and fit as ever and well pleased to see her.
"I think your stay in Imladris did you good, my Brégor," she said, letting him nuzzle her shoulder fondly. "Do you miss Niniel, and how he cared for you?"
Brégor tossed his silver mane, and whinnied, in a manner that seemed to say clearly, "Yeah!"
"Do not fret," she said, soothingly. "We will return there, you and I – one day soon."
She put a soft blanket on his back, and rode down quietly through the City to the ruined gates. Some of her compatriots spotted her as she rode, and gave her waves and smiles of pleasure and greeting and she saw how glad was her coming to them, and was pleased. It had been a rudderless City, she guessed, as her father's madness worsened, and now there was a desperate need for order and leadership again, and for familiar faces. Faramir would provide all that was necessary, in due time, she was sure.
The Great Gates lay collapsed in pitiful heaps, though work had begun on clearing the rubble, and removing the dreadful fiery barbs pitched in by the engines of Mordor, which had fallen in droves upon the lower levels of the City. They had caused it to burn fiercely, wherever combustible material was caught, though the old stones themselves remained whole, though blackened. Yet the fires were out, and there was an air of relative calm, as many hands worked to restore something like order.
The Pelennor Field had been churned over like butter by that great host of horses and men who had fought upon it. It would be long before it greened over that year, if ever again. The destroyed siege engines and other machinery of war brought by the Dark Lord's Captain still lay about in the mud, together with many lost weapons, armour and other battle gear. Yet despite its mangled condition, the companies had managed to pile the corpses of the Enemy into mounds and burned them. They had also removed their own dead and buried them with due honours all along the eastern border of the field, in the shadow of the perimeter wall. Markers had been placed, to signify the names of those who fell, where known, including a special mound and a marker for the place where Snowmane, Théoden King's brave mount, had fallen. The cohorts who had come to the battle from many regions of Middle-earth had been quartered in a relatively orderly way about the field, with their fluttering banners waving from the standards that stood beside their tents.
The unmistakable standard of sable and silver that had unfurled from the black-sailed ships at the Harlond was not hard to find, though Eären noted that it was now half-furled, and that the star of the southern kingdom had been removed. Reining her horse, Eären dismounted before the largest tent. A guard came to take her bridle, and she said steadily, "I am Eären of Gondor. I would speak with the Lord Aragorn, if he is within."
She did not have to wait long, for before the guard could summon him, Aragorn himself came forth to greet her, looking surprised.
"Welcome, Lady Eären." he said courteously. "You are well, I am glad to see. I did not expect you to be from the Healing House yet a while."
He held open the tent flap, and let her precede him into the interior of the tent. There was no one else about, which was a relief to her, for she wished to speak to him privately. She looked about her, seeing that his soldier's billet was frugally appointed, with a straw palliasse and a blanket. There was little comfort to be had here. She thought of the clean sheets of her bed, and the fine meal she had had the night before, and felt that the world was an unfair place.
"Forgive me that I have no better place to receive you, my lady," Aragorn said quickly, mistaking her glance for disapproval. "I am unused to the comforts of the City."
She turned and looked up at him now, in some puzzlement, for she sensed again something of the same constraint between them that she had felt after the battle. Aragorn seemed rested and more refreshed, though she had heard he had worked tirelessly, and still did, to organise the remaining troops, heal the wounded and prepare for tomorrow's ride.
"This will do very well, my lord," she said simply.
She faced him squarely.
"I came to thank you, first of all, for tending my wound," she said. "And to enquire after the Lord Halbarad, whose death I learned of only today. Where is he laid?"
Aragorn looked pained.
"He is yet unburied, and lies within his tents, my lady," he said sadly, "for I have not yet decided what is best to do to honour him, he being a stranger in your land - as I am."
"Let him be taken into the City at once," she said, thankful that she had not come too late. "And he shall lie in the White Tower of Ecthelion until his burial, along with Théoden King. For he died in the service of the Steward's family, and he shall be buried with all honours due to him."
Aragorn inclined his head.
"This courtesy is welcome, my lady," he said. "For he was my kinsman and friend. His line is noble, though fallen from what it once was."
He went at once to find a messenger to attend to this. While he was gone, Eären looked about her with interest, at the humbleness of his belongings scattered here and there, and thought what a strange man he was. When he returned, deciding that she might puzzle all day and not understand Aragorn any better, she began at once with the more difficult matter she had come to say.
"Lord Aragorn, there are matters upon which we should speak," she said formally. "If the Steward could speak for himself, he would be here, but he cannot, and I must speak for both of us. If we fail at the Black Gate, then these words are superfluous. But should we gain the day, then I may rue not having spoken before."
His richly dark blue eyes stayed fixed upon her face. They had, she thought now, something of the sunshine of the south about them, even though he had been born and raised in the north. He was surely the same man who had befriended her in Rivendell – and yet subtly different, in a way she could not quite define. He had evidently not removed his mail shirt these many days, yet though he looked tired, and battle stained, Aragorn seemed always able to summon some extra strength, from somewhere deep within him, when he needed it.
"I speak of my brother Faramir," she went on, fearing that if she did not plunge in to her theme, her heart might fail her. "I would say what is in my heart."
But even as she spoke, she felt the same immense difficulty as before, in talking freely with Aragorn, and she found herself struggling.
She paused to collect herself, then summoned all her strength and went on, "When we met again on the field, I suppose I thought – or perhaps did not think enough! – that it would be easy to take up the friendship which began in the valley. Yet now I see that our paths, these many months, have gone in very different ways. For then I felt I could speak to you as a friend, and disclose my heart, and now it seems I cannot. And I miss that."
The latter remark escaped from her, somewhat, despite her desire to remain dignified, but luckily Aragorn smiled at it, and the tension in their encounter decreased a little.
"I miss that too, my friend," said Aragorn, and was clearly pleased, and somewhat relieved, to hear her say so. "Indeed I have missed it ever since we set forth from the valley. I believe I had not spoken so freely with anyone, man or woman, before - apart, I think, from Arwen Evenstar. Yet - in Imladris we talked as equals. Here, I am but a Captain of the Rangers, while you are the Lady of the Citadel. Now I see who you are, and how greatly your people love you. I saw it as soon as we met on the field, with your comrades and great kin about you - and afterwards in the City, where your word was the law."
Eären frowned, for it seemed to her a strange account of their meeting on the field, all hot and smeared with the mire of the battle as she had felt, and very far from a great lady! Yet, she tried to cast her mind back, and suddenly recalled that she had indeed had her uncle, the noble Prince of Dol Amroth, and Eomer of the Mark, newly succeeded to the kingship of Rohan, and some of the liveried Knights of Gondor, about her. Perhaps her silence then, which had been but weariness and uncertainty, had seemed to him to signify that she thought it beneath her to speak. Then too, the princes and she had ridden off together, she recalled, into the City, leaving Aragorn behind to pitch his tents. Yet it had been his own wish to do so, she thought crossly!
She sighed, in exasperation, saying, "It was not, alas, to my mind, as you describe it. Yet I see now that thinking thus has kept you silent and distant these two days. And it is why you did not come to see me in the Healing House, though everyone else did!"
Her disappointment showed in the slightly accusing tone she displayed, and she was aware of it and felt angry at her own petulance. Hearing it, she struggled to collect herself once more, and went on ruefully, "I am, indeed the daughter of the Steward, Aragorn, if this is your meaning – doubtless the last Steward of Gondor! Do you forget that my father lies now entombed in a terrible coffin of his own making, in The Hallows, in the Silent Street? Yeah, the very house where his bones lie, so men say, is fallen into ruin, brought down by his funeral pyre. His eldest son and heir is already dead, and his bones lie even now beneath the Great Sea. His second son, my only brother, lies mortally wounded in the Healing House. The line of the Stewards is ended, and I need no seer to tell me that!"
Her voice broke now, and she was unable to contain her distress as she spoke of these things. There had been too little time for grief, and tears came unbidden and filled her eyes to the brim - to her annoyance! Dreading that he might think she asked for his pity, she made a supreme effort, and caught herself up fiercely, lest she dissolve into heart break, when she contemplated the devastation of her family and way of life.
Aragorn did not speak, but his grave eyes did not leave her face. He saw that the errand she had come upon was a serious one, and that she wanted to be heard. He waited. Recovering herself quickly, she went on,
"I know how slender hangs the fate of the time. And perhaps it is folly to speak of the future at all. Nonetheless, I see that, should we win the day at the Morannon, a new world must begin, and much that we have grown accustomed to of the old world must pass away. If so, I wish you to know now, before the outcome of the last battle, that it is not my will, or that of my brother Faramir, that we should do as the Lord Denethor did, and shake our fist at change, as though we might hinder or prevent it by our wrath at what it brings for us!"
She studied his worn, unshaven face a moment, with memories in it that she could have no knowledge of. It was like talking to someone who was both a stranger, and a dear friend, at one and the same time, she thought.
Again, he remained silent, as though he knew that she had not yet to come her main point. She took up her argument, speaking more thoughtfully now.
"When I first met you, and you told me of your life in Gondor, I thought that perhaps Denethor once feared that my mother cared for you – and not for him." she went on, candidly. "Yet now, I think that was not my father's worst fear. Rather, though he did not know your true identity, he sensed the challenge to his position that might come from you, one day – for he was no fool. Seeing that, he began to imagine that men plotted against him - perhaps even you. No doubt the Dark Lord saw it too – and was able to add to the corruption of his mind with evil imaginings."
She sighed deeply. Denethor's jealousy was all too clear to her now, for she could easily imagine young Aragorn-Thorongil's popularity as the hero of the wars against the Corsairs.
She shrugged, and added, "Whatever he thought, I see that giving up his place as High Steward was more than he could contemplate, for it seemed an intolerable diminishment of all that he had been. Not so with Faramir - or me."
She looked him in the eye and spoke with all the dignity she could muster, remembering her father's advice always to stand tall when faced with an opponent of the stature of an Aragorn!
"Lord Aragorn, we honour the victories you have achieved on the fields of Rohan and Gondor," she said. "We shall never forget our debt of gratitude to you. You have had too little praise and honour for these deeds, and I regret that, for we are not an ungenerous people, as it may presently seem to you."
She took a deep breath to steady herself, anxious to say what she needed to say, while she had the chance.
"And I am not ungenerous either," she added, resolutely. "I would not have you think that of me. For far more to me, even than all your victories on the field, is that you came to my brother when he would have died, and healed him. You came when the heat and exhaustion of battle might easily have given you good reason to deny him. I am not a fool, for I was brought up in a court, and I know the ways of men. It might have been convenient for you, had my brother Faramir died that night - and no one would have blamed you. Yet you did not let him die."
She could not now prevent her tears from flowing, but they flowed amidst her very calm, in a manner that was greatly more affecting than if she had sobbed.
Aragorn, for his part, saw more clearly than ever the nobleness of her heart, and was much moved. He took her hands, across the space between them, wanting to comfort her, but unsure of how his comfort might be received.
Eären however went on resolutely, "Therefore, what I come to ask of you – for you, I think, will soon be in authority, and can decide what is best for all - is that you remember my dear brother Faramir when that time comes. For myself, I ask nothing. For him, I ask a chance of a new beginning. Aragorn – I beg you to learn to known Faramir, and his many qualities. He had little chance before, for Denethor, in his unwisdom, ever favoured his elder son. Faramir bore that knowledge bravely, and without grudging his favour to Boromir, in a way that was at times noble. Yet, if he is to live, truly to recover, he must live to some purpose! His losses have already been enough for any man to bear."
At this, Aragorn, heart wrung by her sadness, forgot his gravity, and swept her open-handedly to his heart, much as the Lord Elrond might have done, to comfort her. For now he saw the magnitude of her grief and loss, as he had not fully understood it before. She made a slight figure within his grasp, made slighter by the rigours of the long chase and of the recent battles she had fought. Yet he marvelled at her energy and resolve, that she sued for her brother even now, at a time of most distress to her. He marvelled, too at the light that sometimes shone forth from her violet eyes, always when she was least aware of it, as of one whose innermost depths were passionate and indomitable.
Had he but known it, he was seeing her much as Elrond saw her, when the Fellowship of the Ring had departed, and she braced herself with courage to settle to whatever life might hold for her in Imladris. And she did the same now, with a capacity for endurance that was ever full of dignity, graciousness and intelligence. And, unlike the White Lady of Rohan, he noted, she was without bitterness - and that made all the difference.
Only when her tears had ceased did he release her, and then he looked searchingly into her fair face, saying gravely, "Set your heart at rest, Lady of Gondor. I do not come to take anything away from you. How could I do that, and hope to be a worthy king? For the line of the High Stewards of Gondor has lasted for centuries, and is by no means dead. The last Steward is dead and the present Steward is yet unfit to assume his office. Yet when he is fully recovered, and if I live to do so, only then will I present my claim to the throne of the two kingdoms. His is the decision to make, and not mine. If he acknowledges me, that in no way does away with his office. He will remain Steward, and if all I hear of Lord Faramir is even half-true – and now that I see your love for him, I believe much more than half is true! – then my reign will be the richer for a very able Steward!"
He smiled down at her, and embraced her fondly once more, before venturing on. Yet now he spoke more boldly for him than usual, with a sudden change of tone that moved from the formal to a far more personal note. It unnerved her a little.
"Nevertheless, I cannot believe that your heart dwells primarily on rank or power, for I never saw you in that light in Imladris and I do not think I was wrong. I liked you," he added, glancing at her, almost shyly, "not for any of those things, but because of your brave, open and honest heart. Your friendship so freely offered in Imladris meant a great deal to me. For you, of all people, accepted me even as I was, and trusted me as I was, though a stranger to you."
These words came upon Eären with a healing force, for since her company had left Imladris she had, truth to tell, been plagued by suspicions that Aragorn could had cultivated her friendship in Imladris for a purpose. Now she saw how wrong such an idea had been, and was thankful for it.
Aragorn added softly, thinking back to that time, and there was a sudden, visible hunger in his expression, "Perhaps, my lady, I had a longing to be accepted as I presented myself, without consideration of rank, status, wealth or any other mark of distinction that men bestow on each other. Let us therefore forget not our friendship then but hold to it now, more than ever. For my life has not been so full of such friends that I can afford to lose any – and surely not one as valued as you!"
He smiled awkwardly at this confession, for it was as unguarded as she had ever heard him speak. He went on, apparently resolving to be as open with her as she had been with him, "I own I have felt a certain constraint between us also, since I came to Minas Tirith. Yet I was afraid that - " and he paused, struggling to find the right words - "I feared that you, who are so fair and gracious, would see all that I lack of grace and charm, of fairness of face and manner. I am little tutored in the ways of society, and to tell the truth, Eären, I am better fitted for a soldier's camp than a feast in Morthond!"
Eären stared at him, stunned. It was hard for her to take in what he was saying. She understood that he was professing his inadequacy - but it seemed wholly improbable to her that the idea of his unworthiness might enter his mind! Yet he clearly spoke from his heart.
"Now I see. You thought that I might have changed – that I could no longer be the same person who accepted you as you were, now that I am on my own territory!" she cried, understanding all in a flash of insight. She pressed her hands together, and laughed aloud, a wild elvish laugh, which few apart from Elrond had ever heard.
"You are a great fool, Aragorn!" she said now, and laughing and crying together, she launched herself at him, clasping him to her, in a bear-like embrace for one so small, which happily conveyed to him, more clearly than words could say, how she felt.
When she had recovered herself, somewhat, and they had stepped apart once more, she added, chidingly, "It did not occur to you, I see, that I might also have been glad of someone who accepted me as I was, 'without consideration of rank, status, wealth or any other mark of distinction'!" – and she quoted his words back at him playfully. "Yet, that was how I felt, and I valued it greatly – just as you did."
She sighed smilingly at the vagaries of men and women. She added, more calmly,
"Nay, being the Steward's daughter, I early learned caution in weighing men's faith. For few would treat me with the openness and frankness they showed to others of lesser rank."
And she smiled wryly to herself at this thought, thinking of all the painful disappointments of her teenage years, when young men of the City had courted her, and she had been forced to discover their true motive in a desire to find favour with Denethor.
Was Aragorn, she wondered for the first time, attempting by his very plainness, to persuade men to take him without consideration of rank or wealth? Some men tried to persuade others of their worth by putting on fine garments and making a show of themselves, in her experience. Yet somehow, Aragorn had concluded long ago that the contrary path was for him – that he must present himself as meanly as he could, if he were ever to be sure of truth among those he chose as comrades. She saw it all, in a flash of new insight, and it pained her, for she saw that that choice came from a diffident heart, too little aware of its own worth, and too fearful of trusting those around him. How well she understood those feelings, if so. He seemed to her almost a mirror image of herself at that moment.
"What I think," she said presently, wiping a tear from her eye, comfortably, with the back of the great sleeve of his shirt, in her most down-to-earth manner, "is that we are both capable of being great fools! For I have no more concern for manners than you have for status! Yet we have entirely imagined these concerns in each other. You thought I was disapproving of your manners, and I thought you were only concerned for my status!"
And she laughed at their mutual folly, shaking her head, and saying, "Elrond would be greatly displeased that it has taken me so long to understand this – for he worked so hard to teach me wisdom!"
At this very accurate reflection upon their mutual friend and kin, Aragorn roared with laughter, and they both dissolved into such mirth that it was a time before they could recover their self-possession. The guard outside looked in, puzzled by the noise of merriment he heard, but smiled gladly, when he saw their light-hearted joy, and went back outside again.
At last, recovering their composure, they sat down together upon some upturned barrels, which seemed Aragorn's only source of rest, and he said happily, "How then shall we resolve this misunderstanding, my lady?"
"I think," she said now, ruefully, "with a little more trust in the love we bear each other, which is not so easily shaken, I think, by time or place, even less by rank or manners. For does not the old lore say, 'All that is gold does not glisten', but also that 'all that glistens proves not gold.'"
"Then - will you trust me, dear friend, to deal justly with Faramir, in matters of state, when the time comes – if it comes?" he asked her, more seriously.
Eären nodded, and smiled.
"And will you trust me to help you to learn the ways of Gondorean society, if that time comes?" she asked.
He smiled delightedly at this, saying, "Eären, I have wanted to ask you this for so long, but I did not know how!"
"Then that is settled," she said, with a happy smile. "Let us pledge that if we win the day, at the Black Gate, you shall come home to the Steward's House, and dine with us in great honour, as our invited guest and friend!"
Before she could go on, however, a shadow crossed his face, and he intervened to say, "You intend to ride with us to the Black Gate, my lady? I had heard this, and I say, surely not!"
Eären closed her eyes in great weariness a moment. She though of all the battles she had fought to be taken seriously, all her life, until she met the Lord Elrond. He alone seemed to her to have the capacity to see her as she was, without respect of sex or age or race or rank. Nevertheless, she kept calm, not wishing to lose the newfound understanding she had just gained with Aragorn.
"Surely," she said, in response, trying to sound half jesting, "I do not have to argue this matter yet again? After all the battle honours that the Eärendili have earned! Why should I not ride with you, my lord?"
Had Aragorn known her just a little better, he might have sensed the budding fire of her wrath, in that calm statement - but he did not.
"For reasons that are clear beyond denial," he said, firmly. "You are wounded – why risk another wound, or making the first worse, when there is no need? There are hale men enough to ride with us, and dwarves and elves in plenty, too. You have done your part, and most courageously - do not go further with us, I beg you. Stay here, where your wisdom and foresight are much needed in the City."
"And how would the Pelennor have been won, had Eowyn of Rohan stayed behind to tend her people?" she asked pointedly. "Or the hobbit Meriadoc? For did not Théoden Thengelson, my godfather, order Merry to stay behind for his own protection - so he now tells me. Yet which of them needed that protection at the end? Nay, Aragorn, in this I must disagree with you!"
Aragorn's face was grave, though she saw that her words hit home to him, but he still said firmly, "I would not have you ride with us, my lady. That is my decision."
This remark, as luck would have it, was as a waving purple flag to a mumakil! Eären charged.
"And on whose authority do you make this decision?" she asked, and now her violet eyes blazed. The air of the tent crackled, as though a thunderclap might strike it at any moment. Instinctively, she drew herself up tall, for she was but slightly built, and Aragorn was a big man. "Aragorn – it may be that you are the future King of Gondor. So be it, if that time comes. But until it comes, I am the sister of the Steward of Gondor, and I will make my own decision!"
Aragorn was evidently halted in his tracks by her tone, and it seemed he knew not what to say, as though their new understanding of a moment ago had been shattered. A heavy silence fell a moment between them – then, to her considerable alarm, he reached out suddenly, and took her by the shoulders, and she was amazed to see his blue eyes as full of fire as hers. He held her gaze, though she found the sudden blaze in them hard to fathom, and for a moment, she felt alarmed, not knowing what he would do.
Then, the fire seemed to leave him, as quickly as it had come, and he smiled softly, a smile of great weariness, letting his hands drop.
Presently he said, with great gentleness, "You speak truly. I have no authority over you, Eären. Nor do I seek it. You mistook my meaning, I think. I have no authority save the love I bear you, my dearest friend. I have lost already in this conflict . . . . " and he paused, in anguish ". . . .many who did not deserve to die." His voice fell almost to a hoarse whisper. "I lost your mother once. I do not think I could bear it, Eären, if I lost you also. Can you not understand that?"
Eären gazed into his deeply pained eyes, and felt more confused than she had felt in many a long year, for it was hard, if not impossible, to know what she read there!
"I . . .," she began, awkwardly, and then she, who was so seldom at a loss, found that her words seemed suddenly to fail her.
She paused a moment, sensing that here she needed to be wise. Yet she had little wisdom to offer. When in doubt, she fell back on the truth as she saw it, which was ever her way.
"I do not think I understand you at all, Lord Aragorn," she said finally, weary of the struggle to do so. "But perhaps it is not my part to understand you. There is not time for that, for look, we all stand at the edge of ruin! Yet, I will tell you what I will do – if we both come home unscathed from the Black Gate, I will make it my business to understand you, and take the time I need to do so!"
At this, he threw back his dark head and roared with fresh laughter, and the tension disappeared between them once more in an instant. Aragorn laughed, indeed, as she had never thought he could laugh, until tears ran down his cheeks, and finally, still laughing, he said, "Oh, Eären of Gondor! That is what I could not bear to lose. Do you not see - how many could have replied as you did, even now? Dearest girl – sit down, and let us talk comfortably a while, and not quarrel. For only Mordor smiles, if those who are its enemies quarrel with each other."
Seeing that his mood had shifted far away from the manner of authority, the side of him she found least congenial, she submitted with grace.
"Very well," she muttered, though adding wryly, "though I must warn you that it is rather pleasant to be called a 'girl' at my age, and if you keep doing so, I may suspect you of trying to win me over artfully!"
"Nay, Eären, you are but a girl to me," he said, smiling, and she saw that he spoke the truth. It was easy to forget how much older he was. He sobered then, and asked, with a puzzled frown, "But goes your heart truly with this battle?"
"More truly than any riding I have ever faced," she said solemnly. "Dear Aragorn – I cannot tell you all! I wish I could. Nevertheless, believe me when I say that I must ride to the Morannon. I do not look for glory – aye, I know well enough what drives my cousin Eowyn. Yet I am not Eowyn. For I mistrust all such motives, but even if I did not, I think I can claim that the Eärendili have already won glory enough in the field. None of us sought glory when we came. We did what we did out of necessity – because we were there, and best fitted to do the task that lay before us, as Elrond so wisely said. Nevertheless, this one time in my life, I have a task to fulfil, which only I can fully comprehend. I took a sacred oath to fulfil it, and I must!"
Looking at her keenly, he saw that she spoke from her heart, and that there was much more to her resolve than he had guessed.
"No," he said slowly, his eyes bright on her face. "You are not Eowyn. I spoke rashly." Then he seemed to make up his mind. "Very well," he said. "Then ride with us. I shall ask no more questions of you. Only, one thing I beg of you . . . ."
". . . .keep close beside me on the field, take no unnecessary risks, wear your scarf so that I can see you and come to your aid at need . . .." she supplied, with a cheerful smile. "Alas – I know it all, Lord Aragorn, for Lord Glorfindel gives me these instructions every day! Do not fear for me, my friend, for I shall have five stout comrades of the Eärendili about me, of such determination to shield me, that it is a wonder they ever manage to assault the enemy at all!"
They both laughed heartily at this, and he raised a quirky eyebrow a moment.
"Nay," he said presently, and he gave her a slow, warm smile, that, had he but known it, conquered her heart more entirely than his authority had ever done. "That is not what I would say to so valiant a soldier as you. What I meant only was – that I beg you to keep alive your hope that we shall sup together in the Steward's House, one day. For in this hope is our victory indeed."
At that moment, he reminded her more than ever of Elrond, and her heart contracted, thinking of her beloved elf lord. Before she could reply, however, the tent flap opened, and Mithrandir entered, and she saw, regretfully, that their private conversation must end. Yet she was very glad she had made the effort to see Aragorn, and felt that she could go away now, with her heart eased of one more care.
"Eären, my dear," said Mithrandir, his blue eyes twinkling, and he looked from face to face with interest, evidently sensing an interesting conversation here. "I do not know," he said now, taking out his old pipe, and sitting on a spare barrel, "why everyone I meet in Minas Tirith has an expression which I can only describe as gleeful. Do they not know that the end of the world is on the horizon?"
They all laughed at this, and Aragorn said, almost light-heartedly, "But perhaps it is because the end of the world is on the horizon, that we look so!"
"Mmm," said Mithrandir, but his opinion of this remark was lost in the cloud of pipe smoke that issued from his lips.
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