It took Aragorn a long time to clear his head after the evening. Plans to go back to his tent and catch some sleep evaporated after his meeting with Merry, Faramir, and Éowyn. Their intermingling feelings no longer felt like burdens pressing on his chest. Instead they felt as if some new door in his own heart had been opened. Fighting their emotions had been like fighting the tide, it was exhausting and futile. When he finally surrendered to the tide, he found that it did not carry him away, as he had feared. Instead, somehow, it felt familiar.
You will never have secrets from those three again. Aragorn thought he would be afraid of that truth, but he was not. All three had unwillingly shown him everything that brought them pain. And now all those doors Aragorn had closed around himself were being forced open. He only ever willingly shared his pain and his fear with his mother (before she died) and Arwen, and so much of his pain in that moment was the uncertainty of his future with the woman who had captured his heart. In response, the universe had both gifted him and condemned him to have three others who could sense his vulnerabilities. He needed to trust them. As the universe had demanded they trust him.
Aragorn wandered aimlessly, listening to the joy of the city around him. As he passed a particular biergarten, he paused, hearing a raucous rendition of the Ballad of the Shieldmaiden. It sounded as if the entire tavern were drunk, as they had begun making up new lyrics to the song. He wondered how many times the band had played it. Aragorn almost went through the door, but he found he couldn't. He needed to be alone.
Aragorn ducked into his favorite garden, and looked up at the stars. There it was, the Evenstar. Brightest and steadiest in the sky. He hoped this was a sign that Arwen would come.
"Her star rises high in the sky," the words were in Sindarin, "You did not return to your tent."
"I'm fine Legolas," Aragorn turned to his friend, "I was left with a lot to ponder today."
Legolas nodded and was about to leave the garden then added, "You have done it. You've fulfilled your destiny. You should be happier about it." Then he was gone.
Legolas did not know the whole of Aragorn's despair, but he had fingered one of its roots. A life of a wanderer. Nameless in the wilderness, and only known as who he was to a select and secretive few. It was now gone. The anonymity. Everyone would know his name, his face. King Elessar. The return of hope to Middle Earth. Estel indeed. And the number of people he trusted he could count on two hands. His Dúnedain had to remain in the north, and his seat would be Minas Tirith. Elrond and Gandalf would both leave for the west, and he did not yet know the decisions of Legolas and Gimli, but he doubted that they would stay there with him. Arwen would be his sole confidant, and she might not come.
He needed Faramir, and he needed Éowyn. Aragorn had not realized how deep his need was until he actually asked Faramir to stay on as Steward. It had been an idea that had lingered on the edges of his thoughts, but his asking made it real. He did not want to betray how crestfallen he was that the younger man did not immediately say yes. But he also understood. The Steward was Denethor. A man who neglected and resented his second son, and then tried to kill him. Faramir's darkest memories were so often of his father's cruelty. It was what kept him close to the shadows, and why Aragorn had to will him back to the light. Sitting in the seat of the Steward, Faramir feared he would become his father. Aragorn's mission would now have to be convincing Faramir that he had already shown his quality to far exceed that of his father.
In quieter moments, Aragorn compared the sons of Denethor. Boromir was brash and proud, but also desperate to save his people from Sauron. Faramir had the same skill and love of his people, but he also had restraint and wisdom. One was a Steward for times of war, the other for times of peace. Faramir's skills were most impressive in times of peace, despite his proven prowess on the battlefield. Aragorn then let his mind wander to Éowyn. He wanted to know her nearly as much as he wanted to know Faramir. Éowyn's memories had nearly broken him, and yet, they had not succeeded in breaking her. She was stronger in her misery than most men were in their happiness. Aragorn had only seen her worst memories. He had considered her a passive victim, but her staying Éomer's hand to grant Gríma mercy was not the act of a passive victim, it spoke to something deeper, something he needed to understand. It dawned on him nearly the moment he put his mind to the task. Éowyn did not act to kill Wormtongue not because she could not, but because she understood the consequences.
Aragorn closed his eyes to picture Edoras before Gandalf's intervention. Gríma fed Théoden King poison of paranoia and despair while Saruman's hordes attacked the outlying villages. Through Gríma, Éomer and Théodred were being sent on ever more dangerous sorties until Saruman finally openly declared that killing the heirs of the House of Eorl was a priority. But Saruman did not openly attack Edoras. Because he had Gríma on the inside. Théoden and Edoras were outwardly safe so long as Gríma was there. Edoras and Théoden would immediately have been attacked if Gríma was killed.
What came next? After the deaths of Éomer and Théodred, Gríma would kill Théoden and claim the throne through Éowyn's hand. That was the end of the game. But Gríma was greedy, or he underestimated Éowyn, likely both. Éowyn saw how those events would unfold, and knew that her choice was to bide her time, keeping Théoden as whole as she could. The second that it was only Théoden, Éowyn would have acted, killing Gríma and putting herself on the line.
As Aragorn finished his thought, his stomach turned to ice. Éowyn was waiting for the best moment to die in those desperate weeks after Théodred had fallen. Her despair. Her desperation. A tactician watching the walls close in and trying to find the way out that saved her uncle and her people.
Éowyn's memories flashed through Aragorn's mind. Those moments of despair. She waited. She knew the moment she made the choice to slay Wormtongue, Isengard's dam would break. When Gandalf cured Théoden, it was no more than days before Saruman sent a host. Éowyn understood that. She is as much a Steward as Faramir, Aragorn let the thought sink in. Éomer knew that, and deferred to her. Faramir realized that and had invited her to council. How had he not recognized it too?
Shame started to surge in Aragorn's gut once more. So little of her had he seen. But that would be no more. His vow to see her as a person was insufficient. He needed a new vow, to see her as extraordinary. Aragorn looked up into the sky, to the Evenstar.
I will not underestimate her again, he put his hand to his heart and swore upon that star. And he would stop letting his shame dictate his actions. He would start acting like the King. He would walk openly through his city, speaking to his subjects and readying for coronation. He would spend time in the House of Healing, using his hands to heal. He would hold his trusted friends close. And he would not stop pursuing the confidences of the new friends he now depended on, mostly Éowyn and Faramir.
Finally, enough of the pining over Arwen. He would send her a letter, declaring his heart and his love, and asking if she would come. Being around Éowyn and Faramir, and experiencing their love had made it clear how oppressive the hole in his own heart was. Knowing would be enough for now. Seventy years and a few months… he could wait. Aragorn reached into his satchel and pulled out a small piece of parchment, plus a quill and ink. The road to Isengard had now been cleared thanks to the Ents and the Rohirrim. Aragorn estimated it would be a month there and back, with the swiftest of riders, assuming that the roads around the Misty Mountains remained open. Aragorn sighed. Even if all things were aligned for him, an answer to his letter would not arrive to him before his coronation. He would just have to wait.
Aragorn looked back up at the Evenstar, and closed his eyes. She had made his banner, and the sadness in Elrohir and Elladan's eyes meant it was likely that she had made her choice. But the choice to forsake her family, her people, for him still seemed so immense that he could not truly bring himself to believe that she had made it. Perhaps it was finally time to look into his palantír, now free of the oppression of Sauron.
Aragorn left the garden and walked swiftly through the levels of the city. When he walked through the gates, he stalled for just one moment. He looked up to the sky once more, and saw that the Evenstar was shining more brightly. Yes, Aragorn thought, it is time. There was something else he wanted to see too. The location of a specific person. Aragorn closed his tent behind him, then pulled his palantír from its hiding place. It responded immediately to his touch, and he could feel his will mingle with it.
With all his might, Aragorn thought, Arwen Undomiel. His mind was now with the stone. He saw a garden. Rivendell. He saw her, she was beautiful. She was looking to the south, as if she could feel his mind calling out to her. Her room was bare, as if she had packed everything for a journey. But he knew. She was coming to him. Her mind was ever thinking to the south and to the east, to him. She would not go west. She would come. Aragorn's heart filled with joy and hope in that moment. He would bathe in the light of his beloved Evenstar for the rest of his life.
But Aragorn was not done. His second task was less pleasant. Gríma Wormtongue, Aragorn thought again. His mind had a harder time picking up the wretched man's presence, but finally he could feel him. Two they were, still in Isengard. Still guarded by Ents. Gríma under the foot of his master. Éowyn is safe, Aragorn thought, and Faramir's guard can be lessened. He would tell them first thing in the morning, after the council over the Book of the Dead.
Aragorn was glad that he decided to look. His fear that Éowyn's sorrows would haunt him had diminished. Her own will played a significant part in that, as did her exoneration for his invasion. He had never given much thought to what came next after the Shadow was defeated. He would become King, then… then what? The "what" had started to materialize in his mind. He would set this world on the path toward hope. He would listen to his people's words, but most of all, he would lean on those he trusted, those whose wisdom would bring about this path to peace. The people who quietly ruled their realms unremarked, who kept them stable through the uncertainty.
Yes, Faramir needed to be in Ithilien. His love and knowledge of that place would accelerate its healing, ultimately bringing forth the possibility of opening Mordor's doors to peace as well. Aragorn wondered… how long had the House of Húrin abandoned its seat to rule Gondor's people and wait for the return of its King? Emyn Arnen was but a half day's ride from Minas Tirith, and easily visible from nearly all levels of the city. It is time to return to you what is yours Faramir, Aragorn thought, and he knew exactly how he planned to do it. In two days time, he would lay out the offer. He hoped that Faramir would accept. In his contemplation, Aragorn heard footsteps outside of his tent. His hand was already on his dagger.
"You certainly have not lost your edge," kind eyes and the white glow of Gandalf entered his tent.
"No, and I hope I never lose my edge," Aragorn thought amusedly of Faramir and his bath, he had to respect the Steward's skill.
"What brought you to look into the palantír?" Gandalf inquired.
"Two needs. One for me, and one for… others," Aragorn replied. He did not want to speak fully of his need to see Arwen.
Gandalf nodded, "I hope both visions gave you peace."
"Both did," Aragorn replied, he was not sure why Gandalf lingered, "Is there more Mithrandir that I need to know about this stone?"
"No, that is yours. It belongs to you, and you can do with it as you please. Just beware of it too, as palantírs have been known to become more dangerous the farther your gaze takes you," Gandalf replied.
Aragorn smiled, "I kept my eyes in the present."
Gandalf's eyes twinkled, and Aragorn thought that there may be too much understanding in those eyes.
"The Evenstar was quite bright tonight," Gandalf said, confirming Aragorn's suspicion, "I daresay I have not seen it shine with this light in a very long time. Possibly ever."
A brief quiet passed between them. Aragorn wondered if Gandalf would inquire after his second vision, but he did not.
"Try to sleep," Gandalf said, "For tonight should be the last night you sleep outside. Tomorrow you will walk into your city, and take your rightful place there."
With those final words, Gandalf was gone. So it was. Aragorn would pack up tomorrow and ask Faramir for quarters in the city. His days as Ranger were over, and his days as King had begun.