Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any recognizable characters
and/or places. Aralya, Margate, Bjourn, Idylia, and Boromir (the younger)
are property of my friend JediKnightBalthasar.
Taraisilwen: Well, if you ever think of a way to express what it is that's confusing you let me known, because I would be glad to straighten things out. Thanks, and I am doing my best.
Lady of Legolas: What happened? Well, Boromir died a very gruesome death. Who killed Boromir? Ah, for that you must wait. When's the next update? Right now!
Thanks for taking the time to review! I appreciate it!
*****
The next morning, as the sun streamed in through an open window, Aralya moaned and rolled onto her side. She did not recall, for the moment, the events of the previous night. Suddenly it hit her, and she sat up, preparing to stand. Before she was out of bed, however, something stopped her.
Aralya's hands flew to her eyes. They were wide open. She blinked and shook her head, but whatever was wrong seemed that it would not be shaken. "Aralya, are you all right?"
"Who said that?" Aralya demanded, spinning her head around as if this would help her see. "Who's there?" Without her vision, the sense upon which Men and Elves rely above all others, she was confused and her mind was confused with her.
"Aralya, it is only me," Elessar said, worried. What was wrong with her? She knew him, did she not? For a moment Elessar wondered if his daughter had perhaps lost her memory, but this seemed highly unlikely.
"I cannot see you," Aralya said. "I can see nothing!"
"Please, calm down. There is no need for hysterics. You are perfectly safe," Elessar said logically. Aralya, he knew, preferred logical explanations to any other form of comfort. She liked being able to know something for a fact, which she would rely upon as truth and lean upon as a crutch.
A gloss seemed to pass from Aralya's eyes as her breathing steadied, and she blinked. Her optical binding had been removed, it seemed. "Why did that just happen?" she asked, gazing intently at Elessar as if he could answer this question for her.
"I cannot say," he informed her sadly, shaking his head. "How are you?"
Now her eyes changed again, to a coldness. "How should I be?" she asked. "My heart aches for reasons I cannot seem to recall-" for in her terror all had flown from her head "--and I awoke with no abilities of sight."
"Your heart aches for your brother," Elessar said sadly. He had not mourned the death of his son, fearing too much the safety of the rest of his family and the emotional safety of Aralya.
"Oh, yes. . ." said Aralya, and she wept then, for the loss of her brother was one greater than most could imagine. Tears rose to the brims of her eyelids and spilled over, rivers running down her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if this would stop the tears from coming, but it did not, and would not.
"It's all right to cry," Elessar said softly. "He's happier where he is now. It will be all right." Gently he extended an arm to Aralya, offering her the comfort of human warmth. As soon as his skin brushed against hers she shouted, and jumped away. Aralya huddled in the corner of her room, wedged between the well and the dresser. She shivered and shook as she sobbed. "What is it? I mean you no harm."
"Do not touch me!" Aralya warned. "And do not love me! Everyone that loves me dies!"
"This is not so," Elessar whispered, approaching her slowly, carefully. "I love you very much, Aralya, and so does your mother and Eldarion, and all three of us are just fine."
"But you all are going to die," Aralya said.
"In time, yes, but it will not be by your fault," Elessar assured her. Aralya curled tighter into herself. Unfortunately, her position offered little escape. If she would not hear reason, let her see it for herself, Elessar thought. "Aralya," he said softly, kneeling beside her, "will you look at me?"
"No," Aralya whispered. "My very gaze is vile and polluted."
"I would risk it," Elessar replied. "And if you would not grant me this request, then I command you as your king and as your father." For a moment Aralya paused, still beyond reason, considering. She had always been rebellious but never particularly disobedient, and even as she tried to shake off the love granted to her she could not deny her heart. Slowly she twisted her neck, until her eyes and Elessar's were level.
"He cannot be gone!" Aralya wailed suddenly. "He cannot!" She collapsed, sobbing again. Elessar pulled her into his arms, and she accepted his condolences. Usually she was more stubborn than her father was, and though they contested their wills he caved before her on nearly every occasion. Grief had stripped Aralya of who she was.
When Aralya could no longer summon another tear, Elessar asked her delicately, "Would you like to go back to bed, or go on with the day?"
"Nothing is going to go away if I ignore it, Ada. You taught me that," Aralya reminded him, sniffing a bit as she got to her feet.
"I also taught you to know when you are defeated," Elessar replied, concerned about Aralya's mental state. Rest would do her good. Then, perhaps Aralya was the sort who needed to just return to a routine. It was impossible to know, for Aralya was not always consistent.
"And that it is better to die fighting than running away," Aralya returned sharply. Elessar smiled. She was definitely back to normal. "What time is it?"
"It is nearly time for the afternoon meal."
"By the Valar! You have been here since last night?"
"I have."
"Well, I am sorry for taking so much of your time," Aralya said courteously. "And thank you. There were other things to be done, other duties--"
"This I will not have," Elessar interrupted. "I have done what was required of me while your mother sat by your side, then I did my duty as a father." Aralya did not respond, but it took her a good long moment to clear the tears of love and appreciation from her eyes.
*****
After eating, although she was not hungry and hardly could bear to swallow a bite, Aralya excused herself to go walk in the gardens. As soon as she was outside, her boots flew from the ground, each hurried step bringing her heel up high enough to kick herself. Dirt flew up from the souls of her shoes.
Aralya had not the patience to circle around the row of snapdragons she was rapidly approaching. Her arms, formed into right angles, swung hard back and forth as she lifted herself off the ground, hurdling over the yellow blossoms, landing hard on the other side. She did not stop but kept on running.
*****
"Is she going to be all right, Father?" Eldarion asked as his sister headed outside. "Shall I speak to her?"
Elessar shook his head. "If Aralya wishes to pretend that she is just fine, we must play along with her. Try not to let her know, Eldarion. There are certain subtleties. And you? You are all right?"
"Boromir was my brother, but not as he was Aralya's. What will be done about the murder?"
With a wary glance in the direction of Arwen and Bjourn, Elessar responded, "That is a matter for another time, as you well know."
Eldarion understood, and he returned to the remnants of his meal. Subtleties. . .that would be easy enough to manage. He grieved the loss of his brother, but a military leader of five years he was accustomed to holding his own under stress and woe. Aralya, however, was different. She knew nothing of war, little of loss. Eldarion would do what he could, he resolved, even if she preferred her façade.
*****
For perhaps twenty minutes Aralya had run when she saw the weeping willow up ahead. A burst of speed came over her, and she sprinted the rest of the way to the tree. Gently but with great speed she parted the hanging greenery, and as the leaves swished softly together again the princess, with all her dignity, collapsed to the damp ground, hugging a large stone.
This stone was curved at the top, with dropping sides, and it read as follows:
Margate Telcontar
Otso Yende-Tar
Firima Ainur
May she rest in peace
"Are you watching us?" Aralya whispered. "Is our brother with you now?" Usually, the large purple and yellow blooms that grew from vine on the willow, perfumed the air, but today they seemed strangely unscented. As Aralya knelt by her baby triplet's grave, she rubbed away her tears that fell anew.
"I was always there for him," she continued. "Why this one time did I have to fail him? How could I have done that, Margate? Can you ever forgive me for it?"
When Aralya awoke, her deep red dress had become stained with dirt and grass. The sun was setting. Aralya's legs burned no longer, but they had lost all feeling. Her head reeled and she made her slow way out of the haven of the tree into the wide world.
The walk home took over an hour. Aralya opened the door and closed it behind her. Slowly she made her weary way down the hall, trying to think up a decent excuse, when her vision shorted out again. Deciding to just sit it out this time, she ducked into the first room she found.
What was this room? Aralya was completely disoriented. She felt her way to the room's center without interruption, then her hands hit a wooden tabletop. Fingers like spiders' legs made their way to the center of the table before hitting something. . .tenderly feeling whatever it was, Aralya felt her heart leap in terror. Her breathing grew short and rapid. She retracted her hand, but too late.
Just in time her vision came back to her. One glance at her brother's mangled body, his horrified face, was enough to disturb Aralya for the rest of her life. Her own body tensed up, and she shook, too horrified to move. After a moment that lasted an eternity, she snapped out of her trance.
A scream of no sound escape Aralya's lips, and she turned and ran from the room. Crazed, she flew through the corridor to her own room. Slamming the door behind her, Aralya panted to catch her breath. "My lady?" someone asked. Aralya looked up. It was Maya, Aralya's lady-in-waiting.
"Leave me be!" she requested in a state of such disarray that her two ladies-in-waiting dared not argue. As soon as they were gone she changed into her nightclothes and fell to sleep in moments.
She dreamed a dream, it felt like almost at once. She dreamed that Boromir was with her again, and they were young. It was fall, but an early snow had fallen the night before. They threw snowballs and wrestled with one another, built snow-Elves, snow-orcs, and snow-wargs. As the sun set they knew they had to return home, and they did. As Aralya lay in her bed, savoring the remains of the day's euphoria, Boromir crawled into bed beside her. They giggled, shrieking with laughter until finally Elessar told them to quiet down. Aralya drifted off to sleep.
When she awoke, Boromir was still beside her. He smiled at her, and as soon as she returned his smile--he began to change. He seemed to be having a great struggle, and Aralya could do nothing to assist him. Blood began to pour from his eyes, and cuts all over his body.
Aralya awoke in a cold sweat. She was drenched, and in her arm was--her heart raced, then slowed as she realized that it was only a pillow. In a fury she hurled the pillow across the room. It hit the wall and slid down. Fear had settled in on Aralya again, and she could not be in that room a moment longer.
Out in the hall, every shadow was a bloodstain. Aralya shook as she made her way steadily along. To banish her fear, she began to sing a song in a shaky voice. "Ho, ho, ho to the bottle I go. . ." she sang, a song a Knight called Peregrin had taught to her. But the song was no good, for every small sound now was brought to Aralya's attention. She broke into a run, slamming open the door to Eldarion's room then closing it quickly behind her.
"Eldarion!" Aralya hissed, shaking him. He was a deep sleeper and did not wake. Though she knew this, Aralya was frightened. She could not bear to lose him too! Why did he not wake? "Eldarion!" she said, desperate.
"What is it?" he groaned, rolling to face her. Eldarion liked his sleep, and being woken up in the middle of the night was not exactly a past time for him. Nonetheless Aralya dared breath freely again.
"Can I sleep in your room tonight?" Aralya asked.
Eldarion moaned, giving his sister a look that clearly said 'If you do not go back to your own room right this instant I will tell Father and he will not be happy.' Aralya returned with a look of such pure terror that Eldarion melted completely. "Oh, all right," Eldarion submitted, scooting over so that Aralya could share the bed. "But no kicking."
"Thank you!" Aralya breathed, curling up beside her brother. In moments she was asleep. There were no more nightmares that night.
*****
Author's Note: The gravestone was supposed to say, "Seventh Princess, Angel of Men" (Men as in mortals), but as I am not very good with Elvish it ended up as "Seven Daughter-King, Angelic Spirit of Men". It was Aralya's sister that was stillborn, of course.
Taraisilwen: Well, if you ever think of a way to express what it is that's confusing you let me known, because I would be glad to straighten things out. Thanks, and I am doing my best.
Lady of Legolas: What happened? Well, Boromir died a very gruesome death. Who killed Boromir? Ah, for that you must wait. When's the next update? Right now!
Thanks for taking the time to review! I appreciate it!
*****
The next morning, as the sun streamed in through an open window, Aralya moaned and rolled onto her side. She did not recall, for the moment, the events of the previous night. Suddenly it hit her, and she sat up, preparing to stand. Before she was out of bed, however, something stopped her.
Aralya's hands flew to her eyes. They were wide open. She blinked and shook her head, but whatever was wrong seemed that it would not be shaken. "Aralya, are you all right?"
"Who said that?" Aralya demanded, spinning her head around as if this would help her see. "Who's there?" Without her vision, the sense upon which Men and Elves rely above all others, she was confused and her mind was confused with her.
"Aralya, it is only me," Elessar said, worried. What was wrong with her? She knew him, did she not? For a moment Elessar wondered if his daughter had perhaps lost her memory, but this seemed highly unlikely.
"I cannot see you," Aralya said. "I can see nothing!"
"Please, calm down. There is no need for hysterics. You are perfectly safe," Elessar said logically. Aralya, he knew, preferred logical explanations to any other form of comfort. She liked being able to know something for a fact, which she would rely upon as truth and lean upon as a crutch.
A gloss seemed to pass from Aralya's eyes as her breathing steadied, and she blinked. Her optical binding had been removed, it seemed. "Why did that just happen?" she asked, gazing intently at Elessar as if he could answer this question for her.
"I cannot say," he informed her sadly, shaking his head. "How are you?"
Now her eyes changed again, to a coldness. "How should I be?" she asked. "My heart aches for reasons I cannot seem to recall-" for in her terror all had flown from her head "--and I awoke with no abilities of sight."
"Your heart aches for your brother," Elessar said sadly. He had not mourned the death of his son, fearing too much the safety of the rest of his family and the emotional safety of Aralya.
"Oh, yes. . ." said Aralya, and she wept then, for the loss of her brother was one greater than most could imagine. Tears rose to the brims of her eyelids and spilled over, rivers running down her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if this would stop the tears from coming, but it did not, and would not.
"It's all right to cry," Elessar said softly. "He's happier where he is now. It will be all right." Gently he extended an arm to Aralya, offering her the comfort of human warmth. As soon as his skin brushed against hers she shouted, and jumped away. Aralya huddled in the corner of her room, wedged between the well and the dresser. She shivered and shook as she sobbed. "What is it? I mean you no harm."
"Do not touch me!" Aralya warned. "And do not love me! Everyone that loves me dies!"
"This is not so," Elessar whispered, approaching her slowly, carefully. "I love you very much, Aralya, and so does your mother and Eldarion, and all three of us are just fine."
"But you all are going to die," Aralya said.
"In time, yes, but it will not be by your fault," Elessar assured her. Aralya curled tighter into herself. Unfortunately, her position offered little escape. If she would not hear reason, let her see it for herself, Elessar thought. "Aralya," he said softly, kneeling beside her, "will you look at me?"
"No," Aralya whispered. "My very gaze is vile and polluted."
"I would risk it," Elessar replied. "And if you would not grant me this request, then I command you as your king and as your father." For a moment Aralya paused, still beyond reason, considering. She had always been rebellious but never particularly disobedient, and even as she tried to shake off the love granted to her she could not deny her heart. Slowly she twisted her neck, until her eyes and Elessar's were level.
"He cannot be gone!" Aralya wailed suddenly. "He cannot!" She collapsed, sobbing again. Elessar pulled her into his arms, and she accepted his condolences. Usually she was more stubborn than her father was, and though they contested their wills he caved before her on nearly every occasion. Grief had stripped Aralya of who she was.
When Aralya could no longer summon another tear, Elessar asked her delicately, "Would you like to go back to bed, or go on with the day?"
"Nothing is going to go away if I ignore it, Ada. You taught me that," Aralya reminded him, sniffing a bit as she got to her feet.
"I also taught you to know when you are defeated," Elessar replied, concerned about Aralya's mental state. Rest would do her good. Then, perhaps Aralya was the sort who needed to just return to a routine. It was impossible to know, for Aralya was not always consistent.
"And that it is better to die fighting than running away," Aralya returned sharply. Elessar smiled. She was definitely back to normal. "What time is it?"
"It is nearly time for the afternoon meal."
"By the Valar! You have been here since last night?"
"I have."
"Well, I am sorry for taking so much of your time," Aralya said courteously. "And thank you. There were other things to be done, other duties--"
"This I will not have," Elessar interrupted. "I have done what was required of me while your mother sat by your side, then I did my duty as a father." Aralya did not respond, but it took her a good long moment to clear the tears of love and appreciation from her eyes.
*****
After eating, although she was not hungry and hardly could bear to swallow a bite, Aralya excused herself to go walk in the gardens. As soon as she was outside, her boots flew from the ground, each hurried step bringing her heel up high enough to kick herself. Dirt flew up from the souls of her shoes.
Aralya had not the patience to circle around the row of snapdragons she was rapidly approaching. Her arms, formed into right angles, swung hard back and forth as she lifted herself off the ground, hurdling over the yellow blossoms, landing hard on the other side. She did not stop but kept on running.
*****
"Is she going to be all right, Father?" Eldarion asked as his sister headed outside. "Shall I speak to her?"
Elessar shook his head. "If Aralya wishes to pretend that she is just fine, we must play along with her. Try not to let her know, Eldarion. There are certain subtleties. And you? You are all right?"
"Boromir was my brother, but not as he was Aralya's. What will be done about the murder?"
With a wary glance in the direction of Arwen and Bjourn, Elessar responded, "That is a matter for another time, as you well know."
Eldarion understood, and he returned to the remnants of his meal. Subtleties. . .that would be easy enough to manage. He grieved the loss of his brother, but a military leader of five years he was accustomed to holding his own under stress and woe. Aralya, however, was different. She knew nothing of war, little of loss. Eldarion would do what he could, he resolved, even if she preferred her façade.
*****
For perhaps twenty minutes Aralya had run when she saw the weeping willow up ahead. A burst of speed came over her, and she sprinted the rest of the way to the tree. Gently but with great speed she parted the hanging greenery, and as the leaves swished softly together again the princess, with all her dignity, collapsed to the damp ground, hugging a large stone.
This stone was curved at the top, with dropping sides, and it read as follows:
Margate Telcontar
Otso Yende-Tar
Firima Ainur
May she rest in peace
"Are you watching us?" Aralya whispered. "Is our brother with you now?" Usually, the large purple and yellow blooms that grew from vine on the willow, perfumed the air, but today they seemed strangely unscented. As Aralya knelt by her baby triplet's grave, she rubbed away her tears that fell anew.
"I was always there for him," she continued. "Why this one time did I have to fail him? How could I have done that, Margate? Can you ever forgive me for it?"
When Aralya awoke, her deep red dress had become stained with dirt and grass. The sun was setting. Aralya's legs burned no longer, but they had lost all feeling. Her head reeled and she made her slow way out of the haven of the tree into the wide world.
The walk home took over an hour. Aralya opened the door and closed it behind her. Slowly she made her weary way down the hall, trying to think up a decent excuse, when her vision shorted out again. Deciding to just sit it out this time, she ducked into the first room she found.
What was this room? Aralya was completely disoriented. She felt her way to the room's center without interruption, then her hands hit a wooden tabletop. Fingers like spiders' legs made their way to the center of the table before hitting something. . .tenderly feeling whatever it was, Aralya felt her heart leap in terror. Her breathing grew short and rapid. She retracted her hand, but too late.
Just in time her vision came back to her. One glance at her brother's mangled body, his horrified face, was enough to disturb Aralya for the rest of her life. Her own body tensed up, and she shook, too horrified to move. After a moment that lasted an eternity, she snapped out of her trance.
A scream of no sound escape Aralya's lips, and she turned and ran from the room. Crazed, she flew through the corridor to her own room. Slamming the door behind her, Aralya panted to catch her breath. "My lady?" someone asked. Aralya looked up. It was Maya, Aralya's lady-in-waiting.
"Leave me be!" she requested in a state of such disarray that her two ladies-in-waiting dared not argue. As soon as they were gone she changed into her nightclothes and fell to sleep in moments.
She dreamed a dream, it felt like almost at once. She dreamed that Boromir was with her again, and they were young. It was fall, but an early snow had fallen the night before. They threw snowballs and wrestled with one another, built snow-Elves, snow-orcs, and snow-wargs. As the sun set they knew they had to return home, and they did. As Aralya lay in her bed, savoring the remains of the day's euphoria, Boromir crawled into bed beside her. They giggled, shrieking with laughter until finally Elessar told them to quiet down. Aralya drifted off to sleep.
When she awoke, Boromir was still beside her. He smiled at her, and as soon as she returned his smile--he began to change. He seemed to be having a great struggle, and Aralya could do nothing to assist him. Blood began to pour from his eyes, and cuts all over his body.
Aralya awoke in a cold sweat. She was drenched, and in her arm was--her heart raced, then slowed as she realized that it was only a pillow. In a fury she hurled the pillow across the room. It hit the wall and slid down. Fear had settled in on Aralya again, and she could not be in that room a moment longer.
Out in the hall, every shadow was a bloodstain. Aralya shook as she made her way steadily along. To banish her fear, she began to sing a song in a shaky voice. "Ho, ho, ho to the bottle I go. . ." she sang, a song a Knight called Peregrin had taught to her. But the song was no good, for every small sound now was brought to Aralya's attention. She broke into a run, slamming open the door to Eldarion's room then closing it quickly behind her.
"Eldarion!" Aralya hissed, shaking him. He was a deep sleeper and did not wake. Though she knew this, Aralya was frightened. She could not bear to lose him too! Why did he not wake? "Eldarion!" she said, desperate.
"What is it?" he groaned, rolling to face her. Eldarion liked his sleep, and being woken up in the middle of the night was not exactly a past time for him. Nonetheless Aralya dared breath freely again.
"Can I sleep in your room tonight?" Aralya asked.
Eldarion moaned, giving his sister a look that clearly said 'If you do not go back to your own room right this instant I will tell Father and he will not be happy.' Aralya returned with a look of such pure terror that Eldarion melted completely. "Oh, all right," Eldarion submitted, scooting over so that Aralya could share the bed. "But no kicking."
"Thank you!" Aralya breathed, curling up beside her brother. In moments she was asleep. There were no more nightmares that night.
*****
Author's Note: The gravestone was supposed to say, "Seventh Princess, Angel of Men" (Men as in mortals), but as I am not very good with Elvish it ended up as "Seven Daughter-King, Angelic Spirit of Men". It was Aralya's sister that was stillborn, of course.