The evening was warm and the sky was fading into a light pink as the dark-
haired man climbed off of his horse. He breathed in the scented air, and
felt his body relax slightly. Wasn't it here, he had stood with Arwen and
told her of all the love he felt for her? Wasn't it here he had told her he
would love her forever? Yet now, that all seemed so surreal, so old. She
had declared her love to someone else; she had declared her love to another
king, Eomer.
Aragorn, King Ellesar, King of Gondor and Arnor, Heir of Isildor, had made up his mind. He would declare war on Rohan; he would smite them and kill Eomer. King Théoden had been foolish to leave his crown to Eomer, Aragorn had once valued the friendship of the king's nephew greatly, but now, he realised he was nothing more than a worthless, heartless boy, not worthy to be king of such an honourable nation. He sat amongst the fallen leaves and leant his back upon a tall oak tree. He had just closed his eyes when a rustling alerted his ears.
He jumped up, and saw, to his surprise, a tall, pretty woman standing a few feet from him. Her golden hair fell loosely to her waist, and her eyes were burning.
"Aowen." He said.
"What are you doing here?" She looked at him as though he was her worst enemy. How dare he speak to her? How dare he look at her? Angry tears rose into her eyes and slipped down her face. Was this the man she had once loved? A numb disbelief clenched her heart.
"I am here to avenge my brother." She said, her voice in a snarl. Aragorn looked at her for a second, into those dark, soulful eyes. Did she believe him to be the murderer of Faramir?
"I did not kill Faramir." He said quietly. How could she think he had done it? Did she really think it was him? He had wept here in this very place at the loss of his dear friend, he had wept tears of loss and anger. Eomer had killed him. He must have, just to spite Aragorn. Aowen's eyes grew wider and more tears spilled from them.
"Do not lie to me, Aragorn. My brother has informed me of your reasons. But I must sa - "
"Your brother?" replied Aragorn. This was insane.
"Your brother killed Faramir, Aowen. Faramir was found in Rohan, please tell me how I managed to get to Rohan in one night and then be back in Gondor by dawn." He was angry now. Eomer was acting the innocent. It must have been him to invent such a lie. Aowen seemed shocked at the words.
"My brother killed my husband? How dare you! Draw now, Aragorn, you are a murderer and a liar!" She drew her sword and approached him swiftly.
"You know I will not." He answered quietly. Aowen's face slackened for a moment. This was the Aragorn she remembered, gentle, kind and wise. But it was soon hardened by the fact that he was lying so blatantly.
"Then you shall die!" she cried, edging closer.
"You shall die because I cannot bear to see the man I once loved become such a monster. Your blood will stain my hands forever, but you will not live whilst the blood of Faramir stains yours." She choked out these words, and raised her sword, ready to strike.
"Then I shall be murdered, not avenged." He voiced.
"For, never in my rule have I slain one of my own people. Never have I slain a friend. And never shall I." he spoke powerfully and loudly, kingly she thought. But then his voice became soft, and pained.
"Lower your sword, Aowen. If I could have chosen one to succeed as king if I bore no children, I would have chosen Faramir. It pains me to know that you think me traitor and murderer. I loved him, as I would have loved a brother. Believe me. Believe me." She stared at him, her eyes filling with large, fat tears and slowly her sword-arm fell limply to her side and her sword landed with a soft thud on the grass. She fell to her knees, and pulled her hands to her face and cried, cried as though the damn of anger holding back her pain, and sadness had suddenly burst open.
"He's gone!" she wept, her words smothered by her loud sobbing.
"I want him back and he's gone!" Aragorn knelt down and wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him. Yes he was gone, he thought. Yes, he wanted him back.
Aragorn, King Ellesar, King of Gondor and Arnor, Heir of Isildor, had made up his mind. He would declare war on Rohan; he would smite them and kill Eomer. King Théoden had been foolish to leave his crown to Eomer, Aragorn had once valued the friendship of the king's nephew greatly, but now, he realised he was nothing more than a worthless, heartless boy, not worthy to be king of such an honourable nation. He sat amongst the fallen leaves and leant his back upon a tall oak tree. He had just closed his eyes when a rustling alerted his ears.
He jumped up, and saw, to his surprise, a tall, pretty woman standing a few feet from him. Her golden hair fell loosely to her waist, and her eyes were burning.
"Aowen." He said.
"What are you doing here?" She looked at him as though he was her worst enemy. How dare he speak to her? How dare he look at her? Angry tears rose into her eyes and slipped down her face. Was this the man she had once loved? A numb disbelief clenched her heart.
"I am here to avenge my brother." She said, her voice in a snarl. Aragorn looked at her for a second, into those dark, soulful eyes. Did she believe him to be the murderer of Faramir?
"I did not kill Faramir." He said quietly. How could she think he had done it? Did she really think it was him? He had wept here in this very place at the loss of his dear friend, he had wept tears of loss and anger. Eomer had killed him. He must have, just to spite Aragorn. Aowen's eyes grew wider and more tears spilled from them.
"Do not lie to me, Aragorn. My brother has informed me of your reasons. But I must sa - "
"Your brother?" replied Aragorn. This was insane.
"Your brother killed Faramir, Aowen. Faramir was found in Rohan, please tell me how I managed to get to Rohan in one night and then be back in Gondor by dawn." He was angry now. Eomer was acting the innocent. It must have been him to invent such a lie. Aowen seemed shocked at the words.
"My brother killed my husband? How dare you! Draw now, Aragorn, you are a murderer and a liar!" She drew her sword and approached him swiftly.
"You know I will not." He answered quietly. Aowen's face slackened for a moment. This was the Aragorn she remembered, gentle, kind and wise. But it was soon hardened by the fact that he was lying so blatantly.
"Then you shall die!" she cried, edging closer.
"You shall die because I cannot bear to see the man I once loved become such a monster. Your blood will stain my hands forever, but you will not live whilst the blood of Faramir stains yours." She choked out these words, and raised her sword, ready to strike.
"Then I shall be murdered, not avenged." He voiced.
"For, never in my rule have I slain one of my own people. Never have I slain a friend. And never shall I." he spoke powerfully and loudly, kingly she thought. But then his voice became soft, and pained.
"Lower your sword, Aowen. If I could have chosen one to succeed as king if I bore no children, I would have chosen Faramir. It pains me to know that you think me traitor and murderer. I loved him, as I would have loved a brother. Believe me. Believe me." She stared at him, her eyes filling with large, fat tears and slowly her sword-arm fell limply to her side and her sword landed with a soft thud on the grass. She fell to her knees, and pulled her hands to her face and cried, cried as though the damn of anger holding back her pain, and sadness had suddenly burst open.
"He's gone!" she wept, her words smothered by her loud sobbing.
"I want him back and he's gone!" Aragorn knelt down and wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him. Yes he was gone, he thought. Yes, he wanted him back.