Angst for the Royal

A/N: This is a short fiction delving into the mind of Aragorn told from his perspective. It relates to my 'lament to the fellowship', so you should read that first.

A river, simple to us but a long journey, complicated and often deadly. Does this sound familiar? People look at me and see a strong man, a good leader but as I stare into this river all that stares back is a man - nothing more.

His eyes are filled with pain, the pain trying to spill out. The strong cheekbones and icy façade lead me to think I feel no pain, I am heartless. This scares me more than anything - I wish not for my companions to think I am heartless and if I am beginning to believe it, who knows how they feel?

Could I be heartless? I remain strong when others are weak to help guide them in their grief. I see everyone around me crying - even Legolas who I thought stood by my philosophy and would not show weakness.

People treat me like I am more than what I am - like I am more than a man. My ancestors granted me a crown, which I have not yet accepted. This makes me a man, does it not? If I do not accept the throne people could shun me, I will not lead 'my' people in times of darkness. The people are their own - they are not 'mine'. If I accepted the throne, would I not just be sitting on my own bottom? I am confused.

But is confusion not a sign of weakness? I must stick to my agreement and not show weakness, but this makes me even more confused.

Who can I talk to about my confusion? Legolas? He would be my first choice but he seems to have faltered to Elven nature and spilled his feelings out. Could Éowyn have not spoken to me? I feel hurt after the many battles I have faced so do I not deserve comfort as well?

I am not heartless. Heartless, cold people do not love and I love - I love so much. But being separated from love could increase my coldness. Again I feel so confused.

I wish Arwen were here or Mithrandir. But for some reason I do not get what I desire. I am beginning to slowly realise what the Grey one - White one - meant. 'Lead them on Aragorn'.

I must take my place with my people - lead my people. I still feel these people are their own and not my property. But I must lead them, mustn't I?

The river worries about such things too, although not in the same context. It gets confused at a tributary, where it knows not which course to take. It shows weakness when the sun shines too bright; it shows strength as it rains.

To comfort me I see that the river comes together at the end, joins with it's lost streams. Does this not mean my journey will draw to an end, form at the end? Will I be reunited with my lost friends - Meriadoc, Peregrin, Samwise, Arwen and indeed, Frodo? Ah Frodo, the bravest smallest person I know. What reason do I have to fret when he walks so close to pure evil?

I conclude my journey must end somewhere, whether it be in my death or the death of another. I am not heartless, for I feel such strong love for others. I need not comfort from others as I seek solace, I prefer to sort myself out. I feel less confused, but am still remaining confused, as even the strongest man needs to show weakness and cry.