Cordelia's Dream
Author: Lucinda
rating: pg 13
main characters: Cordelia, Aragorn
disclaimer: I own nobody from BtVS, and nobody from Lord of the Rings
distribution: If you want it, ask. I'll probably say yes.
summary: Anya found a spell to allow Buffy, Cordelia & Willow dream themselves into the movie 'Lord of the Rings'. As this is a dream (Cordelia's Dream in specific) things will not follow the movie exactly, and there will be significant deviations.
It was odd, how aware she was that things had not always been like this. The fluttering feeling that all of this was nothing more than a dream, a dark reflection of reality that would vanish with the dawn. The hope, however feeble, that things in Rohan would get better.
But Cordelen knew better. This was Rohan, and it had been this darkly forbidding city since her uncle's decline had begun. She didn't know how it had happened, he was only a few years older than her mother, but King Theodan looked like an old man. He looked like a withered corpse, barely holding any life in his eyes, and less sense. It wasn't natural, and every time she saw him, it made her shiver.
Her cousins Eowyn and Eomer were the only friends that she had here, and Eowyn kept getting nervous around Grimma, the closest advisor to her uncle the King. He was a creepy little man, all sneaky and quiet and somehow greasy, and he would watch Eowyn. It was just... disturbing. But for today, Grimma was the least of Eowyn's worries. Eodan had been wounded in a boar hunt, and was laying unconscious in his room, his sister tending to him, and praying for his recovery. The healers were not so hopeful.
Cordelen went to bring Eowyn something to eat, and some cool cloths for Eodan's fever. The fever was more likely to kill him now than the wound was... infection, a tiny corner of her awareness whispered. Eowyn was sobbing, her head over her brother's chest, sounds of pure despair. She couldn't even finish the question, already certan of the answer. "Is he..."
She was aware of something moving in the doorway, glancing up to see Grimma scurrying away. "Let's go get a bit of fresh air... the healers... I'll take care of that."
Joining Eowyn on the ramparts, she realized that her cousin was staring at something. A trio of horses were approaching. The lead seemed to be an old man in a gray cloak, and there was another man close behind. The third horse was lagging a bit, and seemed to have two people, one slender person, the other short and stout. Somehow, she felt as if things were going to get better, as improbable as that seemed with the King a withered husk barely holding life and the heir to the land cooling on his deathbed.
But things did change. The old man in the cloak turned out to be Gandalf, a powerful wizard. He cast out some sort of evil thing that was possessing Theodan, and in the resulting mess, Grimma Wormtongue was banished from Rohan. While that was a change and cause for delight, the other major decision was less welcome. The riders, which had a dwarf, an elf - impossibly handsome and arrogant, and a rather striking man called Strider, as well as the wizard had brought terrible news. An army of orcs was headed towards Rohan, intent on obliterating everything in their path. Because of this, Theodan had ordered everyone to evacuate to Helmsdeep.
The trip was long, and exhausting, and they were attacked by orc scouts mounted on these evil hell wolf things. A group of the warriors went to fight them, while the rest of the people were supposed to flee to Helmsdeep, with herself and Eowyn supposed to make certain that everything went as it should. Smoothly, orderly.
It was almost an hour after their arrival that most of the warriors that had fought the orcs arrived. There had been some casualties, and many more were wounded. Strider was not among them. Cordelen felt something like half smothered panic and denial, certain that he couldn't be dead, he had to still be alive, somehow. He was a hero, and heroes always made it, just like Buffy...
Cordelen was there when a single horse walked across the bridge, a figure collapsed on it's back. Not that impressive in terms of a triumphant homecoming, but bonus points for dramatic arrivals. It had to be Strider... and he was wounded. He joined the others in the care of the healers, and Cordelen, like her cousin, made a point of checking on him fairly often. Maybe there was a little bit of an attraction, okay, there was a definite attraction to him. But she was born to one of the highest families of Rohan, it wouldn't do to moon over him like a love-struck fool, especially with an army of impending doom getting closer by the minute.
She wasn't certain if it was a good thing or the most annoying event since her parents death that she was supposed to oversee the healers and emergency medics. It kept her out of the line of fire, but it meant htat her uncle would blame her if anyone decided to go back out and get shot at again while still injured. And of course, by 'anyone', she knew that would mean Strider... And probably close to half of the other guys, as well. The whole martyred hero thing was rather over done around here.
end part 1.
The less that Cordelen could possibly ever say about the horrendous battle, the better. Oh, the army of elves showing up to offer really attractive support with nice uniforms was good. The part where people stopped bickering over who's Grandpa drank more or stole a chicken or seduced Grandma was good, especially since it meant not hearing about gramps and who he did or didn't get down with.
The part where the hugest army of orcs imaginable had gathered outside, intending to obliterate them from existence? Very Bad. Especially the way they'd come so very close to succeeding... But they hadn't. The elven archers, with some help from the Rohan people, had been shooting orcs like crazy, even after the 'impregnable' wall had fallen. Strider and Gimli had held the bridge for a while, long enough for the cavalry to arrive - literally, led by a shining figure that had appeared to be a fragment of the dawn given form. Actually, that had been Gandalf, although she wondered just how much of a difference there really was...
They had been saved. They would live, and Rohan might be able to rebuild. Assuming that Sarumon and his orcs were defeated. Assuming that Sarus, no, that wasn't quite right, but the ancient dead-but-not-decently-gone evil was defeated, again. Assuming quite a lot, actually, but there really wasn't anything else that they could do to shape and direct that future. A portion of the army would go to help defend Gondor, which was the ancestral homeland of Strider, who also turned out to be called Aragorn, the rightful King of Gondor. Yes, that's right; Strider the scruffy yet cute ranger was the rightful King of somewhere. Not a little bit of nowhere that didn't matter, but a fabulous city with an ancient history, and still an impressive political and economic entity. The sort of place that it mattered who ran things.
And she had been watching him, Strider or Aragorn, or Dunnie-whatever that Legolas called him. He was so busy focusing on the right now, on the current crisis that he wasn't thinking ahead. He wasn't thinking about the next crisis, or the hopefully peaceful time after the crisis passed. Which could only mean two things - either he found someone else to help him plan for that, or he would never survive his first year on the throne. Fortunately for him, she knew all about organizing. Not much about being the inspirational leader that people would follow to hell and back, but all about organizing, and scheming politicians. That was why she was going with the army to Gondor.
Someone had to make sure his heroism didn't get him killed.
Of course, traveling with an army was not glamorous, or particularly comfortable, or even fast. But it was the entourage to beat all entourages, as long as she could keep herself in that mindset. Which she could generally manage for a few hours out of the day, when she wasn't caught up in managing things for this army. She was expected to marry some nobleman, to learn how to manage properties and hers and fields when her husband was out at war or patrolling, she needed to know these things. Especially if she managed to marry not a nobleman of Rohan, but the future king of Gondor. She had a few ambitions, maybe, but wasn't it good to have a goal in life?
Her first sight of the city of Gondor wasn't the best in the world. Yes, the white walls sparkled in the light, and rose up towards the sky majestically. But there were places where the stones had toppled, collapsed towers, scorched places, and this sort of feeling that hung over the city, of fear, panic, and despair. IT was a once glorious city besieged by foes that terrified them, an evil that they didn't understand and weren't certain how to defeat. Something about that seemed oddly familiar, as if she'd seen it before... But no, she would focus on how to erase the despair, how to keep everything organized, how to convince people that they could stay, rebuild, and restore the glory of Gondor.
Hey, just because she was a beautiful niece of a King didn't mean that she was going to count on stunning good looks alone to get what she wanted. No, she knew that there were many other beautiful women out there, probably dozens just in Gondor, any of which would love to marry the new King. Well, as soon as they won this war, he would be King, because if they lost, they'd all be dead anyhow. No, if she wanted to marry Aragorn, she'd best start now in showing him why she would be a better Queen than anyone else here. As far as plans went, it might work, and would certainly do her no harm if it didn't. She would still be useful, in a glorious city, and if Strider didn't think that she'd be wonderful, surely she could find someone else.
Naturally, they eventually won. It didn't look very likely for a while, especially not when these horrible Wraiths showed up on flying monsters. One day, there was just this... something, like a ripple through the world, and the Wraiths just fell apart, the dragon things went berserk, attacking the orc armies, who naturally panicked and began to scatter. This allowed the forces of good, the people of Gondor and Rohan, and a few scattered elves and dwarves to slaughter the orc armies. It was horribly messy, and there were casualties, but it was victory. They had won.
All that was left would be tending the wounded, burying the dead, and rebuilding the city, well, rebuilding a lot of places. They'd all been getting a lot of practice with healing and funerals lately.
end part 2.
The people of Gondor were actually a bit appreciative to have someone help organize. Not that they actually said so, but their Steward, the guy who had been the stand in for the King, the position of the real leader of the city for generations, well… He'd been one of the casualties. Of the two sons of that man, one of them had joined the Fellowship, and was either dead or far away being heroic, while the other was an officer in the Navy of Gondor, and had firmly stated that he did not feel ready to even attempt to run the city.
Faramir was actually rather cute. And he was a very good Navy man, with the respect of the common people and of the military. She'd found herself working with him in the rebuilding efforts. He'd been watching her, partly to figure out if she was trustworthy, and partly to make certain that she didn't miss things that would be important for Gondor. There were even a few times when he'd agreed to tell some of the craftsmen and nobles something, because they wouldn't listen to Cordelen of Rohan, something that seemed to amuse Faramir considerably.
He'd figured out her plan. How she'd somehow learned that there was a rightful King of Gondor, and that she would like to become the Queen. Pleasantly, he didn't have any serious objections, and felt that her plan of being useful and beneficial to the city would have more luck than simply being beautiful and noble-born. The more he thought about it, the more he seemed in favor of it. Especially since a King would mean that he didn't have to run the country as Steward.
Neither of them were quite prepared for the triumphant and dramatic return of Aragorn. He didn't come as Strider the Ranger, slipping in among the shadows, or as a weary and wounded soldier. No, he came in the splendor of a King, with the reforged sword, and the blessings of the elves and of Gandalf. This wasn't someone asking if he was welcome, this was a King coming home. Nobody could have tried to deny him in the moment of that return, and the fact that nobody tried it then effectively meant that the moment of opportunity was gone.
And of course, once everyone realized that they had a King, a handsome, heroic, single King, well… That was when the balls and the parties started. Noblemen trying to show off their lovely daughters, Master Craftsmen displaying pretty daughters and nieces and students, banquets and feasts and hunts galore. Cordelen had just sniffed, caught between amusement and indignation that only now did the rest of Gondor figure out what she'd already known. The King needed a bride, especially if they didn't want the royal family to die out.
And Aragorn was looking among the women, talking to them, asking questions. Their King did realize that he needed a wife, needed a family to carry on his family, to follow him on the throne. But he apparently hadn't found the right woman yet, not among the sheltered noblewomen, or the skilled crafters.
Cordelen was walking in the garden when she caught voices. Faramir's she recognized immediately, and then she realized that the other was Aragorn.
"So, you haven't picked a lady yet. No one in all of Gondor that you'd like for a wife?" Traces of amusement colored his words.
"It isn't the same. Before, all I would have needed was a woman that I liked, someone that I could build a home with, be happy with. But now… Everything is different." There was a hint of frustration, and a hint of weariness in his voice.
"Now, you must find someone that can not only be your wife and the mother of your children, but the Queen of your people as well." Faramir sounded calm.
"Yes. I don't simply need a wife, I need a Queen. Someone that can help me guide and protect the people of Gondor, not someone who can smile prettily, make tapestries, and dance gracefully. Not that there's anything wrong with smiling, dancing, or tapestries, but…" Aragorn sighed, and there was a noise, as if he'd sat on a bench. "I don't know enough to run a kingdom on my own. I need people that I can trust to help me. I can trust you with the Navy, but you don't know how to run a kingdom either."
"Why not look for a capable woman first, instead of someone merely lovely?" Faramir's voice sounded calm, entirely reasonable.
"A good suggestion." There was a pause, where the only sounds in the garden were singing birds, and the echoes of distant workers still rebuilding. "What about the Rohan princess? Cordelen, wasn't it? She was at Helmsdeep… Did she stay? I need someone that won't look down on my past as Strider."
"Who do you think has been organizing the city to rebuild? She's stayed, and has been residing here in the castle, in the sunrise tower. She's pretty, has a wonderful smile, dances fairly well… I have no idea if she can make a tapestry. But she has a powerful, influential family, marrying her would help relations with Rohan, and she's definitely capable of helping run a country. She almost seems to be running it now." Faramir sounded like he was trying not to smile.
"Really? Maybe she would make a good Queen…" Aragorn sounded thoughtful.
After perhaps a week, it seemed that his thoughts and her foresight paid off. Aragorn had spoken to her in the gardens, asking if she would be willing to stay here, in Gondor. If she might be willing to share his life and responsibilities, to marry him. He'd even offered her a flower when he asked.
Naturally, she accepted. This was what she'd been hoping would happen for a very long time. She would be the wife of Aragorn, marry the boldly almost foolishly heroic ranger, and be the Queen of Gondor. Oh, she definitely thought that she could handle that.
King Aragorn and Queen Cordelen enjoyed a long and prosperous rule over the kingdom of Gondor. The people loved them, and they had four wonderful children. She couldn't have asked for a better husband, or a more fulfilling life. Long live Queen C.
End Cordelia's Dream.
Author: Lucinda
rating: pg 13
main characters: Cordelia, Aragorn
disclaimer: I own nobody from BtVS, and nobody from Lord of the Rings
distribution: If you want it, ask. I'll probably say yes.
summary: Anya found a spell to allow Buffy, Cordelia & Willow dream themselves into the movie 'Lord of the Rings'. As this is a dream (Cordelia's Dream in specific) things will not follow the movie exactly, and there will be significant deviations.
It was odd, how aware she was that things had not always been like this. The fluttering feeling that all of this was nothing more than a dream, a dark reflection of reality that would vanish with the dawn. The hope, however feeble, that things in Rohan would get better.
But Cordelen knew better. This was Rohan, and it had been this darkly forbidding city since her uncle's decline had begun. She didn't know how it had happened, he was only a few years older than her mother, but King Theodan looked like an old man. He looked like a withered corpse, barely holding any life in his eyes, and less sense. It wasn't natural, and every time she saw him, it made her shiver.
Her cousins Eowyn and Eomer were the only friends that she had here, and Eowyn kept getting nervous around Grimma, the closest advisor to her uncle the King. He was a creepy little man, all sneaky and quiet and somehow greasy, and he would watch Eowyn. It was just... disturbing. But for today, Grimma was the least of Eowyn's worries. Eodan had been wounded in a boar hunt, and was laying unconscious in his room, his sister tending to him, and praying for his recovery. The healers were not so hopeful.
Cordelen went to bring Eowyn something to eat, and some cool cloths for Eodan's fever. The fever was more likely to kill him now than the wound was... infection, a tiny corner of her awareness whispered. Eowyn was sobbing, her head over her brother's chest, sounds of pure despair. She couldn't even finish the question, already certan of the answer. "Is he..."
She was aware of something moving in the doorway, glancing up to see Grimma scurrying away. "Let's go get a bit of fresh air... the healers... I'll take care of that."
Joining Eowyn on the ramparts, she realized that her cousin was staring at something. A trio of horses were approaching. The lead seemed to be an old man in a gray cloak, and there was another man close behind. The third horse was lagging a bit, and seemed to have two people, one slender person, the other short and stout. Somehow, she felt as if things were going to get better, as improbable as that seemed with the King a withered husk barely holding life and the heir to the land cooling on his deathbed.
But things did change. The old man in the cloak turned out to be Gandalf, a powerful wizard. He cast out some sort of evil thing that was possessing Theodan, and in the resulting mess, Grimma Wormtongue was banished from Rohan. While that was a change and cause for delight, the other major decision was less welcome. The riders, which had a dwarf, an elf - impossibly handsome and arrogant, and a rather striking man called Strider, as well as the wizard had brought terrible news. An army of orcs was headed towards Rohan, intent on obliterating everything in their path. Because of this, Theodan had ordered everyone to evacuate to Helmsdeep.
The trip was long, and exhausting, and they were attacked by orc scouts mounted on these evil hell wolf things. A group of the warriors went to fight them, while the rest of the people were supposed to flee to Helmsdeep, with herself and Eowyn supposed to make certain that everything went as it should. Smoothly, orderly.
It was almost an hour after their arrival that most of the warriors that had fought the orcs arrived. There had been some casualties, and many more were wounded. Strider was not among them. Cordelen felt something like half smothered panic and denial, certain that he couldn't be dead, he had to still be alive, somehow. He was a hero, and heroes always made it, just like Buffy...
Cordelen was there when a single horse walked across the bridge, a figure collapsed on it's back. Not that impressive in terms of a triumphant homecoming, but bonus points for dramatic arrivals. It had to be Strider... and he was wounded. He joined the others in the care of the healers, and Cordelen, like her cousin, made a point of checking on him fairly often. Maybe there was a little bit of an attraction, okay, there was a definite attraction to him. But she was born to one of the highest families of Rohan, it wouldn't do to moon over him like a love-struck fool, especially with an army of impending doom getting closer by the minute.
She wasn't certain if it was a good thing or the most annoying event since her parents death that she was supposed to oversee the healers and emergency medics. It kept her out of the line of fire, but it meant htat her uncle would blame her if anyone decided to go back out and get shot at again while still injured. And of course, by 'anyone', she knew that would mean Strider... And probably close to half of the other guys, as well. The whole martyred hero thing was rather over done around here.
end part 1.
The less that Cordelen could possibly ever say about the horrendous battle, the better. Oh, the army of elves showing up to offer really attractive support with nice uniforms was good. The part where people stopped bickering over who's Grandpa drank more or stole a chicken or seduced Grandma was good, especially since it meant not hearing about gramps and who he did or didn't get down with.
The part where the hugest army of orcs imaginable had gathered outside, intending to obliterate them from existence? Very Bad. Especially the way they'd come so very close to succeeding... But they hadn't. The elven archers, with some help from the Rohan people, had been shooting orcs like crazy, even after the 'impregnable' wall had fallen. Strider and Gimli had held the bridge for a while, long enough for the cavalry to arrive - literally, led by a shining figure that had appeared to be a fragment of the dawn given form. Actually, that had been Gandalf, although she wondered just how much of a difference there really was...
They had been saved. They would live, and Rohan might be able to rebuild. Assuming that Sarumon and his orcs were defeated. Assuming that Sarus, no, that wasn't quite right, but the ancient dead-but-not-decently-gone evil was defeated, again. Assuming quite a lot, actually, but there really wasn't anything else that they could do to shape and direct that future. A portion of the army would go to help defend Gondor, which was the ancestral homeland of Strider, who also turned out to be called Aragorn, the rightful King of Gondor. Yes, that's right; Strider the scruffy yet cute ranger was the rightful King of somewhere. Not a little bit of nowhere that didn't matter, but a fabulous city with an ancient history, and still an impressive political and economic entity. The sort of place that it mattered who ran things.
And she had been watching him, Strider or Aragorn, or Dunnie-whatever that Legolas called him. He was so busy focusing on the right now, on the current crisis that he wasn't thinking ahead. He wasn't thinking about the next crisis, or the hopefully peaceful time after the crisis passed. Which could only mean two things - either he found someone else to help him plan for that, or he would never survive his first year on the throne. Fortunately for him, she knew all about organizing. Not much about being the inspirational leader that people would follow to hell and back, but all about organizing, and scheming politicians. That was why she was going with the army to Gondor.
Someone had to make sure his heroism didn't get him killed.
Of course, traveling with an army was not glamorous, or particularly comfortable, or even fast. But it was the entourage to beat all entourages, as long as she could keep herself in that mindset. Which she could generally manage for a few hours out of the day, when she wasn't caught up in managing things for this army. She was expected to marry some nobleman, to learn how to manage properties and hers and fields when her husband was out at war or patrolling, she needed to know these things. Especially if she managed to marry not a nobleman of Rohan, but the future king of Gondor. She had a few ambitions, maybe, but wasn't it good to have a goal in life?
Her first sight of the city of Gondor wasn't the best in the world. Yes, the white walls sparkled in the light, and rose up towards the sky majestically. But there were places where the stones had toppled, collapsed towers, scorched places, and this sort of feeling that hung over the city, of fear, panic, and despair. IT was a once glorious city besieged by foes that terrified them, an evil that they didn't understand and weren't certain how to defeat. Something about that seemed oddly familiar, as if she'd seen it before... But no, she would focus on how to erase the despair, how to keep everything organized, how to convince people that they could stay, rebuild, and restore the glory of Gondor.
Hey, just because she was a beautiful niece of a King didn't mean that she was going to count on stunning good looks alone to get what she wanted. No, she knew that there were many other beautiful women out there, probably dozens just in Gondor, any of which would love to marry the new King. Well, as soon as they won this war, he would be King, because if they lost, they'd all be dead anyhow. No, if she wanted to marry Aragorn, she'd best start now in showing him why she would be a better Queen than anyone else here. As far as plans went, it might work, and would certainly do her no harm if it didn't. She would still be useful, in a glorious city, and if Strider didn't think that she'd be wonderful, surely she could find someone else.
Naturally, they eventually won. It didn't look very likely for a while, especially not when these horrible Wraiths showed up on flying monsters. One day, there was just this... something, like a ripple through the world, and the Wraiths just fell apart, the dragon things went berserk, attacking the orc armies, who naturally panicked and began to scatter. This allowed the forces of good, the people of Gondor and Rohan, and a few scattered elves and dwarves to slaughter the orc armies. It was horribly messy, and there were casualties, but it was victory. They had won.
All that was left would be tending the wounded, burying the dead, and rebuilding the city, well, rebuilding a lot of places. They'd all been getting a lot of practice with healing and funerals lately.
end part 2.
The people of Gondor were actually a bit appreciative to have someone help organize. Not that they actually said so, but their Steward, the guy who had been the stand in for the King, the position of the real leader of the city for generations, well… He'd been one of the casualties. Of the two sons of that man, one of them had joined the Fellowship, and was either dead or far away being heroic, while the other was an officer in the Navy of Gondor, and had firmly stated that he did not feel ready to even attempt to run the city.
Faramir was actually rather cute. And he was a very good Navy man, with the respect of the common people and of the military. She'd found herself working with him in the rebuilding efforts. He'd been watching her, partly to figure out if she was trustworthy, and partly to make certain that she didn't miss things that would be important for Gondor. There were even a few times when he'd agreed to tell some of the craftsmen and nobles something, because they wouldn't listen to Cordelen of Rohan, something that seemed to amuse Faramir considerably.
He'd figured out her plan. How she'd somehow learned that there was a rightful King of Gondor, and that she would like to become the Queen. Pleasantly, he didn't have any serious objections, and felt that her plan of being useful and beneficial to the city would have more luck than simply being beautiful and noble-born. The more he thought about it, the more he seemed in favor of it. Especially since a King would mean that he didn't have to run the country as Steward.
Neither of them were quite prepared for the triumphant and dramatic return of Aragorn. He didn't come as Strider the Ranger, slipping in among the shadows, or as a weary and wounded soldier. No, he came in the splendor of a King, with the reforged sword, and the blessings of the elves and of Gandalf. This wasn't someone asking if he was welcome, this was a King coming home. Nobody could have tried to deny him in the moment of that return, and the fact that nobody tried it then effectively meant that the moment of opportunity was gone.
And of course, once everyone realized that they had a King, a handsome, heroic, single King, well… That was when the balls and the parties started. Noblemen trying to show off their lovely daughters, Master Craftsmen displaying pretty daughters and nieces and students, banquets and feasts and hunts galore. Cordelen had just sniffed, caught between amusement and indignation that only now did the rest of Gondor figure out what she'd already known. The King needed a bride, especially if they didn't want the royal family to die out.
And Aragorn was looking among the women, talking to them, asking questions. Their King did realize that he needed a wife, needed a family to carry on his family, to follow him on the throne. But he apparently hadn't found the right woman yet, not among the sheltered noblewomen, or the skilled crafters.
Cordelen was walking in the garden when she caught voices. Faramir's she recognized immediately, and then she realized that the other was Aragorn.
"So, you haven't picked a lady yet. No one in all of Gondor that you'd like for a wife?" Traces of amusement colored his words.
"It isn't the same. Before, all I would have needed was a woman that I liked, someone that I could build a home with, be happy with. But now… Everything is different." There was a hint of frustration, and a hint of weariness in his voice.
"Now, you must find someone that can not only be your wife and the mother of your children, but the Queen of your people as well." Faramir sounded calm.
"Yes. I don't simply need a wife, I need a Queen. Someone that can help me guide and protect the people of Gondor, not someone who can smile prettily, make tapestries, and dance gracefully. Not that there's anything wrong with smiling, dancing, or tapestries, but…" Aragorn sighed, and there was a noise, as if he'd sat on a bench. "I don't know enough to run a kingdom on my own. I need people that I can trust to help me. I can trust you with the Navy, but you don't know how to run a kingdom either."
"Why not look for a capable woman first, instead of someone merely lovely?" Faramir's voice sounded calm, entirely reasonable.
"A good suggestion." There was a pause, where the only sounds in the garden were singing birds, and the echoes of distant workers still rebuilding. "What about the Rohan princess? Cordelen, wasn't it? She was at Helmsdeep… Did she stay? I need someone that won't look down on my past as Strider."
"Who do you think has been organizing the city to rebuild? She's stayed, and has been residing here in the castle, in the sunrise tower. She's pretty, has a wonderful smile, dances fairly well… I have no idea if she can make a tapestry. But she has a powerful, influential family, marrying her would help relations with Rohan, and she's definitely capable of helping run a country. She almost seems to be running it now." Faramir sounded like he was trying not to smile.
"Really? Maybe she would make a good Queen…" Aragorn sounded thoughtful.
After perhaps a week, it seemed that his thoughts and her foresight paid off. Aragorn had spoken to her in the gardens, asking if she would be willing to stay here, in Gondor. If she might be willing to share his life and responsibilities, to marry him. He'd even offered her a flower when he asked.
Naturally, she accepted. This was what she'd been hoping would happen for a very long time. She would be the wife of Aragorn, marry the boldly almost foolishly heroic ranger, and be the Queen of Gondor. Oh, she definitely thought that she could handle that.
King Aragorn and Queen Cordelen enjoyed a long and prosperous rule over the kingdom of Gondor. The people loved them, and they had four wonderful children. She couldn't have asked for a better husband, or a more fulfilling life. Long live Queen C.
End Cordelia's Dream.