Aragorn slept soundly most nights now. It was the age that was creeping
into his bones with a speed that made Arwen nervous. She pulled the thin
nightdress around her shoulders and slipped out onto the balcony and took a
deep breath. The night air was cold on her skin and it made her shiver
slightly. Minas Tirith below was dark and Arwen couldn't see a soul walking
the black streets. Everyone in Gondor was asleep.
Except for Arwen.
She alone sat on the edge of the balcony looking up at the stars. There was a horrible nervousness in her stomach and she thought she knew what it was. She closed her eyes slowly and took a breath, icy air filling her lungs. Aragorn was dying. It was nothing that Arwen could halt even if she tried. His time was coming upon him and soon he would pass away, nothing but a memory among his people.
How many times had she sat across from him and noticed that his movements where slower? How many times had he kissed and with thinning lips, breathing his own death into her? For that was how it felt. She knew that once he died she would soon follow. Death followed the both of them.
She rubbed her arms slowly, half to keep warm and half as some sort of comfort to herself. She didn't admit it to her husband, but she was lonely here. She loved Aragorn more deeply than anything, but still she felt alone. The last of her kin had crossed the seas, and she was sundered from them for all eternity. Never again would she see her father or brothers.
The tears the slipped down her cheeks made her colder and she brushed them away with delicate hands. She looked up once more, and her eyes found that familiar bright point in the velvet sky. A star that even the bright full moon could not dim. She focussed on it and took a deep breath. If only there had been an easier way. A way she could have kept it all.
She had told Aragorn that she did not fear death, but she had lied. The very thought of it chilled her. What would it be like? How would it happen? She, unlike the men that surrounded her, had never known death. She had never lost anything she loved to it. Even the death of the Lady Eowyn, which shook Aragorn deeply, had no effect on Arwen. Still she found herself wondering how they could not just get up again and once more be alive. The thought that she did not understand this thing made her even more afraid. She was accustomed to understanding things.
The wind whipped past, catching her sable hair, and she turned her head from it. Slowly she stood, as if the weight of thought lay too heavy on her, and walked back into the bedroom. Aragorn lay in the dark, his breathing quiet and even. Arwen took her place beside him, laying her head on his chest. He stirred "Arwen." he whispered sleepily.
She smiled softly. "Sleep."
Aragorn moved and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. She kept her head on his chest, his heavy heartbeat reassuring her. Moonlight streamed through the window, painting the King and his Elvish Queen with silver.
Except for Arwen.
She alone sat on the edge of the balcony looking up at the stars. There was a horrible nervousness in her stomach and she thought she knew what it was. She closed her eyes slowly and took a breath, icy air filling her lungs. Aragorn was dying. It was nothing that Arwen could halt even if she tried. His time was coming upon him and soon he would pass away, nothing but a memory among his people.
How many times had she sat across from him and noticed that his movements where slower? How many times had he kissed and with thinning lips, breathing his own death into her? For that was how it felt. She knew that once he died she would soon follow. Death followed the both of them.
She rubbed her arms slowly, half to keep warm and half as some sort of comfort to herself. She didn't admit it to her husband, but she was lonely here. She loved Aragorn more deeply than anything, but still she felt alone. The last of her kin had crossed the seas, and she was sundered from them for all eternity. Never again would she see her father or brothers.
The tears the slipped down her cheeks made her colder and she brushed them away with delicate hands. She looked up once more, and her eyes found that familiar bright point in the velvet sky. A star that even the bright full moon could not dim. She focussed on it and took a deep breath. If only there had been an easier way. A way she could have kept it all.
She had told Aragorn that she did not fear death, but she had lied. The very thought of it chilled her. What would it be like? How would it happen? She, unlike the men that surrounded her, had never known death. She had never lost anything she loved to it. Even the death of the Lady Eowyn, which shook Aragorn deeply, had no effect on Arwen. Still she found herself wondering how they could not just get up again and once more be alive. The thought that she did not understand this thing made her even more afraid. She was accustomed to understanding things.
The wind whipped past, catching her sable hair, and she turned her head from it. Slowly she stood, as if the weight of thought lay too heavy on her, and walked back into the bedroom. Aragorn lay in the dark, his breathing quiet and even. Arwen took her place beside him, laying her head on his chest. He stirred "Arwen." he whispered sleepily.
She smiled softly. "Sleep."
Aragorn moved and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. She kept her head on his chest, his heavy heartbeat reassuring her. Moonlight streamed through the window, painting the King and his Elvish Queen with silver.