Love and Memory
Aragorn laid his head back, taking deep and even breaths. Soon he must go before the assembled great of Gondor and give a funeral oration for Éowyn. He had no love for the task, but it was his duty. His duty must be done, no matter how bitter a weight it seemed.
How many times had he sat in this library with Éowyn? How many hours had they spent talking of all that mattered, and much that did not? He wondered how he could even begin to sum up what she had meant to him, what part she had played in his life, for all words seemed too small.
He remembered.
* * *
It was late evening, and he and Faramir were reviewing a trade agreement together when a messenger called for the King and the Prince urgently. He came from Emyn Arnen. An army of Harad was attacking the settlement, and Éowyn had sent out riders.
Aragorn had never seen his Steward so close to a complete loss of composure. Faramir had blanched, leaning heavily against his chair, as the messenger continued, "My lord Steward, there is worse. They are seeking the White Lady." Aragorn questioned harshly, "Where is she?"
The messenger's voice shook, "She defends the children with a few others in the refuge. She is too heavy with child to do more. The Haradrim asked us to give her up, but her people would not." Aragorn asked, "How many?". The young man met his eyes, "A thousand at least, perhaps more. The White Lady told me to say that this is no Helm's Deep. She does not know how long they can be held off. She sent a rider to the elves as well - he would have reached them already, I had to go around for many leagues."
Aragorn nodded to his Steward, "We will call out the guard,", speaking to the messenger, "Word must be sent to Rohan. See to it.". Together the two men left the messenger behind, Faramir's face set. His people, his children and his wife were under attack, and he was miles away - Aragorn could not imagine what he felt.
When they reached Emyn Arnen the elves had already swept to its defence, and the guard of Gondor did little but help in the clean-up. When the tide had finally turned, and the remnants of the Haradrim were in flight, Beregond and Legolas approached the Steward and the King. Faramir's face was eerily reminiscent of that of Denethor. When the captain of the White Company spoke it was with a heavy weighted tone Aragorn had never heard him use, "My lord the invaders are beaten back. Casualties are minimal. Your children are safe."
Faramir looked at him carefully, "And what of my wife? Does she live still? Tell me now!". Legolas put a hand on Faramir's shoulder, "I got there too late my friend. Eowyn lives, but she lost the child. She was delivered of a dead son and lies now in a fever - the healers can do nothing."
Faramir stood stock-still, his eyes fixed on the point where his home burned. His hands shook by his sides, and a tear fell from his eye. Legolas gripped Aragorn's elbow and said urgently, "Estel! The healers said that perhaps you could save her. But it must be quick!"
Two children ran to Faramir - Elboron and Morwen. He held them close, as the eight year old Elboron said, "Where's mother? We can't find her. Father?". Morwen simply buried her head in her father's shoulder.
Aragorn felt fury race through him. After all they had fought for, after all the strain and effort and heartbreaking work of the last twelve years, Ithilien burned. He would not allow it. He would not allow these children to be orphaned - they had all lost enough, it would not stand. He walked to his friend and said, "I am going to her. I make no promises, but what can be done I will do."
Faramir nodded, holding Morwen's soft shoulders tightly, his hand smoothing Elboron's hair. He spoke softly, "We will be waiting."
Aragorn had laboured for many hours in the sickroom, calling Éowyn forth from the darkness. When at last she awoke she had looked at him with frightened eyes, "Am I going to die?". He had stroked her cheek gently, "No Éowyn, I swear it." His heart was in his voice, and yet her face crumpled. Her voice was little more than a rasp as she gasped, "Aragorn, where is my baby?". His heart breaking with each word he said, "He is lost Éowyn."
She was too tired to do anything but accept his words, and she gasped anew, "And the children?". He smoothed a lock of her hair "They live. Faramir is waiting.". She had battled the fever, and had exhausted all her strength to say those few words, "Tell him I will return." Her head fell back on the pillow, and she slipped into sleep. Those were the last words she was able to say for almost two days.
When she awoke she requested that they name the babe Mardil. When Legolas asked her why, she said softly, "He gave his all for Gondor. At the least he deserves a name, and I would have it one that would honour that sacrifice." For many weeks she was too weak to move, and she would barely speak. There was a dreadful bruise hidden in her eyes, and Aragorn was inevitablely reminded of the Shieldmaiden of Rohan. He had never wanted to see her as she had been, and his fury was intensified.
But it was only when the reason for the attack was discerned that he felt the full weight of his anger. Arwen had put it most clearly, "She is sister to the King of Rohan, wife to the Steward of Gondor, niece to the lord of Dol Amroth, and the world knows of your friendship by now Estel." It had been a warning - if Gondor attacked Harad, the retaliation would hit those whose loss would be most devastating - wives, mothers, sisters - not the men of war. Aragorn would not let them destroy his renewed kingdom - they had brought war on their country. And all the free nations of the West would join him.
* * *
He tightened his collar, and stood. Arwen came to walk beside him, and they made their way to where the procession started. At its head were Faramir and his three children. Elboron held a hand out to his father, but Faramir walked straight and tall, his eyes fixed on the bier.
Arwen clutched white flowers in her hand, and tears flowed down her cheeks. Aragorn felt her hand clutching his throughout the service. Finally the time came when he stood forward. Hardly knowing what he said he started. At first he mentioned the long years of loyal service Éowyn had given his kingdom, the successes she had nurtured into being, but finally he spoke from the heart, "Éowyn was possibly the bravest woman I ever knew. She led without seeking to lead, she inspired others unknowing. I have known her all her life, and I can say truthfully that I never knew a truer friend, or a more loyal servant. Her courage, her strength always inspired me to do more, to be more, because she, she deserved nothing less from her King. But she was also my friend, my sister - her heart was full of love, of kindness, warming all who came near. I cannot imagine life without that heart."
He pulled Arwen's hand close to him, and hung on to it till the end. Finally all words were spoken. A stone slab was slowly slid over the grave. Arwen laid the white flowers on it, and let out a strangled sob. Faramir stared at the grave for many minutes, until his daughter took his hand and drew him into the warmth. Aragorn wiped the damp from his cheek, and walked back to the palace. He would be King.
Kathryn Angelle: My screen name comes from the character of Fionnabhair, daughter of Méabh and Ailil in the Ulster Cycle of the great Irish sagas (yeah it's pretty obscure). She was a druidess and her name means 'Fair eyebrows'. The name 'In The Forests of The Night', came from my head really - I just thoiught it sounded right, but I probably remembered from the William Blake poem The Tyger
Aragorn laid his head back, taking deep and even breaths. Soon he must go before the assembled great of Gondor and give a funeral oration for Éowyn. He had no love for the task, but it was his duty. His duty must be done, no matter how bitter a weight it seemed.
How many times had he sat in this library with Éowyn? How many hours had they spent talking of all that mattered, and much that did not? He wondered how he could even begin to sum up what she had meant to him, what part she had played in his life, for all words seemed too small.
He remembered.
* * *
It was late evening, and he and Faramir were reviewing a trade agreement together when a messenger called for the King and the Prince urgently. He came from Emyn Arnen. An army of Harad was attacking the settlement, and Éowyn had sent out riders.
Aragorn had never seen his Steward so close to a complete loss of composure. Faramir had blanched, leaning heavily against his chair, as the messenger continued, "My lord Steward, there is worse. They are seeking the White Lady." Aragorn questioned harshly, "Where is she?"
The messenger's voice shook, "She defends the children with a few others in the refuge. She is too heavy with child to do more. The Haradrim asked us to give her up, but her people would not." Aragorn asked, "How many?". The young man met his eyes, "A thousand at least, perhaps more. The White Lady told me to say that this is no Helm's Deep. She does not know how long they can be held off. She sent a rider to the elves as well - he would have reached them already, I had to go around for many leagues."
Aragorn nodded to his Steward, "We will call out the guard,", speaking to the messenger, "Word must be sent to Rohan. See to it.". Together the two men left the messenger behind, Faramir's face set. His people, his children and his wife were under attack, and he was miles away - Aragorn could not imagine what he felt.
When they reached Emyn Arnen the elves had already swept to its defence, and the guard of Gondor did little but help in the clean-up. When the tide had finally turned, and the remnants of the Haradrim were in flight, Beregond and Legolas approached the Steward and the King. Faramir's face was eerily reminiscent of that of Denethor. When the captain of the White Company spoke it was with a heavy weighted tone Aragorn had never heard him use, "My lord the invaders are beaten back. Casualties are minimal. Your children are safe."
Faramir looked at him carefully, "And what of my wife? Does she live still? Tell me now!". Legolas put a hand on Faramir's shoulder, "I got there too late my friend. Eowyn lives, but she lost the child. She was delivered of a dead son and lies now in a fever - the healers can do nothing."
Faramir stood stock-still, his eyes fixed on the point where his home burned. His hands shook by his sides, and a tear fell from his eye. Legolas gripped Aragorn's elbow and said urgently, "Estel! The healers said that perhaps you could save her. But it must be quick!"
Two children ran to Faramir - Elboron and Morwen. He held them close, as the eight year old Elboron said, "Where's mother? We can't find her. Father?". Morwen simply buried her head in her father's shoulder.
Aragorn felt fury race through him. After all they had fought for, after all the strain and effort and heartbreaking work of the last twelve years, Ithilien burned. He would not allow it. He would not allow these children to be orphaned - they had all lost enough, it would not stand. He walked to his friend and said, "I am going to her. I make no promises, but what can be done I will do."
Faramir nodded, holding Morwen's soft shoulders tightly, his hand smoothing Elboron's hair. He spoke softly, "We will be waiting."
Aragorn had laboured for many hours in the sickroom, calling Éowyn forth from the darkness. When at last she awoke she had looked at him with frightened eyes, "Am I going to die?". He had stroked her cheek gently, "No Éowyn, I swear it." His heart was in his voice, and yet her face crumpled. Her voice was little more than a rasp as she gasped, "Aragorn, where is my baby?". His heart breaking with each word he said, "He is lost Éowyn."
She was too tired to do anything but accept his words, and she gasped anew, "And the children?". He smoothed a lock of her hair "They live. Faramir is waiting.". She had battled the fever, and had exhausted all her strength to say those few words, "Tell him I will return." Her head fell back on the pillow, and she slipped into sleep. Those were the last words she was able to say for almost two days.
When she awoke she requested that they name the babe Mardil. When Legolas asked her why, she said softly, "He gave his all for Gondor. At the least he deserves a name, and I would have it one that would honour that sacrifice." For many weeks she was too weak to move, and she would barely speak. There was a dreadful bruise hidden in her eyes, and Aragorn was inevitablely reminded of the Shieldmaiden of Rohan. He had never wanted to see her as she had been, and his fury was intensified.
But it was only when the reason for the attack was discerned that he felt the full weight of his anger. Arwen had put it most clearly, "She is sister to the King of Rohan, wife to the Steward of Gondor, niece to the lord of Dol Amroth, and the world knows of your friendship by now Estel." It had been a warning - if Gondor attacked Harad, the retaliation would hit those whose loss would be most devastating - wives, mothers, sisters - not the men of war. Aragorn would not let them destroy his renewed kingdom - they had brought war on their country. And all the free nations of the West would join him.
* * *
He tightened his collar, and stood. Arwen came to walk beside him, and they made their way to where the procession started. At its head were Faramir and his three children. Elboron held a hand out to his father, but Faramir walked straight and tall, his eyes fixed on the bier.
Arwen clutched white flowers in her hand, and tears flowed down her cheeks. Aragorn felt her hand clutching his throughout the service. Finally the time came when he stood forward. Hardly knowing what he said he started. At first he mentioned the long years of loyal service Éowyn had given his kingdom, the successes she had nurtured into being, but finally he spoke from the heart, "Éowyn was possibly the bravest woman I ever knew. She led without seeking to lead, she inspired others unknowing. I have known her all her life, and I can say truthfully that I never knew a truer friend, or a more loyal servant. Her courage, her strength always inspired me to do more, to be more, because she, she deserved nothing less from her King. But she was also my friend, my sister - her heart was full of love, of kindness, warming all who came near. I cannot imagine life without that heart."
He pulled Arwen's hand close to him, and hung on to it till the end. Finally all words were spoken. A stone slab was slowly slid over the grave. Arwen laid the white flowers on it, and let out a strangled sob. Faramir stared at the grave for many minutes, until his daughter took his hand and drew him into the warmth. Aragorn wiped the damp from his cheek, and walked back to the palace. He would be King.
Kathryn Angelle: My screen name comes from the character of Fionnabhair, daughter of Méabh and Ailil in the Ulster Cycle of the great Irish sagas (yeah it's pretty obscure). She was a druidess and her name means 'Fair eyebrows'. The name 'In The Forests of The Night', came from my head really - I just thoiught it sounded right, but I probably remembered from the William Blake poem The Tyger