Aragorn's Sorrow
By EmptyWord
Author's Notes: Thank you, thank you, thank you to those who reviewed! It really encourages me to continue writing! And of course, thanks to Iska Anoron, for without her, this chapter would not be up so soon. (Yes, I'm a rather lazy person)
Anyway, this chapter consists mostly of reminiscences by all parties (which means Heled, Arwen, and Aragorn). A lot of thinking going on!
Pairing: Aragorn/Arwen (Heled NOT included!)
Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings is the property of John Ronald Reuel Tolkein, Christopher Tolkein, Allen & Unwin, Ballantine Books, Houghton-Mifflin, and innumerable others. My name does not appear anywhere on the list. No monetary profit is intended in the writing of this story.
Chapter Four: Turbulent Emotions
Hours passed by, yet Aragorn did not even think of leaving the comforting darkness of his room. Here was his sanctuary, where he could mull over everything and not be prodded into reality to deal with reality's pains. He was not yet ready to face the world. Perhaps he would never be ready. Life was so hard that, at times, one just wanted to give up.
Aragorn's eyes stared emptily into space. Over the previous hours, he had done nothing but think of Arwen, Arwen and her pledge of love to the Elf, Heled. He did not understand. Why? This one question repeated itself in his mind. Why did Arwen choose Heled over him? Why did Arwen not love him? Why had she abandoned him without an explanation? Why had she pretended to love him back? Why did fate curse him to love Arwen, this beautiful lady who was so far above him that no matter what he did, he could never reach her?
Grief wrenched at his heart. For when it came to the basis of it all, he had done everything he could to reach her and it had not been enough. Not only had he given her his heart and his love, he had given his life as well. She was the one who he had done everything for. She was the one he had given all for. True, he had loved his mother and his foster father. He wanted to please Gilraen and Elrond, but even they could not force him to take his rightful place as the heir of Gondor. He loved the simple life too much. Yet, he had loved Arwen more. For her, he had thrown away his tranquil life with the Elves. He had gone on countless journeys and fought series of battles. He had traveled to the ends of Middle Earth and back. He had even agreed to become king, to sit on the throne and have endless power and responsibility upon his shoulders, his most dreaded fear. All this he had willingly done, in an effort to prove himself and his love to Arwen.
Aragorn clung to her as a lifeline. Everything he did had been for her, because of her. She was the one who sustained him. The thought of her finally in his arms had kept him going all these years past. And now... Aragorn trembled violently. Now, he had lost her, his lifeline.
Despite all he had done, it had not been enough. How often had he stretched out to clasp the star in his hands! And how often had he fallen short. He was not enough, had never been enough, would never be enough. The Evenstar was the brightest, outshining all others, and no one could compare, least of all, Aragorn. He would not suffice.
Stiffly, Aragorn stood. When he stood, it was as a changed man. His eyes no longer held that piercing gray light. Instead, there was a gleam of determination. His countenance was no longer proud and calm. It was the bearing of a man who had suffered endless pain but had come to terms with himself. Mystery had left his aura. The shadow around him suggested only nobility. Aragorn's heart still lay on the ground, rendered to pieces, to the point of no recovery. But he wasn't going to give in to life or death without a fight. He had not been born on the earth only to eventually waste away. There was one thing Aragorn had not lost when he lost Arwen along with everything else. He had not lost his duty. Now that he was the crowned king of Gondor, he could not just leave it. There were people who needed him and he did owe them that much as their king.
When Elrond knocked on the door to call him to the banquet, Aragorn was through with self-pity. He opened the door to the world, facing it with courage. When it came to Aragorn son of Arathorn, the blood of Numenor ran true.
Arwen's steps were light upon the hard marble of the halls. Her pace was agonizingly slow. She gazed, wide-eyed, at the place where she and Aragorn had once sat down and pored over the histories of Elves together. Her whole being stopped, suspended in time. Such fair times they had spent together! Arwen sighed softly, continuing her slow progress to the Dining Hall.
The look of abject misery in Aragorn's eyes as he fled printed itself in her mind. What pain he had been suffering! Arwen bowed her head, tears threatening to overflow. What could have pained him like that? Not her, surely! Not her meeting with Heled! Yet, the look on his face when he stared at her, that look of shock and utter horror... Could it be that he still cared? Was he indeed hurt because of her new alliance with Heled?
If he was, then his pain was her fault. She lost her battle with the tears. They spilled over her cheeks and splashed to the floor, leaving wet splotches on the clean marble.
The large, brown doors to the Dining Hall were just ahead of her. Dare she open those doors and face...face what she might have been the cause of? Dare she look upon the fallen features of Aragorn again?
Arwen wiped her tears away. She straightened herself and took a breath. If she was the one who had this mess, the least she could do was face it. If it wasn't her fault, then she had nothing to fear. Her fingers and heart trembling slightly, she pushed open the door.
The Dining Hall was glorious to say the least. There was a taste of Rivendell to it. The spacious hall held an exquisite beauty, a subtle hint of splendor beyond comprehension. Akin to the smooth, but swift white rivers out in the valley, the room was simply decorated. No added ornaments could enhance the majesty of the room. Just as the calm river waters could surge into a furious, irrepressible flood, so the hall could drop its veil and flare up with magnificence. Yet, like the mists that hung over Rivendell in the early mornings, the room also evoked mystery. Its beauty was molded from the hearts of the Elves that dwelt there. However the Elves felt when they entered the Dining Hall would be its tone.
Today, there was a golden glow cast about the room, not merely from the elegantly carved lamps and candles, but as though an enchantment of happiness had been laid. Every Elf talked and laughed with his or her neighbor and the atmosphere was complete with merriment.
Heled gazed cheerily around the hall, unperturbed by the fact that this banquet was being held for Aragorn, the one person he hated. After all, Aragorn had just been deeply wounded and would not be enjoying this celebration. Rather, he would be in pieces, bitter and self-pitying, not good company for the Elves. He probably wouldn't even attend, all for the best of course.
The door to the hall swung open, admitting Lord Elrond. As the master of Rivendell entered, the chatter died to a respectful silence. Elrond smiled slightly, inclined his head to the gathering of Elves, and walked serenely towards the head of the large, wooden dining table. Following behind him was a tall Man clad in the splendid garments of the Elves.
Shock whizzed through Heled's being. He gaped, speechless, at Aragorn, who was calm and dignified, the very image of a noble king. Quickly gathering his composure, Heled went to seat himself beside some other Elves. He was still disbelieving, however, and constantly glanced up at Aragorn to make sure he wasn't imagining anything. His eyes narrowed as he saw Aragorn easily strike up a conversation with a familiar Elf sitting next to him. This was not going to do! Had Aragorn not loved Arwen as much as everyone was led to believe?
Heled was jerked from his thoughts when the door opened again. This time, the Lady Undomiel stood in the doorway. All heads turned to greet their most beloved lady, the Evenstar of the Elves.
Arwen bowed her head slightly to the Elves and proceeded to the table. Once there, she gracefully seated herself beside her father, murmuring an apology for being late.
Elrond passed off her apology with a loving smile. Slowly, he stood, towering over the table like a majestic mountain demanding attention. Again, the hall fell silent.
"Friends and families of Rivendell," Elrond began, his voice steady and clear. "Tonight, we hold a celebration. We have had many celebrations in the past and this is not the least of them. For this banquet is held in honor of a Man who grew up in Rivendell, suffered endless pains and troubles, and is now returned to us. I am delighted to receive him for I raised him with my own hands. 'Estel' we called him once, and indeed, he was our hope during those dark days. His story is long and weary, a tale of journeys that he willingly took as no one else would. However, it is not my place to tell it. I will only say that tonight, in this celebration, we welcome him, the king of Men!" He smiled at Aragorn, who sat on his other side.
Elrond seated himself amid a torrent of applause.
"Aaye, Halan en'Gondor! (Hail, King of Gondor!)" one Elf cried out, standing up to hold out a goblet of wine towards Aragorn. "Cormamin lindua ele lle (My heart sings to see thee)."
The other Elves followed his example, each standing up and greeting the King Elessar with love or praising him for his great deeds. When it came to Heled, he did not stand up, nor did he hold out his glass of wine to Aragorn. His lips curled into what might have passed for a smile had it not looked so much like a sneer. With a hint of sarcasm in his voice, he said, "Most delighted at your return, Aragorn."
Aragorn stared hard at Heled, recognizing him as the Elf Arwen loved. His heart twisted slightly at the thought, but his expression remained impassive. As he continued to stare at the golden-haired Elf, he felt a twinge of familiarity. Puzzled, he watched Heled, and slowly, recognition dawned on him.
Forty years or so ago, while Aragorn had still been in his childhood, the two sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, had returned home one day with an unconscious Elf. When this Elf awoke, he could not remember anything of his past life, apparently having struck his head and lost his memory. The Lord Elrond pitied him and allowed him free rein to the mystical Elven valley of Rivendell. He was named Heled, after a golden-haired scholar in children's tales. Thus, he lived among all the other dark-haired Elves, a ray of light amidst darkness. While all the other Elves were solemn and wise, Heled was clever and vivacious. There'd always be a smile on his face despite any problems. Only one person had ever drawn his scorn and sneer. That one was Aragorn, the Man called "Estel" by the Elves. No one had ever quite understood Heled's hatred for Aragorn, least of all, Aragorn himself. Aragorn had always wondered what he had ever done to spite the golden Elf. He now had an inkling of an idea... Perhaps Heled had been jealous of the love Aragorn and Arwen had shared.
Of course, that was hardly a problem anymore, Aragorn thought gloomily. Arwen now belonged to Heled and Heled would not be jealous anymore. Now, Aragorn would be the one left on the sideline to watch and grieve.
Instinctively, Aragorn raised his head to look for the Lady Arwen, on the other side of Lord Elrond. His eyes found her beautiful, radiant form easily. She sat openly, chatting freely with a fellow dark-haired Elf maiden, a stunning smile gracing her full, red lips. Aragorn's heart clenched sharply at the sight and he quickly looked away. He could not afford to lose himself again. If he did, he might never recover. Resolutely, his expression hardened to one of polite reserve, and he turned his attention to his meal, unaware of Arwen's gaze on him.
Arwen tried to focus on her chattering friend Nenwing (Spray of Water), but it was difficult to pay attention when she felt Aragorn's strong presence just on the other side of her father. She was no longer worried that she had been the cause of his pain. Indeed, he did not appear to be suffering at all! He talked and laughed as freely and easily as he ever had, and he never once spared her a glance. There was her answer, Arwen thought dolefully. Aragorn had forgotten her.
Arwen struggled to shake off the grief that engulfed her. She shouldn't care if he had forgotten her or not! She should forget him as he had forgotten her and continue with her life. But Arwen found her gaze constantly drawn to Aragorn, her eyes dark and turbulent with emotion.
"You are hardly listening, Arwen Evenstar!" laughed Nenwing, her eyes following Arwen's to the King Elessar. Her smile broadened and mischief glittered in her brown eyes. "But of course, our lady's eyes and ears are only for the Elfstone." Her expression grew serious and she leaned in to whisper, "You are lucky, my lady. The King Elessar is a wonderful person, despite being a Man. Truly, I envy the unbreakable, undying love you share." Her kind smile came again before she turned away.
Quietly, Arwen looked down at her delicious food, not quite seeing anything. Nenwing's words echoed in her mind. 'And truly, I envy the unbreakable, undying love you share.' She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that had once again collected. What a marvelous love they had shared! And now, it was gone. Gone with the passing of the years.
Rather boring chapter, but I promise a lot more action in the next chapter... I really don't know how, but maybe Aragorn and Heled can have some sort of argument? Any suggestions? Thanks for reading!
