Note*: This is something I've been thinking of for a while. Aragorn is such a complex character (not saying that anyone else isn't, they are all fairly unilateral), and I wanted to try and capture what he really thinks. It mostly follows the movie. Anyway, if it's not that good, let  me know, and if it is, I'd like to know that too. And I meant to ask this in my last fic too: does anyone have a good elvish dictionary they could send me? My email is rouge11@web.de

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or Aragorn, though I wish I did. I'm not making any money with this. I'm just playing in The Master's universe.

Coronation Surprise

The day had come. I could put off my coronation no longer. I love Gondor, and I had grown to think of Minas Tirith as my home – or almost: I was sure I'd consider it my home once I could find my way from my bedchamber to the library and the throne room. 

I have never been eager to take up the crown. I don't shirk responsibility, and I see that I can do more good here than in the forests of Middle Earth, but had the choice depended on nothing but my own desire, I would never have taken up the throne. I love riding alone towards the sunrise in the morning, through the mist and fog, when the earth seems so vulnerable and frail, yet so achingly beautiful. To lie awake at night, in the forest, listening to the trees – when I think of how little I will be able to have these things in the future, my heart truly aches. They say a King can have anything he wants, but the truth is that those things that our very souls most need slip from our grasp.

There is another reason why I dread taking the throne. This morning, my advisor asked me quite innocently, "And when does my Lord intend to take a wife? For a King without a Queen is very unheard of and most unnatural. It is custom for the King to wed within a fortnight of his coronation."

I did not reply, and I am sure that said advisor was quite put off; I had never yet shown him such open rudeness. But the idea of "taking" a wife struck me to the core, for I was sure the only wife I could ever love was sailing to the West, beyond my reach forever. Whatever lady I would be forced to make my wife by propriety, I felt sure I would hate because of who she was not.

No one knew where my heart truly lay, except for Eowyn perhaps, who had to experience disappointment so cruelly at my own hands. Whoever was eventually to become my wife, it could not be her; I respect her strength far too much to lock her in a loveless marriage. And apparently my choice was a good one; it seems that she has found love in the Lord Faramir, and it brings great joy to my heart to know that the two will remain in Minas Tirith, at least until their wedding. Whether Faramir will return to Ithilien or stay in the White City I do not know.

It also pains my heart to see them so happy together. My thoughts are always with my beloved, her whose pendant hangs around my neck. The Evenstar exudes gentle strength, just as the maiden who wore it so long does. But at least I have the joy of knowing that she will sail to the Undying Lands, where she will remain forever young, forever happy, and free among her kin.

A voice in my mind often says, "You fool! How could you ever believe that letting her go was kind? You will suffer for a lifetime, but she will suffer for eternity."  I do not know, and it crushes my soul. 

There! How was that? Let me know if you want me to continue! (YES, I'm shamelessly begging for reviews!). And please someone send me an elvish dictionary, otherwise I feel phony just copying everyone else's phrases.