Winds
By
Necole
Disclaimer: I do not own a thing!!!!!!
Notes: Well, this took me a long time, but I had to get it right! I've had this idea for a long time. I hope you guys like it! I had one bad review last time, and it did not kill me. So, I think that is an improvement. My skin is getting a little tougher.
That is probably because of all the wonderfully nice reviews all of you have given me. I really cannot tell you how much your kind words mean to me! They make my day, week, and month!
SO a special thanks to ALL who review! I love you guys!!! Also, all of those who joined my fanfic group, THANK YOU!!!!
Anfieldgyul- Thank you so much for your kind words! Glad you like it so far! I am so glad you saw the similarities between Gilraen and Éowyn. I think you will see why with this chapter! I am so glad you joined my little group! I hope to talk with you sometime, I am still a great admirer of your work! I cannot wait for the next chapter of your story!!
Okay. . . here we go!
Chapter five: Remember Thy Death
Only now could he rest, only now could he find some ease in his tense body. Victory it was not, nor was there defeat. The battle had been fought and the enemy had retreated, but the many who lay dead symbolized defeat. Aragorn's brow furrowed as he looked out upon the sea of bodies, both men and horse scattered the fields. This was not victory. He felt now the weight of the dead. The impending fate of all men burdened their own shoulders. Yet, it was now with the sight of stained grass and spent lives that he, Aragorn took up the true fate of a king. He walked now with the mark of all those who had died in service. One day he too would relinquish the massive weight of this world. Death was the gift of all men, a gift of freedom.
Grim and cumbersome was the mark of so many. His eyes were now darker, he bore now the lines of age upon his face. Old he did not look, but years had been gained since he had departed Dunharrow. His sword he now carried at his side, the slaughter of the day now behind him. Legolas and Gimili followed his painstaking march through the many bodies.
Slowly, from across the field came Gandalf. He walked towards Aragorn and his company, his gait was that of a tired old man. Face to face they all now stood, the strain of battle had left many reminders upon their faces. Gandalf stood straighter in the presence of Aragorn. Then he bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the importance of the man who stood before him.
Aragorn smiled uncomfortably,
"Do not bow yet."
Gandalf raised his eyebrows.
"And why should I not bow to the king?"
Aragorn approached Gandalf and placed a hand on his arm.
"I have not yet fully accepted that charge. When I decide to enter the gates of the White City, then shall I be called king."
Gandalf listened intently, nodding his head slowly.
"And when will you cast your indecisiveness aside?"
Aragorn stared at the wizard.
"I may never. Yet, I will tell you that today will not be that day. I must wait until I feel ready to take upon the gear of a king. The people have not had a king for a long while. I do not wish to enter by way of debate. I will enter when the time is right."
Gandalf grumbled with a frown on his face,
"All I have to say to you, Aragorn son of Arathorn, is this day is not yet over."
Gandalf kept many secrets in his eyes. His riddles had offered many insights in the past, though Aragorn was not yet ready to listen. He only nodded his head at the wizard's counsel.
Aragorn turned to set his eyes upon the gates of the White City. A cold unworldly wind blew sending a chill through all who felt it. Appearing suddenly with a great host behind him, stood the King of the Dead.
"Will you keep your oath, Heir of Isildur? Will you free us now?"
Aragorn put Andúril back into its sheath, then standing with honor he said,
"My oath I shall keep. I release you, depart and be at rest."
A cleansing breeze washed away the broken promises that had anchored them to the earth. Now, the dead were no longer spirits to haunt, nor were they traitors. They mingled with the wind, until they vanished with the final release that delivered them into infinity.
A small smile touched the lips of Aragorn. A promise like a mighty sword can be renewed. The dead were at peace now, their vow fulfilled.
The light wind of the Dead's departure brought cracks in the passing clouds of shadow. Bright columns of sunshine burst through the holes in the grey sky. Relief filled those whose eyes saw this. A moment of such beauty numbed all pain for a few brief moments.
Sunlight fell upon Aragorn's hands. He looked down at the warmth that the light had brought. A flicker of gold caught his eye. There glittering in the sun was the bracelet of Éowyn, still tightly wound about his wrist. His eyes were cast skyward as the beam of light that illuminated him disappeared with the gathering of clouds. Then in the distance a break in the covering created another beam of light that fixed itself upon a fallen victim. His eyes saw the shimmer of metal and the stain of blood. The shadow crept slowly over the figure, eclipsing legs, chest, and arms. The dead body was now covered by the restful darkness of shadow. Yet, rays of fading light still played in the golden locks of hair that were spilled upon the ground.
The world stopped.
His vision blurred.
He had seen this all before.
Blood stained grass, light that faded into shadow, and lifeless eyes.
He closed his own eyes, not wanting to view what was now reality.
Opening them again, he saw nothing. Nothing but the spectrum of light that still played in her hair.
He ran, hurdling over the bodies of the dead. He cared not where his foot fell. There was only selfish want in him. He needed to reach her in time. The shadow continued to creep over her face.
His steps became more desperate, his breath more frantic, until he finally reached the fading light.
There, in front of him lay Éowyn, her eyes closed.
And though the shadow had taken her, hope remained in the heart of Aragorn.
He fell upon his knees and looked upon the stillness of her body.
"Éowyn," he whispered.
Then with delicate hands he willed the force of life back to her. Her face was cold to his touch. Her eyes did not open when he traced them with his gentle fingers. She did not move with the caress of her cheek. And his hot breath did not warm her pale lips when he kissed her.
Aragorn pulled back, waiting for her to respond. Yet, she only lay motionless, his touch had brought no change. He looked to the sky and exhaled the breath of defeat.
"There is one who can save her."
Gandalf now stood beside Aragorn.
Aragorn turned his distraught face to look upon that of the wizard's. One tear fell down Aragorn's cheek as he spoke.
"She is already gone."
Gandalf walked the few remaining steps between he and Aragorn. His gaze was steady as he leaned on his staff and brought his face close.
"No, she has not yet gone. She still has that choice to make."
Hope sparked in the eyes of Aragorn. He opened his mouth to question Gandalf, but was interrupted.
"There is only one who can still save her, only one who can call her back from her own darkness."
Aragorn's eyes questioned him, but Gandalf paid him no mind.
"The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. Rise Aragorn, rise and be known."
Aragorn's gaze filled with sorrow.
"I have already tried, and I have failed."
Gandalf now stood at his true height, with all the brightness of the White Wizard.
"You fail because you are not yet king. You, yourself said that you would not take that charge until you entered the gates of the White City. Now is the time Elessar. Rise and be known."
Aragorn bowed his head in thought, still torn by choices. Then he looked to the fallen body of Éowyn, and he knew. He knew that all of his many paths had led him to this moment, this one final choice.
"So be it," he whispered to the ground.
He then took Éowyn up in his arms and stood. Aragorn turned and faced the gates of Minas Tirith.
"So be it! Follow me, follow the king to the gates of his city."
He entered the city bearing the true weight of the fallen. All of those who watched soon followed. Éowyn's hair fell, almost touching the ground. Her hair shined, summoning the chance of life. And though his face was grim, those who looked upon him knew that with him came hope, the hope of their remaining days.
The king had indeed returned.
*******
His back remained turned to all who had followed. None of Aragorn's company were to enter the doors of the Houses of Healing, save only Éowyn.
Aragorn, with eyes hollow and weary looked up from the darkness with the opening of the doors. He stood before a kind woman, laden with his own despair.
"Here there is a grievous hurt and a heavy blow."
A compassionate nod came from the healer,
"Then enter, and may the hands of the king bring life to the dying."
Aragorn crossed the threshold and looking down upon the face of Éowyn said,
"The hands of the king only heal death's shadow with the aid of athelas."
His gaze then met the healer's.
"Have you athelas, or as you may call it, kingsfoil?"
The kind eyes of the healer clouded with sympathy for the man who stood before her. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"If there is not, I am sure some can be found. Please take her up the stairs, there is a room not in use."
He rushed up the stairs, his own exhaustion forgotten. Éowyn's mane of hair spread about her shoulders as Aragorn placed her gently on the bed. He ran his hands through it, fanning the long locks behind her head. He wanted the light of the window to capture her tresses, and chase away the shadows that now clung to her. Then Aragorn knelt beside her and placed a hand upon her brow. His face became grey with a drained appearance. He beckoned for the return of Éowyn. Gradually, his voice grew more faint. He too walked in the same darkness, calling to the lost.
But she gave no answer.
Athelas was brought and was used by the healing hands, bringing air back to Éowyn's chest. Aragorn watched the rise and fall as she took in the refreshing scent of the athelas. Relief did not come with the returning breath of Éowyn. Instead, Aragorn buried his face in his hands, consumed by his failure.
He remained this way for a long while. Until finally, Aragorn returned his sad eyes to the still sleeping woman. The room had now been abandoned by all those who had attempted to help him in the healing of Éowyn. He only noticed this because he suddenly felt the freedom of solitude.
The abrupt silence of an empty room.
No intruders to see their secrets.
Carefully, he moved to sit on the side of the bed, then he placed his brow upon hers. There he stayed and felt the hot breath that escaped her. The breath of life she did breathe, but free of shadow she was not. Aragorn then placed the quiet secret of his lips upon hers. His mouth clung to hers, he called to her now by actions, not words. There was the want of past kisses upon his lips, but then the cold unmoving reality of Éowyn's mouth chilled him. He pulled back, not ashamed by his desperate actions. A kiss of want was all that embodied him, it was his last weapon against the darkness that she wondered through. He watched her again, waiting for a sign besides that of breath.
Still, she did not stir.
Her eyes were still silent, not lifeless, only silent behind the cover of fair skin.
His face then fell upon her shoulder, the one place of her body that held no secrets. He removed the fabric to expose the memory and knowledge he held. The bone at the base of her neck he traced with gentle fingers, recalling breath and sounds that had escaped them both when he had first done this. Then his lips began the same exploration. He tried to bring warmth to her cold skin with the heat of his mouth. As he traveled up her neck, he felt the beat of her heart pulsing under his questing lips. The strong beat encouraged him and his actions. He inhaled the scent of her skin as he lingered at her neck. Then he raised his mouth to her ear and gently touched it with his lips.
"Now I am the one who wishes to take burden from you. Come back to me Éowyn. Listen and follow my voice, do not linger in this darkness any longer. I need you to return to me."
He then pulled back from her ear and with a loud demanding voice said,
"Awake Éowyn! Awake!"
Again and again he called to her, pleading for her to turn from the shadows and awake. But she gave no answer. Her eyes were silent, though her breath was strong and her heart beat with life. Éowyn had no want to leave the darkness.
Aragorn let out a heavy sigh of defeat as he stood and walked away from her bedside. He too was lost. He had no thought of what he could do next. The healing powers of Elrond were needed for such a task. Aragorn turned again to face the sleeping woman. The healers had set her broken arm, he took notice of that for the first time. When? How long had he been lost in the darkness, calling to her? It was at this time that Aragorn felt his own exhaustion. Rest he needed, maybe rest would grant him the power to bring her back.
"Aragorn! I'm glad I found you!"
Aragorn turned quickly his eyes wild with the surprise of the broken silence.
Pippin jumped as the eyes of Aragorn looked upon him. He was different, dark he had always been, but now sorrow and fear added to the weight of his usual shadow.
With fast steps Aragorn came to the door and guided Pippin out of Éowyn's room.
"What is it Pippin?" asked Aragorn with a strained low voice.
Pippin blinked with puzzlement over Aragorn's actions and demeanor. Then stammering slightly he began.
"I've been looking all over for you."
Then Pippin looked past Aragorn and saw the Lady of Rohan pale and cold with the cloud of death hanging over her. His shocked eyes returned to Aragorn's.
"Is she-"
Aragorn heard the word on Pippin's lips before it managed to escape.
"No." He answered swiftly.
"She is lost in shadow, but life has not completely left her."
Pippin nodded with wonder.
"Will she ever return?"
Aragorn took in a slow breath,
"I do not know Pippin."
Pippin bit his lip as he felt the heavy stare of Aragorn concentrate on him.
"What is it that you need Pippin?"
Pippin hesitated before answering,
"It's-It's Merry. He's sick, he needs your medicine. Gandalf told me to look for you. He said that you were Merry and Lord Faramir's only hope."
Aragorn's jaw hardened, he did not know if he held the strength to help any others right at this moment. His gaze left that of Pippin's for a brief moment.
Pippin viewed this as a denial of his plea.
"Please Lord Aragorn, it's Merry! He needs you! I'm sorry I didn't know about the Lady of Rohan, but she cannot be any worse then Lord Faramir. He lays sick with a fever. Merry is still awake, but just barely. Please, you must help them. Gandalf said you would."
Aragorn looked at the imploring eyes of the brave hobbit who stood before him and knew that he must go and at least try to heal the others who lay sick. The hands of the king were the hands that heal, no other could bring health back to those that the black breath had touched. He would have to leave Éowyn.
Resting both hands on Pippin's shoulders, Aragorn spoke with much compassion.
"Of course I will come, but I have a task for you my brave hobbit."
Pippin smiled brightly then quickly the smile faded into a frown of contemplation.
"What do I have to do?"
A sad smile touched the lips of Aragorn.
"I need for you to find Lord Éomer. Tell him that his sister needs to hear the voice of one who loves her, and maybe then she will return from this darkness. Can you do this for me Pippin?"
His speech was kind but also filled with a quiet strict direction. This made Pippin realize the importance of his task and of Lady Éowyn. He nodded his head vigorously,
"Yes, of course."
Aragorn stood his full height now, but Pippin could still see the weight of his many burdens.
"Go now, Pippin. I will be right behind you."
Pippin turned quickly from Aragorn, he felt now that he was intruding and wanted to leave Aragorn alone with the sleeping Lady of Rohan.
Aragorn watched until Pippin had made his way to the stairs, then he turned and entered Éowyn's room again. He shut the door securely behind him and slowly walked back to the bedside. He sat again on her bed and took up the hand of the uninjured arm. The limp hand of the Lady of Rohan he placed over his heart. And looking at her with a burning intensity, he tried to tell her without guilt or shame the words he had failed to tell her before. He had possessed these words since turning and seeing her that night of freezing winds.
He tried, but could not.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear,
"I promise to you Éowyn that when you awake, I will tell you. I have the words, but I do not know if I can speak them. But when you return the light of your eyes to me, then I will speak to you these words."
He then moved to where he was hovering over her still face. With meaningful passion his mouth fell upon hers. This kiss was to be his assurance of his new oath.
Aragorn then stood and walked to the door, but before leaving he turned again to face her. And quietly he gave one last plea.
"Return to me Éowyn. Like the shards of a broken blade, promises can be renewed. Return, so all of our broken promises can be made new again. I think of my behavior at Dunharrow, and all I seek is your forgiveness. New and old promises await you, so come back to me."
With that he turned and left her in the silence of shadows.
*******
One day now stood before them. It was to be one day before the Men of the West left for the Black Gate. Little hope was to be found in such an action, but it was the ring bearer's one chance. Death of so many could lead to the success of one. Hope, Aragorn gave to the race of Men, but he now kept none for himself. The large window that now stood before him told him of the hope he had already brought. Tomorrow most of the men of the city would leave, possibly meeting their fates. Yet, the people of Minas Tirith were already working to rebuild the fallen stone of the city. The return of the king had brought hope to them for their remaining days.
Aragorn knew this, but still felt unworthy. He had not done anything that would allow for such blind faith. His failures still brought much doubt to his mind.
A pale sun shone in the sky this day, a few dark clouds still lingered. But Aragorn only saw the stale light that had turned the White City to an ash grey. The city itself held the mark of those who had perished. It now held only the reflection of pale light, blocking the warmth and the true brightness of the sun. The blood of the dead was still too fresh for the city to shine with its usual pristine innocence. White would forever carry the scars of grey, the scars of the dead.
Remembering the dead brought Aragorn's eyes to that of his golden gift that was bound about his wrist. Though Merry and Lord Faramir were healed, and recuperating quickly, the Lady Éowyn still lay in silence. A dark sleep, Gandalf had called it. Éomer's calls had done nothing to summon her back from the darkness. Nor had the pleas and whispers of all who had loved or cared for Éowyn. Merry had tried, a flood of tears had fallen as he begged for her to return, but she had not heard. So many days had passed, and still she had not even moved. He ran his hands over his dark face, his patience grew thin. Aragorn wished to shake her, shake her until her eyes opened and the full brightness of day was known again. It was like this, with head in hands, that Gandalf found him.
"Your heart carries many burdens, Aragorn. Do not carry the burden of Lady Éowyn's dark sleep. It is not for you to decide. Only she can choose."
Aragorn removed his hands from his face and looked upon Gandalf with sorrowful eyes.
"I know it is her decision, but still, it is my failure. I was not able to heal her, nor was able to keep her safe from the danger that I knew would befall her. What gift is foresight, when those who have it cannot do good by it?"
Gandalf gave a thoughtful frown.
"I do not see how you can view Lady Éowyn's condition as your failure. She has done a very noble act. She has destroyed the Witch King. You have to consider, Aragorn, that this was the path she was meant to take. Even this quiet battle she now fights could be what was meant for her to do. Some great lesson may come of it. Do not doubt the ways of this world, Aragorn. They are all great and powerful, no matter how you choose to look at them."
Aragorn had listened intently, then with a slow shake of his head he spoke again.
"Still, no matter how I look at things, I have still failed her."
"Have you really?"
Aragorn now looked to Gandalf with confusion. But before he could question the wizard, Gandalf began to speak again.
"We all have things in life we are meant to do. The ring was meant to come to Frodo, though it is a strange burden for a hobbit. Still it brings hope to know that one so resilient could be meant for such a task."
Aragorn raised his eyebrows with an unspoken questions. Gandalf did not acknowledge him, he merely continued on with his latest riddle.
"Maybe you were meant to fail Éowyn. If you had not, then the Witch King would not have been defeated. For it is said that no man can kill him, and no man did."
Aragorn nodded slowly,
"That may be true, but how can that explain the darkness she is now under. How is that a path meant for her to take?"
Gandalf studied the agitation in Aragorn's face. Then continued on with his counsel.
"Do you not see it, Aragorn? It is right before your eyes. Éowyn has done something that no other could do. The star that once shone from upon your neck, that was to bring hope to a king. Yet, you still doubted yourself. A sword that was re-forged, was to be the one gift that brought an army back to the crownless. It too was to bring hope to the king and to his people. But, still you were unwilling to accept your heritage, you still doubted yourself. It was only when you found the lifeless body of the Lady of Rohan that you put aside your indecision, you put aside doubt. It was Éowyn that brought the king to his people."
Aragorn looked away from his friend for a long while. When he did speak, his voice as strained.
"Everything has led to this place in time?"
Gandalf nodded,
"Yes, eventually all things do merge into one. The star of Arwen gave you the want to prove yourself. Then the sword was to bring you confidence and hope. These two things meant to make you believe in yourself and realize your own strengths. Yet, they have only brought you the gifts of guilt and self doubt. But the gift of Éowyn did something that the sword and the star could not. It allowed you to see all of your qualities. Within her eyes, you saw yourself in an honest light."
Aragorn smiled for the first time in a long while. He placed his left hand on Gandalf's shoulder,
"You and your riddles of life, my friend."
Gandalf chuckled, then the pale light from the window made something golden shimmer on Aragorn's wrist. It caught the wizard's eye, causing a true smile to find his lips. He captured Aragorn's wrist and studied the bracelet of hair.
"Did you know Aragorn that your mother gave your father this very same gift?"
Aragorn was puzzled,
"No, my mother rarely spoke of my father."
Gandalf nodded solemnly.
"Yes, Gilraen's heart wore the veil of his death for most of your years with her. Never did she speak of him?"
"Only on a few occasions. And when she did, never did she give many details."
Gandalf's frown returned as he released Aragorn's wrist.
"It had been her fair hair that had drawn Arathorn to the youthful beauty. Long has the gift of foresight burdened the lives of your people. Your mother, as well as many others, saw the fall of Arathorn before it occurred. So, in her fear of never seeing him again, she gave to him the gift of light. Her bright hair was to shine upon his wrist and remind him of her fair tresses and the love she held for him. Remember thy death, she had said as she had tied it to him. Then Arathorn cut a lock of his own hair and gave it to her. He placed it too upon her wrist and said, and in death know me, for I shall know you ."
Aragorn listened to the story, for the first time in his life he saw his mother without the shadow of his father's death. Once she had loved, and with that love she had lived. But when it departed, so did the light of her eyes.
Gandalf noticed Aragorn's thoughtful expression.
"These gifts bound to one another's wrists would guide them to each other in that place that follows life. Never would one forget the other."
A quiet realization sparked new life in Aragorn's eyes.
Gandalf gave a small laugh,
"So you see, Aragorn, some riddles of life do rhyme. You only have to listen."
Then Gandalf leaned his face in closer to Aragorn's.
"Cast away this guilt. All things, even the love of Arwen were meant to lead you to this one place in time."
Aragorn only nodded in response, his mind was too full. He stared out the window, once again viewing the grey of the White City, but now he saw hope. Not only for his people, but for himself.
"I will leave you now, King Elessar. I believe you have had enough of my counsel for one day."
*******
Now it was time, time for him to cast away his indecisiveness, his doubt, his guilt, and his shame. The sky outside the window of Éowyn's room gave the promises of many shining stars. There would be light, and he would see it.
He sat down on the bed and retrieved the Evenstar from his pocket. Aragorn then clasped it around the neck of Éowyn, immediately a light came and illuminated her still figure. A circle of protection was granted by the Valar.
Aragorn smiled,
"For many long years I have been watched after by one who loves me. Now, I ask in my giving this to you , that the light of the Evenstar will protect you and guide you from this darkness that you wonder in. No longer will I bear the guilt of Arwen. That is another promise I will give to you, Lady of Rohan."
Aragorn then stood and unsheathed Andúril, carefully he cut one braid from his head of hair. He then took up the wrist of Éowyn and tied it securely.
"I will remember thy death, for it was your golden gift that brought me to you. The sun and the creeping shadow that I first saw on the bloodstained grass. Never will I forget your lifeless body, it will haunt me for the rest of my days, however long they may be."
Then he kissed her wrist and placed again at her side. Aragorn still wore Éowyn's gift around his own wrist. He placed his other hand on top of it and said,
"And in death know me, for I shall know you. One of us may not return from these battles that we fight. If that is the way of things, then know this: I will not forget you Éowyn. When this life ends and we travel to that which follows, I will find you. You now must bear my gift in silence."
He then leaned down and kissed her lips.
"I will see you again, no matter what evil I now enter. Even in the freedom of death we will know one another."
The king then turned and left. The morning would bring his departure for the Black Gate and he no longer feared death or failure.
By
Necole
Disclaimer: I do not own a thing!!!!!!
Notes: Well, this took me a long time, but I had to get it right! I've had this idea for a long time. I hope you guys like it! I had one bad review last time, and it did not kill me. So, I think that is an improvement. My skin is getting a little tougher.
That is probably because of all the wonderfully nice reviews all of you have given me. I really cannot tell you how much your kind words mean to me! They make my day, week, and month!
SO a special thanks to ALL who review! I love you guys!!! Also, all of those who joined my fanfic group, THANK YOU!!!!
Anfieldgyul- Thank you so much for your kind words! Glad you like it so far! I am so glad you saw the similarities between Gilraen and Éowyn. I think you will see why with this chapter! I am so glad you joined my little group! I hope to talk with you sometime, I am still a great admirer of your work! I cannot wait for the next chapter of your story!!
Okay. . . here we go!
Chapter five: Remember Thy Death
Only now could he rest, only now could he find some ease in his tense body. Victory it was not, nor was there defeat. The battle had been fought and the enemy had retreated, but the many who lay dead symbolized defeat. Aragorn's brow furrowed as he looked out upon the sea of bodies, both men and horse scattered the fields. This was not victory. He felt now the weight of the dead. The impending fate of all men burdened their own shoulders. Yet, it was now with the sight of stained grass and spent lives that he, Aragorn took up the true fate of a king. He walked now with the mark of all those who had died in service. One day he too would relinquish the massive weight of this world. Death was the gift of all men, a gift of freedom.
Grim and cumbersome was the mark of so many. His eyes were now darker, he bore now the lines of age upon his face. Old he did not look, but years had been gained since he had departed Dunharrow. His sword he now carried at his side, the slaughter of the day now behind him. Legolas and Gimili followed his painstaking march through the many bodies.
Slowly, from across the field came Gandalf. He walked towards Aragorn and his company, his gait was that of a tired old man. Face to face they all now stood, the strain of battle had left many reminders upon their faces. Gandalf stood straighter in the presence of Aragorn. Then he bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the importance of the man who stood before him.
Aragorn smiled uncomfortably,
"Do not bow yet."
Gandalf raised his eyebrows.
"And why should I not bow to the king?"
Aragorn approached Gandalf and placed a hand on his arm.
"I have not yet fully accepted that charge. When I decide to enter the gates of the White City, then shall I be called king."
Gandalf listened intently, nodding his head slowly.
"And when will you cast your indecisiveness aside?"
Aragorn stared at the wizard.
"I may never. Yet, I will tell you that today will not be that day. I must wait until I feel ready to take upon the gear of a king. The people have not had a king for a long while. I do not wish to enter by way of debate. I will enter when the time is right."
Gandalf grumbled with a frown on his face,
"All I have to say to you, Aragorn son of Arathorn, is this day is not yet over."
Gandalf kept many secrets in his eyes. His riddles had offered many insights in the past, though Aragorn was not yet ready to listen. He only nodded his head at the wizard's counsel.
Aragorn turned to set his eyes upon the gates of the White City. A cold unworldly wind blew sending a chill through all who felt it. Appearing suddenly with a great host behind him, stood the King of the Dead.
"Will you keep your oath, Heir of Isildur? Will you free us now?"
Aragorn put Andúril back into its sheath, then standing with honor he said,
"My oath I shall keep. I release you, depart and be at rest."
A cleansing breeze washed away the broken promises that had anchored them to the earth. Now, the dead were no longer spirits to haunt, nor were they traitors. They mingled with the wind, until they vanished with the final release that delivered them into infinity.
A small smile touched the lips of Aragorn. A promise like a mighty sword can be renewed. The dead were at peace now, their vow fulfilled.
The light wind of the Dead's departure brought cracks in the passing clouds of shadow. Bright columns of sunshine burst through the holes in the grey sky. Relief filled those whose eyes saw this. A moment of such beauty numbed all pain for a few brief moments.
Sunlight fell upon Aragorn's hands. He looked down at the warmth that the light had brought. A flicker of gold caught his eye. There glittering in the sun was the bracelet of Éowyn, still tightly wound about his wrist. His eyes were cast skyward as the beam of light that illuminated him disappeared with the gathering of clouds. Then in the distance a break in the covering created another beam of light that fixed itself upon a fallen victim. His eyes saw the shimmer of metal and the stain of blood. The shadow crept slowly over the figure, eclipsing legs, chest, and arms. The dead body was now covered by the restful darkness of shadow. Yet, rays of fading light still played in the golden locks of hair that were spilled upon the ground.
The world stopped.
His vision blurred.
He had seen this all before.
Blood stained grass, light that faded into shadow, and lifeless eyes.
He closed his own eyes, not wanting to view what was now reality.
Opening them again, he saw nothing. Nothing but the spectrum of light that still played in her hair.
He ran, hurdling over the bodies of the dead. He cared not where his foot fell. There was only selfish want in him. He needed to reach her in time. The shadow continued to creep over her face.
His steps became more desperate, his breath more frantic, until he finally reached the fading light.
There, in front of him lay Éowyn, her eyes closed.
And though the shadow had taken her, hope remained in the heart of Aragorn.
He fell upon his knees and looked upon the stillness of her body.
"Éowyn," he whispered.
Then with delicate hands he willed the force of life back to her. Her face was cold to his touch. Her eyes did not open when he traced them with his gentle fingers. She did not move with the caress of her cheek. And his hot breath did not warm her pale lips when he kissed her.
Aragorn pulled back, waiting for her to respond. Yet, she only lay motionless, his touch had brought no change. He looked to the sky and exhaled the breath of defeat.
"There is one who can save her."
Gandalf now stood beside Aragorn.
Aragorn turned his distraught face to look upon that of the wizard's. One tear fell down Aragorn's cheek as he spoke.
"She is already gone."
Gandalf walked the few remaining steps between he and Aragorn. His gaze was steady as he leaned on his staff and brought his face close.
"No, she has not yet gone. She still has that choice to make."
Hope sparked in the eyes of Aragorn. He opened his mouth to question Gandalf, but was interrupted.
"There is only one who can still save her, only one who can call her back from her own darkness."
Aragorn's eyes questioned him, but Gandalf paid him no mind.
"The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. Rise Aragorn, rise and be known."
Aragorn's gaze filled with sorrow.
"I have already tried, and I have failed."
Gandalf now stood at his true height, with all the brightness of the White Wizard.
"You fail because you are not yet king. You, yourself said that you would not take that charge until you entered the gates of the White City. Now is the time Elessar. Rise and be known."
Aragorn bowed his head in thought, still torn by choices. Then he looked to the fallen body of Éowyn, and he knew. He knew that all of his many paths had led him to this moment, this one final choice.
"So be it," he whispered to the ground.
He then took Éowyn up in his arms and stood. Aragorn turned and faced the gates of Minas Tirith.
"So be it! Follow me, follow the king to the gates of his city."
He entered the city bearing the true weight of the fallen. All of those who watched soon followed. Éowyn's hair fell, almost touching the ground. Her hair shined, summoning the chance of life. And though his face was grim, those who looked upon him knew that with him came hope, the hope of their remaining days.
The king had indeed returned.
*******
His back remained turned to all who had followed. None of Aragorn's company were to enter the doors of the Houses of Healing, save only Éowyn.
Aragorn, with eyes hollow and weary looked up from the darkness with the opening of the doors. He stood before a kind woman, laden with his own despair.
"Here there is a grievous hurt and a heavy blow."
A compassionate nod came from the healer,
"Then enter, and may the hands of the king bring life to the dying."
Aragorn crossed the threshold and looking down upon the face of Éowyn said,
"The hands of the king only heal death's shadow with the aid of athelas."
His gaze then met the healer's.
"Have you athelas, or as you may call it, kingsfoil?"
The kind eyes of the healer clouded with sympathy for the man who stood before her. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"If there is not, I am sure some can be found. Please take her up the stairs, there is a room not in use."
He rushed up the stairs, his own exhaustion forgotten. Éowyn's mane of hair spread about her shoulders as Aragorn placed her gently on the bed. He ran his hands through it, fanning the long locks behind her head. He wanted the light of the window to capture her tresses, and chase away the shadows that now clung to her. Then Aragorn knelt beside her and placed a hand upon her brow. His face became grey with a drained appearance. He beckoned for the return of Éowyn. Gradually, his voice grew more faint. He too walked in the same darkness, calling to the lost.
But she gave no answer.
Athelas was brought and was used by the healing hands, bringing air back to Éowyn's chest. Aragorn watched the rise and fall as she took in the refreshing scent of the athelas. Relief did not come with the returning breath of Éowyn. Instead, Aragorn buried his face in his hands, consumed by his failure.
He remained this way for a long while. Until finally, Aragorn returned his sad eyes to the still sleeping woman. The room had now been abandoned by all those who had attempted to help him in the healing of Éowyn. He only noticed this because he suddenly felt the freedom of solitude.
The abrupt silence of an empty room.
No intruders to see their secrets.
Carefully, he moved to sit on the side of the bed, then he placed his brow upon hers. There he stayed and felt the hot breath that escaped her. The breath of life she did breathe, but free of shadow she was not. Aragorn then placed the quiet secret of his lips upon hers. His mouth clung to hers, he called to her now by actions, not words. There was the want of past kisses upon his lips, but then the cold unmoving reality of Éowyn's mouth chilled him. He pulled back, not ashamed by his desperate actions. A kiss of want was all that embodied him, it was his last weapon against the darkness that she wondered through. He watched her again, waiting for a sign besides that of breath.
Still, she did not stir.
Her eyes were still silent, not lifeless, only silent behind the cover of fair skin.
His face then fell upon her shoulder, the one place of her body that held no secrets. He removed the fabric to expose the memory and knowledge he held. The bone at the base of her neck he traced with gentle fingers, recalling breath and sounds that had escaped them both when he had first done this. Then his lips began the same exploration. He tried to bring warmth to her cold skin with the heat of his mouth. As he traveled up her neck, he felt the beat of her heart pulsing under his questing lips. The strong beat encouraged him and his actions. He inhaled the scent of her skin as he lingered at her neck. Then he raised his mouth to her ear and gently touched it with his lips.
"Now I am the one who wishes to take burden from you. Come back to me Éowyn. Listen and follow my voice, do not linger in this darkness any longer. I need you to return to me."
He then pulled back from her ear and with a loud demanding voice said,
"Awake Éowyn! Awake!"
Again and again he called to her, pleading for her to turn from the shadows and awake. But she gave no answer. Her eyes were silent, though her breath was strong and her heart beat with life. Éowyn had no want to leave the darkness.
Aragorn let out a heavy sigh of defeat as he stood and walked away from her bedside. He too was lost. He had no thought of what he could do next. The healing powers of Elrond were needed for such a task. Aragorn turned again to face the sleeping woman. The healers had set her broken arm, he took notice of that for the first time. When? How long had he been lost in the darkness, calling to her? It was at this time that Aragorn felt his own exhaustion. Rest he needed, maybe rest would grant him the power to bring her back.
"Aragorn! I'm glad I found you!"
Aragorn turned quickly his eyes wild with the surprise of the broken silence.
Pippin jumped as the eyes of Aragorn looked upon him. He was different, dark he had always been, but now sorrow and fear added to the weight of his usual shadow.
With fast steps Aragorn came to the door and guided Pippin out of Éowyn's room.
"What is it Pippin?" asked Aragorn with a strained low voice.
Pippin blinked with puzzlement over Aragorn's actions and demeanor. Then stammering slightly he began.
"I've been looking all over for you."
Then Pippin looked past Aragorn and saw the Lady of Rohan pale and cold with the cloud of death hanging over her. His shocked eyes returned to Aragorn's.
"Is she-"
Aragorn heard the word on Pippin's lips before it managed to escape.
"No." He answered swiftly.
"She is lost in shadow, but life has not completely left her."
Pippin nodded with wonder.
"Will she ever return?"
Aragorn took in a slow breath,
"I do not know Pippin."
Pippin bit his lip as he felt the heavy stare of Aragorn concentrate on him.
"What is it that you need Pippin?"
Pippin hesitated before answering,
"It's-It's Merry. He's sick, he needs your medicine. Gandalf told me to look for you. He said that you were Merry and Lord Faramir's only hope."
Aragorn's jaw hardened, he did not know if he held the strength to help any others right at this moment. His gaze left that of Pippin's for a brief moment.
Pippin viewed this as a denial of his plea.
"Please Lord Aragorn, it's Merry! He needs you! I'm sorry I didn't know about the Lady of Rohan, but she cannot be any worse then Lord Faramir. He lays sick with a fever. Merry is still awake, but just barely. Please, you must help them. Gandalf said you would."
Aragorn looked at the imploring eyes of the brave hobbit who stood before him and knew that he must go and at least try to heal the others who lay sick. The hands of the king were the hands that heal, no other could bring health back to those that the black breath had touched. He would have to leave Éowyn.
Resting both hands on Pippin's shoulders, Aragorn spoke with much compassion.
"Of course I will come, but I have a task for you my brave hobbit."
Pippin smiled brightly then quickly the smile faded into a frown of contemplation.
"What do I have to do?"
A sad smile touched the lips of Aragorn.
"I need for you to find Lord Éomer. Tell him that his sister needs to hear the voice of one who loves her, and maybe then she will return from this darkness. Can you do this for me Pippin?"
His speech was kind but also filled with a quiet strict direction. This made Pippin realize the importance of his task and of Lady Éowyn. He nodded his head vigorously,
"Yes, of course."
Aragorn stood his full height now, but Pippin could still see the weight of his many burdens.
"Go now, Pippin. I will be right behind you."
Pippin turned quickly from Aragorn, he felt now that he was intruding and wanted to leave Aragorn alone with the sleeping Lady of Rohan.
Aragorn watched until Pippin had made his way to the stairs, then he turned and entered Éowyn's room again. He shut the door securely behind him and slowly walked back to the bedside. He sat again on her bed and took up the hand of the uninjured arm. The limp hand of the Lady of Rohan he placed over his heart. And looking at her with a burning intensity, he tried to tell her without guilt or shame the words he had failed to tell her before. He had possessed these words since turning and seeing her that night of freezing winds.
He tried, but could not.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear,
"I promise to you Éowyn that when you awake, I will tell you. I have the words, but I do not know if I can speak them. But when you return the light of your eyes to me, then I will speak to you these words."
He then moved to where he was hovering over her still face. With meaningful passion his mouth fell upon hers. This kiss was to be his assurance of his new oath.
Aragorn then stood and walked to the door, but before leaving he turned again to face her. And quietly he gave one last plea.
"Return to me Éowyn. Like the shards of a broken blade, promises can be renewed. Return, so all of our broken promises can be made new again. I think of my behavior at Dunharrow, and all I seek is your forgiveness. New and old promises await you, so come back to me."
With that he turned and left her in the silence of shadows.
*******
One day now stood before them. It was to be one day before the Men of the West left for the Black Gate. Little hope was to be found in such an action, but it was the ring bearer's one chance. Death of so many could lead to the success of one. Hope, Aragorn gave to the race of Men, but he now kept none for himself. The large window that now stood before him told him of the hope he had already brought. Tomorrow most of the men of the city would leave, possibly meeting their fates. Yet, the people of Minas Tirith were already working to rebuild the fallen stone of the city. The return of the king had brought hope to them for their remaining days.
Aragorn knew this, but still felt unworthy. He had not done anything that would allow for such blind faith. His failures still brought much doubt to his mind.
A pale sun shone in the sky this day, a few dark clouds still lingered. But Aragorn only saw the stale light that had turned the White City to an ash grey. The city itself held the mark of those who had perished. It now held only the reflection of pale light, blocking the warmth and the true brightness of the sun. The blood of the dead was still too fresh for the city to shine with its usual pristine innocence. White would forever carry the scars of grey, the scars of the dead.
Remembering the dead brought Aragorn's eyes to that of his golden gift that was bound about his wrist. Though Merry and Lord Faramir were healed, and recuperating quickly, the Lady Éowyn still lay in silence. A dark sleep, Gandalf had called it. Éomer's calls had done nothing to summon her back from the darkness. Nor had the pleas and whispers of all who had loved or cared for Éowyn. Merry had tried, a flood of tears had fallen as he begged for her to return, but she had not heard. So many days had passed, and still she had not even moved. He ran his hands over his dark face, his patience grew thin. Aragorn wished to shake her, shake her until her eyes opened and the full brightness of day was known again. It was like this, with head in hands, that Gandalf found him.
"Your heart carries many burdens, Aragorn. Do not carry the burden of Lady Éowyn's dark sleep. It is not for you to decide. Only she can choose."
Aragorn removed his hands from his face and looked upon Gandalf with sorrowful eyes.
"I know it is her decision, but still, it is my failure. I was not able to heal her, nor was able to keep her safe from the danger that I knew would befall her. What gift is foresight, when those who have it cannot do good by it?"
Gandalf gave a thoughtful frown.
"I do not see how you can view Lady Éowyn's condition as your failure. She has done a very noble act. She has destroyed the Witch King. You have to consider, Aragorn, that this was the path she was meant to take. Even this quiet battle she now fights could be what was meant for her to do. Some great lesson may come of it. Do not doubt the ways of this world, Aragorn. They are all great and powerful, no matter how you choose to look at them."
Aragorn had listened intently, then with a slow shake of his head he spoke again.
"Still, no matter how I look at things, I have still failed her."
"Have you really?"
Aragorn now looked to Gandalf with confusion. But before he could question the wizard, Gandalf began to speak again.
"We all have things in life we are meant to do. The ring was meant to come to Frodo, though it is a strange burden for a hobbit. Still it brings hope to know that one so resilient could be meant for such a task."
Aragorn raised his eyebrows with an unspoken questions. Gandalf did not acknowledge him, he merely continued on with his latest riddle.
"Maybe you were meant to fail Éowyn. If you had not, then the Witch King would not have been defeated. For it is said that no man can kill him, and no man did."
Aragorn nodded slowly,
"That may be true, but how can that explain the darkness she is now under. How is that a path meant for her to take?"
Gandalf studied the agitation in Aragorn's face. Then continued on with his counsel.
"Do you not see it, Aragorn? It is right before your eyes. Éowyn has done something that no other could do. The star that once shone from upon your neck, that was to bring hope to a king. Yet, you still doubted yourself. A sword that was re-forged, was to be the one gift that brought an army back to the crownless. It too was to bring hope to the king and to his people. But, still you were unwilling to accept your heritage, you still doubted yourself. It was only when you found the lifeless body of the Lady of Rohan that you put aside your indecision, you put aside doubt. It was Éowyn that brought the king to his people."
Aragorn looked away from his friend for a long while. When he did speak, his voice as strained.
"Everything has led to this place in time?"
Gandalf nodded,
"Yes, eventually all things do merge into one. The star of Arwen gave you the want to prove yourself. Then the sword was to bring you confidence and hope. These two things meant to make you believe in yourself and realize your own strengths. Yet, they have only brought you the gifts of guilt and self doubt. But the gift of Éowyn did something that the sword and the star could not. It allowed you to see all of your qualities. Within her eyes, you saw yourself in an honest light."
Aragorn smiled for the first time in a long while. He placed his left hand on Gandalf's shoulder,
"You and your riddles of life, my friend."
Gandalf chuckled, then the pale light from the window made something golden shimmer on Aragorn's wrist. It caught the wizard's eye, causing a true smile to find his lips. He captured Aragorn's wrist and studied the bracelet of hair.
"Did you know Aragorn that your mother gave your father this very same gift?"
Aragorn was puzzled,
"No, my mother rarely spoke of my father."
Gandalf nodded solemnly.
"Yes, Gilraen's heart wore the veil of his death for most of your years with her. Never did she speak of him?"
"Only on a few occasions. And when she did, never did she give many details."
Gandalf's frown returned as he released Aragorn's wrist.
"It had been her fair hair that had drawn Arathorn to the youthful beauty. Long has the gift of foresight burdened the lives of your people. Your mother, as well as many others, saw the fall of Arathorn before it occurred. So, in her fear of never seeing him again, she gave to him the gift of light. Her bright hair was to shine upon his wrist and remind him of her fair tresses and the love she held for him. Remember thy death, she had said as she had tied it to him. Then Arathorn cut a lock of his own hair and gave it to her. He placed it too upon her wrist and said, and in death know me, for I shall know you ."
Aragorn listened to the story, for the first time in his life he saw his mother without the shadow of his father's death. Once she had loved, and with that love she had lived. But when it departed, so did the light of her eyes.
Gandalf noticed Aragorn's thoughtful expression.
"These gifts bound to one another's wrists would guide them to each other in that place that follows life. Never would one forget the other."
A quiet realization sparked new life in Aragorn's eyes.
Gandalf gave a small laugh,
"So you see, Aragorn, some riddles of life do rhyme. You only have to listen."
Then Gandalf leaned his face in closer to Aragorn's.
"Cast away this guilt. All things, even the love of Arwen were meant to lead you to this one place in time."
Aragorn only nodded in response, his mind was too full. He stared out the window, once again viewing the grey of the White City, but now he saw hope. Not only for his people, but for himself.
"I will leave you now, King Elessar. I believe you have had enough of my counsel for one day."
*******
Now it was time, time for him to cast away his indecisiveness, his doubt, his guilt, and his shame. The sky outside the window of Éowyn's room gave the promises of many shining stars. There would be light, and he would see it.
He sat down on the bed and retrieved the Evenstar from his pocket. Aragorn then clasped it around the neck of Éowyn, immediately a light came and illuminated her still figure. A circle of protection was granted by the Valar.
Aragorn smiled,
"For many long years I have been watched after by one who loves me. Now, I ask in my giving this to you , that the light of the Evenstar will protect you and guide you from this darkness that you wonder in. No longer will I bear the guilt of Arwen. That is another promise I will give to you, Lady of Rohan."
Aragorn then stood and unsheathed Andúril, carefully he cut one braid from his head of hair. He then took up the wrist of Éowyn and tied it securely.
"I will remember thy death, for it was your golden gift that brought me to you. The sun and the creeping shadow that I first saw on the bloodstained grass. Never will I forget your lifeless body, it will haunt me for the rest of my days, however long they may be."
Then he kissed her wrist and placed again at her side. Aragorn still wore Éowyn's gift around his own wrist. He placed his other hand on top of it and said,
"And in death know me, for I shall know you. One of us may not return from these battles that we fight. If that is the way of things, then know this: I will not forget you Éowyn. When this life ends and we travel to that which follows, I will find you. You now must bear my gift in silence."
He then leaned down and kissed her lips.
"I will see you again, no matter what evil I now enter. Even in the freedom of death we will know one another."
The king then turned and left. The morning would bring his departure for the Black Gate and he no longer feared death or failure.