Disclaimer: None of this is mine! None of it! *sniffles*
A Dark Sunrise
Chapter Thirteen - The White Tree Falls
At last Aragorn grew weary of his life, for very long had it been; nearly three times the life age of a man.
The warm summer was drawing to a close, and Aragorn chose that night to go, for that was the choice of the Numenoreans. When he approached Arwen that night, she knew. For the rest of her days she would remember the way the last winds of summer blew through the open castle, bringing with it the scent of sweet flower and cool water; the way her dear Estel looked, and the way her dress seemed to constrict her breathing, her vision swimming before her eyes.
Choking back her long-damned grief, she took his hand in hers.
'Would you then, lord, before your time leave your people that live by your word?'
'Not before my time,' he answered gently. 'For if I will not go now, then I must go perforce. And Eldarion our son is a man full-ripe for kingship.'
This, at least, was true. Eldarion was at full stature; had endured many trials, had battled, and had roamed Middle-Earth as his father had once done. He was ready.
Arwen was not. Though she had seen Aragorn's death coming for long months, the grief hit her full-force.
So they went to the House of the Kings, in the Silent Street, and Eldarion was with him. The King's son was silent all the way, and Arwen was much reminded of Legolas' wall of defences. Her son would not break.
Legolas came also, and knelt by the kings bed. 'Fair passage may you have, lord.' Tears clung to the edge of Legolas' eyes, the only time Arwen had seen him crumble fully.
It seemed that the wind stole his words, and he knelt by the king and did not say anything, though his forehead rested on Aragorn's chest, and his shoulders shook. All present were unable to comfort the prince, and silence reigned.
Aragorn lay and gazed at his old friend and nodded his head in understanding. 'Do not despair, Legolas. We will walk in separate paths, but we will not remain in sorrow.' Lowering his voice to a whisper, Aragorn took his friends hand and gazed deep into the shocking blue eyes that wept over him. 'It is possible for a woman to love two men. She was never lost to you. She will need you now - do not forsake her.' A long moment passed, and Legolas stood, bowing to the King, and passed out of the Silent Street.
Eldarion came forward then, and took the winged crown of Gondor and sceptre of Arnor, and layed his head near his fathers. None heard the exchange passed between father and son, nor did Eldarion ever speak of it; he rose at last and left the House of Kings, just as Legolas had done, without looking back. Arwen and Aragorn were alone.
Arwen did not bother trying to hold herself together. Crumbling at Aragorn's shoulder she gripped her husbands hand and pleaded for his life, but for all her wisdom and lineage she could not persuade him to stay yet awhile. Wishing to comfort his distraught wife, Aragorn resisted the darkness which closed in around him to speak to her once more.
'Why do you weep? You are not bound to me. Repent and cross the sea to the West with Legolas, bare away your sorrow to the Undying Lands.' But Arwen has slipped into a kind of dream, and she saw herself from above. She saw a pale woman dressed in a funeral gown of deep scarlet and black leaning over the shape of a great king. They sat alone in a great Hall of Kings, and the air of death was thick in that place. The stone of the Hall was cold but not uncomforting; the statues of the kings of old gazing down in silent sorrow to see this parting. No wind passed through the ancient house. No trees or stars sang their songs, and if they did, Arwen could not hear them. For the first time, she was truly aware of death, and she feared it. Coming back to herself she smiled weakly at her dying husband; watched as a crystal tear splashed on her lord's face.
'Nay, dear lord,' she said softly at last, her hand tracing the lines of Aragorn's face. 'That choice is long past, and no ship would bare me hence. If this is the gift of men, as the Eldar say, it is indeed bitter to receive.'
'Aye, in sorrow we must go, but not in despair. We are not bound to this world, and beyond them is more than memory. Farewell!' And his eyes fell shut even as he kissed her hand and he at last gave in to death. Arwen lay her head over his still chest, her long hair like a fan about her and cried long into the night. In Aragorn a great beauty was revealed, for it seemed the grace of his youth, and the valor of his manhood, and the wisdom and majesty of his age were blended together.
But Arwen took no notice of this in her grief, and she left the House with the light in her eyes quenched.
She said farewell to Eldarion and her daughters, and those whom she had loved, and all were distressed to see their cold mother go, for they knew they would never see her again.
Mounting her grey steed the queen galloped from Minas Tirith and made her way to the silent forests of Lothlorien, where none now dwell.
_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^
Well this chapter was inevitable, and I decided to stick it in here. I know that there was no romance for Legolas and Arwen, but you will have to forgive me, because for this chapter I thought it only fair to give Arwen and Aragorn their dues. This is not only a love story; I warn you now, I think that this story will not end 'happily' per say, but bittersweet. Thanks so much to all who expressed condolences...*wave* *hugs* to all at the Undying Love forum. You know who you are.^_^
--Red Dragon
A Dark Sunrise
Chapter Thirteen - The White Tree Falls
At last Aragorn grew weary of his life, for very long had it been; nearly three times the life age of a man.
The warm summer was drawing to a close, and Aragorn chose that night to go, for that was the choice of the Numenoreans. When he approached Arwen that night, she knew. For the rest of her days she would remember the way the last winds of summer blew through the open castle, bringing with it the scent of sweet flower and cool water; the way her dear Estel looked, and the way her dress seemed to constrict her breathing, her vision swimming before her eyes.
Choking back her long-damned grief, she took his hand in hers.
'Would you then, lord, before your time leave your people that live by your word?'
'Not before my time,' he answered gently. 'For if I will not go now, then I must go perforce. And Eldarion our son is a man full-ripe for kingship.'
This, at least, was true. Eldarion was at full stature; had endured many trials, had battled, and had roamed Middle-Earth as his father had once done. He was ready.
Arwen was not. Though she had seen Aragorn's death coming for long months, the grief hit her full-force.
So they went to the House of the Kings, in the Silent Street, and Eldarion was with him. The King's son was silent all the way, and Arwen was much reminded of Legolas' wall of defences. Her son would not break.
Legolas came also, and knelt by the kings bed. 'Fair passage may you have, lord.' Tears clung to the edge of Legolas' eyes, the only time Arwen had seen him crumble fully.
It seemed that the wind stole his words, and he knelt by the king and did not say anything, though his forehead rested on Aragorn's chest, and his shoulders shook. All present were unable to comfort the prince, and silence reigned.
Aragorn lay and gazed at his old friend and nodded his head in understanding. 'Do not despair, Legolas. We will walk in separate paths, but we will not remain in sorrow.' Lowering his voice to a whisper, Aragorn took his friends hand and gazed deep into the shocking blue eyes that wept over him. 'It is possible for a woman to love two men. She was never lost to you. She will need you now - do not forsake her.' A long moment passed, and Legolas stood, bowing to the King, and passed out of the Silent Street.
Eldarion came forward then, and took the winged crown of Gondor and sceptre of Arnor, and layed his head near his fathers. None heard the exchange passed between father and son, nor did Eldarion ever speak of it; he rose at last and left the House of Kings, just as Legolas had done, without looking back. Arwen and Aragorn were alone.
Arwen did not bother trying to hold herself together. Crumbling at Aragorn's shoulder she gripped her husbands hand and pleaded for his life, but for all her wisdom and lineage she could not persuade him to stay yet awhile. Wishing to comfort his distraught wife, Aragorn resisted the darkness which closed in around him to speak to her once more.
'Why do you weep? You are not bound to me. Repent and cross the sea to the West with Legolas, bare away your sorrow to the Undying Lands.' But Arwen has slipped into a kind of dream, and she saw herself from above. She saw a pale woman dressed in a funeral gown of deep scarlet and black leaning over the shape of a great king. They sat alone in a great Hall of Kings, and the air of death was thick in that place. The stone of the Hall was cold but not uncomforting; the statues of the kings of old gazing down in silent sorrow to see this parting. No wind passed through the ancient house. No trees or stars sang their songs, and if they did, Arwen could not hear them. For the first time, she was truly aware of death, and she feared it. Coming back to herself she smiled weakly at her dying husband; watched as a crystal tear splashed on her lord's face.
'Nay, dear lord,' she said softly at last, her hand tracing the lines of Aragorn's face. 'That choice is long past, and no ship would bare me hence. If this is the gift of men, as the Eldar say, it is indeed bitter to receive.'
'Aye, in sorrow we must go, but not in despair. We are not bound to this world, and beyond them is more than memory. Farewell!' And his eyes fell shut even as he kissed her hand and he at last gave in to death. Arwen lay her head over his still chest, her long hair like a fan about her and cried long into the night. In Aragorn a great beauty was revealed, for it seemed the grace of his youth, and the valor of his manhood, and the wisdom and majesty of his age were blended together.
But Arwen took no notice of this in her grief, and she left the House with the light in her eyes quenched.
She said farewell to Eldarion and her daughters, and those whom she had loved, and all were distressed to see their cold mother go, for they knew they would never see her again.
Mounting her grey steed the queen galloped from Minas Tirith and made her way to the silent forests of Lothlorien, where none now dwell.
_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^
Well this chapter was inevitable, and I decided to stick it in here. I know that there was no romance for Legolas and Arwen, but you will have to forgive me, because for this chapter I thought it only fair to give Arwen and Aragorn their dues. This is not only a love story; I warn you now, I think that this story will not end 'happily' per say, but bittersweet. Thanks so much to all who expressed condolences...*wave* *hugs* to all at the Undying Love forum. You know who you are.^_^
--Red Dragon