AN: This takes place just after Osgiliath was defeated and the men retreated back into Minas Tirith. Movie-verse, please review and let me know what you think.
Disclaimer: The story belongs to both J.R.R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson. The song is "Fragile" by Sting, though I have only heard the Idea of North version. Beorn and Rian are mine.
Fragile, by Just Curious.
If blood would flow when flesh and steel are one
Drying in the colour of the evening sun
"Beorn! Beorn!" She screamed as she pushed through the mass of people, her dark hair flying about as she forced herself into the midst of the suffocating crowd. "Beorn!" She shouted again, her eyes frantically searching the riders as they removed their helmets, embracing sobbing loved ones. One by one the helmets fell away, and with each unfamiliar face Rian's heart sank lower.
"Beorn! Beorn!" She called, her voice rising in despair. Unfamiliar faces, sobbing, laughing, joyful, but each face the wrong one. Suddenly,
"Rian!" His voice bellowed above the crowd. She turned to see his face above the rest, his eyes staring into hers and he pushed his way towards her. His arms around her waist as he pulled her close, his hands so cold as they cupped her face.
"I though I would never see your face again." He murmured before pulling her close and burying his face in her hair, crushing her against his breastplate.
"There is no need to fear, my love. You are home now." She whispered as she pushed away his blood-caked hair from his eyes. As she did so, she felt a large cut in his hair, which oozed blood.
Taking him home, she cleaned and wrapped his wounds, whispering softly as he winced and grimaced.
That night he had wept as they lay together, the lies and the fear all flooding to his mind in the dark. All the death that he had been witness to, all the fears that the Nazgûl poured into his mind. His young mind, once derived of all fear, was now trembling.
As she lay by his side and held him, his young wife knew that he would never be the same again. That with one battle, her bright and energetic husband of two years was now a cold and fearful young man. He was so ashamed of his fear, but why? On that day he had seen murder, death and cold-hearted hate. What grown man would not be brought trembling to his knees?
Rian thought of their Captain that had led him into battle. A tall, serious young man whom the people loved and trusted. But had he seen what he has done, did he know what her husband suffered because of his decision to fight that day? She observed her husband in his sleep, a guardian angel watching over him and wondered if she would ever trust her Captain again.
Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away
But something in our minds will always stay
It was the hour of Captain Faramir's meeting with Steward Denethor that Rian's heart shattered. As she watched Beorn try to explain to her why he must leave, as she watched him give up hope that they would survive, she broke. Mind-numbing grief crashed through her body, her mind focused on only one thing. But he is so afraid. Why do they make him go?
Perhaps this final act was meant
To clinch a lifetimes argument
His heart wept as he told her he was leaving. His mind froze when he saw her weep, his body tensed when he realised he would never see her again. She had barely seen twenty summers, he had only seen twenty-three himself. And now they were to be separated for all of eternity. For what? A broken city that has no meaning. So that Gondor would not fall? But how could Osgiliath save them from their destruction?
Where was their glorious heir? Where was the proud captain who had saved them before? Where was the man who all of Gondor loved, the man they everyone knew would save them in this dark hour. Where was Boromir?
"This is for you, my love." She whispered from the doorway. His armour lay on their bed, the cold metal trying to squeeze the life out of her. In her arms she held a finely woven shirt of cambric and she held it close as her large brown eyes threatened to fill with tears once more. He crossed to her and took the shirt from her hands, his rough hands caressing the soft material.
For a moment he paused. This was not what her was meant to wear, his thick sable shirt lay on their bed. It was made of tough fibers, the dense cloth designed to offer some measly protection.
He looked down at Rian, and in her eyes he saw her fear. Her fear of losing him, her fear of accepting that she would have to sacrifice him. The fear of losing the hope that they would grow old together, live together, die together.
Nodding, he cupped her chin and softly kissed her forehead. He pulled the shirt over his head, not surprised when it fit him perfectly. Without a word he continued to put on his armour, only pausing briefly when two small, pale hands started to buckle up his breastplate.
That nothing comes from violence
And nothing ever could
The beacons had been lit, she had seen them herself. As each second passed, Rian prayed that Rohan would answer the call, that they would burst into the citadel and stop this nightmare from happening. As she walked with Beorn to the stable, as he held her one last time, she replayed their dream of children, a family and a future together in a small cottage surrounded by life. But dreams are frail and wrought with hope, and hope is not to be trusted.
For all those born beneath an angry star
Lest we forget how fragile we are
And he rode away from her, dressed in the steel of glory, his back straight and proud, his face holding no fear. Behind his captain he rode, loyal to the last. And she stood beside the path, refusing to allow the tears to fall as he rode down towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. Weeping women beside her threw herbs and flowers before the riders, herbs of death. It was as if the women were preparing the men for death, even though they had not left yet.
They were without hope. The men would die. The white city would fall, and the race of men would fail.
They were without hope.
And Beorn rode out of the gates.
And Rian wept.
On and on the rain will fall like tears from a star
Like tears from a star
She ran. Her legs moved mechanically as she raced throughout Minas Tirith. The screams around her were faint as her numbed mind replayed over and over what she had seen. His face. His eyes filled with fear, locked that way forever. He had no honour
in death, they had robbed him of his pride. And they left her to flee like a rabbit throughout the city.
Flee she did, her legs taking her through the city as she raced to hide behind locked gates and hidden rooms. Up the tiered city Rian flew, the world around her blurring until she no longer recognised the city around her. She did not even flinch as an Orc stepped out into her and thrust his blade through her stomach. As she fell, she heard a scream, but she could not make out the word they called. She never knew it was her voice that called out for Beorn, for her lids closed and her blood ebbed out onto the stone ground.
The fight continued, the Orcs and Men fighting to the death. No one noticed a young fragile girl's body lying on the ground, and those that did merely kicked it out of their way or walked over it, leaving it there for the birds of prey to feast on later.
On and on the rain will say how fragile we are.
How fragile we are
The horns or Rohan sounded, and those that heard it found their hope.
If blood would flow when flesh and steel are one
Drying in the colour of the evening sun
Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away
But something in our minds will always stay
Perhaps this final act was meant
To clinch a lifetimes argument
That nothing comes from violence
And nothing ever could
For all those born beneath an angry star
Lest we forget how fragile we are
On and on the rain will fall like tears from a star
Like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say how fragile we are
How fragile we are