Chapter 2: Secrets and Smiles
Aragorn woke with a jerk. He was shaking, wondering if it was just a dream that had haunted his sleep. But at the sudden touch of a grave maiden's hand on his chest, it was made clear that this was no dream.
Sitting up, he noticed that tears were running down her cheek. She said nothing. Her eyes were cast down and a million thoughts ran through her head. He slowly reached to wipe the tears from her face, and as his finger ran along her skin he realized that his skin was tight and pale. It was young. He was young.
Aragorn recognised the bed that he was lying in; it was the same bed he died on. He was home. He was in Gondor, in the White Tower, and all around him were the tombs of his forefathers.
Janyn immediately looked up and frowned. 'My lord,' she said softly and closed her eyes forcing more tears to fall. Aragorn sighed and held her hand tightly, but for once no words came to the usually swift-tongued man and a strain of doubt was in his head. She looked at him with eyes of fear and bit her lip as if she was about to burst. She whispered, 'I'm sorry.' But before Aragorn could ask why she yelled, 'There! There is you son! He is dead.' Aragorn's eyes widened as the focused the young body lying on the white stone floor, of which belonged to Eldarion, his son.
Aragorn raced to his son's body and kneeled beside him, gently crying. The sobs were too much for Janyn to handle and she slipped quietly out of the room. Aragorn closely examined his son's untouched corpse. Tearstains were scarred along his son's face, and a frown was on his lips, but he dead body seemed too conscious, too aware. Aragorn's lips tightened as he squinted his eyes. His son did not seem dead, just resting. Aragorn put his hand on Eldarion's chest and felt the soft pulse of a heartbeat. A hopeful smile spread across his face. The boy was breathing. Aragorn yelled, almost shaking his son, 'Wake up Eldarion, my son! Wake up! It is me, your father!' But his son did not stir, but slept silently, and Aragorn soon understood that no amount of yelling would wake Eldarion.
He rose to his feet, still traumatised, and searched for Janyn. He found her leaning over the edge of the last level of the stone city; her hands tightly clenched the side of the wall. Her head was facing the grey sky and the wind rushed at her hair. She was an Angel.
'He is not dead!' Aragorn came running behind her. 'My son is not dead. He is alive, just sleeping.'
'And will remain that way.' Janyn turned, almost yelling in frustration. 'It is my selfishness that cast this horrible spell!'
'How?' He asked.
'I am the daughter of Itylas, and I have angered him greatly.'
'Itylas? But that was just a children's tale.' Aragorn thought in silence. 'Itylas was banished from the human race by the gods and fled in fear of the world. He was brutally killed in battle; and although he died, his spirit did not rest, and being both dead and alive, he found a world on it's own between the world of death, and the world of life and claimed it's lordship.'
Janyn nodded. 'Close enough.'
'Why did he curse us?'
'I have angered him. I ran away, with you, as a result destroyed the one thing I desire.' Aragorn's eyebrows rose in curiosity, as Janyn blushed. 'I've always wanted to be human. I do not know love, or life. I suppose the reason I choose to run with you was,' Janyn held his hand. 'Arwen loved you so deeply that she died. She gave away her life to love you forever. That is a great gift. It seems to me that anyone of whom can be so loved...' Janyn faltered and stood quiet.
Aragorn stared down at her in utter confusion. Here he was with a stranger professing her love to him, a son in eternal sleep and still with no explanation of he why was alive.
'What is it that you want?' Aragorn asked. 'To love or to be loved? Whichever the case, I cannot it give it to you.'
Janyn's face was a deep pink. Bitterly she spoke. 'My Lord, I only want what I cannot have. I shall go back to Ithilyn and resolve what I have caused. I am sorry to have ever bothered you.' Aragorn was watching her intently, and suspiciously. She turned her back to him, and sighed to herself, waiting for the king behind her to send a reply. But after Aragorn stayed silent, she turned and nodded. 'It's that, then, I shall do. Goodbye.' She bowed and sprinted out of the room, her long dress of purple trailing behind.
Aragorn just leaned on the ledge and looked at the white ghost city below him. How quickly this had all happened! He didn't understand any of it. He closed his eyes and shouted, 'Wait!'
On the level below him he saw Janyn's figure standing lone in the street. She looked up from under sneaky eyes, a most gratifying smile on her lips, as she saw Aragorn run from the ledge. After some time, she saw him racing towards her. His face was flushed.
'Yes, my lord?' she bowed her head.
He looked at the ground in embarrassment.
'Do you plan to go alone?'
'I don't know.' She replied with the same tone.
'Heniach nîn?'
'Tancave.'
Aragorn smiled. 'Where did you learn Elvish?'
Janyn shrugged her shoulders.
'I imagine you will need help on this quest.' Said Aragorn wisely. He gave that generous, amused looking smile, as he always wore when Arwen was near, and said softly. 'Le ereb nu silme. Nu áre, le alcarinqua.'
Her laugh was, itself, glorious to Aragorn and even enchanting, as he looked deep into her face, behind the frozen mask into her soft soul. 'We really must be going soon.' She nodded a sudden tone of seriousness.
'What must we do?' He asked.
Janyn subtly grinned.
'How full of mystery you are! You're smile is a whisper that cannot be heard, you're eyes are a drop of shining oil that even I cannot see through. And you're presence is a soft ghost that no one can feel. And yet, I trust you. There is no lie. There is no truth, there are, after all, no words that you choose speak, but I know there is no lie in your voice. Just silence.'
Janyn chose not to take in these words, whether it was compliment or insult was hard to determine. She turned and walked down the street. Aragorn watched her, and she seemed more human than ever. She skipped over the cobblestones humming a quiet tune. Aragorn followed heavy-footed. They did not speak until they had reached the first level of the city.
'My Lord,' She said. 'I must confess.' She turned to him and holding her head high said, 'I do not actually know how to resolve this problem, but the answer is not here. But I will find out.' She nodded with determination. 'Eventually.' Aragorn looked at her face as she squinted in the sunlight. There were no words to be said. 'Whatever awaits, awaits out there.' Janyn pointed to the flat land that lay beyond the gates of Gondor. The land was unusually misty and cold. It seemed so lifeless and desolate; a frozen dessert of hollow remoteness and endless misery.
Aragorn woke with a jerk. He was shaking, wondering if it was just a dream that had haunted his sleep. But at the sudden touch of a grave maiden's hand on his chest, it was made clear that this was no dream.
Sitting up, he noticed that tears were running down her cheek. She said nothing. Her eyes were cast down and a million thoughts ran through her head. He slowly reached to wipe the tears from her face, and as his finger ran along her skin he realized that his skin was tight and pale. It was young. He was young.
Aragorn recognised the bed that he was lying in; it was the same bed he died on. He was home. He was in Gondor, in the White Tower, and all around him were the tombs of his forefathers.
Janyn immediately looked up and frowned. 'My lord,' she said softly and closed her eyes forcing more tears to fall. Aragorn sighed and held her hand tightly, but for once no words came to the usually swift-tongued man and a strain of doubt was in his head. She looked at him with eyes of fear and bit her lip as if she was about to burst. She whispered, 'I'm sorry.' But before Aragorn could ask why she yelled, 'There! There is you son! He is dead.' Aragorn's eyes widened as the focused the young body lying on the white stone floor, of which belonged to Eldarion, his son.
Aragorn raced to his son's body and kneeled beside him, gently crying. The sobs were too much for Janyn to handle and she slipped quietly out of the room. Aragorn closely examined his son's untouched corpse. Tearstains were scarred along his son's face, and a frown was on his lips, but he dead body seemed too conscious, too aware. Aragorn's lips tightened as he squinted his eyes. His son did not seem dead, just resting. Aragorn put his hand on Eldarion's chest and felt the soft pulse of a heartbeat. A hopeful smile spread across his face. The boy was breathing. Aragorn yelled, almost shaking his son, 'Wake up Eldarion, my son! Wake up! It is me, your father!' But his son did not stir, but slept silently, and Aragorn soon understood that no amount of yelling would wake Eldarion.
He rose to his feet, still traumatised, and searched for Janyn. He found her leaning over the edge of the last level of the stone city; her hands tightly clenched the side of the wall. Her head was facing the grey sky and the wind rushed at her hair. She was an Angel.
'He is not dead!' Aragorn came running behind her. 'My son is not dead. He is alive, just sleeping.'
'And will remain that way.' Janyn turned, almost yelling in frustration. 'It is my selfishness that cast this horrible spell!'
'How?' He asked.
'I am the daughter of Itylas, and I have angered him greatly.'
'Itylas? But that was just a children's tale.' Aragorn thought in silence. 'Itylas was banished from the human race by the gods and fled in fear of the world. He was brutally killed in battle; and although he died, his spirit did not rest, and being both dead and alive, he found a world on it's own between the world of death, and the world of life and claimed it's lordship.'
Janyn nodded. 'Close enough.'
'Why did he curse us?'
'I have angered him. I ran away, with you, as a result destroyed the one thing I desire.' Aragorn's eyebrows rose in curiosity, as Janyn blushed. 'I've always wanted to be human. I do not know love, or life. I suppose the reason I choose to run with you was,' Janyn held his hand. 'Arwen loved you so deeply that she died. She gave away her life to love you forever. That is a great gift. It seems to me that anyone of whom can be so loved...' Janyn faltered and stood quiet.
Aragorn stared down at her in utter confusion. Here he was with a stranger professing her love to him, a son in eternal sleep and still with no explanation of he why was alive.
'What is it that you want?' Aragorn asked. 'To love or to be loved? Whichever the case, I cannot it give it to you.'
Janyn's face was a deep pink. Bitterly she spoke. 'My Lord, I only want what I cannot have. I shall go back to Ithilyn and resolve what I have caused. I am sorry to have ever bothered you.' Aragorn was watching her intently, and suspiciously. She turned her back to him, and sighed to herself, waiting for the king behind her to send a reply. But after Aragorn stayed silent, she turned and nodded. 'It's that, then, I shall do. Goodbye.' She bowed and sprinted out of the room, her long dress of purple trailing behind.
Aragorn just leaned on the ledge and looked at the white ghost city below him. How quickly this had all happened! He didn't understand any of it. He closed his eyes and shouted, 'Wait!'
On the level below him he saw Janyn's figure standing lone in the street. She looked up from under sneaky eyes, a most gratifying smile on her lips, as she saw Aragorn run from the ledge. After some time, she saw him racing towards her. His face was flushed.
'Yes, my lord?' she bowed her head.
He looked at the ground in embarrassment.
'Do you plan to go alone?'
'I don't know.' She replied with the same tone.
'Heniach nîn?'
'Tancave.'
Aragorn smiled. 'Where did you learn Elvish?'
Janyn shrugged her shoulders.
'I imagine you will need help on this quest.' Said Aragorn wisely. He gave that generous, amused looking smile, as he always wore when Arwen was near, and said softly. 'Le ereb nu silme. Nu áre, le alcarinqua.'
Her laugh was, itself, glorious to Aragorn and even enchanting, as he looked deep into her face, behind the frozen mask into her soft soul. 'We really must be going soon.' She nodded a sudden tone of seriousness.
'What must we do?' He asked.
Janyn subtly grinned.
'How full of mystery you are! You're smile is a whisper that cannot be heard, you're eyes are a drop of shining oil that even I cannot see through. And you're presence is a soft ghost that no one can feel. And yet, I trust you. There is no lie. There is no truth, there are, after all, no words that you choose speak, but I know there is no lie in your voice. Just silence.'
Janyn chose not to take in these words, whether it was compliment or insult was hard to determine. She turned and walked down the street. Aragorn watched her, and she seemed more human than ever. She skipped over the cobblestones humming a quiet tune. Aragorn followed heavy-footed. They did not speak until they had reached the first level of the city.
'My Lord,' She said. 'I must confess.' She turned to him and holding her head high said, 'I do not actually know how to resolve this problem, but the answer is not here. But I will find out.' She nodded with determination. 'Eventually.' Aragorn looked at her face as she squinted in the sunlight. There were no words to be said. 'Whatever awaits, awaits out there.' Janyn pointed to the flat land that lay beyond the gates of Gondor. The land was unusually misty and cold. It seemed so lifeless and desolate; a frozen dessert of hollow remoteness and endless misery.