Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings trilogy, blah, blah, blah.
I am SO sorry. Not that any one's actually caring for my sorry-ness, because only 2 people actually reviewed. Thanks espergirl04 and Evenstar Elanor...
But, even though you aren't reviewing, people... I'm still going to continue because I've just come up with an extremely fluffy idea AFTER the movies and I don't feel like starting a new story... So this one's going to go to after the movies, too. Ok? Ok!
Song of Evenstar
Chapter 2: Remnants of Memory
Aragorn
The clashing of swords and spears and arrows and flesh and anything pounded in his ears, a steady rhythm as his heart. The black gates stood open before them, the steady stream of foul-smelling orcs and trolls and all of Mordor's vileness spilling out upon the remnants of Gondor's strength. They were going to die. They were going to be crushed beneath each blow of Sauron's foulness, cut to shreds beneath the weight of Mordor's greed.
But Frodo needed this chance.
And this was all they could give him. He wished to give more, to give his life, his soul, everything for the fate of Middle-Earth. But he couldn't.
Because all those promises, all those vows and oaths... they had already been given. Aragorn had already pledged his life to Arwen. And he intended to keep those vows.
A low rumbling behind him drew Aragorn's gaze to a troll, a foul minion of Mordor. He turned, but too late. The troll knocked the breath out of him, kicked him down. He heard voices around him, voices he knew, voices screaming his name. But they were muffled. All was slowed, all was barely audible. Only one thing did he hear: the beating of his heart.
Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment, gathered his strength. And then he stopped.
He could die. He could let Middle-Earth fall, could leave this misery unscathed. He could live upon white shores until the end of time, in peace and without despair. Without a care about the world of men. He could give up.
Give up.
Give up.
Aragorn swallowed and opened his eyes, raising his sword.
No.
He could leave Middle-Earth to whatever fate. He could forget the lives of men, and, without a care, live in peace undying.
But he couldn't leave Arwen.
Arwen
He was hurt. She felt it in the air. It echoed in every leaf of every tree in every corner of the forest. He was hurt.
Arwen stood sharply, and turned to her door. She hadn't left her room for weeks... but now was her time to do something. She couldn't just stay there, a rock, and do nothing...
Do nothing.
What was there that she could do? She wasn't a warrior, couldn't battle. She was skilled with the blade, true enough, but Arwen wouldn't stand a chance against trolls and thousands of orcs...
What could she do?
Her magic... of what use would that be at such a distance? She was useless. Useless. Useless.
Turning away from the door, Arwen threw herself on her soft bed again, tears threatening to spill. But then again, what else could she do but cry?
She could only cry.
Aragorn
He was about to stab through the troll when a loud crash in the distance echoed through the battle's midst. Every one stopped. For one split second, everything was silent.
Silence.
Silence.
The orcs moved first. They were worried, scared, frightened. Screaming, they abandoned their victims and ran, just ran, away from the black gate. Away from Mordor, away from death.
The trolls and the remainder of Mordor's foulness began to pour heavily from the gates, fleeing their bane.
And then he saw it. As Aragorn straightened and stared at the tower, he saw the eye breaking, saw the tower crashing, saw the ground plunging...
And smiled.
Frodo had won. They had won. The ring was gone. Sauron was destroyed. Gone. Gone.
They were free now, free of battle, free of death and free of fear. They were free to go wherever they wished to, whenever, however. To do anything, everything their hearts desired. Aragorn was free now, free to be a ranger, or to be king, to fall in love, to live his life...
To fall in love.
Arwen.
Arwen
It was gone. The ring was destroyed. She felt her power returning, felt the earth sighing in relief.
And she ran to her door.
Throwing it open, Arwen raced down the long corridor that was suddenly light and friendly again. And to her father's study she ran, throwing open the door and racing to her father's arms as she had as a child.
Elrond smiled at his daughter in relief and in terrible grief and regret. When at last Undomiel pulled back to face her father, he spoke.
"We leave at dawn." He said, and smiled further, almost grievously, at his daughter's hopeful expression.
"Ada..." she began, but he interrupted.
"I release you, Arwen. You are free to your heart's desires..."
Aragorn
He was crowned king of Gondor. Frodo was safe now, and the four hobbits healed as much as they would ever be. Aragorn's people accepted him, bowed to him as he walked towards the long procession of elves. He smiled, but his smiles were half-hearted. His thoughts were elsewhere.
Legolas laid a hand on the king's shoulder, and Aragorn smiled warmly at the prince of Mirkwood. But something glinted in the prince's eyes, something mysterious and mischievous that made Aragorn wonder. Legolas inclined his head to the procession of elves behind him, and let go of Aragorn's shoulder slowly.
But Aragorn's gaze was drawn the crowd of elves parting. He saw Elrond standing behind a flag. He saw the elves of Rivendell around them. And that meant...
Arwen
Her father whispered something to her, but she didn't hear. She didn't see. There was nothing. Only Aragorn. Only her love.
She slowly lowered the flag, letting it go as Aragorn took it from her hand. She was scared. Frightened by Aragorn. Frightened? How could she be frightened by the one her heart desired above all? How could she fear him? The answer came to her quickly, a stab in her heart, a pang in her love.
He was king now. King of men. And who was she, but an elven maiden? She was Undomiel, the last Evenstar of her people... but he was the king of men.
Perhaps he thought her unworthy of him now. Perhaps he didn't love her anymore. Perhaps...
She couldn't look to his eyes. She couldn't face him. He was her king. So Arwen inclined her head ever so slightly in a bow, respectfully lowering her station before the king.
But Aragorn wouldn't let her bow before him. He placed his hand under her chin, and lifted her face, gazing at her. Arwen couldn't escape those eyes. Those loving gray eyes that had shone through darkness and light.
With a suddenness Arwen did not expect nor prepare for, Aragorn caught her mouth in his, trapping her in a passionate kiss. All the lust and desire of their time apart and their despair went into that kiss; all the pain washed away as they clung to one another. Arwen knew then, just knew, that this was her end. Her happiness. And that nothing, nothing would tear them apart now.
Tum tum tum... Sorry for the shortness... there I go, apologizing again though no one cares...
sigh Next chapter, I'm going on to what happened after LOTR. I've got plot bunnies dancing in my head, so expect a twisted thingamagiger.
... review? ...
I am SO sorry. Not that any one's actually caring for my sorry-ness, because only 2 people actually reviewed. Thanks espergirl04 and Evenstar Elanor...
But, even though you aren't reviewing, people... I'm still going to continue because I've just come up with an extremely fluffy idea AFTER the movies and I don't feel like starting a new story... So this one's going to go to after the movies, too. Ok? Ok!
Song of Evenstar
Chapter 2: Remnants of Memory
Aragorn
The clashing of swords and spears and arrows and flesh and anything pounded in his ears, a steady rhythm as his heart. The black gates stood open before them, the steady stream of foul-smelling orcs and trolls and all of Mordor's vileness spilling out upon the remnants of Gondor's strength. They were going to die. They were going to be crushed beneath each blow of Sauron's foulness, cut to shreds beneath the weight of Mordor's greed.
But Frodo needed this chance.
And this was all they could give him. He wished to give more, to give his life, his soul, everything for the fate of Middle-Earth. But he couldn't.
Because all those promises, all those vows and oaths... they had already been given. Aragorn had already pledged his life to Arwen. And he intended to keep those vows.
A low rumbling behind him drew Aragorn's gaze to a troll, a foul minion of Mordor. He turned, but too late. The troll knocked the breath out of him, kicked him down. He heard voices around him, voices he knew, voices screaming his name. But they were muffled. All was slowed, all was barely audible. Only one thing did he hear: the beating of his heart.
Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment, gathered his strength. And then he stopped.
He could die. He could let Middle-Earth fall, could leave this misery unscathed. He could live upon white shores until the end of time, in peace and without despair. Without a care about the world of men. He could give up.
Give up.
Give up.
Aragorn swallowed and opened his eyes, raising his sword.
No.
He could leave Middle-Earth to whatever fate. He could forget the lives of men, and, without a care, live in peace undying.
But he couldn't leave Arwen.
Arwen
He was hurt. She felt it in the air. It echoed in every leaf of every tree in every corner of the forest. He was hurt.
Arwen stood sharply, and turned to her door. She hadn't left her room for weeks... but now was her time to do something. She couldn't just stay there, a rock, and do nothing...
Do nothing.
What was there that she could do? She wasn't a warrior, couldn't battle. She was skilled with the blade, true enough, but Arwen wouldn't stand a chance against trolls and thousands of orcs...
What could she do?
Her magic... of what use would that be at such a distance? She was useless. Useless. Useless.
Turning away from the door, Arwen threw herself on her soft bed again, tears threatening to spill. But then again, what else could she do but cry?
She could only cry.
Aragorn
He was about to stab through the troll when a loud crash in the distance echoed through the battle's midst. Every one stopped. For one split second, everything was silent.
Silence.
Silence.
The orcs moved first. They were worried, scared, frightened. Screaming, they abandoned their victims and ran, just ran, away from the black gate. Away from Mordor, away from death.
The trolls and the remainder of Mordor's foulness began to pour heavily from the gates, fleeing their bane.
And then he saw it. As Aragorn straightened and stared at the tower, he saw the eye breaking, saw the tower crashing, saw the ground plunging...
And smiled.
Frodo had won. They had won. The ring was gone. Sauron was destroyed. Gone. Gone.
They were free now, free of battle, free of death and free of fear. They were free to go wherever they wished to, whenever, however. To do anything, everything their hearts desired. Aragorn was free now, free to be a ranger, or to be king, to fall in love, to live his life...
To fall in love.
Arwen.
Arwen
It was gone. The ring was destroyed. She felt her power returning, felt the earth sighing in relief.
And she ran to her door.
Throwing it open, Arwen raced down the long corridor that was suddenly light and friendly again. And to her father's study she ran, throwing open the door and racing to her father's arms as she had as a child.
Elrond smiled at his daughter in relief and in terrible grief and regret. When at last Undomiel pulled back to face her father, he spoke.
"We leave at dawn." He said, and smiled further, almost grievously, at his daughter's hopeful expression.
"Ada..." she began, but he interrupted.
"I release you, Arwen. You are free to your heart's desires..."
Aragorn
He was crowned king of Gondor. Frodo was safe now, and the four hobbits healed as much as they would ever be. Aragorn's people accepted him, bowed to him as he walked towards the long procession of elves. He smiled, but his smiles were half-hearted. His thoughts were elsewhere.
Legolas laid a hand on the king's shoulder, and Aragorn smiled warmly at the prince of Mirkwood. But something glinted in the prince's eyes, something mysterious and mischievous that made Aragorn wonder. Legolas inclined his head to the procession of elves behind him, and let go of Aragorn's shoulder slowly.
But Aragorn's gaze was drawn the crowd of elves parting. He saw Elrond standing behind a flag. He saw the elves of Rivendell around them. And that meant...
Arwen
Her father whispered something to her, but she didn't hear. She didn't see. There was nothing. Only Aragorn. Only her love.
She slowly lowered the flag, letting it go as Aragorn took it from her hand. She was scared. Frightened by Aragorn. Frightened? How could she be frightened by the one her heart desired above all? How could she fear him? The answer came to her quickly, a stab in her heart, a pang in her love.
He was king now. King of men. And who was she, but an elven maiden? She was Undomiel, the last Evenstar of her people... but he was the king of men.
Perhaps he thought her unworthy of him now. Perhaps he didn't love her anymore. Perhaps...
She couldn't look to his eyes. She couldn't face him. He was her king. So Arwen inclined her head ever so slightly in a bow, respectfully lowering her station before the king.
But Aragorn wouldn't let her bow before him. He placed his hand under her chin, and lifted her face, gazing at her. Arwen couldn't escape those eyes. Those loving gray eyes that had shone through darkness and light.
With a suddenness Arwen did not expect nor prepare for, Aragorn caught her mouth in his, trapping her in a passionate kiss. All the lust and desire of their time apart and their despair went into that kiss; all the pain washed away as they clung to one another. Arwen knew then, just knew, that this was her end. Her happiness. And that nothing, nothing would tear them apart now.
Tum tum tum... Sorry for the shortness... there I go, apologizing again though no one cares...
sigh Next chapter, I'm going on to what happened after LOTR. I've got plot bunnies dancing in my head, so expect a twisted thingamagiger.
... review? ...