This chapter was written with a lot of help from my fellow Gwethil Angoliel. You flame me, she sets her balrog Freddie on you...and I warn you, he gets mad really easy.
And I don't own Aerwyn, she is similarly on loan with Freddie. And I don't own any canonical characters you recognize.
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As Faramir was bourn off to the houses of healing, Rhoswen stood on the ramparts, the horn of Gondor still in her shaking hands. The Prince of Dol Amroth stood nearby, nearly staring in trepidation at the young woman in his brother in law's keeping.
One of the swan knights who had helped the prince bear the bier of the youngest son to the gates stepped forward rather reluctantly, and pulled off the ivory crested helmet. Slowly, the man knelt at her feet, much to her surprise, and brushed away a strand of dark hair, down casting his face as if afraid to look at her. It was the knight from the other day, the man who had turned away when he caught her gaze. But Rhoswen could see that this was indeed no man; it was Aerwyn. She opened her mouth to speak, but the plea to leave before more tainted grief should arise in this place was stilled at her lips.
"Beloved of my brother, I have learned what it is to be humble. I take back whatever words my mouth has issued against you, and I pray you will grant me your forgiveness for my actions and my words, for both were un-honorable and have caused me pain as well." Rhoswen seemed so awestruck that the woman who was to be her sister, twelve years her senior, was kneeling at her feet begging for forgiveness she knew not what to say. She dropped to her knees beside the woman in armor and tipped the face of the raven towards her.
"We are on even ground then, sister?" Aerwyn smiled a little, and Rhoswen pulled her close. "Let you then be the older sister I never had." Aerwyn felt a funny wet feeling at the back of her neck; Rhoswen had begun to cry. The younger got up, helping Aerwyn off her knees as she went. She faced the soldiers in the courtyard, and held up their hands, tightly clasped together.
"The Raven of Gondor is returned to us!" A cry lifted from the surrounding assembly -scattered shouts of ' The Rose!' and 'The Raven'-and even Imrahil, consternated as he was that his niece had ridden with them, could not keep from clapping
"Come, sister. I will not let you out of my sight again-Gondor would do ill to lose all children to the Steward." Rhoswen took the gloved and armored hand of Aerwyn in her own and the two walked back into the Hall of kings to talk of many things, problems past and problems present.
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"When we first talked face to face, you asked me why I cried; do you remember?" Aerwyn admitted that she did, looking at the young woman with a changed eye.
"I wept in Boromir's room because I missed him. I missed him and that strength that he was, and wanted so badly for me to have. When he left, he told me to stand strong like the Tower's women have always done- like you have always done. But I am not strong."
"But you are! How to last so many months without that which you desire most?"
"A fear that if my hope crumbled, the city would crumble with me. You know what it is to be the emblem of the city, the embodiment of everyone's hopes. If the flag is ripped and sullied and torn, does the city derive any hope or courage from it? So I kept my tears to myself."
"That does not make you weak. You have a different strength then me."
"Ah, you, my sister, Aerwyn, Raven of the Tower of Guard, the woman who can fight dragons, Corsairs, and orcs without batting an eyelash, has much more strength than I."
"Not many can match my temper-you've succeeded there. And though I am loath to admit it, for days on end afterwards, I lived in a fear. A fear of you...and what you could become...and it frightened me. Because I saw everything that I wasn't in you."
"Then we balance the scales, do we not? For in all things, it is said, there must be balance. And neither of us tip the scales to one or the other's advantage." Rhoswen stared into her elder's eyes, and Aerwyn could see a certain light of age and wisdom written there in the modest and unassuming gray. The Raven nodded.
"Yes...there is a balance."
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