Title: Taken
Author: Crimson Coin
Summery: Aragorn yearns for the life he has left behind. But his desires are fulfilled in a way he never imagined.
Rating: PG13. R in later chapters
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters within. They are from the mind of Tolkien and are borrowed.
Archiving: Ask first, please.
Imrahil sighed, shaking his head at the loud clamor or men's voices. He was tired of the discussion, the argument that had ensued by the new king's spontaneous behavior. Whether warranted or not, he understood the worry and terror at the thought of Aragorn's reckless actions. But as a man who had loved his wife wholly, he could not blame any man for acting upon the torrential emotions caused by having her taken.
"I do not understand why this is even a discussion," one noble man said, his face stern. "Elessar is our king. If he is in need of his troops, who are we to deny them. They answer to their king, not his council. I say we send the men he wants. What would happen if we did not? Do we want to see our new king fall?"
Loud mummers erupted at that thought and it was a few moments before another voice spoke up. "Even if you do not accept Aragorn, we cannot deny the troops for the sake of our Steward. I know there are many here who would prefer Faramir rule, as the Stewards have for many years. But our Steward follows Aragorn. If your allegiance is to Faramir, then your allegiance is with Aragorn as well. We cannot deny the safety of our Steward as well."
Imrahil nodded. "This is my point. There should be no argument. According to this letter from our king, they are moving along the eastern borders of Rohan. This means that Rohan is threatened as well. We cannot deny protection to the country responsible for our survival during The Great Siege."
"Rohan's pledge holds no power here. Ceremonial responses were expected after trade agreements were opened. It is Gondor rebuilding itself and Rohan. Gondor owes Rohan nothing."
A loud bang resounded as an older noble slammed his hand on the table. His expression one of anger and horror, and from the reaction of his fellow men, this man was not one to be easily infuriated. "If not for Rohan, there would be no Gondor."
Silence followed for a moment.
"And if not for Aragorn, there would be no Middle Earth." Imrahil stated. As the silence continued, he sighed. "This discussions existence is treasonous upon all our heads. Our allegiance lies with Aragorn and his Queen. To Gondor. I know Aragorn. He will take no other Queen if the worst happens. Would you prefer the future to be heirless? Would you throw away all the Valar have gifted us? We have no quarrel with the elves now and before their departure, they left with us their greatest of treasures. The Queen is wise and knowledgeable of many things of which we can only dream. And if you do not trust her elven heritage, think of her as a woman. What men of honor and valor would we be to allow this treachery to happen within our kingdom? What sign does that send our enemies?"
"Aye, the Prince is right. There are still many enemies in our lands. We cannot appear divided, no matter our personal beliefs. We must answer our king."
"And if there are many enemies, then we cannot spare the men to leave the city. Perhaps this is exactly the plan that enemy wants. To empty the city of soldiers so they may walk within these walls without opposition."
Imrahil sighed and bowed his head into his hand.
Eowyn stood upon the high city wall in the garden of the House of Healing. She gazed across the field, her eyes upon the waters of the Anduin, her heart extended further still. She knew of the letter Imrahil received from Aragorn. She knew of the trials ahead and of the deliberations in council. She knew her love rode alongside his king as she was forced to stay behind, behind the stone walls of the White City.
But these walls were not a horrid prison for her. A soft smile pulled at her lips despite the grimness of the hour. She reached out, her delicate fingers stroking the top of the damp stone wall. She remembered the time she spent in this place, a place she once viewed as a cage. She remembered the wave of warmth that washed over her as Faramir draped that deep blue cloak upon her shoulders with the most tender of smiles on his face.
The days that followed brought her happiness, though she refused to acknowledge it then. And that wonderful day when he approached her, worried about her sadness. He had said he loved her. Her heart still swelled at that memory and she filled with a great tenderness at the memory of fear in her beloved's eyes. Yet behind that fear was such passion, such truth that she could not deny him. He loved her the way she desired to be loved; he offered himself wholly to her.
He had kissed her that day, standing upon the high wall, overlooking the Pelannor. He kissed her where anyone could see. He kissed her with such love and abandon and she knew then that she could love no other man. How could she not return his love, a love he gave so freely, so willingly.
"Lady Eowyn?"
She jumped at the voice, startled as she turned quickly with wide eyes. A part of her was relieved to see only a soldier, a man dressed in battered armor, another part of her was angry at herself for not hearing his approach. "Yes," she answered him, attempting to sound as calm as possible. "Yes, what is it?"
"This is from my Lord Faramir," he said softly, extending a crinkled envelope to her. "He wrote it in secret and bade me give it to you, without anyone knowing. I know not what it contains, but was told to tell no one. I have told no one, my lady."
"Thank you," she replied, her gaze unwavering from the envelope and the curious smudge at the corner. "I would send him a reply. Would I find you in the barracks?"
"Yes, my Lady."
"Good. Then do not leave until you see me."
He bowed, courteously before taking his leave.
Eowyn licked her lips, unsure of the nerves rising within her. She had no reason to be nervous and yet, something was not right. Gathering her courage, she opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.
Her stomach turned at the shaky script, his handwriting still easily identified but yet something was amiss. And the smudges and red stains did little to ease her heart.
My Darling Eowyn,
I pray this letter find you well.
"Well," Eowyn scoffed with a shake of the head. "How can I be well when you are so far away, my love?"
I would ask you to read all I have to say before doing anything rash. And that means do not read ahead to see what I am to say. I would tell you, my Eowyn, that I have wronged you and am eternally sorry.
Eowyn furrowed her brow. What did he have to be sorry for? Unless he ... a cold fury and jealousy swept over her. Was he unfaithful to her?
I know the first thought to your mind must be my faithfulness and I swear you have no reason to doubt that. No, I have wronged you in another way. I have not lived to the words I have sworn to you.
Do you remember when I told you that I loved you? Upon the high walls in the House of Healing? I told you that were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, still would I love you. I have not acted such.
I should be used to residing secondly within the hearts of those whom I care for. Twas with my father thus and should be no surprise that the same holds true for the woman I married. I do not fault you, my love, for I know you love Aragorn and always will. I know I will never be your ranger from the north, but instead be the weakling second son of a mad Steward of Gondor who was only a ranger because of his father. Who prefers a life of books and scholarship to the hardened clash of swords and battle.
"Oh, Faramir."
My time away from you on this hunt with Aragorn has allowed me much time to think. And I can now see in Aragorn what I could never give you. I see what he is and who he is and why he is still first in your heart. I realize now what a cruel trick the fate of my life has been. It was not Boromir, my brother, meant to die. I believe it was I.
Boromir was the strongest, and most beloved by my father and the people and soldiers of Gondor. Boromir was a fearless warrior able to rally men behind him, to fight fearlessly in the face of peril and defeat. And in those cases, he led us to victory. Just as your Aragorn has done.
You would have loved him, Eowyn, my brother. I believe that were Boromir alive, he would have made you a wonderful husband. He is the warrior that a woman of Rohan would be proud of, the greatest in all of Gondor. His battles were courageous and sung of in songs. He would not have failed Gondor as I had. He would not have fallen before the battle had started. He would have led Gondor to victory. He and Aragorn together with the help of your brother and the forces of Rohan.
I am inconsequential to the victories of men against the evils of Mordor. Such a cruel joke, so lies our fates. Boromir should have been your husband. He would have made you happy.
I am sorry I am not the man for whom you would love. And I, in my folly, have discarded the happy moments we have had. I should have strived to give you everything you desired. But that is irrelevant now. Now I shall give you the husband you deserve. I will make you proud of me, my darling Eowyn.
Today, we founded a small orc scouting party. The battle was hard and we were outnumbered. We were victorious but not without casualties. We lost some of our men and that is why Aragorn sent word back to Gondor for reinforcements. We must move into Rohan. We know where they have taken the Queen, or so we believe.
But this is not why you will be proud. I assume by now you have noticed my writing is not the same, the shakiness of my hand. I fear that not only our men were casualties of this battle. I had taken a hard shield blow to the chest. I believe my ribs are bruised badly if not cracked. And a single arrow pierced near the top of my armor, around my left shoulder. I managed to hide my wounds, the others too worried of finding a track to follow those who retreated.
Legolas tracks them now. We will be following shortly. I will continue on with Aragorn. I have wrapped my torso and removed the arrow, but the wound still seeps. That will not stop me. I will not return to the White City again a fallen man. I did that once, and shan't disgrace you or myself.
I will be that fearless warrior you so desire. I will follow Aragorn into battle again, despite my wounds. And I will hold my head high as I fight, knowing that these wounds will fester and infect, knowing that I will fall in this final stand.
In our short life together, I could not be the man you loved. Perhaps in a glorious death, I will prove myself worthy of that honor.
I love you.
Faramir
Eowyn did not react. No. She had to be mistaken. She reread his letter.
Tears pricking at her eyes, she rushed inside at a brisk pace to the rooms she and Faramir had been granted while the Steward's home was under repair. Bursting into the room, she approached the bed and dropped to her knees. Looking under, she spotted her old wooden trunk and grabbed the handle. Pulling hard, she tugged the heavy trunk out from under the bed.
"Stupid ... Ass of a man!" she swore, slamming a fist upon the trunk lid as she scanned the letter again.
Tossing the letter upon the bed, she lifted the heavy trunk lid, the hinges creaking with the effort and she grunted with the strain. Once open she gazed upon the sword, the shield and mail inside the trunk. A helmet, a horse's tail protruding from the top, neatly combed. She reached inside and gripped the handle of her sword.
"I made a promise to him," she said softly, lifting the heavy sword from its resting place. "To never draw you again." She returned her attention to the mail shirt and ran her fingers along the delicate links. Her eyes hardened as she grabbed the mail shirt and tore it from the trunk.
Imrahil rolled his eyes, slouching heavily in his chair. How could it be possible that this discussion still continued?
"We can send as many men as needed. The Prince's Swan Knights can protect the city."
"Aye, but the Prince's Knights do not know the lay out of the city. If something were to happen, they may be lost. Mayhaps the Knights should go."
Groaning, Imrahil ducked his head into his hands. This could not get any worse.
A loud crash interrupted the council meeting and all jumped, turning their heads towards the council room door. A few gasps resounded as the men scrambled to their feet. Imrahil looked up.
"Where are they?"
"Eowyn?" he asked, standing. "Eowyn, what are you ..." he trailed off as he noticed her attire. She appeared dressed for battle, though not wearing the colors of Gondor, but the colors of her former Rohan.
"You have all heard me," she stated defiantly as she approached the table and looked down upon the giant map that covered the council table. "Where are they?"
"Lady Eowyn," one advisor said, his voice faltering unsurely. "We are in council. And why are you dressed so inappropriately. My Lady, forgive me but ..."
"I am not dressed inappropriately," she snapped. "when I intend to ride out to battle. Now where are they? From my husband's letter, I assume they were here." She pointed to a position on the map. "And I then assume that 'by entering Rohan' that means they are moving this way." She traced her assumed path. She paused. "Why are you in council anyway? Should someone not be organizing the troops requested?"
"My ... my Lady, we are still debating about ..."
"Debating about sending troops?" Eowyn's brow rose in surprise. "Are you all mad? Would you have them die? Such folly! Do you think that troops are requested for splendor? Nay, they are requested because they are needed."
"No troops will leave this city, my lady, without the council's approval."
Eowyn straightened, her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the men before her. "I see. I see Gondor holds no loyalty to her own. I see Gondor's council full of mindless clattering hens who no nothing of the physicality of brute war and who respect no order but would rather perch atop their nests clucking over insignificancies. Perhaps I was wrong to believe that Gondor held firm devotion and loyalty to the safety of its people."
On noble slammed his hand upon the table. "Gondor is a powerful nation, my lady, with many concerns other than this expedition. Troops are needed here for protection in this time of uncertainty. The council has every right to withhold troops for the safety of its people. Your accusations are treasonous!"
"As are your actions!" she yelled back then paused as she met the eyes of the one challenging her. A cold fury consumed her. "I was proud to be a shieldmaiden of Rohan. I was proud to call Rohan home. I cannot say I feel the same about Gondor." She turned towards the door.
"My Lady, wait!"
Eowyn stopped and glanced over her shoulder. It was the boy who delivered Faramir's letter. He ran to her.
"My Lady," a smile on his face, he stopped before her and bowed low. "My Lady, though I am only a soldier of no rank, it would be my honor to follow you into battle."
She softened at the boy's words and only then upon seeing the awe and loyalty in his eyes did she nod. "Aye. You know if the worst is to happen and yet we live, they may charge us both with treason and you with desertion upon our return."
"Aye, my lady," he responded. "I follow you still."
"What is your name?"
"Hordil, my lady." He answered and bowed again. "And I know my brother would be more than willing to come as well. He is in the barracks."
Eowyn nodded. "So be it then. Since Gondor does not answer her King, we will ride to Edoras. My brother will heed Aragorn's call."
(I would like to personally thank everyone for reviewing and reading this fic. I'm overwhelmed by the astounding feedback and all the hits I've received. I hope you are all enjoying it and I expect to have the next chapter out soon. Please review and tell me what you think. I love hearing from everyone, and often it helps motivate me to write ). What will happen now when Eowyn reaches Edoras with her – hopefully – two escorts?)