Hidden Secrets
Disclaimer: I only own the characters that are unrecognizable and the plot.
Chapter Forty-two: Healing Process
T.A. 3019There she stood; a radiant angel with long, dark curly hair a stark contrast to her pale skin. Several strands of hair were tucked behind her ears, revealing delicate pointed tips. The simple velvet gown created a puddle of blue fabric around her as she kneeled down in the glade. Her white sleeves trailed the ground as she clasped her hands together and bowed her head.
Lips moved silently and the she-Elf finally looked up and tears filled her eyes.
"How did we stray so far, my dear Aranwen? How did you come to be cruelly torn away from me and taken to Gondor? Why did your road not stray in Rivendell longer?" Arwen questioned, eyes locking on the blue-grey orbs of her only daughter.
Aranwen sank down beside her mother. Her short hair was brushed and a silver circlet held it down and somewhat in place. She wore a silvery velvet gown with traces of light blue. A light blue sash encircled her slim waist and the ties flowed to the ground. Her dagger rested on her left hip, held by the sash.
"Goheno nin, nana," she whispered, voice pleading. (Forgive me, mother.)
"U-moe edaved, Rana." (It is not necessary to forgive, Wanderer.)
"There is so much that you know not. Im gwennen na Beran." (I'm married to Beran.)
"I know," smiled Arwen.
"I carry our child," she admitted, grateful to finally confide in someone the worries that plagued her mind constantly. The burden was lifted somewhat. "I know not yet if I shall survive long enough for him to be born and to be his mother."
"Hebo estel," Arwen whispered, hugging her daughter. (Have hope.)
"Am man harthach, nana?" (Why do you still hope, mother?)
"There is always hope. You would do best not to forget it."
Arwen was fading, fading away. It was ending all too quickly. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to do.
"Nana…" she called softly, but it was too late. Arwen had disappeared as rapidly as she had arrived in Aranwen's dreams.
Aranwen sat up in a flash. She blinked several times to get her bearings. Her surroundings were unfamiliar. She must be inside the city of Minas Tirith. But where?
Her father was but a few cots away, kneeling beside Eowyn, a bowel of Athelas water and a cloth in his hand. Eowyn's eyes were closed and she was unnaturally pale and drained of life. What evil had her friend befallen? None of the wounds Aranwen had seen were serious enough to cause such as dramatic change. Were they?
Eomer sat beside Aragorn, worriedly looking on as he worked to heal the broken shieldmaiden.
"The hands of the King are the hands of a healer," Aranwen remarked softly, kneeling next to her father.
Aragorn glanced at her for a second. "Are you hurt?" he inquired.
"No."
He nodded, seeming relieved by her word.
The slight clinking of chain main filled the silent void as Eowyn's chest began to rise and fall. Her eyes slowly opened, taking in the darkened room. Aranwen felt a warm smile rising upon her face. It was good to see Eowyn again.
"Hello," she whispered, her voice hoarse.
"Welcome back to the world of the living," replied Aragorn, he too smiling.
Author's Notes:
Yeah, yeah, just a quick chapter. Pretty much just filler stuff. The debate may or may not be next, I think I might just skip to the battle at the Black Gates. I'll think about it. Enjoy!