The sun was shining again.
The shadow had been banished, and hoperose anew. The White City, though battered and bruised, still stood. She had endured it, a shining beacon of silver and pearl still jutting out proudly in defiance. Gondor would see a new age turned over like winter turned to spring.
But Menwere not made of marble and stone, and the damage they endured was not so easily repaired. Wounds in flesh were bound, stitched, held together with the gentle care from healers. There was little the women in the Houses of Healing could not alleviate.
Grief was one of those things they had no cure for.
Aeardis's fingers intertwined together, her chest heaving with a sigh as she gazed across one of the small gardens nestled in the noble houses. Seated on the far side of the fountain, with his back turned to any passersby and his head bowed, was Boromir.
He had returned home to a city recently besieged and found more heartbreak than joy. A brother, wounded. A father...
Her feet made no sound as she crossed the soft grass, hands fisted in her skirt. Murky eyes were soft and sad. The grief of a child losing their father was a grief she knew all too well. It was a heaviness that only ebbed with time, with knowing that not even your father, the proudest, the bravest of men, will live forever.
She stood beside him now, unsure if he knew that she was there. She wanted to reach out to him, to place her hand on his shoulder and pull him against her, but she hesitated, her hands still tangled in her dress. "Boromir?"
Aeardis sank down to sit beside him, staring down at her lap for a long moment before she took a deep breath and spoke. "I am sorry about your father."
What was the phrase oft said? That one can truly never return home? For each journey away changed both the one leaving and those left behind. Never had those words been truer than upon his return. All had changed. The Dark Lord was defeated, a king had come forward to claim the throne that had sat empty for years while Boromir's forefathers had protected it and the realm, the Tree blossomed with the hope of a peaceful Fourth Age. Faramir was due to marry a shieldmaiden of Rohan, and his father was dead.
It was not the fact but the manner of his death that made Denethor's eldest sit in pensive silence in a secluded courtyard. Madness had stolen his reason and instead of lying with his fathers in Rath Dinen, the ashes were scattered to the winds.
The same wind upon which his father now floated filled Boromir's lungs in a deep breath. Denethor was at peace now, and Faramir was safe and well. His younger brother had already adapted to the changes, leaving Boromir feeling like an ancient relic tossed in the tumult of change.
And, thus more frequently he had made himself scarce, rediscovering his old hiding places.
Her voice interrupted his thoughts. His gaze turned from studying his hands to meeting her eyes. He did not wish to appear weak, but all it took was a single glance at her kindly features and tears were renewed. Aeardis wrapped her arms around him and wished for the ability to take away his pain and sorrow.
Aeardis stood in the healing chambers and looked around at those who remained. "What can I do to help Ioreth?"
The old healer shook her head, pushing back her white hair. "There is nothing else we can do for these men, they need time." Aeardis nodded and turned back toward the small greensward and fountain that Boromir frequented, today though, he was deep in discussion with Faramir in a separate wing of the Citadel. "How is Lord Boromir? The words that the wind brought did not fare well."
She looked down at her hands. It would be easy to say that he was healed, but that was far from the truth. Time would be the only thing that could mend his body. "His injuries still grieve him from time to time," she paused, thinking on his stubbornness, "I fear they will never fully heal." The elves had feared that as well.
Both she and Ioreth turned to back to where some of the injured had gathered in the greensward. "Make way!" Aeardis knew that voice. She pushed through the line of wounded soldiers to see that two great Eagles had landed. Gandalf stood before her, alive and well, though his white robes had been stained with dirt and dark blood. In the grass lay two unmoving hobbits. She felt her heart drop at the battered state of Sam and Frodo.
As quickly as they had come, the Eagles took flight once more, disappearing into the clear sky. The wizard looked up and waved her over to him, "Aeardis, my girl, we must get them to the healers." She nodded and bent to scoop Frodo from the ground.
The commotion had brought both Boromir and Faramir down from the Great Hall in haste, but Ioreth was already seeing to their wounds in private rooms, befitting for the bravest of warriors. Aeardis stepped back to allow Ioreth and Nethril to perform their tasks, though she did not miss the two brothers that lingered in the doorway.
"They'll be alright," she reassured him and over her should the White Wizard appeared, nodding. "Yes, they will be quite alright, now."
Aeardis found that the Wizard was sitting in quiet contemplation on a balcony overlooking the burned plains of Pelennor toward where the darkness of Mordor once thrived. She stepped forward, placing her hands on the stone railing and breathed a deep sigh of relief. It greatly eased her heart to know that Frodo and Sam were safe. "Your father's daughter indeed," Gandalf mused, a fond smile upon his withered lips.
She turned, taking a seat next to him, and bunched the material of her skirts up within her fists. "What of the others?" She dared to ask. Frodo and Sam were safe but she did not know if that was the fate of the entire fellowship.
Gandalf glanced over at her with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "They must make the journey back on foot." Most of their mounts had either fled or were slaughtered at the Black Gate and on foot, it would be a week until everyone returned to the White City.
Her eyes widened as the prospect. There seemed to be so much to do and such little time to accomplish it before they arrived. She bolted upright and looked down at the distressed state of the city. "We must prepare for them!" She exclaimed, easily falling back into her position as a counselor and planner.
Gandalf laughed. "Calm down, my dear," the Wizard smiled and motioned back to the empty side of the bench, "it will all work out."
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Silver trumpets rang in the crisp spring air. Boromir and Faramir stood in their finest liveries that bore the sigil of Gondor. Aeardis and Éowyn lingered to the sides of the brothers, both wearing gowns of pale blue and white. On the horizon was a group of soldiers, the sun glinting off steel swords and silver plate.
Two small figures soon began racing toward the gate as quick as their short legs would allow. She heard their voices carry on the wind. "Boromir! Boromir!" He sank to his knees and took Merry and Pippin into his arms when they collided with him, knocking him back and to the earthen ground.
Aeardis smiled, observing how much and little the two cousins had changed since their initial meeting in Rivendell. She crossed her arms when they stepped back, allowing Boromir to return to his feet, "What's this?" A quick glance at Merry showed his poorly fitted Rohirrim armor, "a Squire of Rohan and Guard of the Citadel?" Pippin wore a small coat of mail and a doublet of blue emblazoned with the White Tree. They both looked proud of the titles and with childlike smiles, both Merry and Pippin wrapped their arms around her hips.
Aragorn came forward with Gimli and Legolas flanking his sides. Aeardis bowed her head. "Aragorn," she greeted but he shook his head and embraced her as an old friend. He glanced between her and Boromir with a wide smile. A flush of color crept up to her cheeks. "It is good to see you again." She nodded.
He now stood in front of Boromir, and though he was little less in height, he was broader than the King. Aragorn clasped Boromir's shoulder. "You look well." That was an understatement in truth, long gone was the deathly pallor that had come over him on Amon Hen. He looked like an unfailing Captain of Gondor once more.
Aeardis turned toward Gimli and Legolas and clasped her hands together excitedly. The Wizard had told her not to fret over their return, but the return of the King should not go uncelebrated. "We will celebrate this joyous victory tonight." The Dwarf laughed, clapping his gloved hands together and even Legolas could not stop a small smirk from showing on his fair face.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
"M'lady." Aeardis turned on her stool and found that a young chambermaid now stood within her sitting room and draped over her arms was a dress of white. "A gift from the seamstress." At first glance, it seemed to be a simple design, but the skirt had inserts of lace and silk and the bodice had been embroidered with small crystalline beads. She smiled at the pale gown and made note that she would have to thank Laimes for her most gracious gift.
Pippin came forward that evening with a crown of winter roses. Aeardis understood what he wished to do and knelt, lowering her head to be within his reach. He placed the coronet upon her head of dark hair and smiled. She kissed his cheek and laughed as a deep shade of red came to his already rosy cheeks, "Thank you, Pippin." When she stood and turned, Boromir was behind her with an outstretched hand.
"I think Merry and Pippin are up to something," she whispered to him, looking in the direction that the two hobbits had run off in. They always seemed to be up to something. "Is that so?" Boromir asked, clearly amused with both her apprehension and Merry and Pippin's churlish antics. With his hands on her waist, he pulled her closer to him. "Would you walk with me?" He breathed, she nodded.
Together they exited the Tower Hall, leaving the festivities behind closed doors, and approached the Fountain Court. At this hour and during the celebration, no one stood guard and the courtyard was all but empty. The White Tree was in bloom now, many blossoms covered the once barren branches. Aeardis reached up and skimmed her hand over the off-white petals. "I only wish I could have seen such flowers sooner." There was no other flower in all of Middle Earth that could compare to the splendor of those that the White Tree bore.
She cut her eyes toward the entrance of the Tower Hall after seeing the leaves of the shrubs bristle. "Those two are up to no good," Aeardis muttered, shaking her head in a manner that made Boromir chuckle. Merry and Pippin were, in essence, spying on them, attempting to pass unseen behind the shrubbery. Like a disgruntled mother, she had her hands on her hips, "Come out, you two." The two hobbits rose to their full heights and came around the hedges with seemingly innocent expressions.
"Actually there's two more, too," Pippin exclaimed, quite proud of himself for ratting out their other compatriots. With a soft laugh, Faramir came out from behind one of the white pillars with Éowyn appearing as well, a gentle smile gracing her features. Aeardis's brows were settled in a deep furrow. She glanced up at Boromir, expecting him to offer her some sort of answer, but he said nothing.
"Is she how you envisioned, brother?" Faramir questioned, smiling as the White Lady of Rohan slipped her hand into his.
Boromir took Aeardis's hands into his own and let his eyes wander down her form, unabashed. "A vision in white with a crown of winter roses beneath the White Tree," he responded with a doting tone. Her dress was indeed, white and the crown of roses and flowers that Pippin had given her were winter blooms that still survived in the caves of the White Mountains.
Aeardis turned to Boromir, red-faced with the realization, "You were in on this all along!" She accused. He smiled and it was a smile she had not seen in years, since before he rode off to battle the first time. A great weight had been lifted from his shoulders with the destruction of Mordor.
Boromir seized her waist between his hands, holding her still and close. His heart swelled at the sight of her. "Aeardis," he breathed, his forehead resting against her own, "will you take me as I am for the rest of my days?"
She slipped her hand across his chest, finding that his heart was racing between the captain's livery he wore. "Yes, but will you have me, Boromir, with all my flaws and grievances?"
"I would have you no other way," he stated, knowing that to him, she was and always had been perfect.
"Kiss her already!" It was Sam. She glanced toward the hobbit but found that the fellowship stood on the cliff. "All of you?" Aeardis asked in disbelief, but Boromir would not have her questions. He leaned forward and tipped her chin up, placing his own lips upon hers. She threw her arms around his neck, only parting when he lifted her feet from the cobbled stone.
"By Durin," Gimli rasped, "I thought I'd be in my grave before the two of ya came to your senses."