"Where is Aragorn?"
The faint tremor is Amera's voice wounded Legolas as he watched her slowly step back from Boromir, her eyes narrowed as if in suspicion as she stared up at them. The ride from the battlefield have given the elf time to quell the emotions that raged within him with an intensity that startled him, unnerved him as they had silently finished the journey to Helm's Deep. Boromir had taken the news that hardest, though Legolas's keen vision had spied the tears that had sprung up in Gimli's dark eyes as they had stared over the ravine and into the raging waters that had carried their companion away. Gimli had stared in profound silence, his axe slipping from his hand and clanging against the rocky ground as the enormity of what had happened slowly began to ring true in their hearts.
Boromir was silent now, his eyes distant as he simply stared ahead through Amera as she stood before him, so different from the furious roar that had escaped his throat as he drove his sword through the corpse of a warg in fury, his chest heaving as his eyes blazed. Theoden, too, had been mournful, though he had not the same bond as the other members of the Fellowship had with Aragorn and as so had left them to grieve privately as they finished the last stage of the journey.
But Amera, Legolas's heart fluttered with pity as he looked down to her and saw the wild fear in her eyes, the disbelief as she slowly repeated, "Where is Aragorn?"
And it was silent, for none present wished to announce what had happened, because to speak it would make it true and if it was true it was irreversible. There could be no hope.
"Amera," Gimli finally stated from behind Legolas, his voice soft with pity, "Aragorn will not be returning."
"No." Amera snarled, startling all that surrounded her as her eyes flashed and she seemed almost to bare her teeth as she shook her head. She swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling as she clutched a hand over her heart, "I would have known…I…I," Her hands began to tremble as she challenged, "I would have felt something."
Boromir slowly took a step forward, saying nothing as he reached out a hand to comfort her. She recoiled violently at this, her stormy eyes wild as she shook her head again, taking a step back as she hissed, "You're wrong."
"He is dead, Aeliniel," Theoden's strong voice echoed against the stone walls as he addressed Amera for the first time. Legolas could see the pity in his face as he gazed down at her, but his voice was steady as he finished, "Aragorn will not return."
Amera became very pale at this and froze, her shoulders visibly trembling as her gaze met with that of Theoden's. A moment later and she swayed precariously, as if about to faint and Boromir lunged to steady her. However, she brushed him away and swallowed hard, her jaw trembling as she steadied herself. She closed her eyes and simply stood for a moment as Eowyn's eyes filled with tears beside her as she too was struck with sudden understanding. Amera then turned, her eyes still closed as her face reveal no emotion, as blank as the statue of her that rested in the halls of his father in Mirkwood. She said nothing as she walked away, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders as she disappeared into the crowd that swelled against the narrows streets and alleys of Helm's Deep.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Helm's Deep was silent save for the occasional crack of thunder and fierce pattering of raindrops against the aged stone walls as a thunderstorm had rolled in from across the plains earlier that evening. The night air was chill as it swept against him, stirring his hair around his face as he stared blankly ahead at the sleeping figures packed into the small hall. He had desperately attempted rest earlier, but his churning emotions had robbed him of the sleep he so desired.
Every time Boromir closed his eyes, he saw Aragorn ride past him once more, his kingly head held high as his sword had glittered silver and crimson in the afternoon light. There was no crown upon his noble brow, only the marks of worry and battle as he had ridden past with fierce eyes. Boromir then saw the swirling waters once more as he had searched for any sign of his king, of his friend in the rushing river so far beneath them. He thought at first, without truly realizing it, that perhaps the river had taken mercy on Aragorn, that the dark waters had gently cradled his fall and bore him softly to the riverbank, that Amera's spirit had somehow channeled itself into that from which she was born, her element, and had shown him mercy.
But it had not been so.
Boromir sighed and angrily ran a hand through his hair. He had longed for strong drink earlier to quell the pain, if only for a little while, but he knew such was not the answer. They each suffered differently, Legolas more distant and reserved than ever as he aimlessly walked through the stone corridors and streets while the dwarf had angrily taken to sharpening his axe, seemingly discontent with its razor edge as he endlessly continued to work upon on it. Even now, or so he had been told earlier by Gimli, Amera's grief had taken her to the walls of the fortress and the stuffed targets that had been placed there for anyone who wished to practice with blade or bow, refusing to even acknowledge the presence of another.
His heart yearned for her then, with an intensity that robbed him of breath as he recalled the disbelief, the refusal in her eyes as she had been told of Aragorn's loss, of how her soft lips had trembled as she became so terribly pale. In that moment, he knew had seen her heart break, her world shatter into a thousand pieces and gather around her feet.
Boromir rose and pulled his cloak around his shoulder, raising the hood over his head as he left the hall behind and ventured out onto into the pouring rain, blinking back the wind as its intensity stung his eyes. He walked carefully as he searched for her, each step cautious lest he slip upon the slick stone as he ventured across the walls of Helm's Deep. The moon was hidden behind thick, frothing clouds, the only light to guide his path being the occasional flash of distant lightning as it was swiftly followed by a strong roll of thunder that echoed against the surrounding mountains.
He spotted a few minutes later but kept to the shadows, lest her keen eyes spy him even in the midst of the storm as he watched her. Amera was thoroughly soaked, her black hair plastered to her shoulders and face as the lightning glittered wickedly off of her flashing sword as she attacked the stuffed target with a ferocity that startled him. Her gown clung tightly to the angles and curves of her form that were so alluring to him, the sharp peak of her shoulder blades twisting and moving as her sword danced through the air, but he could see her exhaustion as she fought it. Her arms trembled as she slashed the training dummy, her chest heaving as she was seemingly oblivious to the wild storm that surrounded her.
Any trace of the gentle Aeliniel, the Amera with a shy, fleeting grin and soft eyes was gone, replaced by the merciless cold of the Dagorwen as she obliterated the target with eerie precision, her blade slashing effortlessly through the straw and burlap that held the target together as even now she struggled to stand, her shoulders slumping as each attack stole more of what little energy she had left. He watched her silently for a few more minutes, his heart urging him to her while his mind recalled the night in Meduseld, of the anger that had arisen in him as he learned of the secret she had kept from him.
Finally, her strikes came to an end as the target slumped helplessly in her wake, reduced to a mangled nest of hay and cloth that no longer more any resemblance to the torso, shoulders and head it once had been. He froze, pressing himself tightly to the wall and shadows as she suddenly turned, certain that he had been discovered. She walked silently through the tempest that roared around her, her eyes flashing by lightning as the wind streamed her dark hair around her sharp features. As her blade rested by her side, gripped tightly by a pale hand, Boromir was reminded of the feral power that she truly was, of the Dagorwen that seemingly battled against the Aeliniel, of the gentle that challenged the harsh within her. She strode forward, her face blank as he caught a brief glimpse of her bare feet as they glided over the stone walkway, but he held his breath as she suddenly stopped but a few feet before him.
She closed her eyes and the mask slipped away as he saw her pain in her features, the trembling lip and set jaw. A moment passed and without any warning, she whirled around and hurled her sword through the rain, so swiftly it was put a flash amidst the darkness as it streaked with unnatural precision towards her target. He drew in a sudden breath as the dummy burst apart by the force of the blade as the few fibers that had held it together were torn asunder, straw and burlap exploding as her sword clattered against the slick stone.
Amera then turned to look over the stormy plains, her shoulders heaving as her hands fell to her sides and cried out into the rain and thunder with absolute abandon, "You said I could do this!" Boromir's heart broke for her as he watched her wait helplessly for a reply that they both knew would not come. There was a crack of lightning and her voice was filled with anger and pain as she cried out once more, "You said you believed in me! You said I was strong enough!"
Amidst the pouring rain and reckless wind, he heard a sob escape her lips as she roughly fell to her knees, her head lowering in shame, repeating once more as her voice battled the elements that roared around her, "You said you believed in me and I failed!"
Amera looked so immensely broken then, so fragile as she wept openly into the tumultuous night, her hair swirling around her pained features as her shoulders rose and fell, that Boromir knew he could no longer watch. What had happened between them in the past mattered not as he ran to her, because he needed her more than anything else in that moment. He wrapped his cloak around her as pulled her close as he knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her trembling, delicate body as she sobbed in absolute despair. She rested her head against his chest as he sheltered her from the fierce rain and elements, burying his lips in her soaked curls as he felt his own tears mingle with the raindrops that coursed down his cheeks.
He could feel the angles of her bones as he held her close, the muscles in her slender form moving beneath his hands as she wept and he whispered her name to her, closing his eyes as throat burned from tears he had held back. As he held her, any trace of the strange, ageless grace of the Aeliniel was gone, the fierce pride and strength of the Dagorwen buried beneath heartbreak and sorrow. In his arms was only Amera, who he loved with an intensity that stole his breath.
"I failed, Boromir, I failed." She repeated over and over again and he shook his head, unable to speak as he pulled her tightly to him. "This was my second chance," She sobbed, burying her head almost childlike against his broad chest, "This was to be my redemption and I failed."
There was a pause and he heard the tremor in her voice as she whispered, "I thought I could be strong enough, could save him, Boromir, but I failed and now," Her voice finally cracked, "My king is dead."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Amera wept as she finally spoke that which broke her heart, finally admitting the truth that shattered her soul with an unbearable grief that robbed her of breath. The wind and rain pounded against her back with enough force to cause pain, but she ignored it as she curled against the familiar strength that was Boromir as he held her close. She felt his chest rise and fall beneath her head and knew that he too was unable to hold back his sorrow, his heart racing a steady beat.
She would never see Elendil's crown placed upon Aragorn's noble brow, never see the quiet pride in his noble eyes as he was coroneted before the White Tree, atop the marble city his ancestors had built from the rough mountainside. She would never run once more through the quiet courtyards of her fair city, never run her fingertips along the familiar dusty tomes and ancient statues of Annuminas. She would never know the excitement of meeting young princes, who shyly looked at her as their fathers laughed and told them that the creature before them would one day serve them.
There had been pain, though, sometimes great as kings had leered at her, had blessed themselves before appearing before her lest them fall beneath her 'spell'. Drunken, weak rulers with no concern save for the gold in their coffers and the women that waited in their beds had visited her and looked at her with a desire that had both terrified her and infuriated her. For as often as she had been loved, had been regarded as a counselor and reminder of the pride and strength of Gondor, she had been rejected and abused, labeled a witch and a freak, left alone for decades to care for a city forgotten by the very ones for whom she preserved it.
But still, no matter whether she was greeted with welcome or scorn by the kings she served, her duty remained unchanged.
And now her duty was broken, for the line was broken and with the passing of Aragorn, son of Arathorn, there also passed the hope that the true king would once more rest upon the throne of Gondor.
Without warning, Boromir suddenly pulled her face to his and snared her lips in a rough, desperate kiss with a ferocity that startled her. His fingers ran through her tangled hair and ran over her jaw and neck as he kissed her with a passion she had never known before, a sudden, absolute desperation. A moment later and he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against her own as he cradled her face in his calloused hands, raindrops coursing over the three lines that now scarred his right cheekbone as his proud eyes blazed.
"I do not know what will come, Amera. I know not what strife lies before us, what darkness awaits us, but I swear to you," He swallowed hard, his jaw set with determination as he whispered fiercely, "You have not failed. You are needed, Amera, more than ever, for though we may not have a king," There was a tremor in his voice at this, "we still need hope."
His fingers traced along her jaw as he looked deeply into her eyes, his own brimming with tears as the wind and rain swept around them, "And no matter what may come, Amera, I will always love you. If nothing else, find your strength in that."
Amera's voice finally cracked as fresh tears streaked down her face, "I love you, Boromir."
And they kissed beneath the dark, rippling clouds and flashes of distant lightning upon the cold, stone walls of Helm's Deep as the wind roared around them, losing themselves in each other as the sweetness of the rain water was mingled with the saltiness of their tears as it passed over their lips.
