Chapter Twenty-Seven

~ Éowyn ~
I closed my eyes and sighed. So little. We had barely managed to take with us a fourth of the provisions we would need. And I doubted that we would be returning to Edoras anytime soon to get any more.

Estel was smiling encouragingly at me when I opened my eyes once more. I could tell that the smile was a bit forced, but I appreciated her effort nonetheless. It was more than I could do, in any case. "We'll manage somehow," she said.

I couldn't help but smile back at her youthful confidence. "I most certainly hope so, otherwise our people will be hungry. The warriors most of all." Assuming any live to come here.

Estel rolled her eyes as we walked away. "They are warriors," she said dismissively. "If they fend out the wolves of Isenguard, they can do a little hunting. They can get their own food."

I laughed, feeling slightly better. "I do not know if they will content to lower themselves such, Estel," I replied, relishing in the ease with which we conversed now. Always had I felt that I was missing something when I was growing up, but I had buried it deep inside and instead put forth my energies in learning how to fight. Now I knew what I had been missing – just some other women for company.

Estel's eyes suddenly gleamed mischievously. "They will, if they want to have access to bread and clothing, for unless I am much mistaken we are responsible for those divisions."

I burst out laughing, not caring that some of my people stared at me. "Estel – you – you certainly have a sense of humor," I choked out once my laughing fit had subsided.

Estel shrugged. "I was raised among the stoic Elves and grim Rangers," she pointed out. "If I didn't have a sense of humor, who else would make them crack the ice and act like normal people for once?"

But before I could think up a response to Estel's joking, a sharp clamor arose at the gates. Estel and I rushed as one towards it just in time to hear shouts. "Make way for Théoden. Make way for the King!"

I shared an elated and relieved look with Estel before we both broke into a run. Moments later we were stopping in front of the warriors, all of whom were dismounting. I felt sadness rise up within me as I noted that barely anyone was uninjured.

"So few," I breathed, glancing around. "So few of you have returned."

My uncle's face tightened momentarily before he replied curtly, "Our people are safe. We have paid for it with many lives."

I bit my lip. You have indeed paid with many lives. I could see that we had lost more a few riders in this assault. My uncle turned away to help some of the wounded dismount. I set my jaw and turned around, eager to find Aragorn.

"My lady?" Gimli's sad voice caught my attention. I lowered my searching gaze to him. He would know where Aragorn is.

"Lord Aragorn," I said, "where is he?"

At that, the Dwarf's steady expression seemed to waver. His voice did too, when he answered me a moment later – "He fell."

I gasped. No. . . How could he, of all the warriors, have fallen? Aragorn wasn't even a son of Rohan! And yet he had sacrificed his life without hesitation to defend our people.

Turning, I raised my gaze to find my uncle. He met my gaze with a sorrowful expression, as if to say, "So you know now."

Estel.

Estel popped into my mind suddenly. I had only known Aragorn for a short while, and yet already I was mourning his death. What would this be like for Estel and Eldarion, the two he had been a father to?

~ Estel ~
I ran up to my brother as soon as he had dismounted. I saw the sorrow in his expression, but brushed it aside for now – it was probably his sadness at having to fight. Eldarion had never liked to battle, even though he excelled at it.

"Thank the Valar you have come back safe," I breathed as I threw my arms around him. He returned the embrace immediately.

I drew back, smiling at him. Relief – sweet, glorious relief – was sweeping through me. Family and friends meant the most to me now, as they had to every Believer before me. To see Eldarion safe was worth all the pain we had endured during our years of separation. Legolas appeared silently by my brother.

My smile grew at the sight of the Elf. Family and friends meant the most to me, and I had suddenly realized just before the battle that my definition of my family had grown exponentially since I had been dropped into this place. Even before I had realized that Eldarion was alive and well, my definition of family had been growing. First Lord Elrond, and then others – Mithrandir, Arwen, Legolas, Aragorn. . .

Wait, where is Aragorn? I hadn't seen him with Théoden – I had left Éowyn with the King to find Eldarion. But by all rights, Aragorn should have been by Théoden, helping prepare for the coming battle.

Frowning, I cast a glance at Legolas. Legolas usually was always right on top of Aragorn; rarely were the two apart. And Legolas's years of experience, which far outreached all the rest of ours put together, could be instrumental in the defense of Helm's Deep, so the two of them should have been speaking with Théoden.

"Eldarion – Legolas, where is Aragorn?" I asked.

My brother stiffened immediately at my question, and I saw the two share a sorrowful glance. My frown deepened. Legolas should not be bothered as Eldarion was about battle – and sorrow should have nothing to do with Aragorn anyway.

"Estel." My brother drew a deep breath. "Estel, Aragorn is not here."

"Where is he then?" I demanded. "The battle is here – we need Aragorn here, not off somewhere else!"

"No, Estel, you misunderstand him," Legolas cut in when my brother seemed unable to elaborate. "Estel – Aragorn will not be coming here."

"Where is he going then, if not here?" I asked irritably. Elbereth above, Aragorn – you are my family, but you can make the most addled decisions.

"He is going to the Halls of Mandos," Legolas said softly. "To pass beyond the circles of the world to a place the Eldar know not."

"That's lovely," I said sarcastically, not appreciating them playing a joke on me with a battle hanging over our heads. "Now would you two stop playing your jokes and give me a straight ans – "

I stopped mid-word as I saw that Legolas and Eldarion were perfectly serious. They hadn't started laughing or smiling – their expressions hadn't even twitched. They were serious.

But if they were serious in what Legolas had said, then that meant –

"Please tell me this is a joke." My voice cracked and trembled as I forced out the words beyond suddenly dry lips. "You can't be serious."

"I am afraid that we very much are."

Legolas's words seemed to linger in the air long ago he spoke them. They made me realize just how much it was costing the Elf to speak these words to me – it sounded almost as though he was ripping the words from his chest.

I turned and fled from them. My mind was screaming at me that this couldn't be real, that this couldn't be happening to me, to us. Aragorn was the only heir left in all of Middle-earth – how could he have died?

If the Valar had intended for Eldarion and me to live anew, then why had they killed the Man who was our ancestor?

~ Legolas ~
I seized Eldarion's arm as he made to follow his sister. "No, don't follow her," I told him softly as Estel's figure vanished from sight.

"She's my sister!" he snapped, fighting to pull away. "And the leader of the Believers! By blood and right, it is her duty to – "

"She needs time – time to be alone. Eldarion, you've had the whole ride here to come to terms with – with this." I heard my voice waver as I evaded mentioning Aragorn, but pushed it out of my mind. "Estel has had a few minutes. Give her time before you approach her."

Eldarion stopped fighting and sighed. "This hurts." At my confused look, he elaborated, "It hurts to know that my sister is hurting and that I can't even help her. She's all I have left, Legolas. Estel is it. Estel is my whole world right now."

I nodded. Eldarion needed to talk now, just as Estel needed time. I found it hard to understand the bond between the two siblings, as I had none of my own, but I knew that the bond was strong. I remembered Aragorn explaining their story to me, and I knew that if I'd lived for almost half my life thinking everyone was dead and then found one survivor, I'd cling to that remaining person with everything I had in me.

Eldarion was silent then. "I'd better help the wounded," he said finally. "The wardens taught me some healing skills."

"And we will need everyone we can get," I agreed. It would be good for Eldarion to do something constructive – it would take his mind off the pain. And it would help us, too.

Meanwhile, I felt it time I had a talk with Estel Elessariel.