shieldmaiden_rohan | Walking on the Beach

Entry tags:

aragorn

Walking on the Beach

Her nightmares had increased in intensity and number until she slept no more than a few hours a night. When she woke, she knew she would not sleep again that night, even had she wanted to close her eyes and once more see those images of pain, loss, blood, and suffering.

She did not wish to see them even once more. She wished to never see them again, but some small part of her wondered whether she must see them because they were her fate and her people's fate. Aragorn spoke of their progress to defeat the shadow and she had discerned that she had a part to play in it, though he respected her wishes not to know more. Still, though, she wondered if these nightmares were true dreams and if the progress he knew would fade in comparison to the death that came after it.

This night had been particularly bad and she could not stay within her chambers any longer, with the walls seeming to close in on her as Grima had once taunted her. She slipped a long, comfortable dress on and then covered it with a cloak that would not have been out of place in the Mark. She had had the cloak specially made and it gave her comfort to wear it and to be reminded of her people and her land.

As she walked slowly along the beach, she breathed deeply of the clean salt air. She did not know the meaning of her dreams, but she prayed to all the gods there were that they were not true dreams. She was not certain she could bear it if they were.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Long had his mind been troubled with dreams that haunted his waking moments, but in the last weeks Aragorn had experienced more sleepless nights than ever. It seemed the minute he shut his eyes he was accosted with nightmares, terrible images flashing through his mind. He dreamed that all was lost, that the White City fell and Men were enslaved, that the lands of free people collapsed into shadow.

On the worst nights he dreamed of Arwen, saw the Evenstar slip from his neck once again, smashed to pieces on stone floor. He woke this night in a sweat, his mind filled with thoughts of what could have become of his city, his people, the woman he loved. He did not know what fate awaited Middle-Earth back home and the Lady Galadriel remained as carefully cryptic as ever. She counselled courage and faith, but trapped in this city as he was, unable to lend his sword to the battle, he could not help but feel powerless in a way he had not felt since he was a boy.

It soon became clear that he could sleep no longer, and so Aragorn pulled on the plain linen shirt, trousers and boots he had arrived in, planning a walk to clear his head. The clothes were comfortable, familiar and well-worn, a comfort in themselves even without the armour that he had worn over the top. He slipped out of the apartment, the walls feeling even more suffocating than usual, and quickly found himself walking along the shore, the hard sand beneath his feet.

He had walked only a short way when he spotted her, a familiar figure standing on the beach, her hair blowing in the wind. For a moment he watched her, taking some comfort in the sight before he approached, signalling a hand in greeting. "My lady," he greeted her, for though they were far removed from the customs of the Mark, he could not yet shake the habit. "I did not expect to find you out here at so late an hour."

Eowyn did not know how long she had stood and looked out into the deep darkness of the ocean, but when Aragorn approached her and greeted her, she summoned a small smile for him. It was nothing like a true smile, but it was not the hour of a true smile. It was not the place of a true smile.

"Nor I to encounter you here, my lord," she replied sincerely. Aragorn was dressed casually, in the clothes she knew him to wear as a Ranger rather than the finery that had been due to him as the uncrowned King of Gondor. She did not think it was a coincidence that they both had chosen garb of their own lands over garb of this land.

She still spoke to him formally, and the smile she gave him was guarded, though he expected nothing less. They had been through much together, but he knew she did not have the memories he held. Even then he had known her to be carefully restrained, a daughter of Kings and shieldmaiden of Rohan.

"I could not sleep," he admitted, looking out to the water. He watched the slow lap of the waves against the shore, the sight calming him. He could not know what would happen in Middle-Earth, and he knew that he must reconcile with that fact. It was easier thought than done, but if anyone in this city could understand, it would be Eowyn.

Still he found himself reluctant to divulge exactly what troubled him. It was long since he had anybody to confide in, and he did not want to burden her with his own worries. "There are days I still expect to wake somewhere in Eriador, under the stars. The walls of the apartment seem stifling."

Eowyn nodded. She did not wish any to dream in the manner that she had dreamed of late, but she was unsurprised that Aragorn found himself unable to sleep since he had so recently arrived, and furthermore arrived from such a difficult moment in the fight against the Shadow.

"Tis not unexpected, since you spent so long under the stars," she agreed. "I still expect some days to wake in the Golden Hall, ready to greet my brother and my Uncle King. But I have not, and they have not arrived here, and so I must leave my chambers to breathe properly."

He could not imagine how she must feel, separated from her family so. It had been long since Aragorn had any family to speak of, and in that at least he must find this city easier to bear. He missed his friends but he trusted they would continue on without him, as they had before. If he let himself think too long on it, his heart longed to hear Arwen's voice one last time, feel her touch, but that was a thought he would not allow himself.

She did not want to know the truth of what events occurred back in Arda, and he would respect her wishes, but he could not see the sadness on her face and not respond. He gave her a sidelong glance, sympathetic without pity. He wished to tell her that her kin were safe, but he could not do so, knowing the fate that had befallen Théoden. He would speak of Eomer, only the avoidance of her uncle would only make things clearer to her.

"They would be proud," he told her instead, for that he knew at least to be true. "And glad to hear of your safety, even in this place."

"But would they be proud of the life I have made and the way I have represented my people in a place that does not know them?" she asked, looking out at the sea once more. She did not expect Aragorn to be able to answer, but the thought weighed on her, especially at times such as these. She did all things to be able to account herself well to Eomer and her Uncle King if they arrived on these shores, but this land was so foreign to them all.

"I cannot know. I would wish it to be true, but I cannot know."

He could not truly answer her, for he had not the frame of reference for such questions before arriving in this city. And yet he thought it must be true all the same. He did not know Eomer well, but he knew that he loved his sister dearly. He had only to see him hunched over her bedside for days on end to know it. The people of this city might not know Rohan as it stood, but Aragorn was of the opinion that if ever there were to be a favourable representation, they would find it in Eowyn.

He had known from the moment he met her that she was a woman to be admired, but the strength of her resolve in this city only reassured him of that fact.

"I did not know your uncle or brother well," he admitted, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, "but I do know they would be proud of any life you chose to make." There were heavy expectations on her shoulders, he knew that well enough, but she bore them with pride and strength.

Aragorn did not lie. She was certain that he could, but she had never known him to. It was not the man that he was, and so if he told her that they would be proud, she knew that he believed it sincerely.

"Thank you," she replied. "Your words bring me comfort in a night that has had little. Will you walk with me?"

He need not, of course, but she wished to walk down the beach and if he would accompany her, she would be glad of it.

Aragorn nodded without hesitation, glad for the company. His own thoughts had brought him little comfort tonight, and a walk along the beach would do him good, he suspected. Better still in the company of Eowyn.

He did not know whether it was thoughts of her uncle and brother that upset her so or something more, and he did not wish to push her. Still, perhaps she would appreciate an ear to listen while they walked, and he would be glad to provide one. He did not doubt she would do the same for him, if he asked.

"I would be glad to," he agreed, nodding his head and falling into step beside her. Perhaps they could not return to Middle-Earth, but he was glad to have her company, that of someone else who understood the world he came from. "What troubles you, my lady?"

She considered whether to tell Aragorn of her dreams. He would not mock her nor belittle her, she knew, but all of her dreams were of the future of her land and she worried that they were true dreams. If they were, the events they portended would be ones Aragorn would not wish to speak of, even if she had not requested that he not do so.

"My dreams were dark and full of pain and misery for my people and all free peoples," she finally replied. "I awoke with the taste of ash in my mouth and knew I would not sleep again this night."

It was a curious thing, to hear his own dreams voiced back at him. It might not have surprised him if not for the fact that he had heard of strange goings on in this city. It would be one thing for both he and Eowyn to dream a similar fate for Middle-Earth, quite another for the same images to wake them both the same night.

"I dream it too," he said gently. He knew it would bring her no comfort to know that her pain was shared, but at the least he could show he understood. He too, dreamed of darkness and the free peoples being enslaved, but he had faith that it was not so. He had to believe it, else he would go mad. "The Shadow stretching across Middle-Earth and further, even to this land. But it is a dream, Eowyn. Nothing more."

She was startled to hear that Aragorn had the same sort of dreams, but perhaps she should not be. Strange things had occurred in Darrow recently, even stranger than usual. Perhaps it was not so impossible that two people from the same land would have the same sort of dreams.

He tried to bring her comfort and assure her that it was a dream, but she was not comforted. He could not know that it was only a dream.

"You arrived from a battle, but not one that had been enjoined," she pointed out. He had not said much of the battle he would have fought, but he had been far too clean for the battle to have begun. There had been no blood on his blade.

"If that battle was lost, how can you know that the Shadow would not have spread?"

What she spoke was true enough. Perhaps he did not know for certain that the War of the Ring would be won, but it did them no good to remain in Darrow worried for what might have transpired. Galadriel had spoken to him of Gondor however, and though she had been wary of revealing too much once she realised he did not share her memories, he had gleamed a small amount of knowledge from their conversation.

Eowyn was similarly perceptive; she proved that even now, guessing from the state of his arrival that the final battle had not yet begun.

"When the Lady Galadriel arrived upon the shore she spoke to me in brief," he admitted. She did not want to know what he knew of their homeland, but he could share this small amount of knowledge with her, and she would take from it what she would, the same as he had done. "She said I remained in Gondor last she saw of me. If the Shadow had spread, I do not believe the White City would have remained."

Nor would he be alive to be seated there. He had intended for his fate to be decided at the Morannon, one way or another. If Sauron were to win the war, Aragorn would certainly have lent his final breath to the fight.

"This I cannot refute," Eowyn replied after a moment of thought. Surely if the Shadow had spread, the forces of Mordor would have pulled the White City down stone by stone. Indeed, the Uruks and orcs would have found sport in it, since they enjoyed destruction of all kinds.

"It must be near as strange for you to know that the Lady Galadriel knows of your future as it is for me to know that you know of mine."

Though she accepted the apparent truth of his words, they did not seem to comfort her. He had not altogether expected them to. There was much they did not understand and while they remained in this city he doubted they would ever learn the truth. Whatever knowledge Galadriel held, she was not forthcoming.

He nodded, for that he could not argue. It was unsettling to say the least, but it was also not unfamiliar to him. For as long as he had lived he had been around Elves who knew more than what they spoke, particularly of his own destiny. "I cannot pretend it does not irk me a little," he admitted, giving her a soft smile that was about as close to sheepish as Aragorn ever came. "Long have the Elves known more about my own fate than me, however."

When he was a younger man it had frustrated him more, living with Lord Elrond and his gift of foresight. He was accustomed to it now, and it did not cause him the same irritation any longer.

There were times when a flash of humor showed through Aragorn's usually solemn demeanor, and she was always pleased when she saw such things. She was pleased that he trusted her enough to show them to her. Her own sense of humor was somewhat wry and she had hidden it carefully when he had known her before. It might have been used against her by Grima Wormtongue and so she could not show it.

"Long have the Elves known more about all fates than those who bore the fates," she agreed, allowing some small amount of that wry humor to show.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Walking on the Beach

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject