The Oath

He knew when his time would come.  It was as if the stars had whispered to him; the wind had gust through the leaves up on the trees bringing tidings of his fate from afar countries.  Aragorn closed his eyes, wishing not to bare his soul to a being he could never hide himself from, not wanting her to catch the thinnest streak of grief there.

No.  Arwen needed not see his sorrow of leaving her behind all by herself, after all their friends were gone.

“Leave me,” he rasped, but his right hand grabbed that of another who was not Arwen.

“Your Highness…”

“You stay.”

“… Father.”

The crisp sounds of silky fabrics against coarse tiles faded away, and Aragorn dared himself to move his lids, slowly fluttering them open.  His hazy eyes fell at the sight of a lean, tall young man.

“My beloved.  My Prince.”  His voice caught.  “My Son.”

“Father--” Eldarion’s eyes started to mist.

“Give me your oath.  Promise me that you shall never deny your mother’s wish no matter how incongruous it may sound.  You should never doubt her.”

The young prince gazed at his father deeply, incomprehension clearly in his eyes.  Aragorn sighed.  His son might be able to understand – when the time came – what he meant.  No need to tire Eldarion now with a long, winding story about how his mother ended up being with him, and the consequences it brought.

There was a gentle stroke at the back of his hand, and Eldarion looked down.  He stared lovingly and longingly at it.  This was the hand of someone who had carried him gently through the harsh paths of his life thus far; nurtured him with tales not only of the bravery and unyielding determination of strong warriors in defending Middle Earth, but also of the most unimaginable valor of a creature so small from a realm called The Shire.  This was the hand of the truest King that had ever lived, of a man that yet would still have opted to wander the woods.  Being a ranger.

There was nothing more righteous for Prince Eldarion to do than to carry out what the King, his dearly loved father, requested.  And so he bent low, taking Aragorn’s hand, and kissed it tenderly.

“I shall do what you ask.  Do not be burdened with it, Father.”

~ * ~