~ Chapter 72 ~

~oOo~

TA 3019, this 14th day of Nárië

From Aragorn, son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dúnedain of Arnor, known also as Elessar Telcontar, King of Gondor, to Nienelen, the Lady of the Dúnedain of the Northlands and my dear wife,

Long have I pondered our last farewell, but with little relief.  Once, I let myself be swayed by the counsels of men, setting aside what my heart would tell me, and swore I would not to do so again.  And yet, in this matter, I knew little of my own heart, for it was, and is, greatly torn.  

You know me too well, lady, to think I would lightly set aside a vow freely given, and yet you seemed determined to tempt me.  I had not thought it would be you who would lay afore me a trap made of my own weaknesses.  Such a simple thing, to say "aye" or “nay,” and yet so perilous upon each point.  Never have I felt so unequal to the test.  I regret the loss of your gentle counsel even as I have been in the greatest need of it.  

But now we are come to, you and I, and we must come to a decision.  I beg you travel hither or allow my entrance into the Vale.  

I would not leave Elenir long without a greater acquaintance with her father. I wish, too, to see you again, and, should we do naught else, take a better farewell than our last.  You may do so without fear.  Should you wish, I will come to you alone in a place of your choosing, but there are those dear to me here whom I would have know you.  

I await your instruction.

Your servant in this matter, 

~ A

~oOo~

The light blue of the cloth is much soiled, it’s cord of linen frayed and cut through.  Faded as it is, I am uncertain I would have known it but for the braid of hair yet coiled within.  

My lord has fallen silent.  For it seems he could not bring himself to speak of the battle upon the fields of the Pelennor and the death of his kin there afore the walls of Minas Tirith.  

High above the river that winds through the foothills of the Misty Mountains we sit, here upon a bench of dry laid stone with a grove of pines at our back to break the wind.  

The day is bright.  Shadows glide upon the hills and meadows, thrown there by clouds as they pass high overhead. Summer has come in its fullness, with garments of green upon the meadows and a carpet of a blue and purple vetch laid at our feet.  

So, he is gone then, my Great Hound.  After deeds of great courage and strength, had said my lord when he pressed the bit of cloth to my hand, and then could say no more.   

And yet, I had known it already.  Indeed, I knew of Halbarad’s passing from the first I came upon my lord. 

We emerged from the screen of trees at the Fords of Bruinen to find a small village of brightly colored tents sprung up in the grasses across the river.  I heard naught but the rush of water o’er the lip of the stone of the ford and our horses’ splashing through the shallows, but from a distance I saw him emerge from beneath a pavilion of cloth.  He had not raised the Lady’s banner, but there behind him was erected a tent of painted cloth upon which pennants of sable trimmed in silver fluttered. A silver swan upon a green field of silk there was fixed upon a pole afore another tent, and I knew the House of Dol Amroth, among others, were come as witness.  

There he stood, tall and commanding, his look as grim as when I had first met him.  Where once he had stood amidst his men afore the door to his house, today, my lord waited alone to greet us.  We were to spend the sennight together, he and I and his daughter.  But, first, we had much to say to the other ere she was to join us.    

For all the joy that leapt in my heart at the sight of him standing unbowed by weariness or hurt, grief then fell upon me. For his kin was not there beside him, and the light of the morning sun flashed against the black cloth upon my lord’s shoulder, caught there by a many-rayed silver star of the North.  

I think my lord saw that I knew it for what it was, for his greeting was solemn.  He then begged I remain upon my mount and called his gelding sent for.  For he had somewhat he wished to show me, he said, ere we spoke of what I had come down from the riven valley to hear.  

And so we did not speak until he had led us up through winding paths beside shaws of rowans and outcrops of stone to this high place.  And it was not until he brought us to a halt that he touched me.  

He stood at my mare’s shoulder holding her bridle, I still seated upon her back, and peered up at me.  He said naught, and indeed seemed undecided what to say, though words crowded behind that gaze that pierced mine. It came to me, then, he was uncertain, and did not know should I welcome his touch even to help me alight to the ground. 

So close was he I could see the flecks of light in the grey of his eyes and the wind-burned skin about them from where he had squinted against the sun in his travels.  I do not know what I said or what sound I made at that, but, for the sudden fullness of my heart, found I had raised my hand and there brushed my fingers upon his cheek. ‘Twas then, his grim look broke and his hands came upon me, pulling me to him from where I sat.

“Ai, Nienelen!” he sighed close to my ear where he had gathered me into an embrace.  He had me clutched against his breast and I my arms wrapped about his neck as tight.  

“I have brought him home,” he said low, “where he would wish to rest, should you bear him with you but a little further.”

And so, for a long moment, we did naught but cling to the other, his breath shivering upon my neck, ere I nodded.  He then took me by the hand and led me from the grove of tall pines until they opened upon the world about us.  

A sudden breeze rushing up from the river stirs the boughs of the trees and lifts the fine hairs about my lord’s face from where he looks out upon the hills and meadows below us.  Forgoing the silks of the Elves, I have dressed myself in a finely woven wool of my own devising.  Shot with silk, it is the color of cream and glows softly with the sun.  I am glad for it.  Though the sun is warm, the wind is chill and burns upon my cheeks where they are wet.  

“Were you…” and then I cannot speak, so fresh this wounding, but must wipe at tears anew.

“No,” my lord says from where he has leaned his arms across his knees and clasps his hands between them, “but he was not alone.  He had commanded Boradan stay close, and Mathil, too, was there.”  

So grim his look, I cannot forbear from placing my hand upon his back and resting my head upon his shoulder.  There he leans his cheek to the crown of my head and sighs, taking up my other hand and pressing a lingering kiss upon my knuckles.  He rubs the skin along the bones of my hand ere he glances out upon the land at our feet again.

“Aye, were only he here to see this,” he says, and indeed I hope, wherever fate has taken Halbarad, he knows all we had labored to bring about has held true to its promise.

My lord clasps my hand between both of his when he turns in his seat to face me.  His look is resolute.  And by this, I know the time has come.  

He searches my face, it seems, for any hint of hesitation or uncertainty, and, no matter the sudden clench of my heart his question brings, I may show none. For I must do this.  

“Your mind is unchanged?”  

I am unable to give it voice, but when I shake my head, he nods, as had he expected my answer.  He looks away to squint into the bright light of day.

“I have had much time to think, lady,” he says, his thumb running across my wrist and his eyes returned to fix there, “and for my kin to remind me of every time you had said me ‘aye.’  Even in our last days in the Angle, you did as I bid, though it broke your heart to do it.  He was much of the opinion that should you now say me ‘nay,’ it was on me to consider the weight of what I asked with great care.”

His hair has fallen about his face, and I cannot see what is writ there.  

“And what have you decided, my lord?”

He lets loose a long breath ere speaking, and even then does not answer me.    The music of his voice is flat, as had he severed the words from his heart.  

“The lord Boromir ask me to pass on his desire to beg your forgiveness,” he says, “and his hope you and he would meet under better circumstances.” 

That, I had not thought to expect, for even I have heard of the passing of the Lord of the Tower of Guard.  

“He spoke of our meeting to you?”

“Aye, indeed.  The road was long and we had many conversations on the matter, and others close to it.  I found him amenable, lady, as is his brother, now my Steward, who is very eager to spend more time in speech with you one day.  His is a restless mind, ever seeking more knowledge and eager for wisdom.  I have great hopes for him.”  

“And yet,” he goes on and turns my hand to cup it in his as were he holding somewhat precious.

“Lady,” he says, glancing upon me ere his gaze returns to my hand where he clasps it, “it was in Rohan and Gondor that I made my entry into the world of Men and there, for the first, thought I had truly learned of the violence we will do to one another.  I have fought in many battles.  I have killed many men.  And, still, I thought it noble.  For what man may not have the right to defend home and hearth and kin?”  

And here, at last, he looks fully upon me, his gaze solemn.  

“But my travels in Harad were long, lady, and I met many of their folk, and listened to what stories they would tell, and saw much of what the men of Númenor wrought there.  And aye, you had the right of it, indeed, my heart was filled with much confusion and doubt after.  One day, should you like, we will speak of it.”

Even now, he cannot hold my gaze long when speaking of this.  Still it seems too near.  He takes again to examining my hand and caressing the skin upon my wrist with a tenderness that belies the words he speaks next.  

“Of all our enemies upon the Pelennor, the men of Harad alone asked for no quarter and fought as should they have no hope of it, us, no matter it was offered to others.  Not a one, lady, survived that day,” he says and sighs.  “I will fight to the last man to defend my land and my people, but I hope to ne’er see the like of it again.

“I still have hope of peace and, this I swear to you, lady, I shall do my utmost to achieve it.”  He has then pulled my hand to his breast, where he clutches it against him.  “I cannot do it alone.  I hope to have your help in it, should you be willing to give it.”

I would wish it, too, but it seems best then, not to promise more than I can give.  

“Inasmuch as I can, my lord.”

Here he looks upon me, and then nods, a smile, slight and somewhat sad upon his face. He rises from where he sits, refusing to release my hand.  There he urges me to standing and pulls me out from the shadows of the pines.  

With the sun on our faces, he halts upon the lip of stone and looks out upon the brightly lit world.  The land falls away beneath our feet and the wind rushes upon us, tossing the heads of the lone rowan trees and riffling through the blooms of the vetch and grasses.  

“All this, Nienelen, we have done,” he says, holding my hand tight to his breast.  

He breathes deep and somewhat about him settles.  For it is peaceful, here where the far horizon fades in a haze of blue sky and mist, the sun blinks fitfully upon the river within its deep bank and screen of birch and willow trees about it, and the hawks slip as dark shadows below us upon the stream of air arising from the Bruinen. 

“And I could not have achieved it without your efforts.”  

There, turning away from the sight, he takes my hand and binds it in both of his own between us. His look has fallen grim again, and he licks at his lips ere pressing them tightly together for a moment.  He will not look upon me, but stares at where our hands are bound together.  

Oh, ai!  Greatly do I dread what next he is to say, though it must come.  

“And yet,” he says and swallows, the sound harsh and his throat working, “you have had your year and proven your resolve.  

“I am unwilling to court the evil it would take to force your hand,” he says, his voice tightening with his throat and his words stiff as had he long prepared them, “and I must bow to the necessity of providing an heir to preserve our people. And thus I must take up your offer and release you - ” 

And then he has dropped my hand.  He is done and can say no more.  For he has stepped away, his back to me and arms tightly wrapped about his breast. In the brief glimpse I had of it ere he turned his back to me, his face had twisted with a sudden pain that sent a shock through me. 

Ai!  I cannot say the words for him.  It is he who must. 

And then, with a sudden violence he shouts, his voice harsh and echoing against the side of the mountain.  It has the ring of a curse, though I know not the words, and my heart sinks.  Oh, should he not be able to do this, I know not what shall happen.  The sound fades away and still he is silent, standing tense and unmoving with the light of the summer sun streaming down upon us. 

“Oh, Nienelen,” he says, his voice shaking and bitter. “I have never been so angered when not in the midst of battle as when you sent the Lady of Rivendell’s gift to me upon the plains of Rohan. 

“My own kinsman, and my men you sent it with!  Set upon its path by her father and in the company of his sons with their full knowledge of what it meant.  Even Mithrandir was unsurprised.  For when I brought my complaints to him, he refused to venture an opinion on the matter, but reminded me I had chosen you for your strength of will and it did me little credit to think it would never be bent upon me.

“Aye, you may not have made allies out of all of my closest councilors, but neither had I their backing.  No king is well-settled upon a throne he has just taken, no matter the goodwill of the folk who allowed him there.  Should I pursue any choice but the one you wished to its reasoned end, and by violence force you to do what you clearly did not wish or separate you from your daughter, I risked arraying them against me just when I needed them most.”  

He laughs of a sudden, high and harsh.  “And had you thought it would quell my desire to make you my queen, it did not!  By what means you made her your friend and turned her heart, I cannot fathom!  Even in the midst of my greatest fury I must admit it.  ‘Twas well played, lady, and you have proven yet again your ability to turn events to your favor.”

Oh, I know not what to do!  Frozen in place, my heart beats in my ears so that my hands tingle for want of blood in them.  I want naught more than to flee.  Ai!  I cannot take this, it tears at my heart so.  

With sudden scape of his boots upon the stone, he turns back to me, his look fierce.  “Say but the word, lady,” he says low, “and we can restart our arguments again at our leisure.”

Oh, ai!  No!  May it please the Valar, I would pray to any one of them who would listen to bring a halt to this.  But he does not stop and instead, has taken my face in his hands and his keen gaze bores into mine. I clutch at his hands where he has me clasped.

“We can sit upon this mountain as long as you please,” he says, the tears upon his cheeks a match for my own, “and, for you, you and I can shout down the mountain and I will give it whatever time it requires until you are satisfied.”  

He draws a breath and, his face growing pained, seems poised then on pleading with me.  And then I do the only thing I can think, and have flown at him and, taking the cloth upon his shoulders in my fists, pressed my lips to his.  I cannot say it is the gentlest of kisses I have pressed upon my lord, but he cannot say it wanting in its effect. For though a low sound of surprise bursts from his throat, his lips then soften and he returns my kisses with those of his own, pursuing my mouth and tilting my head so he may deepen the kiss and taste my tongue and lips.

When I push him away, his look is shocked and uncertain.  

Ai! I think, mayhap I have pulled him under with me in the tide of my desperation.  

“I have sent Bachor north,” I say, and he stills at the suddenness of my declaration, no doubt unsure as to why I would say such a thing at this moment.    

“I have somewhat I would offer in farewell, my lord.  Would you receive it?” I ask and he lets loose a soft, bitter laugh, and presses his brow to mine.   

“Ah lady, greatly have you avenged yourself upon me for my temptation of you.”

“I sought only to halt it, my lord,” I whisper. “In truth, I could bear no more.”  

“Nor I the pain of your attempts to stop me,” he says and sighs.  

With a pang, I brush tendrils of his hair grown wild in the wind back from his temple.  I had not meant to hurt him, and only regret it now, no matter how greatly torn my own heart.  

“Forgive me, my lord.”

This time the kiss is light and brief, and it is my lord who presses his lips to mine.  He then laughs a little against them.

“I am afraid to ask what you have to offer me, lady, given what you thought I might accept of you when last we spoke of farewells.”  

“I think, mayhap, you would much prefer these.” 

I draw away and he lets me go, rising to his full height and releasing my face.    

From the pocket tied beneath my skirts, I pull somewhat.  It is small enough to remain hidden in my hand, and my lord watches me closely.  

The cord had broke by some mischance, and he had left it behind upon the tall chest in the solar for fear it would be lost should he take it with him.  When first he had left me in the Hidden Vale, I had attempted to repair it for him, but then reconsidered its gifting.  It seemed a cruelty to give it when, at the same time, I would be demanding he put me aside and separate from his daughter.  

And so I hold it out to him now. And there the sun catches within the strands of dark curls woven together as one.  I doubt not he sees the Lady of Rivendell’s hand in it.  For my fix of a binding of cord of linen was not like to last, and so, instead had she commanded the fashioning of a narrow, plain band of silver and bronze be made upon which it could be fastened.  It is thicker than afore, for I have added our daughter’s curls to that of my own and our son’s.  

And I think he must know it.  For now does he openly weep, his face twisted with his tears.  

“Ai, lady!”  

I think then, he shall master himself and take it from me, but he does not.  Instead, his arm is about me, pulling me to his breast, and fingers cradling my face.  His shadow falls upon me and he is kissing me, his lips soft and slow upon mine when my arms come about his shoulders. There I can learn, again, the warmth and silk of his hair and the strength of the sinews of his back where he bends to me.   

So tender is he, I think my heart shall break for it.  We shall have this time together, for I think the Lady of Imladris has learned much from my tales of my early years as my lord’s wife.  Though I have not spoken of it in much detail, she would not wish to take for her husband a man who has had no chance yet to grieve.  But what we shall have will be brief, and, should my lord continue to touch me with such gentleness, bittersweet.   

“Should you permit it,” I say in that small space between us when we pull apart, “there is much north of the Downs and west to the sea that our folk no longer populate.  No pastures or homesteads, and the icefishers of Forochel have found use for it.  Should you permit it, I would have Bachor offer it in trade and make it theirs.”

He frowns at me.  “For what would you exchange it?”

“The Palantir of Annúminas, I would imagine, though I know not which for certain.”  

“What?” he asks, his hand digging into my back where he has clutched me to him. His eyes flick about my face, as were he searching for some trick or falsehood. “Truly?”

“Aye,” I say, “so that when you return south, you need not worry, my lord, your daughter shall forget you.”  And then have little chance to say much more, for he has caught me up against him. 

“Ai, híril nín, how shall I say farewell to thee?” comes his voice, muffled as it is against the crown of my head.

“As e’er you have, my lord,” I say, but he shakes his head.

“Nay, lady,” he says, “from thence forward from our parting it shall not be the same as afore."

Ai!  At this, I have fastened upon the cloth of his tunic deep in my grip and sunk more deeply to his breast where I can feel the rise and fall of his breath.  

"I have somewhat prepared for your farewell, should you accept it of me,” he says.  

He then withdraws, and I must release him.  There he pulls back his sleeve and offers his arm, and I ease the band about his wrist.  He runs his fingers upon the uneven surface of the weaving, testing it against the tips of his fingers as were he recalling the feel of it from afore, when he would travel far from us and needed the reminder of what awaited him.  

“Will you accept my blessing?” he asks when done and his sleeve has fallen o’er his wrist.  

Ai!  It has come. And so I nod, though I know it shall bring us closer to the end.  

I know not what my lord sees upon my face, but when he takes my face between his hands, the press of his lips upon my brow lingers warmly.  It is only then, beneath his shadow where he cannot see me, I can let my face show what my heart feels.  For, now that it has come to it, some small part of myself wishes only we could go back to the start, and I might stand afore my lord’s hall once again, in a dress far too long for my frame, and take his hand and let him lead me where so whither he willed.   

“Though I shall release thee from thy vows that bind us in marriage,” he says and, struggle though I might, and I knew they would come, I cannot contain the gasp of pain at his words. 

And for a long moment, he speaks, but, for the shock of it, I know not the words he says, though they come softly said against my brow.  

“Still I would have thee retain those thou madest for the care of our people and our House,” he goes on. “For though thou mayest no longer be wife, thou shalt e’er be kin to me and a daughter of the House of Isildur.  

“Ever shall I have need of thee. So once I swore, and shall do so again. Thou art híril nín, and I would have no other retain that name.  I pray thee preserve my memory in the Dúnedain of the North and care for them in my name much as thou ever hast.  I have not forgotten the great debt I owe them.  Name what thou needst and I will see it done!  Should it not be by myself, then by another.

I know not for what I had hoped.  But, I think, now, we have come to an end, and there is naught left to do, but, once done, gather our things and proceed down the mountain to whatever shall await us there. I know not what I feel, but I think it is empty and a little cold. 

“Therefore,” he says and draws a great breath ere proceeding, “I beg thee take up the stewardship of the lands of Arnor reunited, with all its titles, powers, and responsibilities.” 

So long have I been silent, the whirl of my thoughts so quick I cannot catch upon one or the other, the light when he pulls away strikes my eyes and I am blinded and unable to see his face.  

“Nienelen?”

I blink at him in wonder and disbelief. 

He searches my face and, his voice quiet, he pleads, “Will you do this for me?  I would choose no other for it.”

It seems I cannot remove my eyes from his face, though they ache. And I am reminded again, why I, and others like me, followed him with such devotion.  For should he look upon me with such trust that I could do whatever I willed and had the power to mend all that needed healing, to repair all that had been broken, and make anew what must be built, I would do it.

“Aye, I shall,” I say and, for the first since I have seen him upon his return, a smile breaks bright upon his face. Such is his delight, I must touch him, and I do, running the tips of my fingers from brow to cheek to the soft hair upon his jaw.  

“Aye, Aragorn,” I say, and then I, too, smile upon him.  “Indeed, I am willing.”

He laughs. “Aye!  That is good!” he cries, though there are tears that wet his cheeks.

I cannot stop from smiling more broadly in return, his joy shines so brightly from him, though it spills the tears that have gathered in my own eyes. 

“Then, I pray thee, kneel,” he says and, taking my hands, holds tight as I lower myself to grass at his feet.

He leaves me there for a moment, and the wind whips through the pines from the tops of the mountains, bringing with it the smell of sun-warmed grass and the scent of earth wet from melted snow and new rising sap.  The mountain breathes upon me as I wait, pressing my skirts to the backs of my knees and stirring my hair, and I lift my face to its touch. When I open my eyes, he is there and the path I would follow is clear.

In my lord’s hands he holds a casket of dark wood.  When he opens its lid and drops it to the grass, he has in his hands a collar of silver.  Made of many forms overlaid with a clear, blue, enameled glass as a line of cresting waves chained together, it clinks gently against itself as he turns it about.  There he lifts it o’er my head and lays it about my shoulders.  It is sturdily made and lies heavy upon my back and breast and is chill with the wind and the shadow in which it had laid.  

Upon my shoulder where it comes together, he then plucks the emblem from his tunic and pins the many-rayed star of the Dúnedain of the North as were the collar made to receive it.  

“Behold the kingdom of Arnor Reunited and its Lady Steward,” he says softly and pulls me to standing beside him.  

Dig deep your foundation and raise high the walls upon it,” he says and kisses my brow.  “For I shall return to you in the North one day and see what fortress you have made.”  

Aye, I shall.  For there is much to be done.  

And I am not afraid. 

~oOo~

The End

~oOo~