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━━━━»•» act four. age of glory

47. all hail «•« ━━━━

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ third age ━━ year 3019

𓇻 rohan; edoras

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THE CUP IN HER HANDS FELT HEAVIER THAN IT WAS SUPPOSED TO. Elgarain wished she could blame it on exhaustion after riding back to Edoras all the way from Isengard, but she knew she could not. Her people did not get tired the way men did. Her muscles shouldn't be aching this way, nor should her every movement hurt the way it did. She hadn't forgotten about Gyda's wish to talk with Gandalf about their predicament, but now was not the time. Honouring the dead had every priority. She refused to give in to the pain and tried her hardest to focus on the figure of King Théoden.

He stood before his throne, placed upon a dais, facing his people with an endless sadness in his gaze. Though his body stood tall and proud. At his right stood Éomir, a stoic look hiding his own grief. While on his left Éowyn's every emotion was visible on her face, making her no less strong than her brother. The king raised his cup, and every man and woman present got to their feet.

If it wasn't for Aragorn's steady hand on the small of her back, Elgarain was sure she would have tripped. She was too tired to even pretend she was alright and allowed herself to lean against his side. He answered by wrapping his arm around her waist. At his touch, a comfortable warmth spread throughout her entire body, and she couldn't help the smile appearing on her lips.

The solemn voice of Théoden brought her back to the present; "Tonight, we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead!"

All raised their cup. "Hail!"

As everyone drank and remembered their fallen loved ones, faces, known and unknown, flashed before her eyes as she recalled walking amongst the bodies. Her heart ached at the thought of all those she couldn't save. It was to them that she raised her cup.

"Now," Théoden continued, "we celebrate this hard-won victory!"

At his words, the atmosphere changed. Laughter, chatting and the sound of cups clinking filled the hall of Meduseld. She felt overwhelmed by the warmth of it all. During her time amongst the Rohirrim, she had come to know them as a proud and solemn people. To witness their capacity to feast and laugh felt like an honour. Especially considering all they had been through.

She turned to Aragorn, who had already been looking at her. His grey eyes were filled with concern, and she knew she had to tell him what was going on soon. He deserved that much from her after all they'd been through. But she had to talk to Gandalf first. Now was not the time.

"You look beautiful," he said, softly squeezing her hand.

After arriving back in Edoras, Éoywn had been so kind as to lend her a dress for the festivities. It was made of a soft red fabric, hugging her chest tightly while flowing widely around her legs. The last time she'd worn something so pretty had been back in Rivendell. She had to admit, she missed the soft flowing fabrics, which made Aragorn's words all the more pleasant.

"And you look handsome," she smiled, eyes wandering across his red and brown tunic. It had been a while since he looked this clean; even his hair was soft. She couldn't resist running her fingers through the brown locks. "Very handsome."

He smiled, then kissed her softly. "Melin tyë," he whispered against her lips.

At those words, it felt as if her fëa itself was set on fire, a warm and pleasant glow that completely burned away all thought but those of him. "Melin inyë."

The way his eyes softened told her all she needed to know, that even though men did not possess a fëa, he still felt the same. With these words, their souls were bound, in every way that mattered.

Her smile widened and she pressed another kiss against his lips.

There was a mischievous glint within his gaze when she pulled away. "Careful, anarinya, we are not alone," he muttered, sending butterflies flying all throughout her body.

"My lord Aragorn, how dare you insinuate such things!" she mocked, faking a gasp.

He laughed, running his fingers down her arm. "I would not dare to insult your honour."

She hummed, dropping her act while leaning even closer against him. "And if I were to give my permission?"

Leaning his forehead against hers, he whispered; "Then we would have left this hall a while ago."

Inhaling sharply, she moved away from him, suddenly no longer trusting her own body to behave properly. Though her smile never left her lips. "Careful," she grinned, echoing his earlier words.

"As you command," he mocked with a bow of his head.

Then they were both laughing, just like when they had been young without the weight of their titles on their shoulders. She hadn't felt this light-hearted in a long time.

"Come, let us distract ourselves," she smiled, taking his arm in hers as she started strolling around the hall. "I've heard Hobbits are terrible gossips, let's not give them something to talk about."

"Do not forget the stories Dwarves like to tell each other by the fire," Aragorn added with feigned seriousness.

She nodded. "Oh yes, even my kindred like to talk from time to time."

"When they've had something to drink," Aragorn said, smile widening.

Elgarian laughed. "You've spent far too much time with Elladan and Elrohir."

"And you far too little."

"I will not argue you on that. If Lord Elrond did not keep me busy, Gyda made sure to fill my schedule."

Aragorn softly pulled her aside to let two staggering warriors pass them by before they continued making their way through the crowd. "If that is true, how did you ever find time to escape their watchful gazes?"

Elgarain shrugged. "A certain guest in Imladris may have helped me from time to time. Though not without Gyda punishing him for it once."

His eyes sparked with the memories of their youth. "He should have known better than to get involved with the High Queen of the Ñoldor."

"Perhaps," she smiled, "though the wrath of my guard seems to have done little to stop him."

"Indeed, it has."

She kept her eyes focused forward, sure that if she were to look at him, she might take him up on his promise to have her alone after all. Instead, she sat down at a table near where two Hobbits were entertaining a few warriors with their stories of the Shire. Or perhaps it was the fact that such little figures could drink such huge amounts of mead that kept the warriors entertained.

"I have been meaning to ask," Aragorn said as he took a seat next to her, "how have you been spending your time as Tári? For even in the most secluded parts of the wilderness, stories reached me of the flourishing Grey Havens."

She raised her brow at him. Never had she heard him express even the slightest interest in ruling and all the duties such a position held. Something regarding his heritage was changing within him, she had sensed it for a while now but hearing him talk about such things out loud filled her with more pride than she'd thought.

"I had no idea my kingdom was so widely known," she said, then smiled. "But I thank you for the compliment. A kingdom is only as good as the people living in it."

He bowed his head, smiling softly.

She let her eyes wander around the room and smiled at the many different faces she saw. A pretty girl with sparkling eyes, a child on his father's shoulders, a soldier without a leg being held up by a friend as they danced. And suddenly the answer wasn't that hard. "How did I spend my time? I came to know my people." She turned her gaze to him, her stomach burning as she saw the way he was hanging to her every word. "And because I came to know them, I realised I did not have to change anything about myself or give up any of the passions I pursued in Rivendell. I only had to find a way to use those passions for the greater good and inspire others to do the same."

Aragorn followed her gaze around the room, a clear fondness for the people surrounding them sparking within his eyes. "How?" he asked.

"When speaking with my people, I realised they were tired. Tired of war, of constantly rebuilding what they lost only to be fearful of having to lose it again." She pulled at loose thread on her dress, her thoughts going back to those early years of standing where her father had once stood. "So, I decided to give them hope for a future. I opened an art school, invested in medical studies, reopened the wood workshops down at the docks. Slowly but surely, I watched my country come alive again."

He took her hand in his, making her let go of the thread. "You made them put down their swords and pick up their future."

Elgarain smiled. "Art instead of weapons."

His eyes roamed across her features. "You honour the name your parents gave you by giving your people rainë."

Rainë ― peace. Yes, that was all she'd ever wanted for her people. Though she'd never considered this had been her way of doing that, until now. Remarkable how after all her years of living, Aragorn could still make her see herself in a different light. If only he allowed her to do the same for him...

"You can give your people the same thing," she said, placing her hand on his arm. "Never has a people needed it more than Gondor does now."

Shifting in his seat, he turned away from the hall and towards the table, eyes casted downward on the worn wood. "I have never even thought of taking up that title," he said. "Not until the last words of a dying friend."

She watched him carefully, her heartbeat speeding up. He had hardly talked about Boromir since he passed, much less told her what had been said in those final minutes.

"My brother, my king." He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, tears lingered within. "That is what he called me at the end."

His silence said what he could not; only when Boromir had called him by his rightful title, had taking up the throne become a reality for him. A thought worth considering.

Wrapping her arms around him, she leaned her chin on his shoulder and whispered in his ear: "He had hope for a better future for his people. And even though he is no longer here to see it, you can still make that future a reality." She pulled away and offered him a smile. "But only when you are ready, like I was in the end."

Aragorn nodded, a determination within his eyes she hadn't ever seen there before.

"Though, I know little of ruling a kingdom of men. Perhaps King Théoden is willing to share his wisdom," she offered. There had been a tension between the two of them and she hoped if Aragorn were to ask for his advice, the king would look more kindly upon him.

As if knowing her intentions, Aragorn smiled softly. "You are right, my love." He got to his feet and kissed her forehead. "Thank you, for your honesty and advice." Then he turned away and made his way through the crowd.

With a smile on her face she watched him depart, a warm glow in her chest. She hadn't even realised how much she longed for a conversation like this. To talk with someone not only about the burdens of kingship, but of the beauty of such a responsibility. Only now she realised how grateful she was for his question and how much she'd needed to talk about her home. For she missed the sea and the white towers every day. Not knowing how her people were doing was a painful price to pay for making sure that, in the end, her kingdom would endure.

"M-my lady Elf?" a voice came from behind her.

Elgarain turned and saw a soldier leaning on a crutch had come to join her at the table. His left leg stopped at his knee; the lower part wrapped in a bandage that was only half covered by his tunic. She stood up and pointed at the now empty bench. "Please, sit."

The soldier offered her a grateful smile and took a seat, albeit a bit shaky. "I wanted to thank you," he said, placing his crutch against the table beside him.

Suddenly she recognised him. Legolas and Gimli had pulled his body from beneath a fallen boulder. His leg had been almost completely shattered, leaving her no choice but to amputate the limb. She feared he might have died from blood loss but in the end, he managed to pull through.

"There's no need," she smiled, "I simply did my job as a healer."

He bowed his head. "Still, I would not be alive if it weren't for the skills of your kind."

Bowing her head in return, she accepted his thanks. "I'm glad to be of help. Your people fought bravely. The least I could do was to be just as brave in the face of pain and death."

His eyes clouded with darkness as memories of the battle returned to him. "If your people hadn't come to help us, we would not have won."

"Which is exactly why the free people of Middle-Earth must stand together," she said, voice firm. "We honour the allegiance of the old days, for that is how we defeated the Dark Lord once and it is the only way we will defeat him once again." She placed a comforting hand on his arm. "There is no shame in accepting help in your hour of need."

The soldier nodded, the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. "You are wise, my lady."

"I try to be," she smiled, then handed him a jug. "Now, let us celebrate this victory, shall we?"

"Indeed," the soldier said before taking a swig.

She followed his example, letting the strong drink burn down her throat. It was far less unpleasant than whatever Gimli's flask held, but she still despised the taste.

"They are a merry pair," the soldier said, pointing his jug to the table where she'd caught sight of Merry and Pippin earlier. They had gotten up from their seats and were now dancing on the table.

She laughed. "Yes, they. Which makes them the most wonderful travel companions."

Upon hearing her laugh, Pippin turned to her. "Come on, Elgarain!" he called out, his cheeks flushed from both ale and excitement, his small hand beckoning. "We've fought and won! Now we dance!"

Oh, how she loved to dance, but at the mere thought her bones ached with exhaustion. Still, when would she be granted the chance to dance with the Halflings in celebration again? Just as she was considering the thought, Merry jumped down the table and came rushing over to her. With a smile, he got down on his knee and held out his hand. "M'lady?"

Allowing him to take her hand, she got to her feet. "I'd be honoured."

The Hobbit pulled her to the centre of the room, and she followed with a laugh. Pippin joined them as they formed a circle, feet moving to the lively rhythm of the drums. As she moved, the exhaustion seemed to fall away like a cloak being removed from her shoulders. The joy of the Hobbits was infectious, and she gladly let herself drown in it.

She spun around, hair catching the torchlight as she moved. Merry and Pippin, meanwhile, laughed and clapped, their steps enthusiastic but clumsy as they tried to keep up with the Elven Queen's natural grace. Her dress fluttered around her, forming a red cloud of flames.

Without warning, something sharp shot through her chest. It was sudden, like a lightning strike, the fire crackling through her body, making her breath hitch. Her smile faltered as she came to a halt, hand grasping her chest. The pain seemed to come from deep inside of her, spreading through her body; unsettling, and out of place amidst the laughter and music.

She gasped for air, but none filled her lungs. A shadow clawed at her heart, pulling her down into darkness. A soft flickering caught her eye. It was Vilya, the blue gem seemed to flicker with warning.

"Elgarain?" Merry asked as he caught her arm, worry clear within his gaze.

She tried to reply but no words came out. She fell on her knees, darkness spreading through her like a drop of ink on parchment. The entire room was spinning, the warm lights suddenly cold and distant. She managed one last inhale of air. Then the world went dark. 

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𝕬𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝕹𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . .

Hey guys! 

We're finally back with a new chapter! Sorry it took so long, but between moving into my new appartement and hitting a bit of a writers block it took a little longer than expected. But I'm slowly getting back into my writing and I'm very happy to have finally finished this chapter. Hopefully you guys enjoyed it!

xx Nelly

TRANSLATIONS:

Melin tyë ― I love you

Melin inyë ― I love you too (own translation)

Fëa ― Spirit or soul

Anarinya ― My sun

Tári ― Queen

Rainë ― Peace