She stood in the doorway of the chamber, watching. Her husband had been old when he died, but not decrepit. The man who tended him was elderly, frail, his once sunny golden hair faded to silver-gilt, the muscles that had once belonged to the fiercest fighter in Gondor were long-wasted. His hands trembled as he gently prepared the dead King for his final rest.
A lump rose in her throat, and she moved forward, protesting quietly. “My lord, this is not necessary, there are servants who can do this.”
Her voice was gentle, and though his age-weakened green eyes were blurred with tears, he tried to smile at her, knowing that she meant no criticism of him.
“Allow me this one last service, please, my lady.” His thin fingers straightened the line of dress robes and smoothed a stubborn lock of hair away from the peaceful face.
She nodded, unable to speak, wondering if her long years among Men had robbed her of her Elvish detachment. When her throat cleared, she said, “They say that the blood of Númenor ran true in your brother and your father, but I think it is the purest in you.”
He shook his head, “Nay, lady, it was another power that granted me long life. I swore I would never leave him.”
That argument she could not deny, and she withdrew, leaving her husband alone with the one who had loved him the most deeply of them all.
When she returned some hours later, she was not surprised to see the old man slumped over the form of the dead King. She ran her fingers through the thin hair, marking that his eyes were already closed and his hand clasped his lover’s. The old Steward had surrendered his final burden.
She placed a soft kiss on his lined face.
“Be at peace, son of Gondor.”
Summary: When Aragorn died.
Rated: G
Categories: LOTR FPS Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir/Arwen
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 313 Read: 798
Published: 15 Aug 2009 Updated: 15 Aug 2009