Darkness Remains

Arwen did not stay long.
All too soon, she brushed her lips across the forehead of Aragorn, and bid him farewell, but first she squeezed his hand gently, the tender pressure comforting him.
Aragorn did not hold it against Arwen for leaving, as much as he’d like her to remain.
Her duties, as his queen, were numerous, and understandably so.
Arwen hovered at the doorway, not wishing to leave her king.
But he smiled, and waved her away.
“Feel better, meleth nin.” she mouthed, then closed the heavy doors behind her.
Aragorn stayed sitting upon the bed, deeply inhaling the scent of pine that always seemed to follow his beloved.
He sat on his bed, head in hands, for what seemed to him like hours on end.
Musing, thinking, dreaming.
He stayed that way for many a minute. But he shifted, his position finally becoming uncomfortable.
Yet once again he became as still and lifeless as a statue, and anyone who would have chanced upon him thought him dead, lying motionless on the bed. His breath was even, albeit barely noticeable, yet his chest rose up and fell down in even movements, calmly.
Peacefully. Yet he did not feel calm. He did not feel peaceful. The same gnawing feeling was at his mind again, and he felt like it continued to tug at his memories. Aragorn shifted again, returning to the position he first sat down in, and yet again, remained that way in a dreary haze.
Finally Elessar looked up, the light dimming.
He rose from bed groggily, imprints on his face where his hands put pressure for so long. He strode to the window, putting his hand on the cool glass.
The sun now bid the world goodnight, the last rays disappearing behind the horizon to the west.
“Maer dú ni beleth anor.” He whispered to himself. Aragorn’s eyes remained fixated on the last rays of light. The king stood at the window, a feeling of sorrow washing over him.
“What is this torment that haunts me so?” he breathed, anxiety clutching his heart. With the last light finally disappearing, Aragorn was bathed in darkness.
He reeled over suddenly, waves of agony freezing his insides, paralyzing him. He gasped for air, struggling to inhale the air. He was alone. Then blackness blurred his vision and he fell unconscious.
“My lord?” a muffled voice asked from the outside.
A pause.
“My king, you have been in your room the whole day. Are you alright?” it asked, concern in it’s voice.
“My king?”
The doors swung open on their hinges.
“Aragorn!”


He woke to find warmth encasing his body. He sat up quickly, breathless.
“Aragorn, are you alright?” asked the voice of Faramir, rushing to his king’s side urgently.
“I do not know, my friend. What has happened?” he asked, confused and disoriented.
He took in his surroundings and found he was covered in blankets, lying on his bed with many blurred faces at his side. Still in shock, but trying to assess what happened, Aragorn calmly assured himself that his vision would return soon.
“I knocked on the door at sunset, but there was no answer. When I came in, you were passed out on the floor, cold as ice. I feared for you life, and called for the guards. Can you not remember anything?”
Aragorn leaned back into the soft pillows propped up behind him, and passed a shaky hand over his face.
“Nay, my friend. Not yet.”
A white light appeared in his faltering vision.
“You had many of us worried, my king.”
“Gandalf,” replied Elessar, “where is Arwen?” he asked, searching vainly for his wife.
“Here I am, my love.” she replied tenderly, stroking his cheek. “You have warmed significantly.”
“She has not left your side since Faramir first called her in.” Gandalf said, leaning on his staff heavily.
“I must have lain here for hours.” Aragorn said bitterly, ashamed at his own weakness.
“Aye, but that matters not. We are glad you are safe.” Faramir replied.
Even as relief soothed him, Aragorn wasn’t sure how safe he was.



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NOTES:

Sindarin: -Maer dú ni beleth anor-

Good night (Maer dú) to the (ni) waning sun (beleth anor)