Of Eowyn and Arwen

The second day found Eowyn aside Aragorn again. To an outsider, it seemed like she was attempting to fulfil her duties as royalty by entertaining a man of valour. However, Frances felt that she was hoping to gain some insight about the man himself. Strider held true, providing answers where there was information to give, hiding others in order to protect Frodo, and keeping silent when need be.

Trailing behind the couple, Frances had to admit that Aragorn was a natural at diplomacy. If the Valar granted him the kingdom of Gondor, no doubt that it would strive under his rule. He probably had in mind that his relationship with Rohan was of great import in this war as well as in the aftermath. But at some point, he would have to disappoint the White lady. There was no escape from her infatuation; given from the tense's posture of the ranger, Frances gathered that he knew it as well.

Eventually, it was Arwen herself who breached the subject. Not literally, of course, but Eowyn asked about the pendant that clung around Aragorn's neck. The Evenstar, a jewel so beautifully chiselled, so elegant and so bright that it encased the light of the moon itself. Gently resting into Aragorn's worn-out shirt, the Evenstar showed herself once in a while below the leather bound that held his bow and quiver. The jewel seemed to be playing hide and seek, sometimes disappearing in the folds of fabric, sometimes casting its light for all to see.

And so Eowyn asked the fateful question. And Frances could feel Aragorn's hurt in her bones. The ranger's face fell, his answer long to come:

— "By now, she should be sailing to the undying lands."

Frances gasped, breathing out evenly so as not to alarm Aragorn. This was ill news to her, news to which she could give no credit. Was Arwen supposed to leave the shores? Not in a million years would she believe it lest she saw the Evenstar herself boarding a boat in the grey havens. Each time that Arwen had mentioned her love to Aragorn, there had been no doubt that she considered her future with him, that they could share a life after the war. Everything in her eyes, in the tone of her voice had conveyed this undying love for him.

Frances still felt goosebumps at the souvenir, experiencing such love that it would grow over centuries and never die. The elleth would sacrifice anything to her beloved, her life if need be. Not in a million years would Arwen turn away from Estel, even to save herself.

Eowyn's features froze, and to this she had nothing more to say. Misled she may be, but not stupid. After a few minutes of silence, the lady excused herself and left Aragorn's side. Her gaze met Frances' stare, a cold look who confirmed that she'd better forget about ensnaring the ranger. The young lady watched Eowyn's posture as she retreated to her people, shoulders slumped a little from the difficult news directed to her. Frances frowned, ashamed of herself for being so harsh.

She understood her desperation. Eowyn, had, like a princess of old legends, been caged for too many years in a dungeon. The presence of Grima, sneaking on her at all times, the fall of her uncle, the toll of her kingdom crumbling down had crushed her. Their the company brought her freedom. The release of Saruman's hold on the king, and her daily life. It was little wonder she had fallen in love with her saviour; the man who had come and broken the bars of her prison. Still, he was not what she thought him to be. Eowyn needed to move on, she needed to see the ranger as the human being he was, and not the symbol he represented.

Frances hurried her stride to catch up with Aragorn, falling in step beside him. The ranger was silent, only acknowledging her by a stray look as his thoughts took him to Imladris. Had Arwen left yet? Had the city of his childhood been emptied of all souls, abandoned to time for ruin and nature to overthrow? Such was the passing of time for the elves. But to him, a human, no matter how long his lifespan, seeing the elf inheritance disappear was terrifying.

Elrond, his sons and his city had been steady, never aging, never changing people in his whole existence. Always they had stood against evil, Imladris being the ultimate refuge when the rest of the world would crumble to pieces. His heart had found ever-lasting support in his adopted family. He had built his strength on their steadiness. Imagining its ruin was as painful as breaking both of his legs: they held his body weight as their souvenir held his sanity.

A tongue clicking next to him called him back to the fields of Rohan.

— "Forgive me if I am trespassing on your privacy, but… I may have not known Arwen for long, still I would not count on her to leave these shores to the undying lands."

A surprised gaze fell on the young lady's face. Yes, she was diving into a subject that was very close to home, but with a kind disposition. And so, he consented to speak of it. Maybe it could ease his heartache.

— "Still, this is what her father demanded of me, and in truth, what I also asked of her."

The tone of his voice was so sad that it hurt. Frances shuddered, touched by the despair that oozed out of him.

— "Aragorn."

No, this wasn't right. It wasn't the heir of Isildur that she needed to reach. Somewhere, deep down below the title, the ranger and the fighter lay the boy that had been adopted such a long time ago.

— "Estel."

His head whipped around, his face utterly surprised by the use of this private name. Frances was careful in her words, aware that she was in position to touch him very deeply. No matter how strong a man, there always existed a weak point in the armour. Like Achille's heel.

— "I have felt the strength of her love for you. Never have I known such depth of feelings. It might seem presomputous of me to make such claims, for you know her much better than I do. Yet, it feels, in my heart, that it is true. As long as you draw breath, she will not leave middle earth."

The ranger gave her a queer look, and at last, a sad smile graced his lips.

— "That is the answer she gave me."

Frances nodded, laughing gently. Her memory revived one of Arwen's determined gaze, her grey eyes steeled for what was to come.

— "That sounds more like her."

Aragorn smiled, calling forth souvenirs he had carved into his heart. But his merriment was short-lived.

— "Yet, I hope her father will be able to convince her of the folly of this decision. Danger lurks everywhere in middle earth, and the dark lord rises. I could never forgive myself if something happened to her."

— "You cannot be held accountable for the world. Most of middle earth's people are now in danger, and out of your control. Somehow, you have to trust Arwen to take the best decisions for her sake. And better to live a short life with the man you love than live eternity in misery."

Aragorn's grey eyes bore into Frances for a moment, and his hand came to her arm, stopping them effectively. For a little eternity, he searched into the young lady's soul, looking for treachery. Yet, he found none. She was sincere to the core. Eventually, he resumed walking, his posture so stiff that he might have snapped with the wind. To his side, Frances felt like she was treading on eggs. And so, she waited patiently for Aragorn to explain.

— "Never have I heard such words other than in my beloved's mouth."

Frances nodded. Yes, of course. This sentence was one of Arwen's, a confidence the elleth had graced her with before she left. It was on the day before they departed, when she had asked to Frances, her eyes stormy, to look after her beloved. If Arwen's gaze had not been so intense, the young lady would have laughed. How could she, a clumsy warrior to be, be of any use to a seasoned fighter like him? Still, the elleth had extracted this promise from her. And in her ears, it rang true. Surely, the support she showed him had some impact on his life?

It all came down to the same question, repeated over and over. Why was she here? Frances shrugged, unsure about where those thoughts led her. At her side, Aragorn seemed to deflate, the tension leaving his body.

— "Surely you have been a true friend for her to decide to share those thoughts with you. In truth, I know not how to feel about her remaining in middle earth. My heart swells with happiness while my spirit fears for her life."

Surprised by the depth of his confession, Frances laid her hand on his arm while they walked.

— "I understand your predicament. And still, I have never witnessed such love as yours. I think, in the end, people might sing your praises, choosing to tell your lore above the one of Luthien and Beren."

— "How I wish this to be true," he whispered. "Sometimes…"

The ranger paused at that, his eyes fixed on the ground for a moment. Frances squeezed his arm gently, reminding him of her full support. He wore the weight of the world on his shoulders. At least, she wanted him to know that he could count on her to share the tiniest amount. Eventually, Aragorn decided to confess what he had in mind.

— "It might seem very unlikely. But sometimes, it feels like she is watching over me."

Frances looked at him, her lips quirking up. That would be very fitting, and not so unlikely. Those lovebirds had a bound, an invisible cord keeping them together when the world wanted them apart.

— "I wouldn't be surprised if she did," she answered fondly.

Aragorn was surprised by this plain statement. Never before had he encountered a human so prone to believe in others. Anywhere in middle earth, there would have been talk of sorcery, of madness even, to give credence so such a thing. But Frances accepted it gladly. This remark closed the subject, as they seemed to be of the same mind. It was curiously comforting, not to be alone in this belief that Arwen could, somehow, be there by his side.

The ranger reflected on those thoughts, realising that being an outsider to this word, Frances might be much more forgiving than the people living in it. She was more trusting, less suspicious than most. How would the others see that, given that no one except for Gandalf and himself had the knowledge of her origins? Certainly, they must think her very odd, maybe a bit magical as well.

She learnt fast, and her mind was quick. While he had been afraid of her not surviving this quest, it became clearer and clearer that she was adapting. Her fighting skills were improving by the day. While he studied her, Aragorn squeezed Frances' hand back. A silent recognition of her support before returning to the task that lay before them.

— "But come" he said, "let us not linger on those thoughts. Arwen's choices are her own. And we still have a long road ahead of us."

Frances nodded, and Aragorn's grey eyes roamed the column of refugees. Deep down, he knew that she was right. He could still feel his beloved's presence. Had he been in position to make Arwen's choice, he would have stayed, no matter the consequences.