Main Characters: Éowyn, Aragorn
Rating: PG
Pairings: Aragorn/Éowyn
Genre: Angst
Length: Short story
Summary: An alternate ending of Aragorn and Éowyn's story.
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I fell to my knees. "I beg thee! Let me come!"
Aragorn took my hand and pulled me to my feet. "Nay, Lady. You must understand," he said. "I do not wish for you to come, for I do not want you to be hurt."
"As I wish to come with you so I may stand by your side till the end, if it should come to that," I said. Aragorn knew I loved him and should understand.
"Éowyn." I could tell he did not know what to say. Aragorn looked into my eyes. I could see tears shining there. "Éowyn, I… I want you to know… I love you."
I stared in disbelief. Aragorn loved me? But he had loved another before. Would he forsake the one whom his love was already promised to?
"But our love cannot unite us, for I am promised to another and I cannot break that promise," Aragorn said as if he had heard my unasked question. He sighed again. Aragorn embraced me and laid a soft kiss on my lips before he turned with tears in his eyes and sprang back into his saddle. He rode away and did not look back.
I stood still as stone and watched as Aragorn led the Grey Company away. Tears slid freely down my face. I turned away and walked slowly back to my tent. Once inside I sat down on my cot. I did not bother to remove the sword strapped at my side. I put my head in my hands and wept.
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I looked up as the sound of hoof beats filled the camp. The riders of Théoden had arrived. I strode out and mounted my horse, Windfola. I rode out to greet Théoden. Éomer asked about Aragorn and a knot formed in my throat. "He is gone."
Then we passed to the pavilion silently. I sat alone with Théoden, Éomer, and the Hobbit, Merry. Also Dúnhere, lord of Harrowdale sat there. I ate in silence. Merry asked of the Paths of the Dead, and again the knot formed in my throat. I longed to be elsewhere, alone.
Merry and Théoden spoke for a while before the captain of the Guard came in, saying that an errand-rider of Gondor had come. Théoden allowed for the man to come in. The man delivered his message, I assume, but I didn't hear it, for I had snuck out, hoping Théoden wouldn't mind. I needed to be alone. I went back to my tent.
I knew Théoden would not want me to go to battle; he would want me to go back to Edoras. But I would not. I wanted to go to battle, to fight to the end, to resist the threat of Mordor. I would not go back to Edoras; I would not wait obediently for death to come. I would go to death. I do not fear death or pain. I would rather go into battle and fight to the last breath. I would not let the orcs take me. Each orc I slew would be one less afterwards.
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The next morning I came to the muster of the riders of Rohan, clad in armor and face hidden by my helm. Dernhelm I called myself. I saw that Merry was to be left behind, and I rode up to him. I disguised my voice as a man's. "You may ride with me if you wish, young Holbytla," I said. "My horse will not mind carrying us both, for I am young and light as are you."
"Thank you!" Merry said. He could not hide his enthusiasm. "What is your name?"
"Call me Dernhelm," I said.
Horns blared and we rode off.
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A few days later we came to Minas Tirith. The lower level was in flames. I knew I would die that day. I remembered Aragorn. I remembered his love. Tears came once more to my eyes, but I blinked them back. Aragorn too was dead, I knew. The path he had gone on none had ever survived. I would die and I would be reunited with Aragorn, and we would never be parted again.
"Promise me I'll die," I whispered under my breath. They were likely the last words I would ever say.