The mountains seemed peaceful and innocent as they rose majestically over
Edoras, but Aragorn did not feel like looking back and saying goodbye. He wanted
to remain inside the four walls of the city, but knew he could not. It was time to
move and recapture the lives they had left behind.
And they left behind sorrow.
Théoden King's sadness was written upon his face when he spoke with the
travelers one final time, for his land had suffered a greater loss than could be
described in its history chronicles.
Only a few hours ago, the King had placed his hand upon Moira's lifeless body one
last time, praying for her soul. Aragorn had stood by his side, lowering his eyes to
the ground. And the Elves had prayed to the Valar for her, praising her courage
and for her soul.
"How I wish I could turn back time and make it whole again," the King whispered.
"For her loss is greater than I can ever describe."
"You were not to know that the illness she has suffered from so greatly ate at the
strength of her heart," the Elven-King spoke quietly. "It is a great loss to us all,
and I wish I could have saved her."
"Perhaps no one could," Aragorn spoke. "But she shall be remembered and
cherished: by the children, and by the people who loved her."
Théoden looked at the Ranger. "Do you believe our forefathers will have bestowed
their respect upon her?"
"I am certain of it," Aragorn said. "Do not trouble yourself, Théoden King. She is
well, wherever she is. I am as certain of that as I am of this life that we hold so
dearly."
"Then it is a comfort to know that," Théoden spoke. "I shall not mourn or grief her
death, but cherish the life she has loved so dearly. That shall be a comfort to our
family and the children that loved her."
"She was no doubt a great influence to them," Lord Elrond spoke, "and she shall
live on in the hearts of them. …owyn is already becoming like her. Soon, you will
have a woman like her in your midst again and you will love her for her strength."
"We shall do that," Théoden spoke.
As they said goodbye, Aragorn felt sadness in his heart. The grief that struck
them all wore heavy upon him, for her death had come so sudden that it was hard
– even now – to remember.
One moment she had walked the corridors of the Golden Hall, and the next, as
she approached him, she had fallen into death. Before, as he awoke in the Houses
of Healing once more, she had looked well, even though a bit pale.
And then, nothing.
And now she rested in the tomb where her forefathers had found their grave and
she became one with the earth and rested in peace.
Elrond placed his hand upon Aragorn's shoulder, comforting him in silence. "She
was a good woman. Remember how she were, and not how you saw her in the
end. You all must die one day, and when that time comes for you, I shall not grief
your death but cherish your past. But I wish that shall be a long day from now, for
there is so much more you must do before that time."
Aragorn smiled, finding his friend Legolas and his brothers and father looking at
him in anticipation. "Aye," he said. "That is a good thing to do. I do not wish to be
remembered as a lifeless body, but as a Man who has accomplished things."
"You shall be."
And the sorrow lifted from Aragorn's heart, if only a bit.
The party finally left Edoras, and a pale sun cast a smile in the skies. One, that
represented Moira's. Aragorn turned and found a young girl standing before the
Golden Hall, her long golden hair and clothes waving. Her uncle stood behind her.
And he knew that he would one day see her again, and that she would be like
Moira once was: a true Lady of Rohan. He would hold onto that memory, and
cherish it until it once more became the present.
- The End -