𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 ➵︎ [ 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘧 ]

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Aragorn extended his hand to Grima out of pity. From the ground, Grima turned his eyes up at me, but his eyes were met with nothing but cold and pitiless ice. His gaze then shifted to the blonde-haired elf, who stood beside me, and Grima's expression contorted into an ugly scowl.

Turning his attention back to my brother, he spat on the heir of Gondor's hand. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Sending one last fleeting glance at me, he turned on his heel and ran, pushing through the crowd.

Aragorn wiped his hand with a shake of his head. But unperturbed, he turned back to Théoden.

"Hail, Théoden, King!" He announced towards the crowd, which exploded in applause at the return of their king.

I felt my smile return to my face as we knelt before the rightful ruler of these lands.

Suddenly, I noted a slight shift in his expression. He frowned.

"Where is Théodred?"

My heart sank as silence fell over the crowd, and my eyes met Aragorn's in a moment of sadness.

"Where is my son?" the king repeated.

The guard stepped forwards, a grim and sorrowful expression on his face.

"I'm afraid Théodred has...passed, my lord."

Théoden seemed to stiffen, his voice falling to a hush.

"When?"

The guard hesitated.

"No more than a few hours ago."

The land was silent, as if holding its breath, awaiting the king's words. I could not possibly imagine the thoughts that were running through his mind; the guilt, self-loathing and sorrow as he realised his only son died alone, without his father. He didn't even have the chance to say goodbye.

Even I did when my father died.

His voice was trembling. Gone was the proud man that once stood before us. Now, he was nothing but a father who had lost his only son.

"Take me to him."

-

"Death is something all of us must face."

That wasn't true in its entirety. The Eldar were blessed with an ever-burning fire flowing through our veins. We could only perish of a broken heart or a mortal wound.

And yet, the universe finds its balance.

For where Death could not find its satiation through the light of the Eldar, it is made up by the constant mortality of men, of dwarves, of all living things that fall victim to the cruel hands of fate. And we, the immortal, have no control as we are forced to watch as life around us wastes away.

As I watched Théodred's body carried out of the gates upon the arms of his people, the grim reality sunk in for the second time of late.

This was immortality: an eternity to watch the hands of Death take hold of all else.

All of the townspeople gathered for the funeral, their clothes forming a sea of black, Théodred's body drifting through the middle like a ship lost in the night. I tightened my cloak around my body, concealing the offensively bright gold items beneath as we followed behind the King in silence.

We stopped on one side of the entrance to the tomb. Éowyn stood opposite us. Her voice travelled over the plains, strong, and yet so fragile as she sang.

The words were foreign to my ears, but the emotions behind were so raw, so real, so...familiar.

A memory of my father stung in my mind.