The Silver Flame (LOTR)

The Grave, The Orphans, and the Decision

The cold wind swept across the plains of Rohan, whispering through the graves of its fallen. Visenya stood beside Aragorn, her silver hair catching in the breeze, as her gaze settled on the small patch of white flowers at her feet. Théodred's tomb was simple, yet filled with a quiet, somber dignity that made her heart ache. She understood the weight of loss more than most, having buried loved ones on distant shores far from here. Her hand rested gently on Aragorn's arm, a silent gesture of solidarity as they stood witness to Théoden's grief.

A single white flower—Simbelmynë—was held by Théoden. He lifted it up with trembling fingers, releasing it into the air. Visenya's eyes followed its gentle spiral downward, landing amidst the flowers that adorned his son's resting place.

"Simbelmynë," Théoden murmured, his voice carrying a deep sorrow. "Ever has it grown on the tombs of my forebearers. Now it shall cover the grave of my son." His voice broke, and he looked to Gandalf with hollow, grief-stricken eyes. "Alas, that these evil days should be mine. The young perish, and the old linger. That I should live to see the last days of my house."

Visenya's heart clenched painfully. She knew the look in Théoden's eyes all too well—the desolation of a parent burying their child. She, too, had once held such sorrow when she stood over the graves of those she loved in another world. She could see the shadows of her past lingering in the King's broken gaze.

Gandalf stepped forward, his voice steady and filled with quiet reassurance. "Théodred's death was not of your making."

"No parent should have to bury their child," Théoden replied, his voice thick with anguish. His shoulders shook as the weight of his grief bore down on him, and he wept openly, his tears falling onto the fresh earth.

Visenya turned her gaze away for a moment, giving him a measure of privacy in his mourning. Her thoughts wandered to the memories of Cregan and their children. She, too, had seen her world crumble, and while she did not bear the same burden as Théoden, the pain was shared. Loss was universal, even here, in a world so far from the one she had known.

Gandalf placed a hand on Théoden's shoulder, his words soft yet filled with strength. "He was strong in life. His spirit will find its way to the halls of your fathers. Westu hál. Ferðu, Théodred, ferðu."

Visenya remained silent, her posture regal yet solemn. She knew well the role of standing tall in moments of grief. It was a lesson she had learned as a queen in another life. It was a time for quiet grace, not empty platitudes. She offered nothing but the strength of her presence, something she knew the King might need more than words.

As Gandalf turned away to give Théoden his moment of solitude, Visenya felt Aragorn shift beside her, his hand brushing her arm in an unspoken gesture of understanding. Their closeness had deepened in the time they had spent together, forged through battles and shared burdens. It was a closeness that others often misinterpreted, but she allowed the assumptions to linger. In a world where her true identity was unknown, her connection to Aragorn was her anchor. He knew her for what she was: a warrior, a strategist, and someone with a past filled with its own shadows.

Their silence was soon interrupted by the soft sound of approaching hooves. Gandalf stopped, his sharp gaze catching movement in the distance. Two children on horseback rode toward them, exhaustion evident in their every movement. The boy slumped, falling from the horse before anyone could react.

Aragorn was the first to move, rushing forward to catch the boy as he collapsed, while Visenya stepped forward swiftly to help the young girl down from the horse. The girl's eyes were wide with fear, her small hands clutching at Visenya's arm. "Please... help us."

"You are safe now," Visenya said softly, her voice gentle but firm. "We will take care of you."

Later, inside the Golden Hall, the children sat at a table, eating quietly while Éowyn watched over them with a worried expression. Visenya stood off to the side, her eyes fixed on the children as Éowyn spoke.