The Silver Flame (LOTR)

Winter in Edoras

Months passed in the golden halls of Edoras, and though Visenya had not intended to stay for so long, she found herself unable to leave. The days grew shorter, the winds colder, and the rolling fields of Rohan were soon blanketed in frost and snow. What had started as a temporary reprieve had become something more—a home away from the memories that haunted her.

The holidays arrived with a quiet warmth that melted even the coldest corners of her heart. Celebrations in Rohan were simple yet filled with an earnest joy that Visenya hadn't known she needed. She spent her days helping Eowyn prepare for the festivities, stringing garlands of winter greenery around Meduseld and baking spiced breads in the kitchens with the other women. The evenings were spent by the roaring hearth, surrounded by Éomer, Eowyn, and the other warriors, their laughter echoing against the golden walls.

Visenya found herself drawn to Éomer more and more with each passing day. He had a way of making her laugh with his dry wit, of making her feel seen in a way that both frightened and thrilled her. He would catch her gaze across the hall during dinner, his eyes warm and full of unspoken words. She told herself she wasn't ready for anything more, yet the weight of her own heart betrayed her.

When the day of Eowyn's wedding arrived, Visenya felt an uncharacteristic nervousness bloom in her chest. The hall was transformed, draped in white and green, the air fragrant with pine and winter blooms. Eowyn looked radiant, her golden hair woven with pearls and her smile brighter than the morning sun. As Visenya adjusted the hem of Eowyn's dress before the ceremony, Eowyn grasped her hand and squeezed it tightly.

"You've been such a blessing to me," Eowyn said softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't know how I would have managed without you."

Visenya smiled, her own throat tightening. "It has been my honor, Eowyn. Truly."

The ceremony was held outside, despite the chill, with the snow-covered plains of Rohan as a breathtaking backdrop. Visenya stood close to Éomer as they watched Eowyn and Faramir exchange vows, the young couple glowing with happiness. When the newlyweds kissed, the crowd erupted into cheers, and Visenya felt a pang of longing she hadn't expected.

The celebration carried late into the night, the mead flowing freely and the music lively. It was then that Aragorn arrived, his presence a welcome surprise. Visenya embraced him tightly, her joy at seeing him outweighing the bittersweet reminder of the life she had left behind.

"Aragorn," she said, stepping back to take him in. "You've come a long way for this."

"How could I miss such an occasion?" Aragorn replied, his smile warm. "And how could I miss seeing my sister?"

Visenya laughed lightly, her eyes twinkling. "I honestly expected you to be here for Éomer's coronation, not sneaking in at Eowyn's wedding!"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I had planned to be here for the coronation, but life had other plans. We welcomed a new addition to the world—Arwen gave birth to our son a month ago."

Her face lit up with delight, a genuine laugh spilling from her lips. "A son? Aragorn, that's wonderful! Congratulations! And you didn't tell me? I suppose I'll forgive you this once."

He grinned, the pride in his eyes unmistakable. "I would have sent word sooner, but I've hardly had a moment to catch my breath. It's been a whirlwind, but he's healthy, and Arwen is well. I couldn't ask for more."

They drifted away from the noise and laughter of the festivities, finding a quiet corner near the fire where the glow cast warm shadows on their faces. Aragorn leaned back in his chair, studying her with that familiar, perceptive gaze.

"You seem... content here," he remarked thoughtfully.

Visenya hesitated, feeling the weight of his words settle around her. She glanced toward the fire, watching the flames dance and flicker as she considered her response. "I suppose I am," she admitted softly, though there was a note of uncertainty in her voice, as if she wasn't quite ready to fully believe it herself. "More than I expected to be."

"Then why do you still seem burdened?" he asked.

She hesitated, then sighed, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "I think of marriage sometimes," she confessed. "Of what it would mean to marry again. To start anew. And yet, I feel as though I would be betraying my first family—my husband, my children. They are... were... my whole world."

Aragorn listened intently, his gaze unwavering. "You carry the weight of your past because you loved them deeply," he said. "That love will never leave you, nor should it. But you must also allow yourself to live, Visenya. Do you think they would want you to remain alone, burdened by their memory?"

She closed her eyes, her heart aching at the thought of Cregan and her children. "No," she whispered. "They would want me to be happy."

"Then honor them by choosing happiness," Aragorn said. His voice was gentle, but there was a firmness to it, a quiet conviction. "Galadriel once told me that the past is not something to forget, but something to learn from. You are here, Visenya, in this time and place. Live for them, but also for yourself."

Visenya swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill. "She told me I would never return to Westeros in this life," she admitted. "That this is my home now. I think... I think I'm ready to accept that."

"And if a certain King were to propose?" Aragorn asked, a small smile playing at his lips.

She smiled through her tears, a lightness blooming in her chest that she hadn't felt in years. "Then I suppose... I would say yes."

Later, as the celebration continued and the music swelled, Éomer approached her with that familiar glint in his eye. "Lady Visenya," he said, bowing slightly, though the teasing in his tone was unmistakable. "Would you honor me with a dance?"

She laughed softly, taking his hand. "How could I refuse the king?"

He led her onto the dance floor, his movements steady and sure. As they spun together, the world around them seemed to fade, the warmth of his hand in hers grounding her in the moment. For the first time, Visenya let go of her guilt and doubt, allowing herself to simply feel the joy of being alive, of being here, with him.

And as they danced, she knew—deep in her heart—that she was ready for whatever the future held.