Immortalitui // Faramir 🥀

Chapter Thirty-Eight - Diverging Paths

Word Count: 1,122. 

Warnings: Bit of  a filler.

"I will not abandon these people," Arathiel argued as Aragorn continued his instructions.

"You must find Frodo, Arathiel," he told her.

"To what end?"

He stalked around the table. "It was you who wanted to rush after him once Boromir was burned. Legolas, Gimli and I shall stay with Rohan, help them raise an army to push back the Orcs."

"And I will what?" she countered. "Run away from war?"

"Gandalf..."

The she-elf scoffed, taking a step back. She was thankful that they were alone. "He has spoken to you."

"He explained your situation."

"Situation?" she shot, running a hand through her hair. "It is more than a bloody situation Aragorn. I will not flee a fight because you fear that I may change sides, no mind wander closer to Mordor."

"I do not question your loyalties, my dear friend."

"That seems to be exactly what you are doing."

Aragorn took a deep breath. "You are, at your heart, human and you shall always be loyal to good, but Frodo needs help. He needs someone who knows the landscape. It is why I suggest you go –"

"Because it was mine? Because I was the evil that sat there for decades?" She was getting ahead of herself.

"You were loyal to Sauron, but you broke free of his manipulation. What higher betrayal is there than guiding his darkness to its death when you were the one who helped create it?" His argument had merit.

Swallowing, Arathiel leaned her hands against the table with a shaking breath. "Aragorn, you do know what will happen when Frodo destroys that ring?"

When she rose to meet his gaze, she had not expected his eyes to be glazed with tears. "I think you are strong enough to beat it."

"Beat death?" Arathiel muttered, shaking her head. "You think too highly of me."

"Others do not think high enough," he corrected, watching the side of her face. She closed her eyes as he continued. "Do not fight his army here, as you have done over and over again. Take the darkness inside you, the pained memories of those blackened hills and bring it back to him."

Arathiel turned her head. "If we see each other on the battlefield and I have fallen back to darkness," she requested. "I trust only you to let me go."

He struggled. "Arathiel..."

"Promise me, Aragorn," she cut him off. "If darkness overtakes me, do not let my actions be with evil intent."

He hugged her. "I promise."

ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ

"You only arrive and yet you leave us," Théoden commented as he approached her.

Arathiel was gathering her things and placing them on the horse gifted to her by Éomer. "I am afraid that I must. I wish to stay and fight..."

"But your purpose is ever so much higher than ours," he finished.

The she-elf faced the King, and for a moment, all she could see was the boy who attempted to sneak up on her in that stable. "I have sent word to Éomer. He will return with his soldiers and aid you in battle."

He nodded slowly. "I thank you."

"I have done nothing."

"You cared for my son in the last moments when I was consumed by darkness," Théoden revealed, the sorrow and guilt still raw in his voice. "You attempted to break through to my mind even when it was riddled with death. If you had not come to Rohan, I believe that this Kingdom would have truly been lost."

Arathiel shook her head, fastening the strap. "You give me too much credit, my Lord."

"We are friends Arathiel," he corrected, placing a hand over hers. "Do not call me Lord."

"If you insist."

Théoden took a deep breath. "Where are you to go?"

"To Mordor," she muttered, the very thought of the place riling the darkness in her veins. The false excitement that ran through her at returning to that deserted land was enough to make her true heart ache.

"To the belly of the beast," he muttered. "Will you return?"

Their gazes met. "I hope to. Of course, I hope to."

The King reached behind, pulling an all too familiar dagger from its sheath. "Do you remember this?"

Taking a deep breath, Arathiel wrapped her fingers around its hilt and took it from Théoden. She smiled. "I could not forget it. This weapon pushed me through many challenging times."

"And yet you gave a prized possession to a small kid who had no idea what he was doing with a wooden sword," he countered, and they both laughed.

"You needed something real to practise with."

"And I have used it well, but I return it to you now."

Arathiel cast him a trying smile. "You do not return a gift to an elf."

"Allow me to break tradition then," Théoden countered.

"You have not changed," she commented, sheathing the dagger. "Thank you."

The King of Rohan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We shall see each other again, in the final battle against evil."

The she-elf dropped her hand on top of his. "I look forward to it."

ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ

"Must you go, my Lady?" Gimli questioned. While he was a stoic man, Arathiel could see the clear emotion in his eyes. The same sadness sat with Aragorn and Legolas equally. None expected to see her again.

"You know better than to tell me not to do what I am supposed to, my dear Gimli," she countered, placing a hand on his shoulder. It was the closest the pair would get to an embrace.

She turned to Legolas. No words were spoke between the pair as Arathiel took the elf prince into a tight hug. He returned it with a tighter grip that she had ever expected. It almost felt like the last attempt of a pleading brother to a dying sister.

Resting her forehead against his, Arathiel nodded. "Na lû e-govaned vîn," she breathed. Until next we meet.

He took a breath. "Guren níniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham," he returned. My heart will weep until I see you again.

"Goheno nin." Forgive me.

He only nodded before she stepped away and nodded at Aragorn. They had had their goodbye.

"We shall see you again, Arathiel," Gandalf proclaimed, watching her as though he knew something she did not.

"When you find Merry and Pippin," she began, "send them home. I do not wish to see them on the battlefield." The White Wizards nodded.

With a last glance and a small laugh, Arathiel hoisted herself to her horse and rode from Rohan. Her thoughts were consumed only of Sauron as she watched Mount Doom grow closer with every gallop her horse took. Her nightmare was only beginning, and the rest of her life had been the prologue.