The Captain of Gondor (A LoTR/Aragorn fan-fiction)

Chapter 31-The Return of the King (Edited)

Here lies

Salandiel Aethelu Esmond

Daughter

Friend

Captain

"There is no honour in the pride of a bloodied sword but, rather, in the heart of a soldier who has fought bravely to protect her people"

Aragorn looked down at the gravestone, his grief and guilt eating away at him. Many times had he wondered why she took that blade for him. Many times had he wished their positions were switched. Slowly, Aragorn placed a flower on the grave, one tear falling from his eyes to stain the ground on which he knelt.

He looked to his right and saw the older gravestone standing proudly. Aragorn had asked that Salandiel be laid to rest beside her father who, also, was once a noble captain, just like his daughter.

Aragorn heard footsteps approach from behind but refused to look back, still wrapped up in his grief.

"Come to think of it, I never knew her full name," stated Gandalf, his deep, soft voice bringing some comfort to Aragorn.

"Aethelu Esmond," murmured Gandalf to himself, still studying the writing on the gravestone, "Aethelu means 'noble' and, if I remember correctly, Esmond means 'grace' and 'protection'. Definitely an apt name for so great a warrior."

He leaned on his staff, deep in thought.

"She was more than just a warrior."

Gandalf could see the war raging within Aragorn, his guilt consuming him.

"Her death was not of your making."

Aragorn scoffed, still looking at Salandiel's gravestone, now pondering the meaning of her name.

"If I had defended myself then Salandiel would still be here," said Aragorn, his voice quiet yet so full of hurt.

He dropped his head into his hands.

Gandalf stepped closer and placed a comforting hand on Aragorn's shoulder.

"Salandiel chose to take that sword. She chose to defend her king and the man she loved and in doing so, died a most honourable death. Now she has made her way to the Halls of her Father, finally letting go of the pain of this world."

Aragorn looked above the gravestone and into the rest of the garden. The flowers bloomed brightly, bursts of colour filling his eyes and the sweet aroma of the fresh blossoms wafted up his nose. Aragorn found it ironic that a place made for laying the dead could be surrounded by such life and beauty.

"It was never meant to end this way," said Aragorn.

"It never is."

Gandalf frowned. He hated seeing Aragorn so broken.

"You know," said Aragorn, picking himself up from the ground but still keeping his watch on the gravestone, "I dream of her sometimes... the same dream."

Aragorn looked into the distance, reliving those dreams, wishing they would manifest into real life.

"I see her in a beautiful field, although the beauty of the field is nothing compared to her. She's barefoot and wearing a long, beautiful blue dress. She turns to me, laughing, as if she doesn't have a worry in the world, but behind her is a figure that keeps beckoning her to come to him. She then turns to me, smiling sadly. It is as if she is saying goodbye. She walks to the man and they embrace...The dream always ends with her walking away from me, arm-in-arm with this man. I try to follow her but I always awaken before I reach her."