Title: A Dying Hope 1/2
Author: Sivan Shemesh firstname.lastname@example.org
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warning: Angst, h/c, friendship
Summary: Aragorn is bleeding to death. Is there any hope for him?
A/N: Written for OAA Prompts: Prompt #96: Candle
Feeling the blood, warm liquid flowing from his body, Aragorn cursed himself for his foolish act.
Even Elrond told him that he should take his weapons with him, and what did he do? Left with nothing to protect his body from attackers.
He started to believe that he was alone, as darkness started filling in as the day merged into the welcome chill of night. The sparkles of the stars shone from above.
Aragorn stared at the sparkling stars, and he let his mind slip at the memory, while the loss of his life and spiritual body seemed to slip away as a wind brushed his face.
A time where his mother lit a candle for his father.
"Nana?" Estel asked his mother, noticing how tears fell from her eyes.
Gilraen turned her face toward her baby boy, and knelt beside him while the candle kept burning, and asked him, "What is it, my sweet child?"
"Why are you lighting the candle? Why are you crying?" the boy asked, his eyes locked upon his mother's eyes.
"In remembrance of your father, my son. I miss him so much, and the love I still have for him makes me cry for him." Gilraen explained softly as she moved her hand touching Aragorn's cheek gently.
"I understand, nana…" Estel said, and stared at the burning candle.
Gilraen watched the shadow of the room, and sighed as she noticed the form of the lord coming toward them.
"Why will you not light a candle too, Estel?" Elrond asked softly the boy.
Estel watched the lord; not saying anything while his mother prepared another candle so he could light it.
"Here let me help you, my dear child…"
He saw the light fill the candle, and smiled a bit, and then the memory of his father reached his mind, and he too started to cry for his father's loss, as he too missed him.
"It is all right to cry for what we lost… no one will say anything if you cry…" Gilraen assured him, letting the boy cry upon her shoulder.
The candle, he wondered why in the name of the Valar, he remembered the candle in his time of dying. Why was he seeing all the bad memories he wished not to? It made him cry every time he remembered it.
He turned his eyes from the sky, moving it slowly so he could see the line of trees, looking to see some forms in the shadows, calling and searching him, but nothing seemed to show or rather he became delusional as the pain stirred at him.
Aragorn knew that he should not lose hope, as he kept telling himself.
"They will come."
"They will come."
End of this prompt.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.