Author: Amy Fortuna
Summary: Aragorn and Halbarad spend a little time together in Dunharrow before leaving for Minas Tirith and the Battle of the Pelennor Fields.
"I'm going to die soon."
"No, you're not. You can't. What would I do without my Halbarad?"
"You would be all right."
A candle was lit in the darkness and Halbarad moved out of their bed.
He is so beautiful, Aragorn thought, eyes running longingly over his smooth perfect body, white in the dimness.
"Is this some kind of foresight, Halbarad?" he asked, suddenly feeling cold without the warm body beside him. Halbarad turned, staring back sharply, then he laughed lightly.
"You aren't the only one of us to have visions of the future, Aragorn," he answered, wryly smiling. Picking up a half-full glass of wine, he walked back to the bed, holding it out wordlessly.
Aragorn took one drink, handing back the glass in a ritual they'd shared since their first night together. Halbarad ceremoniously, almost solemnly, also drank, not swallowing all of the wine.
Lying down over Aragorn, Halbarad brought their mouths together, sweet, wine-stained, delicious. A little of the wine spilled out of the corners of their joined mouths, and Halbarad broke the kiss to chase the errant drops down Aragorn's jawline.
Then Halbarad drew back, but only for a moment, only to speak words both would remember forever.
"This is for always, my Aragorn," he said soberly, quietly. "We are not bound forever to the earth...and beyond the earth is more than just our memories."
Then their bodies were moving together in a ceaseless rush, both crying out softly in intense esctacy.
First light came all too soon, finding them entwined together, asleep in each other's arms.Aragorn woke first, but did not move for long moments, gazing at his lover, silently comtemplating the words spoken the night before.
Halbarad was going to die.
The foresight of the Dunedain was rare, but when a vision of the future did come to one of them, it was amazingly accurate. Aragorn had had several such visions himself, once when he had told Elrond that soon the Elves would seek the Havens, and also in Minas Tirith, in his youth, standing looking out over the city, suddenly feeling the weight of a crown on his head, and knowing he would someday stand there again, wearing one.
But that was still in the future. As it stood now, there was desperate war being waged and little chance of victory.
So many would die, never to see their home or family or children again.
At least there was no woman waiting in the Northlands for his lover's return.
Aragorn was the only family Halbarad had, the only person who would grieve deeply at his death. The thought should have made him sad, but instead it filled him with a kind of defiant gladness. Halbarad would never be forgotten, unless all of them lay dead on the Morannon plain.
Halbarad moved, waking up a bit leisurely, untangling his body from his lover's, leaning up to kiss Aragorn in a silent 'good morning'.
As they broke the kiss, Aragorn said a little reluctantly, "We've got a long way to go today. Let's get moving."
Halbarad nodded, climbing out of their bed.
When they were dressed and had gathered the few things they brought with them--Halbarad took the standard--they walked out together to gather their comrades, complete but comfortable silence between them.
It would be a long hard journey that day, but they were ready.