By Amy Fortuna (email@example.com)
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Category: Angst, Romance. A Death!Fic
Archive: To tolkien_slash and my page, otherwise ask.
Disclaimer: Oh great and noble Tolkien, I your humble servant borrow your lovely characters. I promise you that I will not mistreat them, and will clean them before I return them. *snicker*
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for LOTR.
Summary: Aragorn mourns over Halbarad's dead body after the battle of the Pelennor.
Your hand is cold in mine. I kneel here alone, beside you, your beautiful body stained with your own red blood and the black blood of Orcs.
Halbarad. Don't tell me you're gone. Open your eyes and smile at me. Pull me into your embrace, kiss me tenderly.
I brush your dark hair away from your face. If you and I were not here under the open sky, bodies of the slain lying about us as the sun sets, I would swear you were only sleeping in the morning sunshine.
Early this morning, our hopes were high when the wind changed and droveus onward to Minas Tirith. We laughed together, holding hands at the prowof the ship, watching the waves peel back from the speeding bow. The sun rose behind us as we sped onward, but neither of us, though we'd been fighting all night, felt tired. Our hands were aching to free our city.
You'd never seen Minas Tirith before, and so I described the white walls and the wonder of the seven circles. And as we spoke then, I saw my city burning in my mind, beautiful walls blackened.
We rushed on, ships drawing up at the harbor, disembarking, mounting horses quickly. You stole a kiss
from me and hoisted Arwen's banner high in your hands. A shout of joy went up from the battlefield, mingled with cries of fear and terror from the enemy.
We raced toward the Fields and I cannot remember what happened then, only that I spoke to Eomer, and that we conquered all before us.
Now the fields are silent, and the enemy has retreated beyond the River. I find you here in this green meadow, broken. Elladan took the banner when you fell, and he bears it now, until my tents shall be set up.
You, my Halbarad, shall rest with honor in the highest citadel of the City, and you will be entombed on the Street of the Kings.
My cousin, my friend, my lover. Halbarad, I promise you by the firelight over our first lover's embrace, if the day comes when songs are made to commemorate the deeds on this day, there shall be one for you.