Author's note: Written for Teitho September challenge "Colours of Middle-earth". Big hug and thanks to curiouswombat for beta reading.
White is the rainbow, and the rainbow is white...
Aragorn watches the rainbow over Ephel Dúath. Dark clouds lie over it. But these are not dangerous, threatening clouds bringing death and gloom to Middle-earth. This is just a summer storm, bringing refreshment and life to dry land.
The Sun sets, sinking behind the high tops of Mindolluin. Her last rays illuminate the Pelennor Fields, Anduin and the clouds over the mountains in the east. Light and rain meet far in the distance and play. Their kiss elicits smiles and admiration. Many people wonder – how can ordinary white rays of light and raindrops create such beauty?
Aragorn watches, and reminisces...
The first time he saw Minas Tirith, it was a cloudy, dull, gray day. The city's beauty was dimmed. Yet, Captain Thorongil smiled in awe, enchanted. His heart lay far away, in the North. But this city might become his home, and he felt he could be happy here.
But when he first saw its houses bright under the sun, tower of Ecthelion sparkling in the sunlight, purple shadow* of Mindolluin falling on the white city walls, his heart missed a beat. Even if he never came back, he would carry it in his heart forever.
A home. One day.
It was the dawnless day. Or the longest night, as some called it. Aragorn observed the faces of the men on the ships sailing towards Minas Tirith. Most were grim. Some were frightened. He couldn't blame them. This long lasting darkness unnerved even the stoutest hearts.
But then, when the hour seemed darkest, the wind filled their sails. And a few hours later, dawn brightened the dark sky, while the clouds started to dissipate. A patch of clear sky wished them good morning.
The sky had never seemed so beautifully blue before. That day, it was the colour of hope.
King Elessar, that is how he is now known.
Long ago, he was Estel; just a lonely boy, far from his kin, living among the elves. Then, later, he was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain; a man leading the last of his people in the final fight against the Darkness. And then he came to Lórien, where Lady Galadriel gave him the greatest gift.
The green stone now lay on his breast. The prophecy was fulfilled. He took the name foretold for him. Elessar, the Elfstone of the House of Elendil. Yes, that was his name now.
Together they walked upon Cerin Amroth barefoot. The birds sang high in the tree crowns, the leaves whispered in the wind, and Arwen's gown softly rustled on the grass. With their fingers intertwined, smiling gently at each other, they stood in the middle of the mound and plighted their troth.
Aragorn could swear that the sun shone brighter that day and that the colours were never so vivid. He smiled and listened to the bird singing, sure that even they rejoiced with them. And, all around them, yellow elanor filled the air with the sweetest scent he had ever known.
Ever since he was a child, Aragorn always thought Rivendell was most beautiful in the autumn. Yes, it was nice to feel the awakening of nature in the spring. And it was lovely to see all those colourful flowers in the summer and the bright blue starlit sky. But the warm colours of the autumn seemed to warm his heart, too.
Minas Tirith would be his home, and he knew he'd be happy here. Arwen was beside him; how could he not be happy? But he knew he'd always miss the golden and orange hues of Rivendell in the autumn.
All those years ago, while serving in Gondor, Aragorn saw the Pelennor Fields and thought them wonderful – an oasis next to the great city of stone. But now they were devastated by the Enemy's evil forces, burned by fire, scarred by deadly devices. Death was all around them. Once beautiful fields were red with blood. So many good men died that day. His heart cried for Halbarad... and for all who gave their life in this war.
But the Enemy was defeated now. A new, happier age of Middle-earth would now begin. None of those brave men died in vain.
Aragorn watches the rainbow over Ephel Dúath. Soft footsteps approach him from behind, and Arwen stops next to him. She puts her arm around his waist and lays her head on his shoulder.
He is happy. All his dreams came true. Arwen is beside him. The war is over. The new age begins.
Standing close to the Citadel's edge, he observes Minas Tirith, down to the last level, and feels warmth in his heart. This beautiful white city he first saw and fell in love with many years ago, will now be their home till the end of their days.
* I doubt that any shadow in real life is purple. But in The Two Towers, Chapter 11 (The Palantir), there is a sentence: "And in two days thence you shall see the purple shadow of Mount Mindolluin and the walls of the tower of Denethor white in the morning." So, I decided to use this motive for the second drabble. ;)