Aragorn (onetrueking) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2015-02-21 19:08:00 |
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Aragorn sat at one of the better lit tables, his sword slung across the back of his chair. He liked this place, if only because it was one of the rare places that he could go armed and have no one deny him. The ways of this city were still somewhat new to him, but he could tell already that it wouldn't do to go walking about with the blade of Isildur, reforged or not. That wasn't the way of the people here. It didn't hurt that the bar was near their quarters and well-stocked in mead. And it seemed safe. Maybe it was the allure of being far from his own responsibilities, or the strangeness of this place, or simply the brilliant company. Either way, Aragorn was perhaps not as on his guard as he should have been. He hadn't even bothered with the usual kingly finery, choosing instead clothes that might have been better suited for a ranger. "I only wish that I could host you in my own hall," he said, suddenly nostalgic. "That would be a celebration worthy of the centuries." When they’d first met, Kili hadn’t known what to expect out of -- how had Legolas said it? The High King of the Reunited Kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor? -- Aragorn, but it wasn’t the man who sat across the table from him. It was a relief, in a way, because although Kili was well-trained in conversing with kings and lords, he genuinely didn’t want to rehash relationships from their world. This was a fresh start for him, and that came with letting go of some of the things that would have held him back before. Luckily, the man he found wasn’t like the king he expected. What he found was a ranger like the ones he’d met in his travels, and that much less formal. “If something brought me back alive from my tomb in Erebor, that would be worth a celebration,” he answered, looking at Aragorn with a lop-sided grin on his face. Maybe it wasn’t the time to make jokes about his fate -- maybe it never would be -- but he didn’t want to dwell on how it made him feel. “You can never have too many dwarves, that’s how I feel. No one would ever forget it.” "Of the dwarves I've met, I'd agree," said Aragorn. "If any of your kin were to ever travel as far as Minas Tirith, they'd be welcome there, but…" He tilted his head thoughtfully. "I'm afraid that may be an empty invitation here." This new world was an opportunity for a fresh beginning. He didn't need that, per say. Aragorn may have still acted like a ranger, and he may have brushed off Legolas' continued attempts to introduce him as anything but. But something had changed in the time that he'd left Boromir on the river Anduin and now, something that he didn't think he'd be able to just brush aside in pleasant company with a dwarf or excessive amounts of mead. Even if he did enjoy both of those activities. "I don't think we'll be returning to our world soon." He smiled sadly. "Which is good news for you, as I wouldn't wish it upon anyone to return from the dead and then sit through the usual kingly introductions…" He raised his hand, as if in proper imitation. "And now we have the Lady Arwen, daughter of Elrond, son of… Well… It seems parts of that family tree escape me right now." Kili had never been as far as Minas Tirith, but he'd heard stories of the city, and though he tried to imagine what it would look like, he felt certain that in prosperity, it would far exceed his imagination. "I'm sure... my cousin, Dain Ironfoot, he'll send a company." Had he lived, Kili would have done the same - if he hadn't been banished, of course. Had he lived, much would have been different. It wasn't an empty invitation to him, though. It was nice to know he would have had friends and allies had things gone differently. Maybe he would have been there at the end of all things, fighting side by side with Tauriel. He shook the thought from his head and focused on what Aragorn was saying. His expression brightened at the mention of Elrond, and then darkened again as he recalled their behavior. "We met Lord Elrond, not long into our journey. Gandalf tricked us - led us into Rivendell against my uncle's wishes, but we were being chased by orcs, so really, it was for the best. We never met Lady Arwen. That was also probably for the best, as I can't say we were well behaved in retrospect." He tilted his head to the side slightly, trying to puzzle out why there would be an introduction. "She's your..." His voice trailed off, not wanting to say something wrong. "Betrothed." The thought of Arwen made him pause. Had she shattered in the same way that the Evenstar had shattered in his hands? No, his heart told him that could not be. "It was such a long time ago that we promised ourselves to each other under the leaves of Lorien… To think that journey is complete now." His expression grew pensive as he remembered the last time he had seen the Lord Elrond. It had been before the passage into the mountains and the army of the dead, a dark time for their world and especially so for Arwen. "But I don't wish to bore you with the romantic tales of an old man." He let his thoughts turn to the present, aware that no amount of wishful thinking could bring Arwen here. Nor could it tell him the future. That was the task of elves and wizards, not would-be kings of men. "I lived with Lord Elrond for quite some time. I don't know if he'd be as easily offended as you think. Elves have a different perspective of the world than you or I might." Warm with mead and good company, Kili couldn't help the way his eyes widened when he learned that the man in front of him was betrothed to Lord Elrond's daughter. There were stories -- legends, really -- but the reality was so different, and so unlikely. Was there a purpose to Kili meeting him here? He wondered how different it would have been to make his acquaintance in their own world, had he lived. He let his mind wander for another moment before pulling himself back to a world where he might have the future he never knew he wanted until it was almost too late. He almost missed what Aragorn was saying. "That's not always a good thing," he pointed out as he brushed his hair off his forehead, recalling King Thranduil and how closed off the Woodland Realm had been to the rest of the world and the plight of those in it. But then again, even he had a side to him that Kili had never known or seen, and Kili's own kin had been too wrapped up in their own greed and problems too. "And sometimes… sometimes they show you the stars." It was overly romantic and poetic, but he was a hopeless fool. "I suppose he's been dealing with the likes of us long enough to know what would happen." "Sometimes, I think they are the very stars themselves." There was a sense of reverence and respect in his voice; for hopeless though his love for Arwen may have been, it had given him the necessary guidance and strength to take on his destiny. He pushed such thoughts from his mind. The temptation was great -- alight as he was with the pleasantness of this evening and a sympathetic audience -- to go on about his love and the stars and midsummer's eves. But those were of happier times, of a past that couldn't be repeated even if that had been his wish, far from the here and now. "He is. I lived with him for a good portion of my early years." In truth, Rivendell was as much a home to Aragorn as any part of the Reunited Kingdom. It was a place of peace, a far cry from his wanderings of wilder, darker lands. "If you're having trouble with the elves, I can perhaps help. We cannot allow the prejudices of our world to taint our relationships within this one. And… I think if they're giving you stars, you may already have a problem." He smiled softly. "As a friend, I suggest you embrace it." "It's not trouble," he started, although that wasn't precisely true. Kili didn't have trouble with the elves like they had in Mirkwood, or like when they faced each other down at the gates of Erebor. The relationships between the elves and dwarves were much improved since then, in large part because of how Kili felt, and because of how apologetic Legolas had been for causing any strife in the past. Kili didn't want to follow in his fathers' footsteps either. This was a new world; if there was a time to start anew and try to do better, it was now. He did have a problem, however. A pleasant problem. A problem that wasn't as much of a problem as it was in their world, because they had come to an agreement here and there were no kings to banish them. His cheeks flushed lightly and he looked down at his hands, clasped around his glass. "I am embracing it," Kili added. "I only fear no one else will embrace it as we have." Aragorn understood. Given time, the relations between elves and dwarves might have shifted to better ground. But the time from which Kili hailed was not yet that time. "If they care for you, I think that given time they will come to understand your situation…" He rested a hand on his glass. "They have to." He didn't know where his own convictions came from. He knew the stubbornness of dwarves well, and he knew the ill relations between dwarves and elves. But what did any of that matter here? "We've embarked upon a new era. We should drink to that." "Ah, they don't have to…" But Kili would certainly like them to. He didn't doubt his brother at all: Fili, he knew, cared more about his well-being and happiness than anything else. Legolas had given his blessing, and Bilbo wouldn't stand in the way when he had tried to avoid war between the two races. He only worried what Thorin would say, should he arrive, and that he'd have to stand up to his uncle. He would, of course. There was nothing he wouldn't do for a chance to have the life that was stolen from him, even if it meant defying his kin. It was something of a relief, though he wouldn't voice that out loud, to know he wouldn't have to face the outrage of the other dwarves if they couldn't come to terms with his feelings. Aragorn had a good point, and Kili smiled. He'd been trying to say that ever since he'd arrived. "Here's to that," he agreed, lifting his glass. "I think we've all earned it." "To New York," said Aragorn, raising his glass. The city around them was perhaps as disparate from their own world as it was possible to be, more so even than the white city from the fallen cities of the North. He'd spent his entire life wandering a broken kingdom, seeking to piece it back together. What did it mean now that he'd left all of that entirely behind him? "You said that you traveled through Rivendell. What did you think of it?" Their passage through Rivendell had happened what felt like a lifetime ago, but Kili could still recall how it felt to gaze upon the city for the first (only, he reminded himself) time. He wished he’d taken more time to explore it, instead of staying close to his kin. For someone who craved seeing new things as much as he did, he hadn’t pushed the limits of Lord Elrond’s generosity during their stay. Except that one time, in the fountain. But the other dwarves were as much to blame for that as he was, and they all had needed to bathe. “Quiet,” he answered after a moment. “That’s not bad, I just…” He remembered feeling a sense of peace -- after they realized they would be welcomed as guests and relaxed -- and serenity around every corner. The elves moved fluidly, like they were floating, and he didn’t remember hearing laughter. “It was very different. Beautiful. The architecture was like nothing I’d ever seen before.” Aragorn nodded. Peaceful and quiet were good descriptors of the place that he'd called home for some twenty years. "Indeed. I don't know if I remember it as you do. The last time I was there, there was much activity in preparation for the council of the Fellowship and by then, many of the elven kind had decided to leave Middle Earth. But there are quiet parts, even in times of great haste... " He tapped a finger to his glass. "I think you'd like the woods of Lorien, if it is beauty and quiet that you seek. I know that even Gimli couldn't find fault with those woods. I don't know if they have a similar place here. I have heard speak of this Central Park, but I haven't yet ventured there. It is hard to imagine a place of peace and quiet amidst all of this activity. New York is truly a lively city." Kili’s ears perked up when Aragorn mentioned the elves had been leaving. He hadn’t realized they would, or even known where they would go. It struck him, then, how little he knew about them at all. What he’d heard before setting off on Thorin’s quest hadn’t been complimentary, or detailed. There was so much for him to learn about who Tauriel was and where she came from. It was true that a part of his heart felt called to places of great beauty in nature, and Kili had never really figured out why. He’d decided that it likely had a lot to do with how much he’d already seen, how much he knew was still out there, and how different every new place was to the home he’d known. There was something to appreciate no matter where he went, whether it was Thorin’s Halls in the Blue Mountains, or the hills in Dunland, or in the great peaks of the Misty Mountains. Or, he thought, here in New York. “I’ve been to the park,” he answered, “with Tauriel. It’s… about as peaceful as you can get in a city like this one. But even deep within the groves of trees, it is hard to ignore the noise of the city, even in the middle of winter. Perhaps we’d find somewhere better if we ventured away from the city.” He hoped to, one day. “You said the elves were leaving? Why?” Aragorn looked at Kili. He was aware that the customs of elves were strange, even to someone, like him, who had spent so much time amongst them. "Their time had come," he said, using the words of his future father-in-law. "The elves often leave Middle Earth to rejoin their kin across the sea. I don't know what calls them to such a task, only that to remain in Middle Earth... " He lowered his gaze, unable to describe that which befell the elves who remained in the world of mortals. "... It is to fade and become mortal, like you or me. Eventually, those who remain will grow old and die, I'm told. They will never be able to rejoin their kin. You can understand why that is not a choice many make." He'd seen many of the elves journeying to the havens now that the magic of the ringbearers had begun to fade. And he expected many more would leave now that Sauron had been defeated. That was -- however unfortunate -- the way that the world worked. "To leave your only daughter, or son behind, to marry a mortal… I cannot imagine being in such a position myself. What are our lives, except a fleeting moment in their span of years?" At first, Kili didn’t quite understand what Aragorn meant. Their time had come? He wanted to ask why - why had the time come, how did they know they were supposed to leave? - but Aragorn didn’t know. Perhaps those questions would be better directed at Legolas or Tauriel, though he wasn’t sure how he would ever find a way to ask either of them. Instead, his eyes widened at the knowledge that they would sacrifice something precious -- an afterlife with their kin -- for mortality. He knew little of the beliefs of the elves, but Kili knew - no, he believed that one day they would be called upon to rebuild Arda, and perhaps then, loved ones lost could be together once more, but he couldn’t say how long the time in between would be. He wondered if Tauriel would have chosen to stay with him, if he’d lived. She’d disobeyed her king for him, she’d fought so hard to save his life more than once -- would she have remained by his side, through his life? Would she have given up all she’d known for six hundred years just for him? Should he have even asked that of her? He hadn’t understood the implications when he’d asked her to join him and his kin in Erebor. All he’d wanted was to have her remain by his side and fulfill his duty. It was different, here. Here, there was nowhere else to go, no sacrifice to be made. If he’d known what it would really mean to choose him over everything else, he wasn’t sure he could have asked. “I can’t imagine either,” he said quietly, “though I’m sure anyone who would choose such a life would do so for a very good reason. For love?” He’d heard tales, of course, of elves and men falling in love. For love, he would move mountains. “Perhaps those who would choose to stay… wouldn’t find any joy in an immortal life if they remained apart from someone they loved, for all time. When you’ve had hundreds or thousands of years with your kin, but you’ve only got a couple hundred with someone who makes your soul sing like no other, you…” He smiled faintly and shrugged. “You make every second count. That’s what I’d do. If I could go back, there’s so much I would have done differently. I would have just kissed her - Tauriel, I mean - on that beach like it was the only chance I’d ever have. Because, you see, I think people like you and I, because we’ve only got a limited amount of time before we grow too old and too sick to enjoy it, we live. Elves, they’ve got -- they’ve got forever. So what’s special about something they’ll see in a year? In a hundred years? We have to fill every second up before it’s gone, because we don’t have forever, and this might be our only chance. Sure, maybe our lives are just a drop of water in a stream to them, but they’re no less full. Maybe that’s why they choose it. For a chance at a life that’s full of joy they’d never know otherwise.” Aragorn knew that love guided mortals and immortals alike to great feats. All of the elven tales told him this, and to think that his own life would one day be such a tale… It was incredible to believe. He didn't know if he did believe it, even if what he felt for Arwen had guided him through the darkest times in Middle Earth. And even if that love was the love of legends, were they really the sort of legends that he had heard as a child? "Love does seem a very good reason," he agreed. "And it is, I think, a driving force in our lives. For we cannot choose who we love, or why we love them, and if an elf-maid gives you her heart, how can you reject such a choice? I don't -- " He thought it must be very strange, for him to speak of rejections when he had tried that himself. And failed. The world, it seemed, had very specific plans in mind for his love and his destiny. "Well, I must agree with you, master dwarf. We must live for that which is given, and make the best of it. But if I know the elves… They know joy. It is different, perhaps, from that which you or I know, and yet deeper. Our passions, our loves, our sorrows must seem like drops in a pond to the sorrows that elves feel." And is that not, he thought, another reason to let them go? He didn't voice this thought, however, for he felt that Kili must be knew to being in love with an elf-maid -- and all of the troubles that such love brought with it (along with, of course, the innumerable joys). "If Arwen were here, though, she'd say that it is not our choice to make. It is theirs -- their heart --" He smiled sadly. "-- to do with as they wish." “And she’d be right, the Lady Arwen,” Kili agreed. “I can do many things, but force Tauriel to give something she doesn’t want to give is not one of them. Nor would I want to. All I can do is show her how I feel, and the rest is up to her.” It would have been that way regardless of her race: Kili had not been raised to take what he wanted, simply because he wanted it. He’d been raised to respect a maid’s choices and to honor them. “I don’t mean to suggest that our way is better, that our lives are somehow more important, because they’re shorter,” he added. Well, maybe a little, which he knew wasn’t fair. He didn’t think his life was worth more. He just thought that having a limited amount of time made it that much more precious. “Only that we might be better at not wasting it.” He pursed his lips for a moment, frowning over his glass as he thought about how Aragorn said the elves felt something deeper. “I don’t… don’t we all love? We all grieve, we all find joy in life. If anyone thinks how I feel is insignificant or not as deep as how they feel just because I don’t have a thousand years to hold onto it, they’re wrong. It matters. It all matters.” Kili could tell he was starting to get ahead of himself - that he didn’t need to rant at Aragorn, but he was doing it anyway - and he took a deep breath to calm down. “And maybe if we had spent more time listening to one another instead of fighting, we would have discovered that a long time ago.” "Oh, I agree," said Aragorn. "But I suppose the ifs, onlys, and what ifs are meant for a future time." And perhaps when he was king, the fighting would finally stop. It was a vague hope, but it was one that he hoped to achieve in the reunited kingdom. If anything, he hoped the people of Middle Earth would at least live in peace for many years following the fall of Sauron, and learn from each other. "I think for now we must embrace the mead of this place and speak of better times... " |