Written for the There and Back Challenge.
With thanks to Raksha
He had looked like an Elven lord when I first beheld him again, or even the King of Men he was born to be.
Now he comes to take his leave of me, humbly attired again in his worn raiment.
He takes my hand. “I do not know what may befall ere we see each other again,” he sighs.
“You are my Estel and I have hope you will prevail,” I tell him.
His lips meet mine, a touch both tender and ardent. Were he King of Númenor, his kisses could not be sweeter.
King or Ranger, I love him.
He sits high upon the throne, mighty and glorious. The Sea of Kings of Old must have looked thus in their prime.
I wonder if even at the height of its splendour, was any King of Númenor more lordly.
The greatest in Gondor wait in line to pledge their fealty to Aragorn Elessar. As Steward it falls first to me, to kneel and kiss his hand.
I could have been in his place, save on a lowlier seat. It troubles me not.
I know now what my dream foretold; not destruction, but that Númenor would rise again from the depths.
icons fileg and unknown source