Realization by Ness

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It is over. A truth hard to grasp. We have succeeded. The Ring is unmade. Too long the waiting, too unattainable the goal to embrace this as reality. And I am still alive. This seemed easier to accept, although Aragorn remained vaguely disinterested. Clinging to routine. Adressing his men, and, out of habit, turning to –

 

He is dead. And I will live.

 

Realization. And with it grief, threatening to overwhelm. It had not seemed to matter so much, when keeping no hope for himself had been a strangely comforting notion after Pelennor Fields.

 

For I expected to join you soon.




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