Attired with Stars Elessar turned his eyes to the North. The stars drew him as they always did on nights like this. Finally, he looked at the mighty constellation of Menelmacar, the warrior of the Valar. The stars were the same as they always had been, but over the years, Elessar had begun to see the constellation in a different way, had been able to discern features of the warrior that his Elvish tutors had never taught him. Traditionally, Menelmacar was pictured wielding a club in his right hand and holding a long, narrow shield in his left, with a shining line of stars for his belt. The King saw the warrior holding a long broadsword, and a round leather shield banded with metal. In recent years, Elessar found he could make out the pale starry outline of a horn on the warrior's right hip. Tonight, his memories filled in the rest of the details for him: the blond hair and green eyes, the long cloak, the rich maroon tunic, the leather coat, and the chain mail. The only things missing were the leather wrist bracers.
Elessar smiled quietly to himself. The bracers would never appear in the sky, because they were kept safely in a deep drawer in his wardrobe. He rarely took them out anymore, because, although the years had lessened his pain, it never truly disappeared.
The King's eyes filled with tears for a brief moment. "He's gone, Boromir," Elessar whispered to the starry warrior. The year was Fourth Age 82, the 84th year of the High King's reign. "I miss him already, he was my right hand all these years. But when I looked at him, I knew I hadn't really lost you. He never knew, but I could see you in him. I could pretend that you were here. Is he with you? Keep him safe, watch over the rest of us as you have all these years."
Elessar thought back to a moment years ago, after Éomer had died and the Hobbits had come to Minas Tirith for the last time. They had been sitting in a garden, the three of them, with spring on the verge of turning into summer. The Hobbits had sensed the King's depression over losing Éomer.
"Don't worry, Strider," Pippin had comforted, "he's gone to be with Boromir."
"What?" Elessar looked at the Halfling with shock in his eyes.
"Boromir will look after him."
"But I did not think you even remembered Boromir," Elessar floundered. "You named your son after Faramir."
"How can you say such a thing? The Man died to save me, that's not something you forget, no matter how much time passes. I gave my respect to Faramir, and I came to love him, too, but at the start, it was only because he reminded me of Boromir. Naming my child is a tribute to my living friend. Boromir does not need such remembrances to know we honor him, does he, Merry?"
"That's right, Pip, he never left us," Merry answered.
"What are you saying?"
Merry smiled at their very confused friend, "Aragorn, he has been with us since he died. When we were being Orc-dragged through Rohan, he gave us his strength, and we endured. When we fought battles, he gave us his courage, and we prevailed. When I was standing on the battlefield, alone with only Éowyn, he was whispering in my ear that I could not abandon her."
"Something happened to our Fellowship, in our hearts," Pippin went on, "I know you must have felt it, Strider. We were together just a few months, but somehow we forged bonds to last forever."
"I thought I was the only one," Aragorn answered slowly.
"No, of course not! It wrenched our hearts when first Frodo and Gandalf, and then Sam sailed over the sea, because we knew they would stay in Middle Earth forever," Pippin said.
"Legolas will follow his heart over the sea someday, too, and Gimli will go to the halls of his fathers. We three and Boromir are the only mortals left. Pippin and I know that when we die we will be reunited with him and so will you, Aragorn."
Elessar closed his eyes. He would take comfort in the Hobbits' words and believe that he would see them all again. He stood to climb back into his castle. "Goodnight, my love, watch over me." He thought the warrior's eyes twinkled softly.
Finally, Arwen questioned her husband about his vigils on the ledge. "What do you see, when you stare so intently at the sky?" she asked him.
Elessar thought for a moment and responded, "Does it comfort you to see your grandfather's star in the sky?"
"I never knew him, he sailed on his great voyage a long age before I was born."
"But Earendil is your father's father, he has a very direct connection to you, does it comfort you, when you miss your father?"
"Yes, I suppose it does. But why do you stay out there for hours, gazing at the stars?"
"Because it comforts me. It seems to me that the stars show me someone I lost long ago, and they remind me that I am not bound to this world, and of Eru's promise that Men would go on. Remember, my lady, that is the hope upon which we vowed to wed."
"Estel, who have you lost, that still pains you so?"
Elessar sighed. It would have to be his clear-sighted Elvish wife who finally uncovered his secret. And he told her the whole story.
Arwen kissed him gently, "You will see him again, and I will follow you into the death of Men, and we will all dwell in bliss until the end of days."
Elessar's heart swelled and he was grateful that his wife, of all people, understood his confused love for a memory and a dream. And he thought that he loved her even more than ever, if possible.
The years ran out for Elessar at last, and the King knew it was time to give up his life. He said good-bye to his subjects and committed the rule of his kingdom to his son, Eldarion. As he left his chambers for the last time, he pulled the leather wrist bracers out of their hiding place, and strapped them to his arms. Arwen raised an eyebrow at the sight, but made no comment. Elessar felt his soul become lighter. He walked out of his keep with Arwen at his side, toward the Silent Street. The stars were bright and Elessar paused to look at them one last time. Menelmacar was shining that night. The King stared at the warrior.
I wish... he thought, but then did not know what to wish, or if he should complete the thought trying to form in his head.
My life has been so blessed, what right have I to ask for one more thing? It should be enough that Arwen understood his feelings for Boromir. It was too much to hope that his heart could find that one missing piece, the piece that had been destroyed by black-feathered arrows, so many years ago. My brother. His grief suddenly threatened to overwhelm him, and his faith in the afterlife of Men wavered. Elessar felt as though the Orc arrows had pierced his own heart. He did not fear death, but only the uncertainty of what he would find on the other side of the door.
Arwen looked at him, sensing his sudden doubts. "Stay, my love, you are still young, it is too soon," she begged.
"No, my lady, I will go now while my mind is still strong and my body has not failed completely. Do not repent your choice," he said, squeezing her hand lightly.
Elessar completed his walk to the Silent Street of the Tombs of the Kings. Arwen accompanied him to the tomb already prepared. He laid himself down, thinking briefly that he would like to be able to see the stars. He sent his mind out to the Valar, to give back the gift of his long life. As he felt his body begin to fail and his systems shut down, he whispered, "Please," not knowing who he was asking or where his plea might go.
His awareness of his own body was fading and he felt himself pull away from Middle Earth at last, drifting towards the stars. Menelmacar was high in the sky, but suddenly he saw Boromir, as he had been in life. "My brother, you have come at last." He felt strong arms embrace him and warmth suffuse his being. "I have missed you," the King told the steward of his heart. "My King, how could you doubt that I would wait for you?" The warrior holding him chuckled slightly, and firm bearded lips gently caressed his own. "Let's go."
Finis
by Raederle
Attir'd with Stars, we shall for ever sit,
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time.
—from "On Time" by John Milton
he winter's night was crisp and clear. The stars were piercingly bright on the moonless night. The White Tower of Ecthelion seemed to shine faintly in the starlight as the High King Elessar climbed out onto a ledge on a high turret. The broad ledge was sheltered from the wind and from the eyes of his servants. He came here to escape the pressures of the throne and to think, or to brood, if he was being honest with himself. The long years had been kind to the King; his hair was lightly touched with silver and his face was hardly more wrinkled than that of the weather-beaten Ranger he had once been. But he felt the passage of time in his soul and knew that age was finally coming on him.
