The adorable couple Seragorn was born when I was greatly inspired by Goldleaf's Goldomir and wanted a couple of my own. I knew, however, that I would never actually finish a story on them, due to my horrible habit of writing 4 pages and then giving it up entirely. I suggested the idea of a young Gondorian girl and Aragorn to Goldleaf, and I'm so thankful she agreed to work on it with me!
We're going to write Seragorn's entire story and post it in chapters here. We're both writing this, with Goldleaf handling Serena Reine's part and I Aragorn's. Goldleaf's parts will be in normal text, while mine will be in white.
Any comments, good or bad, are most greatly appreciated!
Before I post this, I must write: SERAGORNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!
Prologue
It was a blindingly bright day; it was not only the sunlight that made Serena's eyes ache, but the shining armour of the soldiers lined up in front of the crowd, the rich clothing of the magnificent nobles applauding Gondor's new king. Everything was new and beautiful, and the sound of joy echoing in the courtyard was enough to make Serena's ears ring.
She looked on eagerly, longing to catch a glimpse of the king. She could glimpse him, walking arm in arm with the elf-maiden clad in green, approaching his people. Serena felt packed in too tight in the crowd, pushed back too far. She did her best to squeeze past people, apologizing as she went.
Finally, she got to the front of the crowd, able to see the king clearly, or at least as clearly as she could as it was with the soldiers lined in front of the people. She craned her head; he was coming closer. The maiden at his side was laughing at something he had said. Serena felt a tiny stab of envy. She was so beautiful, so radiant. She felt very plain in her grey gown, having done nothing to her hair but having tugged a brush through it that morning.
She saw the king say something to the soldiers and two of them stepped out of the way of the crowd, so that the king could see them. Serena suddenly felt very nervous, her sense of determination quickly diminishing. She had wanted to see King Elessar, yet now she felt unbelievably shy.
She took a quick glance towards him, and to her astonishment saw him glance towards her. Half frightened, half excited, she held his gaze for a few moments before quickly looking away with a pounding heart.
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Aragorn saw the maiden's cheeks flame and her eyes alight. He smiled to himself. Ah, but he was just a man as the other men were. Why should his presence cause such a response from a young girl who should be off cavorting with men younger than he? Then he remembered. He was her king. The woman on his arm was to be his bride in but a few short months, and Gondor was his to rule as he pleased.
As he walked past the shy maiden clothed in gray, he met her eyes again and smiled. His heart leaped for but a moment. Her eyes. Her eyes tore into his soul, those sorrowful, deep blue pools. He looked away uncomfortably and glanced at Arwen to reassure himself. What had just happened? When he turned his head slightly to find the young girl, she was nowhere to be found.
Chapter 1: Open Your Eyes
Sighing, Serena stepped into the houses of healing, taking in the familiar surroundings, the balcony looking out over the Pelennor, the rows of beds, most of them unoccupied. There were not very many patients left; most were now healed, and by the hand of the king himself. Somehow, Serena had never been present when King Elessar was in the houses of healing; she had always managed to unluckily avoid him. She had had her chance, just then in the courtyard, of meeting him, actually speaking to him, and she had thrown it away by retreating in an anxious fluster.
Why? He had smiled at her. She had seen. It had been comforting, but maybe he had only smiled because he thought she was just some foolish girl, a foolish girl to be laughed at. And indeed, she believed that was what she must have seemed, certainly next to the lovely creature who undoubtedly would become the king’s wife.
She shouldn’t have felt envious, but she did. Everyone in the world seemed to have somebody, and lately, Serena felt as if she had nobody. Well, she had her uncle; he looked after her now, but it wasn’t the same – certainly not the same as having a mother and father.
They were dead. It felt so strange saying that, even thinking it; sometimes it felt as if they were still alive, and had simply gone away. But they were; both killed by the war, leaving her in her uncle’s care. He was a healer here, and a kind man, but Serena was still lonely. The lack of her parents was acutely painful, and she found herself always longing for something more than she had. Something that would help patch up the wound, if not make it go away.
That moment, in the courtyard, when the king of Gondor had looked into her eyes, she had wished that she stood by his side. Wished it so fiercely and dearly that she had had to turn, and disappear through the crowd. Who was she to wish such a thing? She was just a girl, and she knew she could never have the love of one so high and grand.
Still… what was the harm in dreaming?
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Aragorn stretched his aching back and arched his neck to remove the kinks of a long day in the Houses of Healing. He enjoyed the work, though it was stressful, and felt that nothing was more satisfying that the knowledge that he had saved a life. He moved over to the water pitcher and poured the clear liquid to clean the herbs from his fingers. He looked down at his clothing and laughed, a sound that was out of place in such a quiet, calm room. His clothes were covered in spots of green, brown, and red, thanks to the herbs, poultices, and blood that had collected on him throughout the day. Arwen frowned upon his work, saying that it was below him to help the people in such a way. He always replied by saying that since he was their king, it was his duty to put his expertise on the line and help as many people as he could. Besides, his skills matched those of Nestor Reine, the healer in charge.
As Aragorn made his way back to the entrance of the Houses of Healing, he spotted Nestor discussing the consistence of a poultice with another healer. He approached the two men quietly and wait respectfully for them to notice him. The other healer saw him and clumsily bowed, an expression of awe on his face. Nestor grinned at Aragorn easily, and nodded his head respectfully.
“I am happy to see you here, My Lord,” Nestor Reine smiled, “I’m pleased you could make it here today. Since the day grows long, I would be honored if you would share a meal with myself and my niece at my home. I have some procedures I would like your opinion on.”
Aragorn smiled in return. “It would be my pleasure to join you, sir. I’m willing to help in anyway I can.”
He and Nestor walked off together, and the other healer looked after the two, amazed that the king would bend his position and talk with the common people. He shook his head and returned to his duties.
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Serena nearly dropped the ewer of wine she was holding in one hand while she opened the door of her uncle’s house with the other. Standing there before her was her uncle, Nestor Reine, and the king of Gondor. Nestor had told her he was bringing someone important to dine with them today, but he had failed to mention that someone important was in fact the king! Abashed, she made way for her uncle and King Elessar so they could come through. She kept her head ducked down so she should not have to make eye contact with their royal guest. She heard her uncle clear his throat.
“Your Majesty, this is my niece, Serena Reine.”
She had to look up then. Her nervous blue gaze peered up into the kind eyes of the king, which immediately lit up with dawning recognition.
“I have seen you before! In the crowd in the courtyard the day I was coronated.” His voice was warm. Slowly, Serena’s nerves were lessening.
She curtsied to him. “I am honoured that your Majesty remembers.” She hoped that did not sound too simpering, too girlish. How else could she address him? Royal protocol demanded reverence. Yet this king did not look like a man to whom such protocol mattered.
He smiled at her, then looked towards Nestor, who had been looking on with pride to see his niece so honoured. “Serena is a good girl. She helps me with my work often; all my patients who have been tended to at her hand say what a gentle, sensitive girl she is.”
Serena cringed inwardly with embarrassment, yet she still felt fond of her uncle for his kindness. She waited for the king’s reply.
“How odd. I have been in the houses of healing often, yet I have never set eyes on Serena before,” the king said.
As the conversation continued, Serena was feeling increasingly odder. Her heart was beating hard in a way that was almost painful; it felt as if it was trying to escape, and she wondered if her uncle and the king could hear it.
A small voice in the back of Serena’s mind was reprimanding her. He is the king, it snapped at her fiercely. He is the king, and betrothed, and far above a girl like you. Yet there was a part of Serena that did not pay heed to it. A part of her that wanted to blatantly ignore it and go her own way.
Her uncle was looking at her expectantly and she darted forward to serve the wine. What was going on in her heart and head?
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Aragorn noticed Serena’s awkwardness and was strangely touched. He reached out his hand and grasped hers. It was so soft, so fragile. Like a rose that was just about to spread its creamy blossoms to embrace the sun. His gaze lingered on her soft wrist for a moment before he realized he was clutching her hand and the maiden was blushing furiously, refusing to meet his gaze. Carefully he let her delicate hand go, afraid for a moment he would crush her tender bones in his strong grasp.
“My lady,” he said softly. “I mean you no harm. There is no need to be frightened of me and my status. I am a king, not a god.” He smiled crookedly, and his heart leaped oddly at the light that jumped to her eyes.
This situation with his heart was getting entirely out of hand.
Nestor glanced between the two uncomfortably. “Well, for having never met before, you two seem to get along quite well.” He chuckled, and the sound rang in the silent room like a bell. Seeing that he was making the awkward situation worse, he clapped his hands.
“Serena, would you please serve the meal to King Aragorn and me? Thank you, child,” he said fondly. Serena seemed to have calmed down, although she kept on throwing small glances in the king’s direction. Nester wondered at the uncanny connection he had just seen between the king and his niece.
Aragorn and Nestor began to discuss a new treatment that Nestor had developed. They grew to be quite animated and debated the used of this herb over that, and this potion over the other. Before they knew it, the sun had departed and the moon had risen to take its place in the darkened sky.
Aragorn rose stiffly and stretched slightly, growing uncomfortable as he felt Serena’s eyes on him. This is ridiculous, he thought sternly. She is but a young girl, no older than twenty. You are the king of Gondor, and Arwen of Rivendell, the love of your life, is your fiancé. You are blissfully, incredibly happy, and there is no reason to be concerned with a girl.
He thanked Nestor and, knowing he could not escape it, turned to Serena Reine and bowed slightly to her.
“My lady,” he whispered. “May we meet again.” He couldn’t bear to meet her eyes and left the house swiftly, feeling her gaze upon his back as he fled into the night.
Poor Arwen is going to be devastated! But since she seems to be slightly out of character (I don't think she would ever think that Aragorn's work in the healing houses would be below him--this is Elrond-the-great-healer's daughter we're talking about here), I'm willing to forgive it.
