b2mem | "Bear It Still For Me A While" by cairistiona

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"Bear It Still For Me A While" by cairistiona

Title: Bear It Still For Me A While
Author Name: cairistiona
Prompt: Spring Landscape (photo here)
Summary: The Standard-bearer’s thoughts turn homeward as he travels to war.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Themes of war, prophecy and death (much like Tolkien’s entire legendarium), though this is not a deathfic. Tissue alert.
Beta: Many thanks to my Betas Four: Inzilbeth, Suzll, Everleigh and Estelcontar
Author's Notes: All characters and Arda itself belong to the good Professor. I only take them out to play. Denlad, Eledh, and Galadh are my OC Rangers who often appear in my stories. Title taken from the passage:
“And Aragorn said to Halbarad, ‘What is that that you bear, kinsman?’ For he saw that instead of a spear he bore a tall staff, as it were a standard, but it was close-furled in a black cloth bound about with many thongs.” The Passing of the Grey Company, The Return of the King, JRR Tolkien.

He gripped the furled black fabric as though he feared some evil claw borne on the wind would rip it away. The ship shuddered against the Anduin’s waters as the rowers battled against the current. The southerly wind helped their progress, but it also seemed to play with the ship, tossing it up only to drop it again, as though it were naught but a toy in the hands of a careless and capricious child. Or mayhap it was Ossë himself who whipped the water into white-capped waves. The ship tilted left, then swooped level again, and a young Dúnadan, face pale and pinched, staggered to the railing. With a barely stifled moan, he mastered his stomach, though it looked as if all might be lost the next time the ship lurched.

Halbarad watched him with no little sympathy. Valar knew his own innards were not pleased with all this constant, random movement. He swallowed hard and looked away. His own nausea was not entirely due to seasickness. Their journey through the Paths of the Dead and then the frantic ride from Erech, with the Dead of Dunharrow racing behind, had shaken him to the core. If it had not been for Aragorn’s grim and fearless will, he might have tumbled witless from his horse long before they reached Pelargir, so great had been his terror. That his hands still shook even now shamed him. Oh to be as steadfast as his cousin!

He took a deep breath as he rested his forehead against the staff. Now was the only time afforded to him to rest, and he knew he should take advantage. Another deep breath, and he finally shut away the memory of that ghostly horror, replacing it with one that, along with Aragorn’s example of steadfast resolve, had steadied him throughout this long, hard journey. ‘Twas a vision far more peaceful: a farm… his farm… tucked away in a green valley far to the north. On the day before he had left upon this journey, he had walked his lands and looked one last time at mist-shrouded hills that melted into the blue sky distance.

… The grass was soft beneath his feet as he strolled by the trees. He ran one hand along the stone wall he had built himself to keep the wilds away from the tamed land, remembering the placing of each and every stone. One here that he placed on top because it bore the ancient imprint of a perfect seashell; one there that glittered when the light struck it just so. The wall was straight and strong, built to last the ages. He stopped and leaned against it. The sun warmed his shoulders, and a gentle breeze carried the aroma of warm soil, sweet buttercups and, even this far from the cottage, his favorite scent of all: fresh-baked bread...

“You need to eat,” a soft voice beckoned from his right. The vision shattered as he opened his eyes to meet a bright grey gaze. “Here.” Elladan pressed a small piece of bread into his hand.

Halbarad looked at it for a moment, then shook his head. He would not eat this day. “Save it.” For those who will need it in the days ahead… but those words he did not say.

Turning from the sudden knowing sorrow in Elladan’s eyes, he checked the leather lacings on the banner. He had unfurled it, once, in the dark of night when only the phantom gaze of unseen eyes could behold its symbols. But upon claiming the ships, he had rolled it safely around its staff once more, lest the wind shred it before it waved again at the coming of the King to his city.

Elladan watched him tug each knot. “They will hold.”

“Aye. Until the appointed time.”

Elladan nodded. He gave Halbarad’s shoulder a squeeze, then left him to his thoughts of home.

… there came his grandchildren, running toward him, shouting in their race up the hill. He smiled at their antics. Then his heart leapt as he espied their beautiful grandmother hurrying after them. Miriel, his wife, laughing as the wind whipped her hair, still as black as the day he had fallen in love with her so many years before. Her eyes shone with love as she called his name…

“Halbarad.”

He blinked, then immediately bowed his head. “My Liege.”

A smile briefly played across Aragorn’s face. “You need not call me that yet, cousin.”

“I shall call you my king before this day is out.” He tightened his grip on the staff, then turned a pleading gaze toward Aragorn. “I would that you would let me call you that now, ere I…”

Aragorn looked away, but not before Halbarad caught grief’s shadow momentarily darkening his eyes. “No, Halbarad. Not yet.” He put his hand over Halbarad’s where it still gripped the staff. He looked like he might say more, but in the end, he simply nodded once before rising to succor the Ranger bent over the railing, who had at last lost his miserable battle to seasickness.

“Ever the healer, even now,” Halbarad whispered. He looked up at the sky. The south wind had driven storm and rain away northward. Blue sky broke above, and sunlight played on the water.

… sunlight glimmered in her eyes as he reached for her. He touched her soft cheek, cupped her face along her jaw as he buried his fingers in the tangled locks of dark hair. He kissed her, and the children as one let out a groan of disgust. “Ew, they’re kissing!” little Halchur cried. He was Halboron’s youngest, only seven, and quite adamant that kissing was a horror second only to an orc invasion. “If you’re going to be kissing, we’ll go find mushrooms by ourselves!”

“Let them go,” she whispered.

“Let it go!” a voice called, and Halbarad lifted his eyes to the black sail unrolling above his head. It bellied with the wind, adding more speed to that plied by the bent backs of the rowers. The ship immediately surged forward. Its prow dug through the choppy waves, and a brackish spray of mingled river and sea crashed over the rails to boil along the deck before running out the scuppers. Several men, including Aragorn, had to grab at the rails or lose their footing.

Halbarad stayed where he was, but he lifted the base of the staff from the deck to rest it atop his boot. He brushed droplets from the dark cloth. He hoped whatever dye Arwen used would hold up to a possible drenching. He looked beyond the bowsprit, to the river’s bend. Harlond lay just beyond, and upon its shores, battle and triumph, a crown and throne.

He rose, and Aragorn saw his movement and inclined his head. Halbarad hurried to the bow, where he climbed over the rail to stand on the base of the bowsprit. He would not hang the standard from the rigging, for, upon landing, he would need to quickly move it to carry before Aragorn onto the field of battle. For now, he simply thrust the base of the pole into the loops of rope he had fashioned into a temporary stanchion.

He waited, then, letting his mind drift one last time to the Northlands, to his grandchildren and his wife as they’d been on that bright shining day. From that moment through battle and night he had come, and around the river’s turn waited the assault that surely would keep his loved ones safe forever from the Shadow. All that was good and light would endure, the darkness wiped away.

“The darkness seems to have lifted from your heart even as the clouds have lifted to let in Anor’s bright light,” Aragorn murmured beside him. He stood balanced on the railing, one hand gripping the lines, as steady and relaxed as if he had lived his entire life at sea. The other hand he placed on Halbarad’s shoulder. “What fills your mind, kinsman, for I do not think the glow in your eyes was put there by thoughts of battling orcs. It is far too gentle, that look, lest you plan on kissing them.”

“My thoughts are of my farm. The children.” He laughed softly at Aragorn’s raised eyebrow. His cheeks colored. “And yes, I'll admit it. Miriel has been much on my mind.”

A soft chuckle. “A fair distraction if there ever was one.”

“No less so for me than the Lady Arwen must be for you.”

“Aye. They lend us strength, even from afar.”

They fell silent as the trees lining the river slipped behind them. A great winged bird with long trailing legs flew up from the banks, and for a moment, Halbarad watched it, ignoring the clamor of the men readying themselves and the horses. He let himself believe, just for a moment, that the war was over and Aragorn king of a realm where peace lay warm and comforting on lands here and to the north.

“It is nearly time,” Aragorn murmured, and the daydream ended. Aragorn jumped lightly back to the deck, where Denlad held Roheryn’s bridle and where Eledh waited with Halbarad’s mare and his own. Aragorn mounted, and behind him on their own steeds Halbarad saw Elladan and Elrohir, Legolas with Gimli, and beyond them those of the Grey Company who traveled on this ship. Fell and stern the gazes that met his, and strong the hands that gripped sword and pike, bridle and bow. Denlad, Eledh, Galadh and all the rest, their long days together come down to this last grim hour.

He saw Denlad’s eyes widen as his gaze shifted past Halbarad’s shoulder, and so he turned and beheld it: the great white city of Minas Tirith, rising above the trees as the Harlond hove into view. Bannered white towers soared proudly above the tiered walls. He marveled at the majesty of the place, the immense timelessness of it, as though it had been birthed from the plains round about it at the very same moment as the mountains against which it stood. As many times as Aragorn had told him of the beauty of this place, he found his imagination had done it a sore injustice. Truly this was the city of great Kings.

His reverie was shattered, though, by the clamor of battle, the sounding of trumpets and clash of weapons, the screams of men and beast. His heart lurched. Watchers on those far ramparts would see them, would see the ships approaching. They would behold the black sails, and their hearts would fail them.

He looked quickly back to Aragorn, who pulled his sword and lifted it. “Now, Halbarad. Now!”

Halbarad’s hands shook anew as his blood stirred itself for battle. He yanked at the leather straps, and as each one fell away, there settled a quiet assurance deep in his soul, a tranquility at odds with the pounding of his heart. All that had been foretold—the coming of the King, the falling of the Shadow—would come to pass. This great white city would not fall, and long leagues to the north, in the far green hills where he knew he would walk no more, his family and all the Northland would endure, prosperous and at peace.

The ship started to turn, and he smiled as he loosed the last binding.

The banner unfurled.

_____________

“…behold! Upon the foremost ship a great standard broke, and the wind displayed it as she turned toward the Harlond. There flowered a White Tree, and that was for Gondor; but Seven Stars were about it, and a high crown above it, the signs of Elendil that no lord had borne for years beyond count. And the stars flamed in the sunlight, for they were wrought of gems by Arwen daughter of Elrond; and the crown was bright in the morning, for it was wrought of mithril and gold.

Thus came Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elessar, Isildur’s heir, out of the Paths of the Dead, borne upon a wind from the Sea to the kingdom of Gondor…” The Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien.

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From that moment through battle and night he had come, and around the river’s turn waited the assault that surely would keep his loved ones safe forever from the Shadow. All that was good and light would endure, the darkness wiped away.

Ohhh, I'm near to tears from this beautiful, moving story. I know that the Professor would be proud of the strength and nobility you reveal in this man, and in all of these amazing men.

Thank you, shirebound! I'm so glad this moved you. (I... kinda cringe at the thought of the Professor ever reading my fic, but hopefully it lives up to his standard!)

This brought me to tears. Perfection.

Thank you, baranduin... I'm so glad it moved you. *hands you a handkerchief*

This is wonderfully evocative of a pivotal moment. A stab in the heart, in a good way. I love it!

Thank you, wheelrider--so glad you liked it. I definitely wanted that "stab in the heart in a good way" with this and not leave the reader completely grief-stricken and without hope. I like to think that Halbarad went out knowing it was his time and at peace with it, just as Aragorn did many years later.

This was just beautiful.I loved it especially the way you portray Halbarad's stoic courage.

Thank you, Linda! So glad you liked this. My take on Halbarad has always been that he was fairly matter-of-fact about life and its dangers, not one to whinge and despair. A lot like his beloved royal cousin, really. :)

An excellent gap filler and very moving.
I like the detailed descriptions of the goings-on on board and their contrast with the meditations on his home in the North.
All that makes the reader feel Halbarad's courage, practicality, and devotion to Aragorn more clearly than if there were less context and the focus were just purely on his knowledge he is going to die.

Thank you, hhimring! I really wanted to bring out the setting details, because I think during those hours of "calm before the storm", the details of life would really stand out to Halbarad, even as he was trying to calm himself with thoughts of home. I think by this point he was very accepting of his fate, and so thoughts of death weren't so much on his mind as thoughts of hope for those he was leaving behind, including his cousin, the soon-to-be king. (And of course, the need to shake off the horrors of watching a ghost army, which was terrifying even knowing they were allies!)

Very evocative story and an excellent gapfiller. Thank you for sharing :)

Thank you, binkslibrary! So glad you enjoyed it.

a;lksfjd;ksalfjd still love this ;_;

:D

Thanks again for your help on it!

This is poignant and lovely, suffused with a mood of sadness, yes, but also with acceptance and hope. I particularly like the way the flashback scenes link in with the present: the smell of fresh bread in memory leading to Elladan offering Halbarad bread in the present, and so on. And when Halbarad refuses the bread, because it should be left for those with a future who will need it later...! What a telling moment, that says so much about the sort of man he is.

Thank you, Eildon! I'm very glad you enjoyed this. That moment with the bread kind of caught me by surprise, to be honest, but once I wrote it, I knew that's exactly what Halbarad would have done. It's funny, really, how these characters really do live and breathe in your mind.

How difficult this journey must have been for him, knowing what was to come. And yet knowing, I think his thoughts must have been just as you write them.

I do find myself, now, wanting to know what happens to Denlad, Eledh, and Galadh...

Thank you, curiouswombat! I'm very glad you like how I wrote him at this particular moment in his life.

The fates of the others will be revealed eventually (which is my way of saying that I'm not sure yet what all of their fates are! I do know of one, for certain, but the other two I haven't nailed down yet). This next tale about Bowen will at least include some indication, as it's set in the Ring War and after. It will depend on how quickly news from the front gets to Bree, and how far I take the story past the Ring War. So much still to figure out!

Oh my. Oh myyyyyyyyyyy ... I definitely needed a box of tissues handy. Such a splendid visual canvas you've colored so vividly here - with splashing waves and green around the gills sailors, blue sky and revealing sun -- a feast for my inner eye, but also a banquet of emotions for the heart.

Halbarad's joyful memories untainted by any self-sacrificial mourning are so exquisitely and delicately created here, as if the words are ethereal brushstrokes moving him closer and closer to a fate he has embraced with no remorse. That - for me - is a real man. He has given all he can to this cause and will not shrink from the last hours even knowing what it t to come.

The last moments of a life well-lived beautifully, beautifully rendered in each beat of the story.

P.S. Would you be willing to allow me to podcast this?

By all means, and thank you! I've never had a story turned into a podcast, so this is will be a treat. Let me know when you've done it and where I can find it to listen. I'm kind of clueless about podcasts, to be honest!

It will take awhile actually, since I have very little time right now and then once it is done it will be awhile before my web gal gets it on line, but I will certainly send a link when it's done and posted. In the meantime, I need a help little, please, with how to pronounce Cairistiona, and also your OC's! I've only done one Halbarad-centric podfic, so I'm not even sure I have his name correctly pronounced, so if you have a certain way you *hear* it and would like it pronounced, that would be helpful too. While I do a lot of my own stories, I particularly want to get it right when I do someone elses.

Thanks for letting me do this!

Oh golly, hadn't even thought of pronunciations, but that's a very good question.

cairistiona - this is my fandom pen-name only, and, um, well, I've never actually heard it said aloud! LOL There's various pronunciations of it depending on if you're Scottish or Irish etc, but in my head, I tend to say it "care-is-chee-OWN-a". I've also seen it written out as "kare-ih-STYO-nah". That "-sti-" has an "s" sound before a soft "ch", basically (unlike "school"), and the accent is on the '-on-" syllable which has the long "o" sound.

My OC's (far less complicated to explain, hopefully):

Denlad - DEN-lad.

Eledh - "ELL-eth" (yes, that's actually the word for a female Elf; there's a long story behind this poor man having a feminine name. Short story internal is that a female Elven warrior saved one of his ancestors so his family always named one a girl child Elleth... until his generation where he's the only offspring. So he got stuck with Eledh. Naturally, his nickname is Elf Maid. Story external: the character sort of jumped to life in my imagination after listening to Johnny Cash's "A Boy Named Sue". *blushes* He's nothing like the man in that song, or Johnny Cash.)

Galadh - "GAL-eth".

Miriel - I guess the standard Tolkien pronunciation of Míriel? So many of my OCs I created when I was still new to Tolkien and didn't know how to type accented characters etc. She technically should have the accented "i" but since I didn't accent it in earlier stories, I just leave it that way. But pronounce it as you would the canon version of the name.

Halchur - "HAL-cher" (I assume? I created that name for this story, so I don't have any set idea on the pronunciation)

Halboron - "HAL-boh-rahn" or even slurred a little on that second syllable, "HAL-buh-rahn"?

I'm no expert in Tolkien pronunciations, to be honest, because I'm almost strictly a visual learner, so I've not heard many podcasts, audiobook versions etc. I've rarely heard aloud any names other than the ones in the movies. I've had to make internal corrections to how how I pronounce names and places, so if any of these seem wrong, feel free to go with whatever the correct pronunciation should be. :)

This is big help. Thanks!

Goodness, you've made me blush and grin like a maniac. Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm so glad you enjoyed this and that it resonated so well with your own ideas of Halbarad and the type of man he was--we think alike. :) I believe Halbarad had to have been a very special man, indeed, to be given the honor of being the King's Standard-bearer, and perhaps more telling, being the only recipient of a warm hug of greeting from Aragorn (at least that we see in the book--surely Aragorn hugged more people in his life than just Halbarad!). Another reviewer (at ff.net) pointed out how very unfair it is that Halbarad came *so* close to seeing Aragorn achieve his destiny... I suppose that's why I (and perhaps others, though I can only speak for myself) feel compelled to write him as a fully developed character. He's special, our Halbarad. :)

Amen! They saw the banner and realized that the King had come indeed, as had been long foretold. Such a wonderful look at this moment! No, Halbarad will walk on his own lands no more, not on his feet; but the sacrifice, as he knows, is well worth it, to know his people and family will share in the Peace enforced by Aragorn!

Well, well done.

Thank you, Larner! So glad you enjoyed this. That moment when the banner unfurled always gives me goosebumps when I read the passage. It was fun to write the scene from the "inside", as it were. And I loved being able to show Halbarad as a man at peace with his destiny and purpose.

Wonderful view of Halbarad! I really like what you show of his family - it is lovely to see some of his happiness, as well as the sadness.

Thank you, jenn! I'm glad you liked this. In my universe, Halbarad's a big family man. I think I want to give him a lot of happiness to make up for the fact that Tolkien killed him off before we really got to know him. :)

This was beautiful. I loved the little glimpses of a more peaceful life, and the last few lines nearly made me cry! I also love the friendship between Aragorn and Halbarad––and including the quote at the end was a nice touch.

Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed this. I love imagining the quieter home life of the Dunedain, which surely must have been a refuge to them and a comfort when they were heading into danger. It was fun to explore the idea that Halbarad had foresight about the outcome of the entire Ring War, just as he had of his own death. Who knows if he did, but for me, it balances out the sorrow brought by his death.

Perfect Halbarad. I loved this. Especially his last thoughts. Perfect!

Thank you, elliska! So glad you liked it.

Oh....sweet.

You show the essence of heroism here, in Halbarad's going to the battle that he knows he will not survive, for the sake not only of his family so far away, but for a city he has never seen before.

Well done!

Thanks so much, Raksha! We know of Halbarad's calm bravery from his statement at the "evil door", and I wanted to expand on that and give a deeper glimpse of what he might have been thinking on that last journey. I've been carrying around his back story in my head, if not on paper yet, for years, and this grew out of all those jumbled notes and thoughts.

Oh, this is lovely. I really am attached to a good Halbarad story, especially one set at the end like this one. Yours as a superlative example of the genre. You make me fall in love with him all over again and break my heart. What a hero.

Thank you, oshun! I'm honored that you'd place this so highly within a genre full of outstanding pieces on him. I'm glad I rekindled your love for him... he's such a favorite of mine. :)

This is so powerful and yet so sad, since we know what is going to happen... *sniff* I'm rather unfamiliar with Halbarad, fanfic-wise, and you got me right into his mood and world of thought making me feel as if I had travelled already a long while with him and the company. I love the small details of his memories which make them so real, and the things which are important to him shown through them. Also the other details, like the kissing being comparable to an orc-invasion for a seven-year old, *g*, or Halbarad's musing about the dye Arwen used. A highly satisfying, enjoyable read!

Thank you, winterwitch! I'm so glad you liked this, and I'm glad I was able to convey the feeling that you feel you somehow "know" him. I've carried around his entire back story in my head for several years and have only been able to write out a little of it, but I think my knowing those details somehow works out into making him real even in such a small ficlet. I hope so, anyway!

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"Bear It Still For Me A While" by cairistiona

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