Aragorn: On the Paths of the Dead

"Few other griefs amid the ill chances of this world have more bitterness and shame for a man's heart than to behold the love of a lady so fair and brave that cannot be returned. Sorrow and pity have followed me ever since I left her desperate in Dunharrow and rode to the Paths of the Dead; and no fear upon that way was so present as the fear for what might befall her."
Aragorn, The Houses of Healing, Return of the King

On The Paths of the Dead.

Need drives me, bitter need; to walk the Paths of the Dead. The dead call, but if I had any other choice, I would not have chosen this path. If I could but choose and follow my heart, then all my paths would bring me back to one place; to that place where among the trees I first saw the light in my beloved's eyes. But I can not.

The Dead has been called. The Dead follow.

How long must I walk in darkness? How long must I walk among the shadows we both forsook? The shadows of dead men follow and still; this is the path of hope. There is light beyond the Shadow. There must be, for now it is too late; we cannot turn back.

The Dead has been called and the Dead follow.

Pale wraiths, pale eyes; I do not fear them. But two eyes haunt me. Two eyes of burning ice. They follow me and I would rather be haunted by a host of shadows. The dead call for me but it is the call of the living I can not obey, that I fear. I can not melt the ice, I can not slake the thirst and I can not heal the hurt hidden behind the strength in those eyes.

The Dead has been called and the Dead follow.

The Dead call, their cry echoing in my head. "Rest!" they cry, and their longing I can fulfil. Beyond this Path the dying call: "Heal our wounds!" and to that task I can ply my skill. But the eyes ask what I can not give. They follow me though the shadow and I can not close my ears to their call, I can not escape their gaze and I can not answer their call or fill their emptiness. I can not return their love.

The Dead has been called and the Dead follow.

Proud eyes! You do not want my pity and you can not have my heart. If I could but choose, I would follow my heart. I would walk in the light of another's eyes among softer shadows. I would walk among the living trees, not this cold stone.

But I have called the Dead, and the Dead follow.

Shieldmaid, I am who I must be and I do what I must do, so that hope shall not die and the light not be quenched. Do not seek me! Do not seek the paths of the dead. Choose a brighter path, you that can choose.