And from afar, she watched over him in thought.
It is I that have failed. That was the thought ever foremost in his mind. Doubt plagued him. The will that set itself against them came like a gnawing canker at his heart. Had he made the right choice? Had his heart spoke aright in letting the Ringbearer go?
He had tried.
And he had failed.
They had lost everything they had so far gained. The Fellowship was broken.
Aragorn.
It was a soft voice, a sweet voice that he knew well. Vanimelda.
Where have you gone, Estel? Her voice was gentle.
I cannot, Arwen. I am too weary.
Come to me in dreams. she murmured.
I have not slept for three days. How can I come when I do not dream? he returned.
He felt her grief in his own heart, but her intonation was calm and steady. I am always here for you, my Elfstone.
He felt the doubt recede somewhat, some burdens were lifted from him, to be placed on her own slender shoulders. It is all I can do for you. she whispered. Come when you need me.
I love you. he murmured to her, and in his mind eye he saw her smile, her starlit eyes sad and sweet.
He ran on. Weariness was tearing at him. He had long ago exhausted the stores of his endurance, and somehow he found more.
Perhaps it was because of his Evenstar. She had taken his exhaustion upon herself, striven in every way to help him.
That night they were forced to rest. Aragorn stumbled, and fell, his head upon the grass, and instantly he was cradled in the deep sable of night, the embedded gems of the stars glistening.
She was beside him, lovelier than ought he had ever dreamed, and she sang to him, a song of strength and endurance, the silk of her grey robes rustling softly as he moved his head to stare up into her silver eyes.
It is time for you to wake now, Elfstone. she murmured, passing slender fingers over the jade brooch, carved in the shape of an eagle.
He caught her hand in his own. Arwen.
She smiled at him, a slow, sweet smile that gradually lit the depths of her eyes. Yes?
He passed a calloused hand down her smooth cheeks. Though her face was flawless, her eyes were tired, yet she strove to conceal it. You are weary with my cares.
Her smile did not fade. I am, but is it not the very least I can do? This is the way I can aid you, my love. A little weariness…She shook her ebony head, and bent to place a tender kiss on his brow. Wake now. Leave the stars behind for another day.
Aragorn opened his eyes, to stare at the dawn, unfolding above the gentle waving grasses. As he sprang to his feet, he found himself rested, his limbs light and his eyes clear.
Far away, surrounded by pine hills to the north and barren aspen glades to the east, was Imladris, glinting in the new risen sun. Arwen leaned her head against the wall, the slender needle motionless in her hands. Upon her lap lay the banner, the White Tree half done. But she was too weary to do any more that day.
The fate of Endor stood upon the edge of a knife, and it was perhaps Aragorn who could decide which way it would fall. He knew this, and this care bent him to the ground.
Even now, he was kneeling, his fingers parting the grass as his keen eyes saw the tracks.
I will love you to the ending of the world. she whispered.
Aragorn smiled, his heart warm with a strange delight, though Gimli and Legolas wondered at this unexpected mirth.
They were bound together by the bonds of love, that death itself could not sever.