Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. (disclaimer copied from the B2MeM site... it is a copyright infrigement? =))

Introduction

This year the Back to Middle-earth Month (B2MeM) organized by the Silmarillion Writers' Guild (SWG) was a quest game writing challenge:

Imagine yourself far in the future from your favorite age of Arda. The Elves have long passed into the West. The Age of Men began millennia ago. Only in legend, largely forgotten, do the people of Middle-earth recall the Ring War, the ascension of King Aragorn, the last ship to depart from the Grey Havens. The world has again begun to change. The waves break on new lands, and a new threat passes its dark hand across the tired face of the Sun. Perhaps in the deepest and long-forgotten lore the people of Arda can find the secrets to overcome this new threat? (from B2MeM homepage)

Every team had to choose a character to represent them in the game. It was (of course) Aragorn, and my great team-mates were Lirulin (a.k.a. Daenar), openmeadow and StarLight9. Every week we moved on the map, and had to write for the challenge of the place where we ended. In the following chapters I will post my entries for this event.

A/N: A chapter title with this sigh ˇ means a chapter written in frame of the events in the game

Week 1: Aragorn began in Bree, with a few provisions, athelas and the flower of the White Tree.

Challenge (Bree): A character is supposed to meet a friend at an appointed time and place. Upon arriving, his or her friend is nowhere in sight, and instead the character meets someone entirely unexpected.

Summary: Galadriel told Arwen to meet her at Cerin Amroth... but someone unexpected comes instead.

The Tree of Love

The mallorns rustle in the gentle wind. I hear his voice in their leaves, young and soft like a touch of velvet on my skin. He sang about Lúthien...

My hand rests on the smooth bark of a young mallorn. It is spring. I feel the sap flowing up to the crown. And there, in the wet and rich soil, are the roots, nourishing and steadying it. Yes, those are the roots of my love... In the day when he called me by the name of Lúthien, its seed was sown, and grew to a sapling, young and tender – and yet I knew that this is the tree of my life.

"It is a fleeting enchantment, Arwen," my father told me, but his voice revealed that it is just his wish, born from his love to me... to us both. Oh Adar, you didn't want to lose me, if my love is true, and you didn't want me to hurt him, if it does not last... "He is but a yearling shoot, and you are a birch of many summers. You must be steady like a strong tree, not leaning in the wind..." you said.

I lean on the silver trunk of the mallorn. Oh father, you knew it, didn't you? Maybe I was leaning in the wind. After my mother sailed, I lost the support that anchored me to the soil; but not with him. With him, I am strong like a tree growing entwined with another.

The tree of my love has a strong trunk, but its branches are naked. Only a King of Men is worthy of my hand, you told him. Oh father, the role of Thingol does not suit you. Your heart is too gentle, and you love him too much. You know he is worthy of me, as worthy as any elven prince could be. However, you know also that he fears the mistakes of his ancestors, and the power of kingship does not allure him. To help him achieve his destiny, you used me and my love. I bear no grudge to you for I know what you will lose if this comes to happen. I fear for him. He is strong, but the goal so difficult, almost unachievable. Now he is far away, in the South, and I do not know if he will return...

Oh, again my thoughts strayed away, to the South... Maybe that is why my grandmother wants to meet me this morning. Maybe I seem too distracted to her. I think she guessed the reason... Yes, she can read hearts. She must have seen that my heart is not mine anymore... I must concentrate. She asked me to meet her at the hill of Cerin Amroth today. She never uses to be late. But now she has not come yet. I wonder what delayed her... nothing serious I hope.

Ah, she comes already... The sun reflects on her white robes. Oh no... it is not her! It is... oh Valar, do I dream or am I awake? Is it him? He looks like an elven prince clothed in white and silver, so tall and fair... and yet it is him! Aragorn. My Estel... I must admire the sight before me, like every woman would. A youth rode to the South – a man returned. His keen grey eyes are as deep as I remember them, but there are shadows and sorrows in them now, and my heart aches with the thought what horrors they have seen far from home.

Grandmother, what should this mean? Did you send a vision to me? No, it is not a vision... It is him, real, here... But you have told me to come here, and the clothes are from you also, I am sure. So well did you read my heart... Suddenly I realize what it means. You approve! You approve of my love! Just like my father, you know that it will part us forever, but you approve... Oh grandmother, thank you, thank you for this!

He stands still for a moment, like frozen to the ground. He beheld me and all the weariness disappears from his eyes. "Arwen..." he whispers in disbelief, and the word from his lips feels like a spring rain to a scorched soil.

In the next moment he holds me in his arms, half-way to the top of the hill, but I have no memory of walking down. This moment is everything that matters now. He is not a sapling anymore. For a moment, I see a black banner, and a white tree shining into the darkness from it beneath a crown and seven stars.

Oh Adar, I cannot wait anymore. I must give him something, a promise, a reassurance. The wind rustles in the mallorn leaves, and the tree of our love blossoms. Will it have fruits once, or will the frost burn the flowers? Take my promise, Aragorn. Take the blossom of my love. May it shine for you in the trials that are yet to come. May the banner of the White Tree blow from the top of Ecthelion's tower once again!