Disclaimer: Hey guys! Thanks for reading my fic- just so you know,I don't own any of this stuff-all of the chracter and place names belong completely to J.R.R Tolkein. Enjoy the story!

btw: (these bits of the story are taken straight from the movie The Two Towers)

Éowyn, White Lady of the Rohirrim, wandered idly through the night, allowing her feet and the swift breeze to lead her, leaving the great golden city of Edoras and embracing the vast wild plains of the Riddermark. The mountaintops were capped with fresh snow, and a delicate frost lay on the ground, but her bare feet felt no cold and the white wool of her dress enveloped her body in warmth.

Her gait was swift and smooth, and her mind, for once, at peace, for already she had devised her plan. She would fight with her people, and go to Gondor's aid even if it should cost her life. Dernhelm, for a while, would be her name, and, disguised as a man, she would ride with the Rohirrim, swift on the back of the great grey steed Winfola, horse of kings, to prove her quality to all.

Straight-backed and endlessly graceful, she seemed to glide, golden hair lifting in a gentle breeze, away from the city of her people and into the wilderness of the lands to which she belonged. A golden arc of light lay about the feet of the mountains and the air was dense with the smells of the early morning, the quiet that had become so rare in these troubled lands broken only by the sound of the sword at her side.

Her thoughts wandered to the Ranger Aragorn, and her eyes grew bright in the darkness. His image was vivid in her mind, tall, wild and wise with many winters, a pillar of strength to the race of men, and a man who, even when she first saw him, appeared to have wholly captured her heart, warming its cold steel with a love she had felt for no other.

She came to a small rivulet, winding its way through the barren, striking beauty of the plains. At her touch, the water was cold as ice, but refreshed her as she splashed it onto her face. The water played joyously in the small stream, and her heart fluttered as a new feeling of delight touched her. Drawing her sword from its scabbard at her side, she stood and began a dance of war with invisible enemies, striking and parrying as her agile feet danced over the dewy grass and her spirit seemed to leave her body and run free and wild across the plains.

("Edra le men, men na guil edwen... haer o auth a nîr a naeth."

"Why are you saying this?"

"I am mortal. You are elfkind. It was a dream, Arwen, nothing more.")

Aragorn woke, suddenly cold, as a breeze penetrated the room. The fire had extinguished, and it was dark in the small hours of the morning. His companions still slept, Gimli snoring contentedly, Legolas lost in dreams of the wooded lands of his home.

He walked to the balcony, breathing in the fresh air of the new winter, and rubbed his face with his hands, his mind and heart lingering on his dream.

(".. Our time here is ending. Arwen's time is ending…"

"…… Let her go ……")

Aragorn shook his head, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, trying to escape the whispers in his head. Resting his elbows on the stone rail of the balcony, he gazed vaguely into the distance. A flash of white caught his sight and he leaned forward. A figure danced spiritedly by a small stream, and a sword flashed in the figure's hand. Catching his breath, he leaned forward. This could be only one of two things, an elf or else some spirit, for he had seen no man, not even one of the Dúnedain such as himself, move with such grace and agility as this figure did. He watched, entranced, as the figure ducked and weaved and spun endlessly until his eyes blurred with tiredness. Seized by a sudden thought, he grabbed his sword and, briefly splashing some water on his face from a pitcher, he dashed out of the door and moved with purpose through the city and onto the plains.