Disclaimer: Characters and setting are the gift of J.R.R. Tolkien to we his readers. Many thanks to him for creating such a wonderful world. I merely took the characters and put thoughts behind them for this scene. Enjoy.

...

He stood in the midst of the crowd, the crown heavy on his head. Cheers rose around him, the people adoring and praising him, their long-lost king. Although all had their eyes on Aragorn, his eyes roamed the crowd in search of another. Surely he hadn't been mistaken. The return of Narsíl from Elrond, Galadriel's words in Lothlórien, even the not-so-subtle teasing from Legolas assured him that the opinion of her father had changed. He could still hardly think her name without a sigh.

Arwen. The Evenstar, beautiful as Tinúviel. Despite the many years, he still wondered how he managed to gain her love. He—a dirty, roaming Ranger, with a personage even the Hobbits thought foul. It was no wonder her father demanded he first become king before he think of Arwen.

Arwen. The star at his breast burned, cold and hot all at once. Come to me, he thought, clutching the charm at his breast as though it could bring her. The Hobbits came forward, distracting him from his hopes as he directed them to places of honour, setting them beside Gandalf, the old fool wizard who'd led them through the wild adventure that brought them to his table in Gondor.

Giving up hope, Aragorn resumed his seat with a quiet sigh, the sound unnoticed but by the clear Elvish ears of Legolas. Legolas looked upon him with concern, watching the suffering of his friend.

"She will come." Legolas said quietly, his voice carrying despite the raucous joy of the feast around them.

"Will her father give her?" Aragorn asked, clutching the star once more as prayers whispered through his mind. Legolas merely smiled, knowing Aragorn would be satisfied with no response but the procuration of his love. Aragorn glanced around the hall once more, his eyes unsatisfied by the sight of the many friends he loved.

Love. If only Arwen would come, if only Elrond would give her away, Aragorn knew his life would be complete. Nothing burned in his breast so brightly as his love for her. Even his hatred of Sauron had paled to that white, pure flame. When Aragorn looked around again, he found that the hall was quieting, clearing as guests began to go their ways. He felt depression settle into his heart. If Elrond did not bring Arwen on this, the last day of his coronation celebration, than surely he did not mean to bring her at all. Aragorn stood in preparation to leave.

"Aragorn." Legolas said evenly. Aragorn looked at him to see that he was staring across the hall. Heart beating fast, Aragorn followed his gaze to find that the doors were open, tall flags filling the space. The Evenstar. They came.

The flags moved slowly, torturously slowly to Aragorn, and revealed Arwen, flanked by her brothers as her father stood just behind her. Aragorn forced himself to exhale, realising he'd been holding his breath.

Arwen, he thought as he said, "Welcome, Elrond of Rivendell."

"Thank you." Elrond returned, unperturbed by the fact that Aragorn seemed hardly to see him. Arwen looked up from the floor and smiled at Aragorn, their eyes meeting. In his eyes, she saw a light, a flame so bright that the Silmarils could have been no brighter. The room faded, silenced by their love as step by step they came together. Though they never touched one another, those who watched felt the intimacy of the moment and made their excuses, silently clearing the room.

"Arwen." Aragorn said, his voice warm and full of the love he had so vainly tried to supress.

"My King." Arwen replied, a smile playing about her lips. She turned toward her father as he stepped forward, giving her hand to him.

"I believe I owe you this." Elrond said, giving his daughter's hand to Aragorn. Aragorn looked at their joined hands, his heart beating fast as the dreams he'd fought so hard to keep were finally coming true. "May you find happiness in your short, mortal lives."

"Father." Arwen protested softly, giving Elrond a look. Without a word in his own defence, Elrond slipped back toward the door, taking with him the last few gathered. Arwen and Aragorn turned back toward one another. Silently, Aragorn touched her fair, soft cheek.

"Arwen." he croaked, hardly believing she was truly before him. Arwen smiled at him softly and placed her hand over his own.

"Yours at last."