A/N: According to my computer, this story was started October 30, 2007 - I know it is older than that, however it still doesn't explain why it wasn't put up here, so I am putting it here now. It is complete, and my computer claims it to have been completed the same day... I know this one took me a while - how I know that my computer is wrong - that may have been the date it was transfered to my current computer from my old one... Anyway, it's here now, so happy reading.
A/N2: Ha! I knew that wasn't right; I found the creation date of the story, and it was started on September 19, 2004; that was before I even started my first writing course. This is in the original form, so if you read it and compare it to my other work, you can really see how I've improved.
Arwen walked down the palace halls of Minas Tirith in Gondor where she had come to live with Aragorn, when her father and their people sailed from the Grey Havens. She had promised herself to him before the Fellowship had left her home in Rivendell on the great quest to destroy the Ring of Power. She had thought of him everyday and dreamed these days would never come.
Now that they were here however, something was different. She had thought they would have been married the day that he had been crowned king, and so had worn the gown and head piece her mother had worn when she had married her father. He had smiled at her and given her a fierce hug, but when he kissed her, it was as though he saw her as a sister,not his future queen. She had played up the kiss, wrapping her arms around him tightly and parting her lips to him, yet he had not sought to deepen their kiss as he had before he left Rivendell, and instead, parted from her as the crowd cheered.
It had been nearly a month since that day, and still, they were not wed, nor did he make advances toward her in that manner, but took her hand and walked in the garden while he spoke to her as though with a close friend. What could have changed? She often wondered, but ended up shaking her head sadly. She never saw him until late afternoon and wondered where he hid himself for so long.
She headed toward the library now, and was surprised when she entered to find him standing with his hand over the mantle staring into the fire. She watched him for a moment and saw him sigh heavily, his body looked exhausted. Quietly, she walked over to him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder making him jump. He relaxed slightly when he saw it was her, but didn't smile. Instead, he turned back to gazing into the flames.
"What is it that troubles you?" she asked softly and reached up to caress his face, but he pulled away looking at her hard. She sucked in a breath at the look of contempt in his eyes, hers wounded and searching. "You know you can speak to me on anything."
He watched her, then slowly his eyes grew softer and he spoke in a tone barely above a whisper as he shook his head slowly. "Nay Arwen, I cannot," he said turning to her once more.
"Why do you feel so?" she asked softly, her eyes still searching his, his face unreadable.
"Because I know that you love me, and I would only cause you pain," he replied then turned back to the fire.
Her heart lurched in her breast and she swallowed hard before saying, "I would rather feel the pain of knowledge than be blind to the darkness I feel in your eyes."
He turned and watched her for a long moment before he spoke once more, and she heard anger in his words. "You should have gone with your father to Valinor, for I no longer feel as I once did." With that, he turned and left, leaving her in shock as tears began to stream down her face.