DISCLAIMER: All places and most characters in this story are of Tolkien's genius creation, not mine, except for some few. This is another view on the story of Aragorn and Arwen beginning from when they first met in honour of Tolkien's vision so there is one part where I put in a snippet of one of the appendices in the Lord of the Rings. I hope you guys all like it and flames are accepted if they are suggestions or corrections but be nice! This is my first fic! Enjoy :)!
Morning dawned, twilight was broken, and the stars dissipated as the sun's brilliant light grew in the horizon. Golden shafts of sun fell upon the crystal waters of the Bay of Belfalas setting it alight like a field of diamonds. The light moved over the lands; Rohan's green fields glimmering as emeralds and still it continued bathing the kingdom of Gondor in a golden haze where the pale stone of Minas Tirith shone once they collided. It followed the Great River Anduin until it reached the bright forests of Lothlórien where the Elves dwelt in lingering peace. It topped the Misty Mountains towering above the Northern lands of Eriador where the snow-caps were set on fire by sunlight and, at last, it reached its swift-spreading fingers to the valley of Imladris where the race of the Elves also dwelt and enemies of the Dark Lord made a fortress. Bubbling streams and rushing rivers sparkled in the morning light of dawn. Old trees of mighty girth stood at their banks spreading into thick forests of lush green. More slender trees were among them and in the gardens of Rivendell where radiant flowers opened up to the sun's warm brush against their silky petals, and leafy bushes and growth surrounded the brilliant array of colours pleasing to the eye. A fair company rode into Rivendell, travelling the dirt road leading down into the verdant valley where the dwellings of the Elven people gleamed amidst the waterfalls and greenery. Rushing water filled the air alongside the sweet song of the many colourful birds flitting amongst the blossoming trees.
"It is always marvellous to return to Imladris," murmured an Elven maiden cloaked in rich blue velvet beaded in silver in a pattern of a mighty tree reaching out as far as it was able with its full branches. Beneath the hood of her cloak, eyes of glittering grey shone like reflected moonlight upon water when evening first draws on. Her pale, smooth hands stroked the horse's white, glossy neck.
"My lady, I understand now why you do not reside in one place only," said an Elf of her escort. He steered his horse towards the Last Homely House, and they rode beneath the arch at the dwelling's head. Emerald vines twined around the tall arch of light stone woven above the brown earth. The Elf-maiden hurriedly dismounted, her movements swift and graceful. The others were not as quick to leave their horses. She moved inside with joyful haste and glimpsed dark hair and tall figures down the hall once she removed her hood. Master Elrond was speaking to Erestor, a close advisor and companion.
"Atar!" she said, nearly running to him. Elrond turned round, the severity in his face softening to loving adoration.
"Arwen!" he said as she threw her arms around his neck, and they embraced. "I did not know you had arrived, my daughter." He stepped back to study her face. "My beautiful daughter."
Arwen smiled, white teeth gleaming. The white gems upon her brow glinted faintly. "Father, I have missed our evenings near the fire speaking of lore long forgotten. Much has changed in Middle-earth while I walked the woods of Lórien. When duty releases you, we must talk as in days before."
"Of course," Elrond said smiling. "For now I must speak with Erestor of things too dark for such a joyous moment. I am glad you have returned."
Arwen touched his cheek and left her father and Erestor to themselves. She spent the remainder of daylight wandering the beautiful, unmatched gardens of Rivendell. Tumbling waterfalls glinted in the fading light once the sun began to set behind the Misty Mountains in shadow. Arwen found herself in a grove of birches where white blossoms began to close as the sun set. Elrond was pondering or dreading something, she thought as she stepped in a slow gait. He had something to do soon before he could spend time with me. I wonder...
A silver light was in the glade, blossoms bright and open. She suddenly heard a voice quite pleasant to the ear and like unto an elven voice though deeper and clear. She listened as she walked, realising what song it was: the Lay of Leithian. It was a beautiful unveiling in Quenya, and the man who sang it spoke the Ancient Speech well.
What man is this that he should sing so well and sound different as well as alike to an Elf? Arwen Evenstar watched straight ahead entranced by the voice. Suddenly, it ended the lay and paused a moment before calling, "Tinúviel! Tinúviel!" Arwen halted and turned to see who called her so. She smiled when she saw a young lord standing amidst the trees, his shadowy hair shimmering with starlight and skin pale and smooth. His tunic was dark green and his breeches black as the night. Yet these things were last in her mind. The only thing she could see were his eyes, o his shining eyes! She moved closer.
"Who are you? And why do you call me by that name?"
"Because I believed you to be indeed Lúthien Tinúviel, of whom I was singing. But if you are not she, then you walk in her likeness." Fairest among Men and Elves was she, daughter of Elrond. Dark tresses of hair were stirred by the breeze of twilight, and the gems on her brow reflected the glinting starlight so that it seemed stars from the heavens had alighted upon her. Her skin was flawless and radiant in a face untouched by the years where a pair of silver eyes watched with discerning wisdom of long ages of the world.
"So many have said," she answered gravely. "Yet her name is not mine. Though maybe my doom will be not unlike hers. But who are you?" She had realised just how tall he was once he stood before her, a vision of those Men called Númenóreans from the Elder Days though young he was.
"Estel I was called," he said, "but I am Aragorn, Arathorn's son, Isildur's Heir, Lord of the Dúnedain."
She laughed merrily and said, "Then we are akin from afar. For I am Arwen Elrond's daughter, and am named also Undómiel."
"Often is it seen," said Aragorn, "that in dangerous days men hide their chief treasure. Yet I marvel at Elrond and your brothers; for though I have dwelt in this house form childhood, I have heard no word of you. How comes it that we have never met before? Surely your father has not kept you locked in his hoard?" Aragorn's voice was deep and melodious, singing its own song among the trees. Arwen saw his youth—even for a Mortal Man—yet in the quickening evening he appeared as though out of a silver mist fastening the Third Age with the First when legends roamed the earth.
"No," she said, and looked up at the Mountains that rose in the east. "I have dwelt for a time in the land of my mother's kin, in far Lothlórien. I have but lately returned to visit my father again. It is many years since I walked in Imladris." Arwen saw wonder in his eyes and met his keen, brilliant gaze. "Do not wonder! For the children of Elrond have the life of the Eldar."
Recognition dawned in his eyes as the sun peeks above the mountains at its rising. Arwen smiled still at the youth for he was keen as a newly sharpened blade. There was no need for words or explanation. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, had aroused her curiosity for few among Men resembled such long-lost glory. A new light kindled in his bright eyes, and Arwen Undómiel marvelled at what she saw.
Elrond and Arwen sat in the Hall of Fire nearly alone in a corner. Both did not notice the other's absence of mind for each was somewhere else. Arwen suddenly looked around and glimpsed Aragorn across the room. His grey eyes flickered with firelight as they quickly turned their attention elsewhere. She smiled faintly and looked down at her lap. Elrond finally woke from his thoughts and looked to his daughter.
"Yendenya, long it has been since you were here last, and it has been long since I visited the Golden Realm. How fare Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn?"
Arwen looked up from her hands. "Well, Atar. They send their greetings to the Lord of Rivendell." She stood to gaze out of the low window nearby. "Their land is fair, yet I must say Imladris is just as beautiful."
Elrond smiled and joined Arwen. It had been two days since her arrival in his realm and already she seemed to have never departed from his sight. His daughter was a resplendent star unveiled in the heavens to him for he loved her more than life itself. Ever since her mother Celebrían had sailed into the West, he had grown ever closer to Arwen and her two brothers Elladan and Elrohir. His children were more precious than any rare gem or fertile land.
Arwen slipped a hand as soft as silk into his and gazed up into his eyes. He then recalled the days of her youth when she was only as high as his waist. A slight smile bloomed on his ageless face.
"Atar...you cannot know how marvellous it is for me to be here. Each time I return it grows greater and more beautiful. This may be where my heart truly lies even though I dearly love my kindred in the Southern Realm. Galadriel is of blood, yet...she will never be as dear to me as my father."
Elrond fingered her dark hair and looked out upon the lands under his rule and authority. He wondered how in such dark times he could feel so blessed and merry.
The following week a feast was prepared in honour of Arwen's return to Rivendell. Elrond and the Elves that resided in that glorious place all sat at meat that evening as the sun descended. Much food and drink was served—seeming to be an unending supply—while the gathered Elves laughed and made merry until darkness took the land and stars bloomed in the night sky. In its beginning, Arwen, the Evenstar of her people, sat at Lord Elrond's right hand while the golden-haired Elf Glorfindel sat at his left. There was also Erestor, Lindir, and others of high council in Elrond's eyes. They had also lived as many years as Elrond himself or longer even.
There was another near that honoured end of the table. Arwen thought he would stand out dramatically among such high and noble Elf-kindred him being of Mortal blood, yet he somehow seemed to blend if one could ignore his youthful face. Arwen had not noticed until then how handsome Aragorn was for even among the Fair Folk he appeared quite pleasing to the eye. She stole a few glances in his direction when Elrond or Glorfindel was not appealing to her.
Aragorn could not restrain his eyes from wandering towards the fair Evenstar. He found himself staring at times and was glad of the lack of conversation directed his way. Arwen had seen him watching her more than once now, and he felt her knowing gaze fall on him as a tree looks down upon a flower in the ground at its roots.
"Lady Arwen," said Glorfindel, "it is good to see you once again. How fared Lórien?"
"Well, Glorfindel," she smiled. "Its gold and silver woods are still a treasure in my heart as well as my kin there."
Enchanted by her beauty and wisdom, Aragorn dared not speak to her. He felt insignificant beside such a glorious being. He only listened as others questioned her of the Golden Wood ruled by the Lord and Lady Celeborn and Galadriel.
Aragorn may have guarded his eyes more carefully if he would have observed Elrond's discerning gaze that had fallen upon him when he caught him concentrating on Arwen Undómiel. He suddenly felt a sense of dread seeing a young man, whom he thought of as a son, watch the Evenstar with such intensity...a mortal man. His face did not change, yet he could not help but observe his beloved daughter more carefully.
Arwen forgot the troubles of the world and of Rivendell, allowing herself to fall into mirth and merriment of the night. All was forgotten, the only thing heeded was joy and love.
Arwen entered Elrond's study where he sat reading a newly opened parchment with a broken seal. He glanced up when she came before him. She had seen Aragorn near the place earlier and wondered what had set his face in such a gloomy state.
"Elrond...may I inquire as to where Elladan and Elrohir have gone?"
"With the Dúnedain of the North. You know they become restless when Orcs still roam the lands."
"The only reason I am not with them is the fact that I understand that no matter how many we slay, mother will not return."
Elrond nodded sadly, dropping the letter to the table. "In that you are wiser, yet I do not believe that is their reason for fighting the evil forces."
"Of course. They fight for the sake of opposing Sauron and his wicked minions. That I understand, yet I also know that each and every one of you would object to my joining the struggle. Even though I know the bow and sword well, it is not my place to be in battle."
Elrond met her gaze directly. "You have seen this?"
"I have, for I know that my destiny is quite different from fighting the Enemy's armies so directly. I am fighting them indirectly even if I am not sure exactly how just yet. Someday it shall be revealed to me and the veil taken away."
"Someday, yendenya. Each of us has a purpose whether we know it or not. Some never know what they were put here for."
Arwen wandered over to the sheer drapes separating the outside balcony from Elrond's study, and they parted at her gentle touch. The spring wind blowing from the West stirred her dark hair tumbling down her back. "There is something else troubling you," she said quietly when Elrond joined her. "I have seen it swelling inside of you these past weeks, and I yearn to hear it. The first day I arrived especially. What secrets are you concealing within your heart that you dare not share with any of your kindred?"
"Perhaps not with my kindred, yet with a daughter of Men who resides here...for now. This is something for us. You may hear of it..." Elrond cut off abruptly and his brows drew down in a slight frown. "Never mind." He looked up to find her watching him curiously and holding her mantle of lavender close against her skin. Arwen glimpsed a flicker of fear in her father's eyes. She had never been anxious in her life until that moment.
For a time, Aragorn felt his head ache and his heart sing. After Elrond's talk with him, his heart sang no more. Reality had struck him in the face using his foster-father's words, and Gilraen, his mother, had not comforted him by almost repeating what Lord Elrond had said. He knew he must depart soon to a life transformed where his life of unawareness must take no part. He knew his true lineage and purpose now, and had to leave behind his peaceful years to engage in trials and tribulations sent to him from the Enemy. He knew what was ahead—to a point—yet faced it without fear, eyes piercing straight ahead into his future. Aragorn stepped into it without hesitation.
The next day he made ready to leave Imladris shining as many gems in the sunlight. Gilraen bid him farewell sorrowfully and Elrond was grim as he watched his foster-son go. Aragorn did not look over his shoulder as he led his horse through the trees. All his young years, he was prepared for this fate: Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel taught him use of weapons and fighting while Elrond, Gilraen, and other Elves instructed him in wisdom, lore, and knowledge. Now that he knew who he truly was, everything began to piece together.
Arwen had been present at his departure. He had had difficulty keeping his attention elsewhere. She was standing behind Master Elrond in shining white and dark hair furled about a face so perfect and beautiful that it filled his vision even while he journeyed up out of the elvish valley. Hope that she would ever find in her heart to love him in return was quickly fading in his spirit.
