Disclaimer: This story is a representation of events that might have taken place in canon had Tolkien written them, but he didn't. Therefore, the characters, places, and spirit behind this story belongs to Tolkien. I merely wrote it down.

Author's Note: This story is set to span eight chapters. Hope you'll stay with me through it. And if you like it, please review. I would be happy to read something of yours in return.

Chapter 1
An Immortal Life

Her eyes downcast, tears ran down her pale cheeks. She sucked in a hollowed breath; it came out in an all-too-human shake. He raised his hand to her chin and lifted her face so that their gray eyes might meet, but she refused to look at him. Eldarion wiped her tear away with a brush of his finger and lightly kissed where it had wet his mother's cheek.

Arwen could feel how the sorrow came off her like a cold breeze, unbidden yet always sweeping past. She could endure the pain no longer, and she dared not stay in the bitter braces of Minas Tirith. She had called the Gondorian city home for many years, but that memory mattered little when it became the final resting place of her beloved husband. Every moment she walked the flagstone of this ancient stronghold where they had ruled together, the greater the weight she felt on her heart. It clenched and ached like she imagined the sea-longing must feel, but this longing could never be satisfied.

Aragorn was at peace, and Arwen clung to his last words: In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. Her heart despaired still. She could make her peace in but one place and it was leagues from this city.

'Mother,' came Eldarion's voice, soft as though he spoke from a distance.

Arwen met his worried eyes, touching her hand to his temple. She gathered herself for this final act as Queen. There was an unyielding note in her voice as she said, 'Eldarion, Aragorn's son, second King of the Reunited Kingdom, my Áre, I bestow upon you the Ring of Barahir. Be it a token of your father's love, an emblem of your mother's sacrifice, and a reminder of all you have yet to do, of the people under your care. Wear it always, and never forget what it means.'

'Naneth,' Eldarion breathed as she opened her palm to reveal the ring. The golden crown of flowers which sat nestled atop the snake's brow shined gloriously in the sunlight. He hesitated to take it from her hand, so Arwen slid it deftly upon his unmoving finger before he could recoil. When he looked down upon it, he saw that it fit his hand perfectly, and this made Arwen's pale color brighten for an instant before it once again grew dim.

'Carry on the peace your father kept for so long; do not make enemies lightly,' she recounted, reciting things she had told him before. Eldarion stood watching her respectfully, quietly. 'Protect your people so that they may never know the fear and sorrow of those before them. Renounce the Shadow, for it will always linger in your path, but do not doubt your strength—your lineage is great and so is your spirit.'

She paused for a moment, glancing into the courtyard where her three daughters waited under the White Tree, now blooming with beautiful bright flowers. Her youngest, Atarmîrel, was cradled in the arms of Annuiel, crying softly into her sister's shoulder. Ranéleth stood alone, her face dry but her eyes haunted. She was the eldest and took up the duty of showing decorum, even on the eve of her father's death.

'Áre,' Arwen whispered, using the King's childhood name. He looked up, his eyes saddened. 'Watch over your sisters. The sorrow in their hearts this day is tenfold… but it will fade, as all things must. They will begin anew. Help them to find peace with the Gift of Man, for though they will live long years, they must still face the torment of death. The path I chose for them… '

'You are not to blame for that,' Eldarion said sternly, the sadness leaving his eyes to be replaced by a swift-passing anger. 'Your heart is broken and you despair. The Elven race has lost many to this fate, and your tale not the least of which will ring throughout the halls of Middle-earth in breathtaking verse. Father was legend, and you were his one reason to keep fighting. Remember that.'

Her eyes fell to the flagstone while the tears fell freely from her face. As she wiped the tears away, she noticed Eldarion's hand on her shoulder, comforting. Her son was a good man. He would make a ruler to rival King Elessar. Content with this, she gently kissed his forehead and as she stepped back her eyes played tricks for she saw the emblem of the White Tree, bright and clear, upon Eldarion's forehead where she had just placed her lips. In a moment it was gone and the foresight of the Elves left her.

'Lo! how bright this future that awaits my son. His reign shall be great and my children not the worse for their fate.'

Eldarion looked startled, but recognized the far-off look in Arwen's eyes as she portended. Aragorn had once foretold the future in such a way, but Arwen's voice was filled with such hope for her children it caused Eldarion's eyes to fill with tears.

She smiled when she saw her son's face. 'Your fate and mine are not the same, my son,' she said.

Arwen Undómiel left the Citadel of Minas Tirith, never to look upon her children again, and though her heart was light with the hope she had seen for Middle-earth, she kept no hope for herself.