Disclaimer: Ok, so I don't own any of the characters…. not Aragorn, no one… Tolkien does. And maybe Arwen….

Summary: As Aragorn, along with Gandalf, leads the Fellowship up and away from the safe elven refuge of Rivendell, he ponders what lies ahead of them all, and what his past will mean….

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My Heart to the Eve

I see them all; the elves I have known all my life, lingering sadly in this mortal war-torn world, each saying their silent good bye to me – to us all, as we ascend the steep valleys, and venture out into the unknown. Their age-old eyes fill with solemn tears as they watch us pass, and I can almost hear them praying, hoping, that we shall succeed in a quest that can surely never avail. The softly silver lantern lit elvish buildings hover peacefully in the evening, as though they were newly built only yesteryear; and yet the trees, sweeping majestically down through the rolling forested hills, are burdened with the autumn leaves, sun-ripe orange's and fiery reds littering the floor and the canopy. Their age uncountable, but it is almost over. They can feel it, they can see it, in all likelihood they can probably smell it too; they know now, that whether we triumph or fail, they will sail unto the West with the rest of their kin, and they will never return, leaving this mortal war-torn world finally. Yet this earth is still their home; and so they wait and watch, and pray for the outcome.

So as I leave Rivendell, I leave also those who all my life I have known and loved, and have come to know as family. For they are my family; Lord Elrond raised me as his own son, and never a better father any man could have wished for. So close we were when I was but young, before I felt as though I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders. I remember times when he would take me out riding, and he would laugh to see the adventurous gleam in my face as I rode my first horse alone and unaided; I remember him and Glorfindel teaching me skill with blade and bow, and how I would whine and stamp my feet at the tediously slow progress I made, and the amusement at my mortal impatience in their eyes; and I remember the nights he would read me ancient stories of his forefathers, and of the great battles fought and won in the First Age of this world, how he would sing gently to quieten me to sleep… So many memories I bear away with me, of Elrond alone.

Elladan and Elrohir too, such brothers the likes of which Middle Earth can only pray she will never see again. Countless times they got us all into perilous and potentially deadly situations; and yet, their light laughter and quick-witted humour would always shake the worries and doubts from my shoulders. Until we got back to Ada that is… But hearts of gold they both have, and though they seem to be rather magnetised towards danger and troublesome pickles, I never once got hurt in their care, and I trust them both entirely with my life.

And now I come to the last of that house… Arwen Undómiel. How could something be so wrong, and yet feel so right? For from the moment I saw her, I loved her, and I knew that resistance against my heart was futile. How could I ever call anything beautiful ever again, after I had been blessed to see her walking in the orchard that fateful eve, so many long years ago? How her hair, as dark as a river of flowing night, fluttered gracefully in the breeze, as the wings of a swan; how her eyes shone with the light of the wisdom of years, and yet glittered with the vigour of youth and twinkled with the light of stars; how her skin, tenderly peachy hued, as the fruit hanging from the fairest tree in all the earth, and yet it was fairer. Oh Evenstar, shining bright, to me an ever guiding light! For so she was, as I went out into the world, to find my place, to uncover the secrets of darkness, and to seek the answers to all the riddles.

Even now, decades later, and a long time in the measure of men, my heart still yearns with desire for her love, and I know she gives it to me, and willingly. Yet that is where my faith falters; if she defies the will of her father, if she abandons her people and discards her elven light, then she will be doomed to the fate of men. I fear that her light will fade, and that as Lord Elrond wisely spoke to me in my youth, when the time comes to her to decide, she will not be weary of the world, and will choose instead her immortal heritage.

And her heritage is not all that has been plaguing my dreams; for am I not the Heir of Isildur? In my veins flows the blood of Númenor, and my royal right to the thrones of Gondor and Arnor. How can I lay claim to such royalty, when I barely know where it is I go, my head is so confused? I know the people, my people, for I have walked among them, and I know their ways and doings. And I perceive also their thoughts, and my fears were justified by Boromir at the counsel. 'Gondor has no King; Gondor needs no King…' No, Gondor does not have a King, but a Ranger of the wild of the North, who slinks in shadows and disguises himself with lies. And does Gondor need a King? Would the people look up amazed at my coming forth from the shadows to the north, and would their hearts be glad, and would they follow me joyfully? Or would they shun me, and turn me away from their Gates, the Gates of my own city?

So all this I think on; my past, my present, my future… and my heart. For again, my wonderings fall down to Arwen. Elrond has told me, he had warned me that our union would widen the already breached rift between us. Yet even as he does so, I can see the pain in his eyes, for he does not want to loose his child, but he does not want to loose his foster son either. And I pity him, for he knew that the choice always lay invariably before his children; to sail away from all they ever knew, to a land free from care and darkness; or to remain in all they hold dear, and yet to perish before the world itself is done. But he is my father, by all accounts, no matter who is the reason for my birth, and I fear my heart will quail to lose his guiding hand on my shoulder, his words of wisdom and counselling in my ear.

Now I know I must scold myself for thinking so selfishly, for mine is not the only life that will be effected by the outcome of this impending war; nay, for all of us, from the highest and mightiest warrior, down to the tiny ant as he scuttles about his daily chores, all of us will feel the impact of what is to come. Frodo will feel it the worse, and it will hit him the hardest; Sam will be strong, for his masters sake, though the foundations of everything he once believed be shaken; Merry and Pippen, so lively those two are, yet they will lose their childish manner, and will take on burdens of responsibility they never thought they ever would in their wildest dreams; Gimli, he will be changed little, and yet significantly, though to what end, I cannot foresee; Boromir, he longs for power and admiration from all, and my coming has disrupted all he thought he knew, but he is a loyal man and I think in time he will accept me; Legolas, well, he is an elf is he not? Little do elves change, though the mortal years fly by. Say rather, he will notice the changes in his home, and you strike nearer the mark. As for Gandalf? What end he will come to, only time will tell.

We are leaving the valley now; I see the elven lantern flickering faintly in the dark, fading away into the night. Around my neck, I feel the power of what she has given me, and it fills me with strength and hope. I have pledged my sword and life to this quest, for this is the be all or end all of my life. To choose to rise above everything that I thought I was or to fall… but there is choice. And I choose to rise. Not just for me, nor Arwen, my love, but for all Middle Earth, for all the peoples it possesses, all the peoples of Arnor and Gondor. I may not be a King yet, but I shall return, and I shall stand tall with all who I love by my side.

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Yep, another lil ramble from yours truly! What dost thou make of this, O Mighty Reader? Please review! I might do other characters as well, on request…

Loadsa love, Estel