Hello all! I am really rather new to the Lord of the Rings fandom. I've read all the books (including Lost Tales and whatever else) and of course seen all the films - I'm bloody excited for the Hobbit, by the way - but I've never particularly tried my hand at fanfiction before. I've written tons of Harry Potter fics, but Lord of the Rings was territory I never really wanted to cross into because Tolkien was a man of pure brilliance, and I can't do that justice by a long shot.

Alas, I began to feel the urge, and a friend and I started to roleplay as Aragorn and Arwen. With careful editing on both our parts, this is what evolved. We are in the midst of writing more, so...keep a weather eye.

For now, enjoy.

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Middle-Earth was saved. That was a phrase Aragorn, Son of Arathorn was not quite used to hearing - and no matter how many times he hadheard it in the past week, he did not quite believe it. Yes, Frodo Baggins had indeed done his duty, and had hence paid the price for it. Frodo was alive, but he would never be fully whole. Somehow, Aragorn had known the cost for the Hobbit as soon as he had set foot in the Prancing Pony just over a year beforehand.

Slipping out of the throne room, crowded with dignitaries from distant lands, the reluctant, new ruler of the Reunited Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor breathed a sigh of relief as he inhaled the fresh air. With a flicker of uncertainty, the grey orbs turned to the East, but of course there was nothing. There was...silence. And the silence was proof enough that Lord Sauron was gone.

But for him it wasn't over - no, for Elessar it was merely the beginning. "How can you be so sure I will not let this House fall into darkness once more?" his voice, reluctant and almost shy, breathed out. Hair - finally properly washed - blew across his face. His eyelids fluttered shut as wind danced lightly upon his cheeks, and he stood there for a moment in silence, simply enjoying the fact that he had nothing to fear.

That finally, everything was over. War was over. The days of peace had begun, and Aragorn was the herald. Whether he wanted to be or not.

Arwen Undomiel, "the Evenstar of her people," a people who were almost no more, happened to glance up and noticed her Lord slip from the room. She apologised to whichever dignitary she was currently speaking to, a Gondorian Lord or the other and followed her King outside. Silently, she stepped to his side and wormed her way under his arm. "Is something troubling you my love?" Arwen's voice was soft, so as not to disturb the silence of the evening.

Aragorn's ears pricked up as he heard the grand door creak open, and the light footsteps ensured it was his good friend Legolas Greenleaf - or his Queen-to-be, his one and true love, Arwen Undomiel. He turned with a smile as he heard the voice of the latter. "I suppose it seems that something must be," he returned, his arm resting upon her waist. "Instead, I think it is the lack of troubles that bothers me."

That made an odd sort of sense to the maiden and she smiled softly at his touch. "I find myself understanding that somewhat." Her tone was one of slight shock. She shook off the mood. "Why are you not inside celebrating?" This time her tone was gentle. She was not accusing him.

The King smiled briefly. "Too much has been lost, Arwen." Brief flashes of Boromir's death, that hero's death, Frodo's sacrifice, Haldir... ran through his mind, his grief only magnified by how Gandalf and Lord Elrond would soon be departing for the Grey Havens. He knew Arwen's father's departure would be even worse for her, but he had raised Aragorn as his own son, ripe for kingship. His guidance would be gone. No longer would he feel strong, or wise. "Is it not wrong to enjoy a party?"

"We should snatch what happiness we can," was the Elf's answer. "I fear that our days soon will be filled with grief that shall pass but not in a timely way." She knew her father was leaving. Gandalf and Frodo too. She had offered him her own spot on the last ship to leave for the Undying Lands. It was the least she could have done for one so small whom had achieved so much for them and in doing so, suffered most grievously.

Aragorn's head tilted to the side. He knew what it was she had done, and how much it would mean for the Hobbit. "You have given him your place," he stated, his voice as gentle as the breeze that blew between them. "On the ship to Valinor." It wasn't a question - far from it. "I'm sorry your father has chosen to leave these shores."

She nodded anyway. "It is not your fault." She smiled at him, a little sadly. "How many times do I have to tell you that it was my choice?"

His smile of relief faded to meet her saddened gaze. "I know how much it hurts to lose a parent, Arwen." The King's voice was barely audible as it was, and it quieted even more as he whispered something that sounded remarkably like "U-Chebin estel anim."

The Queen-to-be's eyebrows furrowed and she glanced at him sharply. "Why, Estel?" The childhood nickname slipped out unintentionally. "Why do you say such things?"

Aragorn had half a mind to look away, but he could not. This was his betrothed and his one and only love. "You know how young I was when my father was murdered. When my mother died..." He looked at her imploringly. "Simply because the kingdom is rejoicing for their freedom does not mean you cannot grieve."

"He is not lost. And mayhap we shall see each other again." This would not happen and she knew it but...she could hope, could she not? His soon-to-be wife sighed softly and leant her head on his shoulder. "We still have time."

His arm automatically reached for her waist, pulling her close and placing a gentle kiss to her temple. Brushing hair from her porcelain face, the King sighed. "Yes." His voice was gentle, not berating, but understanding. He, too, was losing those dear to him. Lord Elrond had raised him since he was merely a child. "Yes, we have time."

The almost-Queen nestled closer to her Lord's side. "We have time for grieving. Now is a time for rejoicing. Even Frodo is looking happier." The boy had still seemed as if he were troubled by a dark thought. This thought would cloud his mood for but a moment but then he would be more cheerful than he had been in months.

"Arwen..." he whispered, resting his chin upon her head. "You could have died." And that was the truth. Had Aragorn failed the quest, had the war been in vain, had Sauron won...Arwen herself would be dead. "You were set on the path to the Grey Havens." He turned his head down to look at her. "You did not leave. Why?"

"And so could you!" Her voice caught on a sob and she buried her face into his chest. "But if you had died then I would have had nothing to live for..." She managed to compose herself in order the answer his question, but without looking up.

"I saw something...whilst travelling the road to the Grey Havens. It is what caused me to turn back and wait." A smile, one that was mixed with sadness crept across her fair features, still hidden against his robe. "I think...I believe, I saw our son, Aragorn...he wore the Evenstar," as she said its name, she finally raised her hand and traced her fingers over the jewel hanging at his throat, the jewel that had once been hers. "It could have been no one else..."

The King's face paled even at the thought of having a child with this woman he loved so. Strangely enough...he had never even considered that they would have children, or that they must if the kingship was to continue from his line. The last heir of Elendil, he remembered with an air of sadness. His father was gone. His grandfather, whom he had never known, was long gone. This is foolishness, Elessar, he thought to himself angrily. It is not time to grieve for long-ago losses.

But even through his troubling thoughts...Aragorn's face widened into a smile of disbelief. "A...are you quite sure?" he asked, and thought he wasn't sure...he could've sworn his voice was trembling. "Wearing this..." He reached his hand to his neck, placing his hand protectively over hers.

She sent him a look that clearly said "would I have told you if I were not sure?" The King recoiled at the very glance. "Of course... you did not think we would not have at least one child did you?" Her tone was faintly incredulous. Of course they would have a son!

The corners of Elessar's mouth twitched, as if he were trying not to smile. But of course, Arwen brightened his days as no other had ever done. "I'm sorry to have offended you, my lady," he murmured, slightly tilting his head in her direction as to bow. "I find it hard to believe joyous news in recent times. Even with the glory of Minas Tirith remembered." And a proud smile spread across his face, finally. His city, and his people.

"You did not offend me, my lord." She spread her skirts and curtsied slightly. She straightened and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "It will come in time, Elessar."

His skin tingled from the contact, even if it was simply under his robe. Her simple comforts meant so much to him, and he just wished someday he would be able to help her understand how much he truly loved her, how he fell more in love with her every moment he saw her, saw the light in her eyes. "I know," he said, his voice quiet. "I know, my dear Undomiel."

His soft tone sent a thrill of warmth spiralling through her veins. It always did. "Are you certain my lord?" Her tone was playful.

Aragorn snickered lightly, pleasing himself with the fact that he could see goosebumps rising on her arm, her shiver particularly evident. His grey eyes lit up and his smile widened as he leaned over to press his lips gently against hers. Nothing incriminating, lest her father discover them, but enough to prove he loved her. "Yes, I am certain." And maybe...it was the first time in his life he was sure of anything. The simple declaration, he hoped, would speak volumes to her, for he had never previously answered her directly.

A throat cleared behind them and Arwen started back, like a guilty Mortal maiden. "Adar!" Her cheeks coloured.

Aragorn leaped back - of course, that moment would be when Arwen's father would choose to appear. His face drained of all colour, and his eyes turned to the stone floor. "Lord Elrond."

The Eldar frowned slightly at the sight before him, shook his head at the two of them and walked away. Arwen was confused. Her father usually had something to say. Little did either of them know that the other elf had been hiding a smile. He was glad his daughter was happy.

Elessar raised a curious eyebrow - but he somehow understood. Lord Elrond had not wanted his daughter to marry a Ranger, one of the Dunadain. Now he was not merely a Man hidden in the shadows. He was a King. And therefore Lord Elrond would not stand in his way. It had been an unspoken agreement, one Arwen had not known.

Arwen was aware that something had passed between her father and her lord. "Elessar?" She questioned softly. What were they hiding from her?

With a swish of his cloak, the once-great Elven lord disappeared into the darkness again. Aragorn turned and shook his head at the ages-old woman before him. He silently gathered her into his arms and rocked her tightly. "Never you mind."

She wanted to question him but... the feeling of his arms around her was comforting and she decided to let it go. "Would you care to rejoin your guests, my lord?" She asked, after what felt like an age of simply holding each other.

The flicker of a smile passed over the King's face. Strider, Estel, Aragorn, and finally, Elessar. A Man that Lord Elrond could be proud of, a Man that he would surely allow his beloved daughter to wed. "I must linger here for a moment longer, Undomiel," he said, his voice gentle, and he hoped she would understand.

With a soft, understanding smile, the Queen-to-be kissed her Lord's cheek. "Do not linger too long my love, or the guards may worry that something has happened." One last feather-light caress to his cheek and she was gone, moving back into the warm light of the Hall. She paused a moment to speak with Frodo and Sam who had tired of the dancing and were sitting having a quiet drink in a corner.

Her father found her there and inquired if she may dance with him. She accepted with a smile, casting occasional glances towards the shadowed balcony where her King was still sequestered with his thoughts.

Aragorn smiled briefly as he squinted to see Arwen take her father's hand. He stood up straighter, his eyelids flickering shut as the wind blew through his neatly trimmed hair. The weight of the crown was heavy on his head, and he realised in the silence that the duty of a King was important. He must put aside the Ranger if he was to truly accept his destiny. He shivered involuntarily from the cold air, his grey irises opening again. He straightened his shoulders and swallowed his pride, heading back up the stairs into the throne room. Maybe it was alright to feel unsure. At least, maybe it was if he had friends, advisors...Arwen...by his side.

Arwen noticed his re-entry, how could she not? Her soul was bound to this Man; of course she would know where he was. Lord Elrond was aware of his daughter's straying attention and released her hand. "Go," was all he said. The Elf-maiden curtsied to her father and departed to stand at her lord's side. "Are you well?" Was all she asked, but that one question was laden with meaning.

As he saw her approach, a smile appeared on his thin, weary face, his grey orbs twinkling with cheerfulness. Maybe he wasn't whole inside - maybe he never would be, maybe he'd lost far too much for him to ever regain. But he knew Arwen would be there to help him through. "Yes," he said softly, tilting his crowned head forward. "Yes, I am quite well."

A bright smile crossed her features and she twined her fingers through his, bringing their joined hands to her lips to press a soft kiss to the back of his. "I am glad to hear that." Arwen gazed out across the room, watching the gaiety of the festivities. It was... uplifting to say the least. A flash of light reflecting on metal caught her eye and she paused. Elven sight easily pierced the gloom and her eyes widened. She spun towards the Man she loved and pushed him sideways.

The musicians jangled to a halt and in the ensuing silence the twang of a bowstring was clearly audible. The arrow, meant to end the new King's life had found a different target. In the Elf-maiden that had thwarted his goal. The arrow seemed to slow in the air as it flew towards the unprotected woman. She managed to twist so that, instead of piercing her heart, it buried itself in her shoulder instead. It felt, at first, as if she had been punched hard in the shoulder and noise receded, time blurred.

As if someone had suddenly righted the world, noise, light and time sped up to normal and she could feel the burning agony of the cold metal piercing her shoulder. The maiden bit her lip, hard, to stop for crying out in pain. Guards had already descended upon the corner where the assassin had been hiding and dragged the struggling and cursing Man from his place of secrecy. Arwen did not see what happened next as that pain finally overcame her strength of will and she crumpled, blood pooling around the wound and staining the pale blue silk of her gown.

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So, here we are, then. I don't expect many people to have read this, as the fanfiction for this particular subject seems to be dying, but regardless, here we are. If even there is one singular person who reads and reviews, we will continue posting, as long as that one person holds true.

Upcoming...

Chapter Two of this story

"The Call," a Songfic based upon Aragorn's life from inception to coronation and slightly past it.

Cheers,

Teddy