A/N: This story mostly focuses on the Fellowship's quest, Arwen and Aragorn's relationship and Aragorn's long and winding road to the throne of Gondor. It follows the Extended Versions of the movies to some extent, but some details from the book might be found in future chapters. But, mainly, this is my story. It will hold true to canon for awhile before diverging more into its own story.

Disclaimer; I obviously do not own any of the characters or the marvelous world created by Tolkien. I wish I possessed his grandness. Nor do I own the movies directed by Peter Jackson who is a visual master in his own right. Both Tolkien and Jackson have instead helped me find inspiration and a story from which I could create my own story and create a fun, but possibly not authentic, AU. So thank you, Tolkien and Jackson, for immortalizing LOTR for a world of fans.

A/N 2013; I'll be editing further this month to try and remove smaller errors, change scenes that might never have worked and hopefully help improve this story.

A/N: 2017: I wrote this story when I was 17-18. It was one of the very first stories I wrote in English (Swedish is my first language). And that shows... I'm still proud of this story (even despite a few cringe-worthy spelling mistakes), but I'll be editing the language and tweak a few scenes.

P.S: Based on visitor statistics for this story, I'd say most of you are missing out on the most vital chapters when you skip ahead or jump to the end. Perhaps its boredom, perhaps it's a lack of invigorating chapter titles. I advise none of you to skip whole chapters (though repetitive parts I might understand), but you should definitely not skip chapters 22 and 23...

Frankly, though, the story between Arwen/Aragorn builds up to a crescendo, so don't skip anything! That's rather the point of a long story, you see, the storyline doesn't come and go as you choose, there's a connective thread through it all. So if you've made it here, I suggest you commit yourself to the long haul, and hopefully it pays off one way or another in the end! Don't miss out on the angst or the adventure!

1. Arrival in Imladris

Arwen's feet moved swift and silent as she headed down the white pathway of the arcade in the direction of the healing house. Her mind was clouded with a heavy concern she could not shake. A concern for the young hobbit within the healing house and a concern for her beloved and the other hobbits who remained out in the wild.

Frodo, the hobbit in need of medical attention, had during the night been viciously stabbed by a Ringwraith's dagger. The Nine had followed Arwen closely as she rode with the hobbit towards help and safety. The dark riders had caught up with her as she reached the river and had it not been for the powers of the elves, Arwen knew that she and Frodo might never have escaped. As it was, the Nine had been swept away with a deadly flood, but it was not a definite strike. The wraiths would return one day.

Arwen simply hoped the Nazgul would not regain their strength until Aragorn and the other hobbits, too, were safe in Imladris, where the powers of the elves could watch over them.

For all she knew and feared, however, Aragorn and his small group could already have been overtaken by the darkest of shadows. Arwen had long been accustomed to woe and worry whenever the ranger set out from Rivendell, for the world had slowly turned a more unsafe place. This time it was different, however. Though Aragorn was skilled with a blade, indeed counted amongst the greatest of warriors, there were some dark forces even he was best to avoid.

Arwen stopped her pace and released a heavy breath that had long ached within her chest. She turned to gaze out over the balustrade and noticed how the sun swept through the decorated columns as if reaching out for the beautiful, wild heather which grew up the sides of the building. It seemed even the rays of the sun enjoyed the peace of the gardens below. Arwen knew the Elven kingdom and her most beloved home had always been a safe haven for her own kind and those in need. Even in her worry, the serene spirit of Rivendell managed to touch her heart and give her a small measure of peace.

She turned to gaze at the door not far from her position. Behind the grand, decorated door rested the young hobbit who'd received the treacherous wound. When Arwen and Frodo had first arrived, her father had been awaiting them. Lord Elrond had wasted no time as he had brought the hobbit to his house of healing, from which Arwen in her long years had seen few men exit still wounded. Elrond had quickly dismissed his daughter with an honest promise that all would be well.

Though Arwen trusted her father's given word, they had not calmed her for long when she had been left alone to wait out the storm. Her faith was swiftly dwindling and she knew the only thing that would soothe her mind was Aragorn's return.

Though Elrond had insisted she change clothes and relax, Arwen had yet to change out of her travel outfit. Upon being dismissed by her father, she had instead hurried to send out riders for the others still in the wilderness. Now, the day was turning dark and no news had reached Rivendell. There was nothing for Arwen now but to wait and keep her faith.

As she leaned against the balustrade, she raised a hand to her cheek and traced the small cut there. She had told her father he could deal with it after the hobbit was safe. For now, it only served as a cold reminder of the horrors that lay behind her.

Suddenly, steps echoed in the arcade and Arwen turned at the sound only to see the tall wizard, Gandalf the Grey, walking towards her. His ragged clothes were ripped and singed at the edges, even his blue hat seemed unusually shaggy. His walking staff clicked against the floor in time with his feet as he moved closer. The wizard was unharmed, but seemed to have been through a great ordeal.

As the bearded man came closer, Arwen took in more of his appearance. For the first time in their acquaintance, Gandalf seemed like a tired, old man. There was something broken and shattered in his pale eyes, as if something dark was weighing him down. Still, the wizard offered her a faint smile, though it scarcely reached his eyes.

"Gandalf," Arwen bowed her head and then rushed to reassure the elder man, "The hobbit is safe. Father hopes he has healed the worst of his wounds."

Relief washed over the wizard's face as he stopped beside her. His smile widened and this time his gaze held genuine warmth.

"Lord Elrond is one of the best healers in Middle Earth; I would not have expected anything less. After many years of friendship, I have known no time when he has failed to heal a patient," Gandalf broke off as Arwen turned her gaze away. "Except your mother."

"You speak the truth, Mithrandir," Arwen nodded and brushed a lock of her long, dark hair behind her shoulder. To talk of her mother still brought her much anguish, even after so many years since Celebrian's journey over the seas.

Gandalf removed his hat and brushed some dust off of it, even as he changed the subject, "I must admit, though... I was surprised not with your father, but with you, maiden fair. I was not expecting news that you had saved the young hobbit."

The elf maiden smiled tenderly. Inclining her head, she said, "I have not saved anyone. Frodo's fate has yet to be determined."

"Irregardless of what happens, you gave him a chance at life," Gandalf pointed out and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know you are worried for him."

Arwen looked up into the wizard's eyes; she knew he was not talking about the hobbit any longer. Her mind's eye once more reached out to the ranger still in the wild. With a saddened smile, Arwen gazed out over the balustrade to look at the last rays of the setting sun. "There is still no news of them. What if something has happened?"

The wizard seemed to consider this before responding, with a hint of humor in his dark voice, "Things happen every day."

The elf raised a curved eyebrow. The wizard chuckled.

"You know as well as I do, milady, that if anyone can take care of the hobbits and himself - it is Aragorn," Gandalf clarified wisely.

The wizard moved over to the wall and heavily sat down on the bench. He stole a quick glance at the door by his side and as he did, a shadow flickered across Gandalf's face. Once more, the weary grew on his worn features. Arwen recognized the look on his face, having felt the same fear within herself. There was more to this darkness than what had occurred today, and there was more still that lay ahead.

"How are you, old friend? Tell me more of you," she asked in a soft voice. "When did you arrive in Imladris?"

"I arrived here not four days ago. A short while after you left, I am told. Your father has kindly filled me in on everything in your absence. The hobbits' danger I was already made aware of."

"Yes, but how are you?" Arwen persisted. "You carry yourself as if you have recently been through a trial... and though you did not lose, I see no signs of a victory either."

"There is little that passes you by, you are surely your father's child," Gandalf remarked and his face darkened in thought. "Your guess is true. I went to seek the council of Saruman, my old mentor and friend. I had not foreseen what would happen when I did…"

Arwen's blue eyes widened in shock by the words that remained unsaid between them. Saruman is no longer a trusted ally.

"This is my fault," Gandalf confessed with a deep sigh. "I shouldn't have gone; I should have ridden to meet the hobbits when I was supposed to. Then none of this would have happened."

"You could not know," Arwen assured. "But it is most fortunate they had Aragorn."

"And you, my lady. Without the two of you, I do not know what would have become of our little friends. Now, how are you, elleth?" As he continued, curiosity echoed in his raspy voice, "You faced all nine Nazgul on your own. There are few alive who can attest to such bravery."

"I am unharmed. I only suffered a scratch, one that will be healed by morning."

Gandalf nodded distractedly and rose to join her by the balustrade. He liften an old, calloused hand and touched the cut on her cheek. As he moved his hand away, Arwen knew he had helped heal the scratch. She bowed her head in gratitude. "Would you care to enlighten this worn wizard how you managed to escape from the Nazgul?"

"I crossed the river by horse and the Nine dared not follow me across. When they attempted, I called upon the river to help me defeat my foes. The Nine were washed away by a mighty flood. We were safe... But then Frodo's health worsened."

"What happened?"

"He had received a poisonous wound, as you know already," Arwen explained, "but by the river he was greatly weakened and lost consciousness. He did not have long. There was only one thing I could do to help. I asked the Valar that the grace which had been given me, be passed to Frodo."

Gandalf turned away and gazed out at the scenery in silence for a few seconds. As he pursed his lips, Arwen knew there were things going on within his mind that she did not fully understand. At length, the wizard glanced back at the woman and said, "It was a kind gesture. You did more than you had to for Frodo, but nothing in vain. Still, your father would have helped him, you did not have to ask the Valar for help."

"I did what I could," Arwen insisted and turned to gaze out at the landscape once more. In a low voice, she breathed, "Let us hope it will be enough."

On the second day after Arwen's return, as the sun passed high in the sky, a few fair riders reached the gates of the city of Imladris.

Among the Elven riders were also Aragorn, Sam, Merry and Pippin. As Aragorn jumped from his horse in one fluid motion, the three hobbits, who had ridden with elves, were helped down to the ground.

The three of them huddled close together as they gazed about them in awe and admiration. None of the hobbits had ever before seen such grandness and beauty all in one peaceful place. Silently, they looked up at the kind elves who had found them in the wilderness. The elves, led by a captain called Glorfindel, nodded down to them before walking off. The horses followed them obediently, though not a word was spoken aloud between elf and animal.

"Where's mister Frodo?" Sam asked boldly and took a step forward in this foreign environment. His eyes followed the disappearing elves but then turned to Strider still by his side. It seemed the ragged man had not heard the question at all.

In truth, Aragorn held the same concern as Sam, with the added concern of his elven maiden. Glorfindel had informed him that both Frodo and Arwen were alive, but that was all the information the elf had been able to offer. Aragorn needed to see them both with his own two eyes to believe it and to calm his restless mind.

"Follow me," Aragorn breathed and strode forward into this familiar place. The hobbits all scrambled to keep up with his long strides. He heard their awed gasps at the magnificent gardens and architecture but he paid them little notice as he led them further into the vast elven city of the valley.

"Where are you taking us, Strider?" asked Merry and Aragorn glanced in his direction.

"To the healers' house. Where we shall find your friend."

The hobbits said nothing further as they followed him up steps and through gardens. Sam, Merry and Pippin all noted that every elf they met on the way bowed their heads in respect at Strider. The ranger greeted the elves in a similar manner, though somewhat more rigidly. The hobbits exchanged confused glances at this strange behavior of their new-found friend.

As they reached another long, pale staircase, Aragorn ascended it with only a few, wide strides. The sun warmed his skin from above and the scent of heathers finally reached his keen nose. He felt his feet pick up pace once more. They were close. Behind him, the hobbits struggled to keep up. Pippin stumbled on his feet, but was saved from falling by Merry's swift hands. Aragorn finally noticed their predicament and patiently slowed his steps to accommodate for their short stature.

As they approached a corner in the white arcade, Aragorn's ears picked up the sound of two voices; a man and a woman. Both voices were familiar. He rounded the corner and further down the pathway, his eyes found a sight that elated his heart to joyous heights. Upon a bench beside the wall sat Gandalf and Arwen, deep in discussion about something.

Aragorn felt his heart hammer away inside his chest upon seeing the elf maiden. His eyes travelled the lengths of her body to gauge her well-being. She seemed unharmed and in good spirits; in other words she was perfectly safe. This came as a greater relief to Aragorn than he had expected. He had not fully realized the extent of his worry when he had last seen her ride off into the lion's den, with the worst evil in Middle Earth chasing her.

When the first wave of relief settled, Aragorn couldn't keep his gaze off of her. Arwen was dressed in a rose-colored, billowing dress with her dark hair braided. She looked as beautiful as the first day he had seen her, and once more Aragorn found he seemed to have misplaced his breathing.

As if feeling his gaze, her blue eyes turned from the wizard and locked with Aragorn's. Under the warm sun, her eyes sparkled like stars and a smile spread across her full lips. She rose from the bench before the wizard even noticed their new company.

"Gandalf!" Sam exclaimed in gentle relief as he recognized the seated wizard. Sam hadn't expected he would ever see the Grey wizard again, especially not after he had failed to meet the hobbits at Bree. Sam and the other hobbits had assumed the worse and to now be reunited lifted their spirits.

"Hello, Samwise," Gandalf smiled and looked at them all. "Ah! Meriadoc and Peregrin too, I see."

"My lady," Aragorn bowed his head at Arwen; who curtsied.

"It's her," whispered Merry to Pippin, where they stood on Sam's right. "The she-elf who took Frodo."

"Your friend - Mr Baggins - is being treated for his injuries as we speak," the elven maiden spoke with her soft, flowing voice that seemed to mesmerize the hobbits.

"May we see him, milady?" Sam asked worriedly, looking up at her with pale, wide eyes. Still worried about his friend, he knew he would not be calmed until he saw Frodo alive and well.

"Let them restore his health first, Sam," Aragorn said and leaned against the balustrade, not taking his eyes off Arwen. He wanted to talk to her in private, to hold her in his arms and to tell her how worried he had been, tell her how happy he was that she was safe. She locked gazes with him and he settled for a simple, reassuring nod. For now they both knew any private moment had to wait.

At that moment, the wooden door to the room beside them opened and lord Elrond stepped outside. His dark hair fell elegantly over his broad shoulders and his face seemed touched by many long years of wisdom, grace and pride. Aragorn bowed and the hobbits were lost what to do. Hurriedly they, too, bowed their heads at Elrond.

The elf lord closed the door behind him and then turned to face the ranger by his side. With a kind smile, Elrond placed a hand on the ranger's shoulder.

"I am relieved to see you have returned in good health, Estel. I was worried for you all. However, there will be no need to bow, as you are well aware. Not from any of you," said Elrond.

Aragorn stretched tall and smiled up at the older man. The hobbits once more followed Aragorn's lead and stood tall as well (or as tall as possible when one is a hobbit, which is not very tall.)

"How is he?" Sam asked and then, just to be safe, added, "… master elf."

"My name is Lord Elrond, Samwise Gamgee. Or Elrond for short. You need not call me by any other title," Elrond assured. "Your friend is resting and should soon be restored to good health. But I will not keep the truth from you: the wound has weakened your friend greatly. There was a time I was unsure even my healing powers could restore him. Time alone can now answer for the hobbit's future."

Elrond glanced at his daughter and fatherly pride shone in his dark eyes. "It is a very good thing, indeed, that the young Mr Baggins arrived here so swiftly. If he had arrived but a few hours later, I might not have been able to do anything for our young friend."

"So he's safe?" asked Pippin and conspicuously glanced at Sam and Merry. "He will survive?"

"Yes," Elrond inclined his head.

"Good," Pippin nodded slowly. "I have another question, Lord Elrond…"

"Go ahead and ask it, young hobbit."

"I was wondering," Pippin began. "...if we could bother you for some food?"

Sam groaned in irritation as Merry slapped the back of Pippin's head.

"What? I'm hungry!" Pippin defended himself against Merry's pointed look. "I haven't eaten since yesterday. And you heard him, Frodo will be safe, we don't need to worry about him now. He's isn't going to die."

The young hobbit's uplifting attitude brightened Arwen's mood. She laughed merrily and stepped up to the three hobbits. She smiled warmly down at them, one they happily returned.

"You speak wisely, master Peregrin. Your friend is safe and the rest of you are allowed to unwind after a long and tiresome journey. Come, I will find you some food, and then take you to your chambers."

With those words, Arwen held out her hand for the hobbits to follow her. The hobbits exchanged small smiles of relief at the sound of both food and comfortable beds and thanked her greatly. The four of them soon walked off the way they had come, now with more merriment in their steps. Arwen glanced back as she stepped around the corner and caught Aragorn's eyes. He bowed his head a final time and her grin widened.

Gandalf rose from the bench as he, Elrond and Aragorn were left alone in the stone arcade. The wizard chuckled when he heard the echo of Sam's timid suggestion that he'd prefer to stay in a room close to Frodo.

"Mithrandir..." The elf lord spoke.

Gandalf turned to his old friend and saw the grim expression upon Elrond's face. With a tilt of his head, Gandalf asked, "Can I see him?"

Elrond shook his head and a shadow swept across his features. "The hobbit does need his rest and I am uncertain when he will regain consciousness. I might be tomorrow or weeks from now. Mr Baggins is greatly weakened. I did not admit the full extent of it before my daughter and Mr Baggins' friends."

"How bad is his injury?" Aragorn gravely asked as he stepped closer.

"Mr Baggins will survive. But I could not fully heal the wound of the Morgul blade. The injury will haunt him for the rest of his days on this earth."

Aragorn nodded solemnly at this admission while the wizard hid his thoughts behind an impassive countenance. Tense silence hung over the small group like a cloak, before the ranger spoke up, "What happens now?"

"We shall hold a council to decide what to do with the Ring that is now within these lands. We shall send for our neighbors and leaders among the races. Together we shall decide what to do," Elrond answered and his voice darkened into a far more serious tone. Something told Aragorn it was not the last time he'd heard that grave tone. "But let's talk more of this later, Aragorn. Let us not concern ourselves with those troubles now. It can wait until the break of another day. Today you need rest just as the hobbits do."

"Let us join our friends in their search for food, then," suggested Gandalf.

It was not an invitation to eat, as his words suggested, but merely a means to get their minds off the dangers looming ever closer on the horizon. They were all aware of the darkness coming and knew that they would have to face this problem sooner or later.

For today, if only for the few remaining hours left of daylight, everything could wait.

Today the world was silent, waiting for the future that was sure to change it all.

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