AN: This collection of oneshots was inspired by another story I wrote, Catharsis, and writing these first two was like pulling teeth...without getting the numbing shot...so I really hope you like it, and I would really appreciate reviews! This first set is going to focus on the first movie/book, and I plan to do two more collections for the other movies/books. I'm not going in order with how events happen, just in order of whatever pops into my head first. The one below is based on a scene in the extended version of the 1st movie when the Fellowship is leaving Rivendell and focuses on Arwen's pov after Aragon, in particular, leaves. YouTube has it if you're curious to see what I mean. I will probably have direct quotes from the movies/books in most of these, and, of course, they do not belong to me. Nor do the characters. I just really enjoy digging around inside their heads:)

Again, I hope you enjoy! Please review!

Eternity

~from the Latin aeviternus; eternal, everlasting, imperishable

The sound was like rain.

Methodical. Steady. Calm. Working outside of its own control. But at the same time it was harder, sharper, more abrupt, as if aware of its deadly purpose. Such was the echo of his swords, his daggers, of all the metal fastenings and hooks that secured each to his person.

She listened to it until it was not there to be heard, oblivious to the sounds of her kin retreating back into the various open halls and passages of Imladris.

And then she opened her eyes, raised her head and felt the tears roll down her cheeks. She blinked at the empty column of air that now hovered where he had stood.

Her love.

"Arwen?"

Suddenly appearing at her side, her father cradled her face within a warm palm, and she shifted to see him. His blue eyes had hardened to a fretted gray that, along with his furrowed brow and taut chin, darkened his entire countenance.

"My daughter…Do not lament him," he said. The voice was pleading. A thumb brushed at the moist tracks left behind by her tears.

"He is moving on," Elrond continued. "You must do the same."

The sweetness of the Grey Tongue upon his lips called out to Arwen then as it never had before. The language of the elves, of the Firstborn. So rich the words were with heritage and familiarity, so fluid and light the tone. It was a language that had been entirely perfected throughout the ages of their existence. It rang with such superiority, such beauty of speech alone. How could she deny the blessing of belonging to such a race? How could she long for less than she was worth?

And yet…

What was it you said, my love?

Aragorn's words echoed against the shattered frame of her heart: I thought I had strayed into a dream.

It was no dream. It had been real. Was real. A passionate fervor that stirred within her very soul at the mere thought of his eyes, of his lips, of his steady heartbeat against her own. It was alive, straining to breathe in and out against the vast distances that often separated them. It was the realest thing her soul had ever known. The deepest love she had ever felt. Could she abandon it? Could she forsake him and deny herself forever?

Closing her eyes, she dropped her face away from the warm caress of Elrond's hand.

"You ask too much of me, Ada."

Arwen turned and rushed up the courtyard steps, ran from the will of her father, of her people. Tears blurred her vision.

I am mortal. You are elf-kind, he had said.

But he was wrong. They were one. Bound together, woven into each other so completely that there was no distinguishing such differences. Mortal. Elf. What were these compared to essence, to soul? Her heart beat in step with his own. She had absorbed him, and he her.

It was a dream, Arwen…

Lies.

She shook her head of them. Fought within herself to deny the shadow rule over her mind. She ran. She took familiar paths without seeing them, the turns and twists of Rivendell like a familiar song. Calling forth memories of herself as a child, curled up against her mother's breast, falling away from consciousness. The songs of the elves were Ageless, enduring from dawn to dawn—like its people. Passing into forever with the ease of summer into fall, fall into winter. Continuous. Repetitive. Unchanging.

And this is the life you would desire for me, my love?

If she was to travel to the Undying Lands, there would be no war, no states battling each other for power or control. But did he not see how her heart would writhe within her?

There would be no sadness or despair in suffering caused by the strain of the world. But did her not know that he was her world? Did he not know how she would lament for him? Long for his presence, feel his absence in the depth of her bones?

Arwen stopped her racing instinctively on the banks of a quiet stream, blanketed in a pale morning mist and yet untouched by the sun. She stood just within the shoreline. Clear, pristine water climbed up the hem of her dress. Her eyes traveled across the tiny creek and studied the thin path hidden behind the trees. Where she had first seen him. The trees had been bathed in still moonlight then, and Aragorn had walked among them with all the quiet grace of an elf, all the respect and confidence. Yet he was a man. Stronger. Firmer. Realer…She had thought him an angel.

She had loved him.

"May the grace of the Valar protect you," she whispered.

Her tears dripped one by one into the crystal waters of the stream.

I never asked to live forever, my love. I only ask for you.