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Chapter One: Darkness Has Come

Then Aragorn laid his hand gently to the sapling, and lo! It seemed to hold only lightly to the earth, and it was removed without hurt; and Aragorn bore it back to the Citadel. Then the withered tree was uprooted, but with reverence; and they did not burn it, but laid it to rest in the silence of Rath Dínen. And Aragorn planted the new tree in the court by the fountain, and swiftly and gladly it began to grow…

~The Return of the King, pgs 950-51

The White Tower gleamed in the sunlight, and high within it Aragorn paced the confines of the royal study restlessly; try as he might he could not shake the images he had seen in his dreams the month before. Even planting the White Tree in the Courtyard of the Fountain had not given him peace. He knew that to the people of Minas Tirith it was the final sign they needed that the King had returned and all would be well, but he however held to a deeper, more personal promise, and he longed for a sign that it would be fulfilled. Until the single flower the Tree now bore was joined by others, he could not rest easy.

"The crown suits you, Estel."

Aragorn wheeled at the voice. "My lord Elrond, I did not expect you so soon!" His lips curled into a genuine smile which faded when he noticed the Elf was alone. Disappointment and impatience lanced through him; had they not waited long enough? "Have you come ahead of the rest of the party?"

Emotion flickered on Elrond's face and he realized the truth. The images he had seen of her bloodied by an orcish blade had not simply been a product of his deepest fears, they had been a premonition. Elrond confirmed the knowledge with a somber pronouncement: "I have come alone because there is no one to follow me."

Though he had known what his foster father would say, the words still hit hard. He grasped the window sill tightly, unsure if he could remain upright. "Arwen…"

Elrond mistook his broken cry for a question. "Arwen is gone."

Aragorn clenched his fists tightly, and then asked the question he already knew the answer to. "What happened?"

"She was riding just beyond the boundaries of Imladris when they were attacked by Orcs. Though they fought well and managed to return to Rivendell, she was… badly injured."

Elrond's slight pause before that carefully worded statement brought back Aragorn's own memories of the attack. His eyes slid shut and he saw again the Orc raising his sword for the final blow. "She is dead then," he said, his voice hollow.

"I cannot say." The uncertainty in that statement confused Aragorn, and he opened his eyes to gaze at his father in question.

Elrond sighed. "Perhaps we should sit down, Estel. Then I will tell you the full story."

"Of course. Have a seat, my lord." Aragorn gestured to a chair and then sat in the other himself.

Elrond sat down slowly, and for the first time Aragorn noticed the weary lines on his face. "Thank you, Estel."

"You are welcome, my lord." A desire to understand what had happened to Arwen warred with curiosity and easily won. He leaned forward, the wooden chair creaking with the movement. "Why do you not know if Arwen lives yet?"

He told himself not to hope, that the answer might be any number of things. "Because I sent her to Mithlond to sail for Valinor." Aragorn rested his head in his hands; of all the possible explanations, he had not anticipated this one. "I tried to heal her. I spent many hours laboring over her injuries, but despite my best efforts she fell so deep into unconsciousness that I could no longer sense her fëa."

Aragorn had spent many hours in the healing rooms of Imladris, both as a patient and as a student of the healing arts. The image of Arwen lying in the sun drenched room filled with the musty odor of herbs made him flinch, and he saw compassion on Elrond's face.

That was when he realized the full import of what he had just heard. "You sent her to the Undying Lands in hope she would be healed of her wounds."

"As her father, it was the only thing I could do. I could not allow my child to die when there remained even the slightest of possibilities that she could be saved." Elrond paused, and Aragorn knew there was more to come. "There is but one thing that disturbs me."

Only one? Aragorn wanted to ask, but instead he said, "What is that?"

"That in saving her I was forced to break my promises to you both."

More than anything that had been said those words brought home the truth to Aragorn. He well remembered the promise to which Elrond referred: that if the War ended in victory and he became the king of the Reunited Kingdom then he would gain Arwen as his bride. Now the War was over and as king he had taken the name foretold by his grandmother, but there would be no sweet reward.

Arwen was not coming, would never come. All the hopes and dreams they had kept carefully hidden away in their hearts for the last forty years would never come to fruition. For this to happen now when they finally could have been together seemed a cruel trick of the Valar.

He turned to the window in order to hide his feelings from Elrond, but when he did he caught sight of the shadow Arwen's banner cast on the courtyard below as it caught the afternoon breeze. The hope he had felt when the twins had given it to him mocked him, and he slammed his fist into the stone window sill. "Where is the grace of the Valar? Are they not to guide and protect those who follow the will of the One? Were they unable to keep Arwen from harm, to keep her safe until we could finally be together?"

He stood there for a long moment, breathing heavily. Then when the emotions were spent, he sagged into the wall. "Ada," he called, using the name he had set aside with his childhood. A moment later, he felt the strong arms of his father pulling him close, and for the first time in his adult life, he allowed himself to lean on another's strength. He closed his eyes and felt tears begin to seep under the closed lids.

How long they stood there Aragorn did not know, but when he regained awareness of his surroundings and pulled away to compose himself, his face and tunic were both wet with his own tears and Elrond's. When he looked out the window, the White Tree mocked him with its slender limbs and one lonely blossom. He knew the sign he had been looking for would not come, just as Arwen would not come.

The thought of spending the rest of his mortal life without Arwen chilled Aragorn. "You named me Estel when I was but a child Ada, as a promise of what I would bring to the peoples of Middle-earth." A gust of wind blew through the courtyard and for a moment, he wondered if it would carry the flower away. "However, she was my estel—she was what I hoped for and longed for in all the hard years I have experienced. And now I find that she is gone, and I…"

He swallowed and wished now that he could see her banner. It had been made in hopes of their future together, a future which was now impossible. "Onen i-Estel Edain, ú-chebin estel anim."

He felt rather than heard Elrond stir behind him, and though he knew his words disturbed him he could not bring himself to care. "Estel… my son, you know this is not how she would have had it. You know the choice she would have made, had she but had the chance."

Aragorn turned back to Elrond. "Yes, I do. She made that choice many years ago when we were betrothed. It was not an easy choice for her, because she knew it meant parting from you, but when we plighted our troth, she vowed to turn her back on the Twilight—and yet in the end, it was not her choice that mattered."

The irony hit him then and he laughed, a bitter, grating sound that held no humor. "Well, you have had your way in the end, my lord. You did not want your Evenstar to bind herself to a man and thus be lost to you, and now she will not be. I congratulate you on your victory."

He spat the last words out and then waited for the Elf to say something, anything that would allow him to vent his emotions without giving way again to tears. Instead, Elrond simply looked at him for several long moments. At first, Aragorn returned the stare, certain the anger in his own gaze was visible, but gradually his fury melted beneath the calm understanding in his father's eyes, replaced first by shame and then by sorrow. "I beg your pardon, my lord. I was wrong to accuse you of anything."

Elrond placed hand on Aragorn's shoulder, and Aragorn stiffened, unwilling to accept more sympathy. This though was not the comforting touch of a father to his child, it was the bracing encouragement given from one man to another. "I did not hear an accusation, Estel. I heard a man overwhelmed with grief trying to find a rationale for it. Fear not, I can take your rages." The two men smiled ruefully, both remembering many times when a young Aragorn had ranted and stormed through the corridors of the Last Homely House. Even his most volatile, his emotional outbursts had lashed against the calm demeanor of the Elf and broken like a wave upon the shore.

Elrond's hand dropped to his side and he turned his back on Aragorn. Knowing there was something more coming, Aragorn waited patiently for what would come next. "I cannot deny there is a part of me that rejoices that I will see Arwen in the Undying Lands. However, when I told her that the war was over, her eyes were filled with such a joy as I have never seen before, in Elf or mortal. I would not have denied her that joy, not for any gain of my own. And loving you equally well, I would not have caused you this pain."

Irrational though it was, Aragorn felt a wave of resentment at those words. Why did Elrond feel the need to tell him this? He knew without being told that Arwen had rejoiced with the end of the war and all it meant for them, and to hear it only sharpened the grief he felt that none of it would ever happen now. Just a moment before he had been grateful for his father's presence, now he desired nothing more than to be alone with his grief.

Perhaps sensing the direction his thoughts were taking, Elrond turned back to face him. "It is a long ride from Imladris to Minas Tirith, Estel. Perhaps I might leave you now to rest from my journey." Aragorn nodded and summoned a servant. A few quick words later, and he was alone.

AN: This story started as an exploration of how Aragorn would react to losing Arwen. Due to my romantic nature, I needed a way to bring them back together and things evolved from there. I have taken great pains to keep everything in line with the rules Tolkien created for his world. If at any point something seems off to you, let me know.

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and everything related belongs to JRR Tolkien. No copyright infringement is intended, and I make no money in the publication of this story.