Arwen didn't see the crown placed on Aragorn's head. Too many bodies separated her from the steps where he knelt. She could picture him, though, in her mind's eye. Gandolf the White held the crown aloft, and it was enough for her that her Aragorn, her Elessar, reclaim what his ancestors had lost generations before he was born.

And then it was done. The crowd atop Minas Tirith cheered their King.

King Elessar sang of his devotion to his people and his voice warmed her, as it always did, when he sang. It was never as often as Arwen would have liked. His burdens were too heavy: the Ranger, the Dúnedain, the reluctant hero of Middle Earth forced to live in the shadows while evil overtook their world.

Everything in her wanted to toss the White Tree banner she held aside and run into his arms. A strange pain in her chest made it hard to draw a proper breath. She wasn't entirely accustomed to the vulnerabilities of this mortal flesh she wore, yet. And as her father was forever reminding her during the journey here, her strength wasn't fully recovered from her brush with death.

He was so close now, passing with a nod or a small smile each of the people he'd fought beside, shed blood with.

And then he stopped before the delegation of Elves. Legolas stepped forward to greet him, as Prince of Mirkwood and chosen representative of all Elvendom in Middle Earth and as one of Aragorn's dearest friends.

After they exchanged words, his blonde head incline slightly in her direction, giving her and her father away as the Elves around her parted to allow the banner she held to be seen for the first time.

King Elessar's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of her father. Did Aragorn truly believe Elrond would miss his Coronation day? He'd raise Estel as if he were one of his sons. Never once did a milestone in the Man's life go unnoticed by her father.

Slowly, Arwen drew the White Tree banner away to reveal herself to him. He paled slightly when their eyes met, as if he were seeing a ghost and not really her in the flesh before him.

When Arwen hesitated, a warm hand gripped her shoulder and her father whispered reassuring words... go to him. The mortal heart in her chest pounded like war drums.

They'd decided to surprise Aragorn. So, Arwen kept herself in seclusion since arriving in Minas Tirith, so as not to spoil the surprise. That didn't mean she'd not heard of the shieldmaiden of Rohan and how she'd sought to win Aragorn's favor before all of Rohan.

What if Arwen had come too late? What if those whispered rumors were fact and her Estel, her hope, had given his heart to someone else when he'd thought her lost to him? And why shouldn't he? Arwen was no royal Princess, only the daughter of a half-Elven Lord, her father hadn't wanted a King's diadem for himself or his children. The other woman was the niece of Rohan's King and now heir to his thrown. Who

Standing before him, her head bowed humbly, Arwen couldn't bring herself to search his eyes and see what? Pity? Regret? Or worse... nothing at all.

Gentle fingers lifted her chin, made her gather her failed courage and look into the face she'd forsaken all eternity for. Even if he'd given his heart to another in her absence, Arwen could not have made another choice, so devout was her bond with him. And yet, before he left with the Fellowship he'd tried to tell her it was naught but a dream and she was mistaken in her love for him.

The newly crowned King took the banner from her trembling hand. His eyes mirrored her terrified expression back to her, and then his lips claimed hers.

The joyous roar of approval from the crowd echoed perfectly the roar of her own blood in her ears as they kissed.

Her lover. Her life. Alive. Whole. Arwen couldn't help but touch him in wonder, as he did the same with her. Then she laughed, relief and joy washing away the fears, as Aragorn lifted her off her feet and spun her. She clung to him, unable to let go.

His fingers continued to caress her cheek as if he thought she might turn to mist and disappear in the next heartbeat. Arwen wouldn't. Not now that they were here at last after such a long, perilous struggle to be together. With his hand in hers, Arwen felt as if she could do anything at all.

As the Coronation feast dragged on, Aragorn found it harder and harder to keep his pleasant, interested expression in place. Arwen had been at his side throughout the day, and now she looked frail, tired. He wanted to scoop her up into his arms and carry her to bed. Not for pleasure, neither of them was up for intimacy tonight, but so he could hold her.

Aragorn glanced at Lord Elrond, seated on Arwen's right at the long table, and there was a tightness around his eyes, not weariness but concern. He'd hovered at his daughter's shoulder most of the day with his sons at his back like an honor guard. There hadn't been time to speak to him beyond thanking him for coming and for bringing Arwen to Minas Tirith.

Not having her here on this day, her soft hand in his, Aragorn didn't want to dwell on how hollow he was without her, but it just wouldn't have been a day worth remembering.

"I thank you all for being here this day," King Elessar addressed the table and all who supped with him. "You have traveled far and deserve a proper night's rest. I bid you goodnight."

"The hour grows late," Arwen agreed quietly. She took his hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles.

When he returned the gesture, lips lingering against her skin for more than a few seconds, her brother cleared his throat loudly. He sent an annoyed scowl in the direction of her brothers. "You'll still be here in the morning, won't you? I'm not going to wake to find you were just a dream?"

Arwen's answering smile warmed his heart. "I'm here in the flesh, my King. And I have no plans to go anywhere without you."

"You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. We have spent too much time apart." Aragorn stood, and helped Arwen to her feet. She swayed, just a little and her father's hands braced her arms as the new King watched her with alarm.

The look Elrond sent his way wasn't warm, if anything, there was a warning in it. "We will take our leave of you, now, King Elessar. There is much I would like to discuss with you on the morrow." Make time for me, the Elf-lord implied.

Aragorn nodded, "Of course. I will see you at your convenience, Lord Elrond." Elrond and Arwen left, but her brothers lingered, so he asked them, "Is Arwen unwell?"

"She is mortal, King. Her strength waxes and wanes." The normally friendly Elladan he'd thought of as a brother was gone, and there was a coldness Aragorn didn't understand. "She chose you over life immortal and now she pays a price."

Aragorn realized what he was saying and winced. "Lord Elrond told me she was dying..." Terror filled his heart with ice. Was she still dying? Had she only come here to see him one last time before the end?

"Arwen is strong, yet, she will live," her other brother, Elrohir, offered. "But she is not completely healed and travel is taxing on her strength."

Elladan scowled at them both. "What taxed her strength this day was worry you'd forsaken her for dead King's niece while she lay dying for love of you." His words were naught but a whisper, and wouldn't carry to the others in the hall who might gossip.

"No. Never." All the good food and wine turned to lead in his stomach at the thought, Arwen had seemed unsure when she'd come to him at the Coronation... "Not even when I thought her lost to me to the Undying Lands. There was never anyone else from the moment I laid eyes on her. How can she not know this?"

"Perhaps, your majesty, you need to tell her more plainly."

Aragorn spun on his heel, to go do just that, but Legolas' hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Not tonight, my friend."

"Elladan, our foster brother loves Arwen..." Elrohir put himself between them, as Legolas had. "My brother is still adjusting to Arwen being mortal, as are we all. You may find the pain of losing her someday makes our tempers hot."

Legolas smiled, playing peacemaker and helping to take the conversation back to civility, "Yours aren't the only hot tempers in Minas Tirith of late. Twice I had to physically block our would be King from saddling his horse to ride for Imladris and Arwen. He was like a bear with a broken tooth."

"How could I be expected to listen to reports on restocking the larders when Arwen could be dead or dying?" Aragorn's voice rose enough in pitch and volume to attract the eyes of everyone still lingering in the Great Hall.

Elladan laid a grudging hand on his shoulder, "Peace, brother. I have no right to fault you for Arwen's choice, as much as I would like to. My sister knows her mind. And her heart."

"I want to hold her," he whispered, more like a lost child than a King.

Elladan sighed, nodding his head. "I suggest you marry her. And do it quickly. Until then, we are going to dog your every moment with her and keep you from her bed."

"You should be worried about our father," Elrohir added. "If you do not marry Arwen soon, I would suggest Legolas and the dwarf stand guard over you while you sleep."

He tossed restlessly in his sleep, moaning occasionally like something pained him. From her place at the foot of his bed, Arwen watched over King Elessar until she couldn't bear his tossing and turning any longer. She removed her cloak and dress and climbed into the large bed to lay beside him.

Settling in with him, it only took a few moments for his arms to come around her and pull her against his chest. Her beloved sighed, a contented sound followed quickly with the soft, rhythmic breathing of deep slumber.

Now, Arwen thought, we can both find rest.

Hours passed and it was his gasp of surprise in her ear that woke Arwen from a pleasant dream.

"Arwen, how did you get in here? Your brothers... your father..." Each word increased in volume and level of alarm.

Her finger pressed to his lips. "Hush, my King. A friend of mine has pledged to keep the twins abed until at least midday. And you have nothing to fear from my father." She smiled wickedly, "For I know his secret. He wants grandchildren desperately, and my brothers can't seem to figure out how to make them, so the task has fallen to us."

When the frown didn't ease from his brow, Arwen turned over, so they lay face to face.

His rough hand cupped her cheek, "Arwen..." Words seemed to fail him, and it took him several minutes to compose himself enough to continue. "I love you. From the first, and with every heartbeat since. Please believe that." Tears welled in his eyes. "You are the only one I will ever want."

Arwen wondered what her brothers told him after she and her father retired. She kissed him, slowly and sweetly reassuring him. No rushing. They had all the time in the world, it seemed to her now. "Beloved Elessar, I believe you, as I have always believed in you, trusted you. My father stubbornly chooses to see only my death, your death, but first there is life, and I wouldn't trade a life with you for a million years in Valinor."

"I don't know anything about taking an Elven Lord's daughter as my wife," he insisted. "There must be customs to observe, or traditional rituals, but those things were never shared with an outsider like me. Tell me what I must do, Arwen, to make you my Queen."

A dry lecture on Elven traditions was the last thing on Arwen's mind. This morning was for passion, and they were well beyond things requiring words to express. Her hand cupped him intimately, and he drew a sharp breath.

Her handsome Dúnedain soon found himself flat on his back with Arwen's sex hovering above his face, just out of reach of his lips. Her tongue teased the tip of his phallus with little licks on the soft flesh. "Do not say another word..." she threatened, teasing him.

The smart Man who would soon be her husband didn't have to be told twice. Strong hands captured her hips and pulled Arwen lower, so he could taste her. His thumbs spread her folds and his tongue flicked and stroked the slick flesh until he drew low moans from her, interrupting her mouth working his cock.

She had to pull back from her pleasuring of him, letting out a cry of joy as his tongue entered her. His lips were like greedy fire, and his tongue claimed her.

Elessar rolled them over and Arwen was too boneless to resist as he lifted her thighs to his broad shoulders and buried his face her in sex. She was throbbing and very sensitive as he lapped at her abundant juices. The hair from his beard prickled her, a counterpoint of sensation against the magical strokes of his tongue. They dragged moans from her, while the short teases made her grind against his face wantonly.

His hands caught her wrists and held them captive at her sides. She pulled against him as the world exploded into a million shards of color, each a small bit of the whole of her pleasure.

She was released from his grip and he returned her trembling legs to the bed. "I want to be inside you, love," he sighed, lips against her cheek. "But, you could get pregnant..."

Arwen kissed the bridge of his nose, the worry lines on his forehead. "No. A ritual is required for that."

"It takes a ritual to have a baby?"

She rolled her eyes, "Haven't you ever wondered why there aren't more children running about, or a dozen babies conceived just at each Midsummer? It isn't for lack of sex."

"I never really thought much about it."

Arwen tutted, "Maybe you should have asked my brothers before you started climbing into beds. You know that we Elfkind can't have a child with a Man unless we are mortal ourselves, but even between two Elves there is a ritual to prepare the womb and the seed for creating a child, so no child is unexpected or unwanted." The look on his face made her giggle. "Oh, don't worry, I've heard it's quite fun."

"I've never found Elven rituals to be fun," he grumbled.

"Poor Estel, you didn't have me around to make them fun."

Their bodies fit perfectly together, soft female and hard male. More than intercourse this first time, after such a long separation, they fully devoted the morning to worshipping each other.

The chamber echoed with their cries of passion and release until their need was exhausted and they slept with Elessar wrapped protectively around her.

"But, when?" Aragorn frowned at his beloved. The whole process was taking too long. They had Elrond's blessing, finally, so why the delay?

Arwen patted his arm affectionately, and he noticed Legolas put a hand over his mouth to cover an amused smile. He let some of his frustration find the blonde Elf as it's target. "You! If you aren't going to be helpful in this process, why are you in my private chambers? Shouldn't you be sticking arrows in something?" It was a good natured jest, mostly.

Legolas laughed, "I'm a bale of hay for you to stick your ill tempered barbs into, it seems, your Majesty."

Arwen gave him a disapproving huff, and he sighed, "Forgive me, Legolas. I'm still adjusting to how blessedly long it takes for anything to get done in a palace. Unlike you, I didn't grow up to life at Court."

"I've never planned a Royal Wedding, and Valar have mercy, I hope I never have to."

"Legolas!" Arwen gasped. "You don't want to get married someday and have children?"

Legolas shrugged, "Not really. At least, not for a long while, yet."

"When you find the right person, it will happen, whether you plan on it or not," Arwen said, quietly.

"Arwen, is something wrong with Lord Elrond today?"

Arwen took a sip from her wine goblet as if she hadn't heard him. Her father was indeed angry and Arwen couldn't be the least bit sorry she'd had a hand in causing it. "My father plans to leave for Valinor in a few years, after I'm 'sufficiently settled' here with you, and maybe held our son a few times. The Ring Bearers will take the last ship into the West."

He frowned because Aragorn couldn't fathom how one had anything to do with the other. "Your brothers told me they have no desire to leave Middle Earth, yet. Is that why he is upset?"

Arwen beamed at him, full of mischief. "Not at all. He never expected them to leave Middle Earth while you and I live, and perhaps they will decide to stay and offer wisdom to our children and grandchildren before sailing West..."

For a moment, Arwen wondered if she should share the secret with her husband to be, or wait until it played out more. In the end, she decided to trust him. "I've had a suspicion about my father for years, and I'm about to see it proven correct."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. She laughed, such a beautiful sound it attracted the attention of many at the table for the midday meal.

Arwen lowered her voice, "Father has been solitary for a very long time. I'm worried about him. I fear when he gets to Valinor, without his children or Imladris to keep him busy, he'll be unhappy, or worse, lost."

"That sounds like Lord Elrond," he agreed. "And your suspicion is?"

Arwen glanced up at him coyly from under her dark lashes, "My father is in love."

Aragorn blinked at her, clearly not expecting her to say Lord Elrond had feelings for someone. "Are you sure? How can you tell?"

Arwen lowered her voice to barely a whisper, "I know my father better than anyone. I've suspected he had a lover, but he is very discreet. As well he should be, too. She's even younger than I." Arwen grinned, playfully scandalized by her father's secret. She squeezed his hand, "I told you a friend bedded the twins, so we would be left in peace. My brothers have been seeking to win her favor for a decade. Father wasn't pleased when he didn't find one of the twins camped outside my door, but when he learned why they were elsewhere, and more importantly with whom they spent their night..." She took another sip of wine. "My father wouldn't act possessive if this was just a casual partner, and I think he's terribly jealous."

"How do you know this friend hasn't bedded the twins at some Midsummer?"

The look she gave him was full of amused exasperation. "You've been around them, and you know how they are. Surly you've heard them endlessly brag of their conquests!" She rolled her eyes, "They have been politely, but firmly, refused each Midsummer for at least the last five years. Drove them nearly to maddness, too. She usually spends Midsummer reading in my father's library with me. And now, I know why."

He took her hand and kissed it. "I don't understand why it makes you so happy, but if you are happy, then I am, too."

"Oh, I don't think his anger is directed at the twins as much as at himself," she mused aloud. "Of course, my brothers had no idea they were trespassing on someone my father considers his. And if he'd made a claim on her, public or private, she wouldn't have agreed to be my diversion no matter how unfairly my father is treating us. I'm sure she enjoyed it as much as they did. I not only have to hear my brothers' boasting, I get the females of Imladris sighing dreamily over them for weeks after every Midsummer."

At his furrowed brow, she added, "Don't you see? We don't have to worry about him, now."

Now, the light of understanding dawned on his face. "You're matchmaking, so he'll have someone to build a new life with."

"I didn't need to do much. They've been lovers for many years. And I'm not ashamed to meddle; he did his best to keep us parted, did he not?"

"What about your mother?"

"My brothers and I never held out hope for a joyous reunion, not after so much time has passed. We hope Mother has found someone new in the Undying Lands. Don't you agree my Father deserves a second wife... and more children?"

He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze, "I agree. Who is she, anyway? Carrying on a secret affair with your father. That is truly courageous."

Arwen walked out into the fresh air of the terrace and looked down onto the balcony below and to the left. Sure enough, a couple occupied the bench, kissing and embracing the way she would find on a Midsummer in Imladris and not early spring in Minas Tirith.

"What are you..."

She turned and put a finger to Aragorn's lips. "Hush. Say nothing and just look down there." She pointed to the railing and followed behind him as her lover took a quick look and then backed up out of the line of sight of the couple below.

Arwen took his hand and dragged him back inside.

"That's his mysterious lover? I've seen her before, in Rivendell, I think."

"Anniel is cousin to Legolas, my Grandmother sent her to Rivendell to recover from Shadow sickness."

"She's pretty," Aragorn said, and then winced because it was probably not a thing Arwen's future husband should say. He added, "If you like blonde elves. Personally, I prefer you and your dark hair."

"Nice save," Legolas chuckled, gliding into the room as he always did. "Arwen, why do you want to marry this... filthy, smelly Man, anyway? You have your choice of Elves." He headed for the balcony. "Who are we spying on?" He returned a half second later, pale and frowning.

Arwen put a hand on his chest. "Legolas, leave them be."

"How did I not notice that?"

"Father loves her or he would never have kept her a secret from us for so long."

Legolas winced. "My father…"

"Anniel is going to the Undying Lands with him," Arwen insisted, firmly.

"Not if my father gets his hands on her, she isn't."

That got Aragorn's attention. "Why not?" His curiosity was aroused, now. "She's obviously happy. And if she suffered from Shadow sickness like Arwen, she would be better off in Valinor."

Legolas sighed, and muttered under his breath, "Lord Elrond may get his wish to cross swords with my father, after all."

To Arwen and Aragorn he said, "My father thinks Anniel is my mother's soul reborn." Soul mates were important to the Elves.

"I thought your mother sailed into the West?" Arwen asked.

"My father never believed that. Mother wouldn't have left us without a very good reason, and she never said anything was wrong." Legolas looked as sad as Arwen had ever seen him. "We were never able to discover the truth of her fate one way or the other, but there is no denying how much Anniel looks like my mother. The resemblance is so strong it's like seeing my mother, sometimes."

"When did Lord Elrond say he wanted to fight Thranduil, and why?" Aragorn asked, an amused smile on his lips because he knew Legolas and Elrond shared a bed many a Midsummer and it wasn't with the knowledge or approval of Legolas' father.

Legolas shrugged, "It was years ago."

"We invited King Thraduil to our wedding," Arwen confessed. "Do you think he'll decide to accept the invitation?"

"I hope not," Legolas groaned. "For Anniel's sake."

"I have a favor to ask of you, Anniel."

Anniel looked up from her writing, "I am at your service, as always, my Lady."

"You aren't a servant or a companion, you are my friend," Arwen scolded her. "We have been more than friends at Midsummer, and you know it." She took her hand. "I want you to sing for me, at my wedding."

Anniel's jaw dropped. When she could, she said, "I don't know that I deserve such a great honor."

Arwen smiled at her young friend, "You are forever too modest. Anniel, you saved my life. Don't think I don't know it, or will ever forget it."

"I didn't do anything." But even as she said it, the words felt false. Something had happened, it just wasn't something Anniel understood or could explain. "It wasn't my voice that spoke."

Arwen smiled. "No, I know that. I still have no idea who spoke, but I do know what I saw."

"Saw? What did you see?"

"I was at the gates of a great Hall. There was a guard at the gate, and I thought it was my father as he shut the gate before me. I called to him, "Father!" He smiled at me and it was then that I could see the differences, it wasn't Ada."

Anniel's mind flashed back to her own experience at a gate. "A huge black iron gate with a complicated symbol worked into it?"

"Yes!" Arwen gasped. "You've seen it, too?! How? When?"

"When I was near death in Lothlorien, years ago."

"The man spoke to me. He said he was not my father, but my uncle, Elros, father's twin brother. Anniel, they were identical, even more so than Elladan and Elrohir. I told him as much. He laughed and said my brothers favored their mother with pretty faces he and my father didn't get."

Both women laughed at that.

"I asked him why he locked me out. He said my death at this time would break his brother, and neither he nor Mandos would do such a thing to Elrond if it could be helped. Then, he showed me my body, and you were kneeling beside me, singing a plea to the Valar. Uncle said you are very clever and found just the right song to close the gate before me. To save me."

Anniel gasped. "Arwen, I don't know what to say."

Arwen hugged her hard. "I owe you."

"Did you tell your father what you saw?"

Arwen shook her head, "There hasn't really been a good time, and I think it might hurt him to talk about his brother."

Lord Elrond pulled King Elessar aside. In a lowered voice, he said, "I think it time we speak of your marriage to Arwen."

"Of course, Lord Elrond. I always value your wisdom, and that will never change."

"I have loved you like a son, tried to guide you to the best of my abilities, but do not make my daughter regret her choice to leave her family to be with you. If I find you've made her unhappy, there is no place in Middle Earth you will be able to hide that I will not track you and carve your heart out. Treat my daughter well and you will always have an ally in myself and my sons."

Aragorn swallowed hard. "I would never... Arwen is everything to me."

"As she should be."

"Are you really leaving Middle Earth?"

"I am, yes." The look on the King's face tugged at Elrond's heart. He looked very much like the young Estel in that moment. "There is nothing left for me to do here. It's time to turn Imladris over to someone else and start a new chapter for myself."

Aragorn's lips quirked. "And you'll be taking someone with you."

"I hope to, yes."

The King smiled at his mentor, "Love looks good on you." It was a cheeky thing to say, but he meant it sincerely. Love wasn't an easy thing to find for the oldest of the Eldar. They tended to become increasingly hard hearted through the ages of watching the people they care most for die or sail from their lives.

Elrond gave him a frown. "I hope the fact that you know about Anniel means Arwen approves. I'd hate to see their friendship damaged."

"We want you to be happy in Valinor."

Elrond considered that. "Every road has bumps and obstacles to be overcome, even the happiest of roads." There was a deeper meaning, a learned lesson, behind the words. "The secrets are perseverance and empathy." He smiled at the Man who was like a son to him, "Those will serve a newly crowned King, as well."

"What of patience?" Aragorn chided. Everyone in the palace was on edge because their King was impatient, and increasingly bad tempered, wanting to wed Arwen Undomiel.

Elrond sighed, "Patience is harder to come by. Just wait until the Dwarf contingent gets here from Erebor. I'm looking forward to seeing how you handle it."

"Mean spirited of you to take such pleasure in my suffering."

Lord Elrond laid a hand on his shoulder, and he returned it with his own. The familiar gesture was not one he shared with his old mentor very often. "You will meet the challenge as you have every other, but I must admit, aside from Gimli the son of Gloin, I've always found Dwarves to be a pain in the ass."

Aragorn threw back his head and laughed, "You don't know how many times I've heard as much from Legolas!"

"Legolas would know, as well as I," Elrond chuckled. "King Thranduil threw Thorin Oakenshield and his entire company into his dungeons on sight. I wish I'd thought of it, myself."

Aragorn smiled, "I haven't met Thranduil. I've always wanted to, but Legolas was not so eager. We sent him an invitation to the wedding."

The look on Elrond's face was priceless. "Now, that, would be interesting."

"It seemed like the polite thing to do."

Elrond shrugged, "Maybe, he will be intrigued enough by you and the stories of the battles you've fought to come out of his forest fortress to greet the newest King in Middle Earth."

"Only time will tell."