A/N: This chapter is based off of Taylor Swift's "Love Story" and is dedicated to Guest, who suggested the song.

Valinor:

It took another week before Eönwë felt prepared to handle the onslaught of snark once more. The Maia had very much enjoyed his week off. He read a rare Noldorin text that he'd been waiting to get his hands on for months; took a day trip out to Tol Eressëa to visit Mithrandir; and went fishing on the seashore. 'Twas an amazingly restorative vacation, so much so that even the non-sight of an invisible Alassë could not irritate him.

"I suppose you're here to hear of more misdeeds," sulked the normally sarcastic voice, much more subdued than its usual wont. Apparently, a week with no one else for company did wonders for Alassë's attitude.

Eönwë mentally brushed off the confusion momentarily caused by homonyms. "If you would be so kind."

Rath Dínen, Minas Tirith, year 120 of the Fourth Age of Middle-earth

Their meeting, all those long years ago, had begun with a song. Arwen Undómiel considered it only fitting that it end with one. Besides, if she tried to express herself in prose, she knew she would simply break down into tears.

The elf woman whirled at the sound of quiet footsteps, the pieces of her heart shattering further as she looked away from the silent form of her husband. "Alassë," she said in recognition as a slender cloaked figure stepped into view from behind a pillar. "I thought you might appear."

The figure bowed solemnly. "My lady is well-informed."

Arwen swallowed. "Can you help me?" she pled, voice harshened by grief. "That is what you do, is it not? Help at times such as this?"

"It will not remove your pain," replied Alassë gently.

"But it will help me with this parting?"

He nodded.

"Very well. How does one go about this?"

"It is simplicity itself, my lady Undómiel. Open your mouth, and the song will come."

Blinking back tears, the elf woman turned back to the effigy of the man she had loved so much for so long.

"You were so young when I first saw you

I close my eyes and the mem'ry starts:

You're standing there, singing softly in the winter air.

See the night, see the stars in your eyes now

See you falter, call out 'Lúthien.'

A strange hello.

Little did I know

. . .

That you were Aragorn – the true heir of Eléndil –

But Gilraen said, "Stay away from Undómiel,"

And you were staring at me blankly,

Begging her, 'Don't make me go.'

. . .

But she said,

'Aragorn, listen, you've got to leave that elf alone.

Should Elrond learn of this, all that you can do is run.

You may think that you're a prince and that she's a princess.

This isn't your love story, son. You must accept that.'

. . .

So thirty years later, in Caras Galadhon I see you.

We keep it quiet until we're sure that it's true.

We closed our eyes . . . escaped the world for a little while.

Oh oh

. . .

But you were Aragorn, I was the child of Half-Elven

And all the portents warned of great sorrows ahead

But you were everything to me –

I was begging you, 'Please don't go!'

. . .

And I said,

'Aragorn, come with me somewhere we can be alone.

I'll be waiting; destiny cannot be outrun.

You'll be the king, and I'll be your princess.

This is our love story, meleth. Just say yes.

. . .

Aragorn, hear me. No one can tell us how to feel.

Our path is difficult, yet this love is real.

Don't be afraid, no matter where our road leads.

It's a love story, Estel. We'll succeed.'

Oh oh

. . .

I spent forever waiting.

Wondering if fate was ever coming around.

My faith in us was fading.

When news of your vict'ry came to town.

. . .

And I said,

'Aragorn, forgive me, I was feeling so alone.

The waiting's over; our time has finally come.

Is this bliss in my head? I don't know what to think.'

You took me in your arms and in June we two were wed."

Here, for the first time, Arwen hesitated. She was weeping freely now, tears streaming down her face and soaking through the neck of her black gown. The pain in her chest was so great that she could hardly breathe. And yet, it was not finished, and so the words forced themselves out past the great lump in her throat.

"Aragorn, you left me, and now I'm once again alone.

I love you, and that's all I have for now.

We knew this would end – cannot fail at the last test

Of our love story – we long ago said yes.

Oh oh oh oh oh

. . . .

Oh, you were so young when I first saw you."

She slid to the ground beside the tomb, kneeling against it, her hands clasped over the stone ones of him. Estel. Elessar Telcontar. Thorongil. Strider. Wingfoot. Her Aragorn. The tears came fast and thick, racking her body with sorrow. Still, Arwen Undómiel remembered her manners.

"Hannon le," she gasped between sobs.

There was a light, warm pressure on her shoulder, the touch of a sympathetic hand, and then it vanished. Arwen knew Alassë had gone, returned to wherever it was that the Maia lived, leaving her to grieve in private. Somehow, she now felt more alone than ever.