Chapter VII: There Is Still Hope

16 Narwain, 3019

It had been three weeks since Aragorn and the company had left. I spent most of my time listening to Celebgil play his harp for me; lying on my bed, half-asleep; or browsing in the great library of Imladris. I was in my bed now, reading the ancient story of Lúthien and Beren, when Adar entered my chambers. I sat up, and nodded to him. I knew what he was here for.

"Arwen…"

"I have made my choice," I said without turning. "I will not change my mind."

"Why not? Is death so welcome to you?"

"No—but Estel is worth it."

"He will die, Arwen."

"And what of it? You have told me that! Say something you haven't said! Is our time left together so short that you must spoil it with your attempts to sway me? I will not be swayed!"

"I love you, Arwen," he said. "All I am doing is trying to make you see what you are doing—"

"I know what I'm doing." I turned away, looking out the window. "I do not need to be told."

"Do you see this as a game, Arwen—your chance to be different than the other Elves? Don't you see, you are plunging a knife into your heart—and into mine!"

I cried, beginning to weep, "Don't you want me to be happy, Ada?"

He sat down next to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Of course I do, daughter. But I want you to live—and I don't want to lose you, as Thingol lost Lúthien…"

"You already have!" I choked. "We have so little time before the end—must I always remember you as my tormentor? I love you, Ada… I don't want it to end this way."

"How would you have it then, Arwen?" His voice was cold.

"I would I had never known immortality," I said. "I would Aragorn and I were simple Men, and not kings or of the Twilight."

"That is impossible."

"You didn't ask the possible. But now since you ask it: I woul wait for Aragorn, and when he comquers Sauron, and becomes the King of Arnor and Gondor, marry him, and live with him in bliss for a time, and die like other mortals, and fade away."

"Arwen…"

I looked up at him. He, too, was weeping. I embraced him. "We have only a little time, my father. But we have now."

We sat there for some hours in silence, sharing the time that remained to him in Middle-Earth, when he suddenly shook himself, remembering. "Oh—yes. I came in here to tell you something important."

"What is it?"

"I no longer sense the presence of Vilya."

Vilya was the Ring of Fire, born by Gandalf. For the Ring to not be sensed by Elrond, who bore Narya, would mean Vilya's bearer was dead. For Gandalf to be dead would mean something fatal had happened to the company… and Aragorn.

I leaped to my feet. "What has happened?" I screamed. "Ada, what has happened? Is Aragorn all right?"

"I do not know, Arwen."

"Where is he? What has happened?"

"I do not know."

"Ada…" I continued to weep, clenching and unclenching my fists. "He can't be dead. Something must have happened…"

"We do not know he is dead, no."

"I know he is not dead!" I shrieked. "He cannot be dead! He is not dead!"

"Arwen—you will do yourself harm—"

I pulled away from his comforting arm. "He is not dead!"

"He could be dead."

"He is not!"

I ran out of the room. He stayed. Lambë followed me; she had been listening. I screamed when Ergil blocked my path. "Lady, what is the matter?"

"He's not dead!" I shoved past him, past Bragolcú, to an empty room further down the hall. I shut myself in it, sitting down to pace myself. In this room, only a few weeks ago, Aragorn and I had trysted. He had told me to meet him here; that he had something important to say to me.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I need you to know that there is the chance I may not come back, Arwen. That there is not as much hope as you think."

I shook my head, touching the pendant he wore around his neck. "There is still hope; you said so yourself."

"That was a long time ago, Arwen."

"How can you say this to me?" Especially now, when you are leaving so soon?

"I need you to know the truth before I go… don't carry false hope, meleth-nin."

"I do not carry false hope and I never have. I know the dangers. But I also know that you will come back."

"But if I don't—promise me you will go with your father to Valinor."

"I can't promise you that, Estel."

"You must… there is so little hope for us… it is almost gone."

I held his head in my hands and pulled him down to my level. "Trust me. There is still hope."

"What hope?" he asked despairingly.

"You. Estel: The Hope of the Elves. Trust you." I kissed him. "Trust us. You know there is still hope."

"There is still hope," I said quietly, awakening from my reverie.