Aragorn lay still in both shock and amazement. A figure of grace and light, standing there with more brilliance than all the stars of the elves. "Arwen..." He whispered, praying that this was not a dream, or some figment of his imagination. He could not bear it, not to lose her again this way.
But there by his side she remained. Aragorn saw in her eyes a sorrow that he had never before seen, and a tear fell down her cheek, and onto his hand, which was now caressing her face. She smiled lightly. "im na lîn, Vanimelda," she said. "never to leave you again." She gently touched his face, the coolness of her fingers caused him to shiver, and he grasped her hand tightly.
"ú-uida ad nîn meleth" Aragorn whispered to her, meaning those words with all of his heart. They would never again be apart of each other, no matter what.
"Estel, it is not safe here. We cannot linger. I fear already that our enemy is gaining upon us. We must find refuge in a place where you can gather your strength. There is a war coming heavily upon you, and you must have the will and strength to fight it." Arwen called out to Asfaloth, gently pulled Aragorn to his feet, with Asfaloth's help. Using some of the little strength he had, Aragorn helped to lift himself onto the back of the great horse, distributing his weight as much as he possibly could. Arwen climbed on behind him, careful not to disturb Aragorn in anyway. With one hand on either side of Aragorn's body, she grasped Asfaloth's reigns, and they turned to the direction of Helms Deep.


The days of the journey went by quickly, as time always did when Arwen and Aragorn were together. Arwen took no notice of this fact for herself. Time she had. All the time in the world. Aragorn was not so lucky as she, He was mortal, and the days of his life were carefully counted. If she had the power within her, she would use it to give him the gift of the elven life, and make him mortal. Happily would her life be, to spend all the days of the earth with her love. However, this kind of selfishness was not in her nature. Estel did not belong as an elf. He belonged to the world of men, and with that came the price of mortality. That was something they both knew to be true. Gondor needed a King. A great leader of all men who would guide them through the harsh times of Middle-earth and show them the road to greatness. Aragorn could do that for those people. Arwen knew that, for she felt it in her heart. She suspected that Estel knew it too, deep down in his heart. But there was a lot of past that he could not yet let go of. Maybe he was afraid to be who they both knew he was. Or maybe there was something else. Arwen knew that Aragorn loved her with all of his heart, and if he were to claim his throne, he knew that she would go with her. The guilt that Aragorn felt never went unnoticed by Arwen. She knew that he felt a heavy burden when he thought of what he would be taking away from her. Was he afraid of letting her become a wife to a man? To live the life of a mortal, but still be ageless, and watch others die all around her? Arwen knew that this was not what he wanted for her.
There was no turning back now, and Arwen was prepared for the heartache, as she knew that it would come. That did not matter now. They were together, and for all the ages of the world she would not give that up.
They stopped periodically for rest. Arwen gave to Aragorn her lembas and some elven water, as she knew it would recover some of his strength. At night she would build fires to keep him warm, as she herself was not partial to heat or cold. And together they would sleep, in each other's arms. Aragorn, sleeping heavily as men do, and Arwen, dreaming as elves do. Both ever content, both wishing that these times would never end, and that they would remain together this way until the end of time. But that was not to be. And on the twelfth day of their journey, Arwen saw the army of ten thousand in the distance. The sheer extraordinary size was itself not to be missed, for it swept for the land like a giant shadow plaguing the earth.
There was time left nonetheless, but they needed to quicken their pace, for they were almost to Helms Deep, and they needed to warn the others.

Eowyn stood over the gate of Helms Deep, keeping a close watch for intruders. Secretly she prayed that she would see Lord Aragorn ride up to the castle, in all his glory, for he had not really fallen, but had devised a plot to make the others think he was dead. Reasons for this were still unknown to Eowyn, but given enough time, she could make it up.
But as she drew her attention back to the land, she saw something in the distance. A brilliant light, moving towards the castle gates, shaped like a rider and a horse. Eowyn could not exactly make out what the light was exactly, but she knew that it was not an evil omen. This was something of pure good, and pure soul. This was something that she had not before known. And for some reason, it threatened her.