Chapter 2
Arwen awoke the next morning to the sounds of birdsong. She glanced out of the window, and saw that dawn was slowly casting its gentle glow over the land, heating up the earth after the long cold night. She arose as her chamber was bathed in warm golden light, and began her preparations for the journey.
Myria rose at dawn. She looked out her window, to see the sun rising over Rivendell, flooding the haven with soft golden light. As she gazed out over the tranquil scene, she saw a party making its way through the carefully tended gardens. Dew was glistening upon the grass stalks. She saw that they were heading away from Rivendell, and knew instinctively that it was Arwen making her way to the home of her mother's people in the woods of Lothlórien. As Myria looked, Arwen turned and cast a sad eye over the sleeping valley. Then she turned her back on the sleeping grove and began her journey.
As Arwen left Rivendell, she had a heavy heart. She had hoped that before leaving her father's home, she would have a last meeting with Elessar, but it was not to be. As her party crested the first hill, Arwen suppressed her grief and looked forward to her arrival in Lothlórien.
The figure stood, hooded and cloaked, atop the bridge over the Rivendell Ford. He was wearing a simple homespun travelling robe, and his face was hidden by a deep brown hood. The figure was lean and rough-looking, as a result of a lifetime of wandering. This was Strider, one of the Rangers of the North. As he waited, a sound of mingled song and laughter reached his ears. Shortly, a group of elves came from amongst a copse of birch trees and walked towards him. In the midst of the group, an exquisitely beautiful elf maiden walked with her head bowed in sorrow. She had pure, pale skin, and a divinely beautiful face, which was tarnished by the mournful expression upon it. Her bright grey eyes were downcast. As the party drew nearer, Arwen lifted her head and espied the Ranger. A radiant smile formed on her lips, and she greeted him gladly when the elves stopped upon the bridge.
As the pair tenderly reunited, Arwen's elven escort drew aside, giving her the chance to speak alone with her beloved. He could see by the pain in her eyes that she was troubled, but she would not reveal the nature of her distress. Strider heeded her words of as she told him of their imminent parting, but could not comprehend how this was causing the maiden he knew and loved so much distress. As they embraced, he felt the anxiety in her slender form. When they finally parted, it was with much sadness that Arwen Undómiel went upon her way. Meanwhile, Strider continued on his journey towards Rivendell, the Last Homely House.
Arwen stood and watched her beloved disappear out of her sight. She knew her father would prevent them from visiting one another, and that Elessar would obey the venerable elf, to whom he owed much. Bt why did it have to be? As she stood in silence, the memory of a song she had once heard drifted through her head.
How can I just let you walk away,
Just let you leave without a trace.
When I stand here taking every breath,
With you.
You're the only one who really knew me at all.
She turned to continue her long journey with tears trickling down her fair face.
As Myria traversed the woodlands of Rivendell, alone with her thoughts, she witnessed a cloaked figure enter the woods. The tall frame of the stranger was swathed in a simple brown travelling robe. As he drew nearer, Myria recognised him as Elessar, Elrond's adopted son. She advanced to greet him.
As Aragorn entered Rivendell, he glimpsed a beautiful young maiden approaching him. She stood tall, yet humble, with dark hair, held back with long braids, tumbling down her back. She bore a striking resemblance to Arwen...
"I beg of your pardon," he asked politely "May I enquire if you know of an Arwen Undómiel?" Her eyes softened, and she gave a clear laugh.
"Why, yes, for she is my cousin!" replied Myria with an angelic smile "I am Myria, Elrond's niece." Aragorn mused, for something the maid had said was perplexing him.
"Aragorn, son of Arathorn. I believe your kindred call me by the name Elessar." He introduced himself in return. "May I visit Master Elrond?" Myria nodded.
"I shall take you to my uncle."
Aragorn, son of Arathorn stood beside Elrond. When in Elrond's presence, he was known by the name Elessar. Aragorn had lost his father when he was but a babe in arms, and his mother had taken him to the home of Elrond, where the kindly elf lord had adopted him as a son, giving him the name Entel. When he became a man, Entel was granted the name Elessar, a name he was called by all of Elrond's kindred. To others, he was known simply as Strider. Now, Aragorn looked troubled. Elrond faced him with an expression of faint anger mingled with sadness.
"Elessar, my son," he began "seeing you with my daughter fills me with gladness, but saddens my heart. For we shall travel to the Grey Havens in times to come, and then Evenstar shall have to choose whether to renounce her immortality in favour of remaining on Middle Earth with a King of men, or rejoining her kin in the lands across the sea. I fear the loss of my daughter to you, my son, and this thought causes me much grief." Aragorn immediately understood Arwen's previous hesitancy, and despaired at their future together. Elrond smiled sadly.
"Elessar, Aragorn," he spoke sombrely, using Aragorn's birth name for the first time since the fatherless child Entel entered Rivendell, "Alas! For what is a father to do? I am happy to see you happy, yet I cannot allow my daughter to be lost to me forever. I am reluctant, my son, to cause you such unhappiness, yet it seems I have no choice. Elessar," Elrond said with great regret yet determination, "I would ask you to pay my daughter no heed that she may choose of her own free will her destiny. I advise that you continue on your quest to fulfil the legacy of you fore-fathers and restore yourself to the throne of Gondor. I am deeply sorry, Elessar." Elrond studied Aragorn with a grave face for a moment, then left the room, with his head bowed
