It was as if he had strayed into a dream, that eve. Each leaf seemed to be shimmering with silver in the moonlight in the garden of Imladris that he had long trod within. The wind danced through his hair, whispering gentle songs in his ears; soothing his weary mind. Long had been the days since his return to his home, like the warm days of summer it seemed in his dark winter of confusion Light was his step, though, like a sea in a heavy storm, tossing and turning it about, he was lost in other matters. But here, there was no confusion, only peace.

Amongst the heavenly sighs that drifted from the stars and kissed his cheek, he looked from beyond the view of a mere mortal man. Within him, he held the blood of both Numenor and Middle-Earth. All hopes of a world slowly falling to darkness' turmoil met and ended within him.

Soft beneath him brushed the gentle blades of pillowed grass as he passed further and further into the ethereal gardens of Imladris. Night was of no time for the light of the stars nourished the heart and mind, more than any sun in the sky. Passing leaves seemed to bow as he passed.

From beyond the bounds of time, a voice called clear and sang like no other and enticed his senses and held him captive for a moment, blessed in shear bliss. No home was there to the song, only eternal hum through the boughs of the beeches. Then, like a light through the eternal darkness, she came.

Every life about her burst in life and joy. Never would he need comfort again. Though, this dream he had passed into was intoxicating and seemed to be leaving him drunk in joys that only an elf minstrel of old could spin into life.

As swift as she had come, she gracefully passed away once more into the forest; though her light, like her song, lingered on. With but only a new hope of life empowering him, he pushed on and came to where she had trod. 'What grace has passed here? No less of Luthien she was,' he thought. She still passed on, unknowing of his presence, and began to fade away once more to the mists of the evening that sparkled like gems in the starlight.

"Tinuviel! Tinuviel!" he cried after her. She froze as he ran to her. Before he but was in three steps of her, she turned to him, smiling.

"Who are you? And why do you call me by that name?" her voice, like her song, hung in the air, humming beautiful melodies.

"Because I believed you to be indeed Luthien Tinuviel," his words seemed empty compared. " But if you are not she, then you walk in her likeness."

For a moment, she looked to the ground and sighed, then she lifted her head and looked into his crystal blue eyes with two eyes that shone of great wisdom. "So many have said, yet her name is not mine. Though maybe my doom will be not unlike hers, but who are you?"

"Estel I was called, but I am Aragorn, Arathorn's son, Isildur's Heir, Lord of the Dunedain." The first time he had ever granted himself his full name, and yet it seemed so hollow in her light; he, but a shadow to a radiant star.

"Then we are akin from afar," she smiled, filling him with boundless joy. "For I am Arwen, Elrond's daughter, and am named also Undomiel." A glad smile, too, crossed his face.

"Often is it seen," he began, unwavering in his speech, though his heart pounded in his chest, " that in dangerous days men hide their chief treasure. Yet I marvel at Elrond and your brothers; for though I have dwelt in this house from childhood, I have heard no word of you. How comes it that we have never met before? Surely your father has not kept you locked in his hoard?" he jested.

"No," she only smiled wider. " I have dwelt for a time in the land of my mother's kin, in fair Lothlorian. I have but lately returned to visit my father again. It is many years since I walked in Imladris."

Within, suddenly, a foreboding passed over him. He felt small, like a stone next to a mountain. The wonder of what beauty, grace, and light he had stumbled upon overwhelmed him. Doubt began to seep in slowly as well. What wonder was this that he had come upon?

"Do not wonder," she placed her hand on his cheek, "Aragorn, son of Arathorn." Suddenly he was empowered again at her words. No longer was his name empty, but rather joyous and beautiful. "For the children of Elrond have the life of the Eldar."

Grimly, he sighed, but as a moment passed, he realized that in her presence he could not despair. "Such a great gift fate has bestowed upon me, then, Arwen, Elrond's daughter; to find you here. For ever light washes over darkness. And such light of yours cleanses my darkest dreams."

"Then I will light on, Estel, if only I can call you mine." An overwhelming feeling of life anew flooded over them both. All bounds of blood and mortality were broken, for blood can be washed by water; mortality forsaken.

"And Estel I will be, if as Estel I am needed, for here I swear to be yours, as Beren swore to Luthien, as I am here but yours and yours alone, Arwen Undomiel."