The days passed swift as the winds that howled outside as the rain
continued, day after day. At last the clouds parted and the sun shone
brightly upon Rivendell. Arwen sat upon a bridge, clad in a dress of deep
blue, her feet dripping in the cool water below. Her eyes were clouded,
still as the twilight above, and her long hair fell like a shadow around
her, lightly brushing the cold stone upon which she sat.
Her mind drifted through memories. so many memories. It had been here, this very bridge, on a night not unlike this one. She had given Aragorn the Evenstar. Her hand drifted to her chest, fingering the familiar place where it had hung. It seemed so long ago, as though more then an age had passed since last she had looked upon him, and as each day slipped by she waited for some sign, some token that he yet lived.
Arwen sighed and lay down on the hard bridge, letting her hand stray over the edge and down until the cold embrace of the water below met her fingertips. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts slip away, running her hand through the icy stream. Darkness swirled at the edges of her conscious and she sighed as she drifted into dreams.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Darkness.
There was nothing but shadow, everywhere. She heard voices, so many voices. And then, one that was so familiar.
Aragorn.
He was yelling something that she could not discern and Arwen peered in the darkness, searching for him amid the dark. Objects began to take shape, a scene appearing that struck fear into her heart. Aragorn was clutching a hobbit, Frodo, to himself, trying to regain his balance as the stair beneath him swayed. She could see the others watching helplessly, fear written on their features, as he struggled not to fall into the seemingly never-ending depths below.
Sounds washed over her, harsh, grating noises of battle filled her ears and she winced with pain. Something shook the walls and sent a massive section of rock crashing through the stairway behind Aragorn and Frodo, breaking it and continuing to fall into the chasm. They were now stranded on a leaning island of stone, the Heir of the kings of Men and the Ringbearer, the hope of Middle-Earth.
Arwen watched with frightened eyes as he shifted their weight forward, struggling to keep Frodo from toppling off. They braced themselves as the giant slab freefell toward their company, leaping into the waiting arms of their companions as the section collided with the rest of the stairway, then continued to run down the jagged steps.
Darkness once again enveloped the sight of Arwen and she struggled not to scream as she groped for reality in the nothingness. Flames flashed all around and she gasped and struggled not to fall as the sudden glare threw her off balance. In the midst of a thin stone bridge stood the well known figure of an old man, clad in drab robes of dingy grey, his long beard glinting in the light.
Mithrandir.
"I am the servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn."
Arwen cried out as she saw who Gandalf spoke to. A Balrog of Morgoth, monstrous and huge, flaming, radiating hatred and evil. It's wings were spread wide so that they filled the cavern. He raised a sword, glowing a brilliant orange and swung. Gandalf brandished Glamdring, gleaming blade fashioned by the elven race glimmering blue. Faithfully it deflected the blow with a flash, shattering the Balrog's blade.
Gandalf's strong voice rang through the chamber, "Go back to the shadow. YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" With that he smote the bridge with his staff, light filling the air surrounding him. The Balrog glanced at the seemingly unaffected bridge beneath his feet with a quizzical look before he sneered, flicking his whip in a threatening gesture and then stepped forward.
The bridge crumbled and collapsed beneath him and he fell along with it into the dark chasm. Gandalf sighed and turned, a look of relief crossing his care creased face. Arwen watched in muted horror as the Balrog's firey whip curled and flicked upward, coiling around his ankle and dragging him down into the depths. He managed to catch the edge, grasping at the stone. She could hear the others yelling as Frodo strove to break free from Boromir's grasp.
"Gandalf!"
"Fly, you fools," he whispered, then slipped and fell into the shadowed chasm.
"Mithrandir." she whispered as the scene vanished. Soft light filled her vision and when it faded she saw Galadriel, clad in soft white, smiling, filled with sorrow and laughter.
"Welcome, Undomiel."
"Grandmother." she dipped her head in respect, "I have missed you."
Galadriel embraced her warmly, and then took her face in her hands, looking her in the eye for a moment before releasing her from her gaze, "Aragorn has safely passed the borders of my lands, does this please you?"
Arwen smiled sadly; he was safe, for a time. "Yes."
"He is confused, Arwen," Galadriel continued, "his love for you is great and he desires to be with you as well and yet he does not wish that your light should fade."
Arwen was silent a moment before she answered, "I know."
Galadriel turned to face her and studied her face with keen eyes of deep blue for a moment. At last she smiled and leaned over, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, "There is always hope, Undomiel."
And with that everything faded and foundered in darkness and Arwen slipped slowly back into reality.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Her mind drifted through memories. so many memories. It had been here, this very bridge, on a night not unlike this one. She had given Aragorn the Evenstar. Her hand drifted to her chest, fingering the familiar place where it had hung. It seemed so long ago, as though more then an age had passed since last she had looked upon him, and as each day slipped by she waited for some sign, some token that he yet lived.
Arwen sighed and lay down on the hard bridge, letting her hand stray over the edge and down until the cold embrace of the water below met her fingertips. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts slip away, running her hand through the icy stream. Darkness swirled at the edges of her conscious and she sighed as she drifted into dreams.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Darkness.
There was nothing but shadow, everywhere. She heard voices, so many voices. And then, one that was so familiar.
Aragorn.
He was yelling something that she could not discern and Arwen peered in the darkness, searching for him amid the dark. Objects began to take shape, a scene appearing that struck fear into her heart. Aragorn was clutching a hobbit, Frodo, to himself, trying to regain his balance as the stair beneath him swayed. She could see the others watching helplessly, fear written on their features, as he struggled not to fall into the seemingly never-ending depths below.
Sounds washed over her, harsh, grating noises of battle filled her ears and she winced with pain. Something shook the walls and sent a massive section of rock crashing through the stairway behind Aragorn and Frodo, breaking it and continuing to fall into the chasm. They were now stranded on a leaning island of stone, the Heir of the kings of Men and the Ringbearer, the hope of Middle-Earth.
Arwen watched with frightened eyes as he shifted their weight forward, struggling to keep Frodo from toppling off. They braced themselves as the giant slab freefell toward their company, leaping into the waiting arms of their companions as the section collided with the rest of the stairway, then continued to run down the jagged steps.
Darkness once again enveloped the sight of Arwen and she struggled not to scream as she groped for reality in the nothingness. Flames flashed all around and she gasped and struggled not to fall as the sudden glare threw her off balance. In the midst of a thin stone bridge stood the well known figure of an old man, clad in drab robes of dingy grey, his long beard glinting in the light.
Mithrandir.
"I am the servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn."
Arwen cried out as she saw who Gandalf spoke to. A Balrog of Morgoth, monstrous and huge, flaming, radiating hatred and evil. It's wings were spread wide so that they filled the cavern. He raised a sword, glowing a brilliant orange and swung. Gandalf brandished Glamdring, gleaming blade fashioned by the elven race glimmering blue. Faithfully it deflected the blow with a flash, shattering the Balrog's blade.
Gandalf's strong voice rang through the chamber, "Go back to the shadow. YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" With that he smote the bridge with his staff, light filling the air surrounding him. The Balrog glanced at the seemingly unaffected bridge beneath his feet with a quizzical look before he sneered, flicking his whip in a threatening gesture and then stepped forward.
The bridge crumbled and collapsed beneath him and he fell along with it into the dark chasm. Gandalf sighed and turned, a look of relief crossing his care creased face. Arwen watched in muted horror as the Balrog's firey whip curled and flicked upward, coiling around his ankle and dragging him down into the depths. He managed to catch the edge, grasping at the stone. She could hear the others yelling as Frodo strove to break free from Boromir's grasp.
"Gandalf!"
"Fly, you fools," he whispered, then slipped and fell into the shadowed chasm.
"Mithrandir." she whispered as the scene vanished. Soft light filled her vision and when it faded she saw Galadriel, clad in soft white, smiling, filled with sorrow and laughter.
"Welcome, Undomiel."
"Grandmother." she dipped her head in respect, "I have missed you."
Galadriel embraced her warmly, and then took her face in her hands, looking her in the eye for a moment before releasing her from her gaze, "Aragorn has safely passed the borders of my lands, does this please you?"
Arwen smiled sadly; he was safe, for a time. "Yes."
"He is confused, Arwen," Galadriel continued, "his love for you is great and he desires to be with you as well and yet he does not wish that your light should fade."
Arwen was silent a moment before she answered, "I know."
Galadriel turned to face her and studied her face with keen eyes of deep blue for a moment. At last she smiled and leaned over, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, "There is always hope, Undomiel."
And with that everything faded and foundered in darkness and Arwen slipped slowly back into reality.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~