Disclaimer: ... bows to Tolkien. (Thanks wanderingelleth for pointing out the typo...)

So close no matter how far

Couldn't be much more from the heart

Forever trusting who we are

And nothing else matters


Trust I seek and I find in you

Every day for us something new

Open mind for a different view

And nothing else matters

-Metallica

Aragorn walked lightly through the springy damp grass, eyes darting warily from bush to bush, tree to tree, covering his tracks unconsciously, out of habit rather than caution. His mind was elsewhere as he came to the last leg of his long journey, the forest thinning out as he came to the borders of the Elf-haven. Relief filled his weary heart as he breathed in the fresh air of Imladris, smiling at the familiar yet still breath-taking scenery.

And yet, anxiety plagued the back of his mind. This is home, he told himself. Only, he no longer knew the meaning of the word "home." In truth, he realized, he had not spent many more years at Imladris than he had in either Gondor or Rohan - and both lands had accepted him as one of their own, after a time. It had been so many years, so many places, so many names... With each name he had assumed new mannerisms, to blend into the crowd and remain hidden. But behind the various masks, what remained at the core? Was he still the little boy Estel? And more importantly, would his family think so? Would his father?

The bedraggled ranger ran a hand through his unclean hair at the thought of the wise Elf lord. He knew he would look exactly the same as he did in his memory, unchanged since he had looked upon him as a toddler, while Aragorn himself was rougher, taller, dirtier, stronger, wiser and altogether different. Would Lord Elrond even recognize him? He closed his eyes and imagined the only father he had known, tall and fair and strong, his eyes proud and clear with wisdom of many years, yet sharp with pain long endured - Lord Elrond Half-Elven, the Fair, the Wise, the greatest healer in Middle-Earth.

Aragorn had always adored him as his wise, benevolent protector and teacher. He looked up to him in awe, and despaired at his own inadequacy. Compassion ruled the ancient being, despite his stern countenance, and he had never intentionally hurt his adopted son. But the words never had to be spoken. Although he had always been kind to Estel, the boy could not help but notice subtle differences in the way he treated Elladan and Elrohir, or the way he spoke bitterly of mortal folly in legends. Estel had felt in his heart throughout all the years of his childhood, that he would never compare to the beauty, splendor, and skill surrounding him. And though now banished from his conscious thoughts, this notion was engraved permanently in his heart and he carried it with him wherever he went.

But there was one whom Aragorn knew he could always turn to now. When the world had deserted him, she would be there, smiling at him as if she did not notice how unseemly he appeared beside her, as if she were not aware that she was the most radiant creature in Middle-Earth, that she should have been born a Vala, at least in Aragorn's eyes. He could not help but smile as he envisioned her black, cool, silky hair running across his fingers like water, her warm hands touching his arm, his face, his neck, as they kissed, and the rest of the world disintegrated. Her sad, knowing, yet hopeful eyes would fix upon his sea-grey eyes, and seem to bear his soul, yet she never recoiled at the sight of it. Instead she would smile, and kiss him and hold onto him, washing away all his fears, worries and guilt. With her, he knew the meaning of happiness. And he saw that he made her happy too, doubling his joy. Oh, how he loved her..

For hours, he had sat in the solitude of the room Galadriel had given him, polishing the ring of Barahir, the most valuable item he owned. It had taken a long time to get all the caked dirt and blood out of it, but he had succeeded eventually, and it had shined silver at last, its intricate design clearly visible. And then came the harder part. He spent the day with Arwen as usual, putting it off as long as he could, until they stood alone upon Cerin Amroth, watching the sun set in the west. He knew then that it was the time, and hinted at his intention, asking her exactly how she felt, and what her intentions regarding the two of them were. She had stood thinking for a long time before answering him, imagining a life first without her family, and then without him. It was an impossible choice, but she knew in her heart that she had already decided. There was no question. She would stay with Estel; she had to be with Estel. At this answer, Aragorn had breathed in relief, kissed her cheek gently, and knelt before her, holding her hand as she bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Everything seemed so perfect to Aragorn at this moment. But would their family ever accept their decision? What would her father say--his father. Perhaps truly his father now. When he and Arwen married, he would become a true member of the family--a dream he had never thought to realize. Perhaps now he would. But he would need to see their reactions first. Would they hate him? Would they think him unworthy and selfish? Would they allow Arwen and he to keep their promise to each other? Or tear them apart?

The questions ran through his mind in a flurry, and he shook his head, silencing them. He would find the answers soon enough anyhow.