Bad news first. This chapter does not end the madness. Now, wait! Wait. Listen to the good news. I have the next chapter all ready to go as soon as everyone reviews. I'm also half-way through the chapter after that, which will hopefully be completed tomorrow or the day after at the latest. This title is from the Backstreet Boys.
Grumpy: Um, I'm gonna take a guess that you might want to keep the kleenex handy. *g*
Gionareth: Hem, is that a bad thing? *looks anxious*
Mirax: I'm glad, I'm sorry, and I can. Lol. Faint? No, no fainting, though his body would likely thank him if he did. If I really wanted to be mean, I could, but I'm not that mean. Really.
Steph-h: Um, yes, I would, but these things take time. *g* And I did notice. But the ending is in sight. Mine, at least.
Daisy: I rather fancy the crawling part myself. *smiles widely* Desperate people do such interesting things.
Um, okay, just to let you know, this is Mirax's fault. *smiles at Mirax* She mentioned wanting some anger at Elrond. I had another chapter written that ended all this torture all written and ready to go, then had to re-write it. *g* The flip side is that I did not like it and would have re-written it anyway. I like this way better.
So, quick review: read+review=faster updates. =D Now enjoy!
Oh, and I took the flashback directly from the Two Towers. Sorry about that, but once I got the idea in my head, I couldn't get rid of it. I hope it doesn't ruin the story. But, thus, the dialogue (monologue by Elrond, I mean) is not mine. Now, onto the chapter.
I Want It That Way
Arwen blinked, thrown by the question. No matter how she had wished for it, how she had hoped to hear those words spoken by this man, she had not thought to hear them. She had been too busy dreaming to expect the dream to come true and could only stare at the human, her lips slightly parted in surprise.
She was elated, her heart soaring, her mind crying out in exultation, but did not reach her expression, her body standing still even as she wished to spin and cry her joy to the heavens. In that endless moment when everything was still, no darkness could intrude on her happiness.
Then her mind flashed back to the last time she had been in this position, when she was the one eagerly anticipating their union, and her joy dimmed. Remembering Aragorn's eyes, she found it difficult to convince herself she stood before the same man. His eyes had been so hard, closed as she had never seen them, and her heart quailed at the thought that this man, the one who stood so hopefully, could be but a passing phase. She could not bear the thought that she could wake up one day and find herself once again alone. She blinked and licked her lips nervously, then glanced at her father. What he had said flashed through her mind, taking her back to that day, that dreadful day when she had feared Aragorn would never return and hoped to gain everything she had dreamed of.
~*~
She sat on the low bed, the curtains, light and sheer, billowing in the light breeze from outside, the light showing through them cast a bluish tint on everything in the room, and her eyes traced the path her father walked towards one of the far windows looking out over Imladris, her words of hope seeming to die in the air between them. It was cruel of them to fade before her even as she grasped at them, holding desperately to that light as Elrond put voice to the fears in her heart.
"If Aragorn survives this war, you will still be parted. If Sauron is defeated and Aragorn made King, and all that you hope for comes true, you will still have to taste the bitterness of mortality."
Against her will, images seemed to appear before her eyes, heralded by a strange wind, pushing her to a different time, giving testament to her father's words even as she was barely aware that he continued to speak.
"Whether by the sword or the slow decay of time, Aragorn will die."
Blinding white light flashed before her eyes, eliminating her room and forcing her to blink. When she opened them, she stood beside pyre, gazing down at the aged yet still handsome visage of Aragorn, eyes forever closed in death, laid out in fine maroon robes trimmed in braided gold to match her dress. She leaned forward and rested a hand upon his breast, automatically feeling for the pulse that was not there and would never be there again.
"And there will be no comfort for you, no comfort to ease the pain of his passing."
She gasped quietly, desperate for air that her grief denied, the pain strangling, and she fought against the tears that so wanted release, her bottom lip quivering slightly. She did not notice the faint breeze that teased her headdress, nor the grieving couple that passed her by, too focused was she on the face that would never smiles for her again, never look at her with love and tenderness, the grief a storm rising up inside her, threatening to break her and fling her to pieces.
And still her father spoke. "He will come to death, an image of the splendor of the Kings of Men, in glory undimmed before the changing of the world."
Time seemed to pass before her eyes, and the splendor of Minas Tirith faded though she could not tell if that was true or if it was her own eyes that painted the land thus, seen through grief that did not fade and destroyed by pain.
Aragorn still lay before her, carved from stone, forever to be remembered by the people who loved him, out of reach of the one who loved him. She stood, a silent sentinel dressed in black, relying on her sheer black veil to hide her grief from those who could never understand it.
She felt she had died a hundred times, yet still walked the earth. She wished for death when she lay down, tears slipping from her cheeks as the emptiness inside was mirrored by the emptiness beside her, and still she lingered on, her pain in grief matched only by her disappointment each time she woke to find she had yet to fade.
The crown she yet wore weighed heavily on her spirit, and her father's voice still drifted to her ears. "But you, my daughter. You will linger on, in darkness and in doubt, as night fall in winter that comes without a star. Here you will dwell, bound to your grief," and she was back in Lothlorien, wandering the forests around her home. Alone, all alone, "under the fading trees. Until all the world is changed and all the long years of your life are utterly spent."
Then, just as it had come, it had gone, but the grief it left behind was not so easily vanquished and a tear slipped down her cheek, others pooled in her deep blue eyes, ready to follow. She was only distantly aware of the elven lord turning to face her once more and wondered if he knew what he did, the pain he caused her with his words, wondered if it was worth it to feel such pain.
"Arwen." She gasped, startled back into herself with the call of her name. "There is nothing for you here. Only death."
The rest of her tears, long held at bay, slipped past her lashes, and she slowly turned her eyes towards her father, her lip quivering as she struggled to hold back the sobs that wanted release with her tears. with her eyes, she pleaded with him to tell her he was wrong, to take it all back and say everything would be well, that her love of Aragorn could still be.
He did none of it, and she watched hopelessly as he approached, tearful eyes meeting his as he sat beside her, his gentle hand brushing her hair back from her face. And in her native tongue, he asked, "Do I not also have your love?" his eyes pleading with her not to leave him.
Drained, she had not the strength left to deny him.
~*~
She closed her eyes, pressing the memory back. It was hard to believe that what she had fought so hard for was here, placed before her on his knees, offering the one thing she had wanted more than anything, only to find herself hesitating. A decade ago, she would not have given the matter a second thought, had not spared a single consideration for the thought that perhaps their marriage was not to be.
Ten years ago, her heart had still been whole, undamaged by the grief of betrayal. But that was not true any more, and her mind strayed down a path she had not dared to dread, leading inexorably to a conclusion she did not want to admit, did not want to acknowledge: her father was right.
A shaky breath loosed the air that had become trapped in her lungs, and she forced her eyes to refocus on the man before her, to take in his eyes and his face, his lips, his hands, to deny her heart and tell her love what she knew she had to say.
She felt numb, but this could not be put off. She opened her mouth, and her lip quivered even as her voice did. "I cannot." Startled gasps threw her but she plowed on, still staring into silver eyes, and pulled her hands from his. "Once we were meant to be; this is not then." She struggled with herself to say more, to bid him not take her denial to heart, but no words came, and all she could manage was, "I'm sorry."
Then she turned and did the only thing she could think of. She ran.
*~*~*~*~*
Aragorn did not move, merely watched her leave, his mind barely registering her departure through the pain of his wounds. His eyes stared, unseeing, searching about him for what he could not find, would never find again. He was cast adrift, cut loose in a storm of his own making without any means to find safe harbor. There was nowhere to go. Once, by his own hand had nearly overwhelmed him. Twice was too much for him to bear.
He had thought he was prepared, thought he could handle her rejection and gracefully bow out, let her continue on her chosen path and return to where he had been, no worse for the wear but sure he had done the right thing. Now, too late, he realized that the right thing was what he had not done, and that he could never go back again.
Slowly, he slumped forward, his forearms resting on the ground, crossed before him as the crazy determination that had sustained him gave way and his strength failed. His head sank down to rest on his crossed wrists and di not move. In the pain that followed, he found he did not even have the strength to cry. He simply was.
*~*~*~*~*
Elrond's mouth hung open in surprise as he stared at the empty space where his daughter had stood just moments before, unable--or unwilling--to comprehend what had just happened.
He had thought he had known what would happen, but he had not expected this. Of all the scenarios he and the twins had feared--that they would arrive too late, that Aragorn would not come--they had never dreamed that Arwen would deny her heart and push Aragorn away. It was a cruel reversal of fortune.
He glanced over at Elladan and Elrohir and found similar expressions of shock on their faces, their sister's actions a surprise to them as well, though that was no comfort to him. He had a feeling he knew what this was about, and his heart sank.
Hesitantly, his gaze swung around the other way and focused on Galadriel. She alone of the company did not look surprised, and not for the first time he wondered what truly passed behind those fathomless eyes of hers that seemed to see all and show naught. Her eyes stared sadly off into the distance, tracing the path Arwen had run, away from them and away from the sea.
Galadriel felt his gaze and turned to face him, her eyes sharpening. "Go after her," he heard in his mind, the elf-maiden's crystal blue eyes burning into his from across the way.
Still in shock, he did the only thing he could do: he went.