Behind Stone Doors

By The Last Evenstar

A/N: I'M SORRY! I know just how torturous it is when people don't update on their regular schedule and I apologize profusely. But like I said before, it was not a relaxing week, what with midterms and play auditions. Good news, though – I won the role of Essie in You Can't Take it With You, which is a terrifically funny play. Actually, that might be bad news, because it means less stories and less frequent updates, due to the grueling rehearsal schedule. Plus, I'll be devoting even more time to the PotC fic I'm co-writing with Anamaria Elentari (if you like Pirates of the Caribbean and outrageous humor, the link is in my profile).

So it seems that not everyone loves a cliffhanger. Hmmmm. Too bad; they're my sole purpose in life. So in an effort to appease everyone:

Blackbird10 - Ending? What ending? That was no ending! Because if it were, Aragorn would be sad, then I would be sad because Aragorn was sad, and then the world would fall apart!

Meleth - I would NEVER let Arwen die. Aragorn would be MUCH to upset.

AmberRose - I don't think Eldarion will be born in the vicinity of this story, so that'a not really an issue. I hate it too when people mess up Aragorn's and Arwen's children.

Natters - Eek! is right. Don't worry, a happy ending is on the way.

sayinjinj7 - I hope not. I just thought it was a nice detail.

Anamaria Elentari - It's not like you don't have the chance to ask me EVERY DAY what happens AFTER the cliffhanger.

ArwenSolo - Well, I wouldn't want you to go insane . . . you might end up like me . . .

b-witched83uk - Ah, swamped with stuff to do? Boy, do I know the feeling. My cliffhanger is very offended by your comments. But it thanks you for your support. (I'm kidding - just in case)

Dictionary - I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be mean! Here, another chapter!

prettiest in pink - Hell yeah! If Eowyn can't kick ass, who can?

The Converted - *cowers under must kill Neo face* Never, never, would I make an unhappy ending! Then I would be sad! And I'd prefer to be happy!

magsluvsaragorn - So glad you like it.

Cerridwen-Evereven - You don't REALLY love a cliffhanger, do you?

steph-h - Consider it dead.

Raquel - Yay! Delicious! That's a very nice word that you don't hear every day! *basks*

McKenna - Oh, I would never kill Arwen. She's my hero. Sometimes I AM her.

Lady Arwen - Kill Aragorn? Never! Does everyone here think I'm a homicidal maniac?

tars - Thank you! I try my best.

Alioth - Hmmm. You seems a bit schizophrenic. Shall I call you Smeagol? And in answer to your question, NO.

mata - Sorry. Here you are.

Queen Arwen Undomiel - I adore people who adore this story!

Queen Arwen - Oh, I suspect the reunion will be something phenomenal. Maybe a whole chapter long . . .

And on that happy note . . .

Chapter Seven: The Grace of Luthien

Faramir spoke grimly. "Are you sure?"

Aragorn nodded. "Positive." He sighed wistfully. "I hope she's all right."

"Why shouldn't she be? She's safe behind the stone doors of Minas Tirith. With Éowyn."

The King looked away guiltily. His good judgement had told him not to tell Faramir anything of his wife until the battle was fought. "Yes. Yes, you're right. I just don't want her to wear out her strength."

Faramir shook his head. "She'll be fine! We need to worry about the real problem!"

Aragorn opened his mouth to protest that Arwen, his Queen, was more important than anything else in the world, but then he remembered the army lying in wait for them. He groaned in frustration. "I don't see what we can do. We just DON'T have the forces to counter them. If only we could get word to Rohan, or to Arnor –"

The Prince of Ithilien grimaced. "Eomer offered us five thousand men. Men which we're now in desperate need of."

Aragorn sighed. "It's too late. No one could have predicted that the Southerners would rise up like this." He lay his head in his hands. "It seems so hopeless."

"This from the man that led us to the gates of Mordor? Aragorn, I've never known you to give up at anything. Not even ninepins."

The King grinned in spite of himself. "You're right, Faramir. And this isn't the end of the world. Just a particularly brutal situation that needs to be dealt with." He thought back on everything he was trying to protect; how far he had come since the beginning. The life he sought to return to was waiting for him in Minas Tirith. "Come Mordor or high water, I WILL figure this out."

Arwen knew she had passed beyond the realm of the Living. What was wrong was that she could not pull out and drift into the realm of the Dead. She had fought with all her strength, but there was none left. She could not regain her living consciousness, nor could she rest.

She was trapped.

Oh, Valar! she prayed. Guide me back. Let me return!

At once a warm, sweet scent filled her nose. She felt the soft tingling of her body, and yet she felt so erethreal that there was no way she could yet be real. She tried to open her eyes, and there was light. The soft music of an Elven minstrel filled her ears.

She tried, confused, to assess the situation. Where am I?

At once she saw a woman, coming forth with her arms raised in a comforting gesture of friendship, bathed in the silver like of surrealism. With a start Arwen found herself facing - what? A clone? A doppelganger? An image of HER?

As the figure drew closer Arwen realized that they were not exactly identical. The woman's hair was lighter than hers, and her face was slightly more angular. The tip of her ears came to a finer point, and she held herself with the state of regality that Arwen had all but lost since joining the world of Men. But other than that, they could have been twins.

Arwen gaped. "L-luthien?"

The elf's lips curled into a fine smile that Arwen recognized from the looking glass. "It is I."

She dropped to her knees. "Where am I? What is happening? Am I dead, then?"

The stately woman shook her head. "You attempted a magic far beyond your drained power. It was rash and foolish and irresponsible, and now I must waste my time saving you."

Arwen's head dropped. Luthien laughed.

"And I heartily approve." Arwen looked up, startled. "Dear child, I have eternity to waste. You did a wonderful thing. I wonder even if I myself would be brave enough."

Arwen trembled, trying to speak. "You will help me? I will see him again?" she whispered, transfixed.

Luthien laughed. "You and I, Arwen, daughter of Elrond! You and I both know."

"Know?"

Luthien smiled wistfully. "We have both loved a mortal man. We have both felt things so far beyond the emotions that our kind are taught to convey." She smiled, her eyes far off in the distance. "Before I knew Beren I knew nothing. Not love, not hurt, not anything. Elves are taught to hide their emotions, and as a result they are distant and polite. Human open up a whole other world of love and passion."

Arwen nodded fervently. "For three thousand years I roamed the earth with no one, and thought nothing of it. Then I met Aragorn, and never was he not in my mind. It was exciting and it was forbidden, but the real reason I stayed with him was because I knew he loved me in a way no one else ever could."

"And you had him, in the end." Luthien's eyes darkened. "I was not so lucky."

Arwen touched her hand. "I'm sorry."

The Elf shook her head. "It wasn't your fault. And now we are together in death." She sighed. "But in life, we never got that chance. I never knew how it was to marry and raise a family." She glanced at Arwen's stomach. "And if I couldn't, I intend to make sure that someone does."

Arwen felt herself brimming over with joy. "Do you mean that? I can – I can live despite what I did? My son will live?"

Luthien grinned. "He will grow and prosper, and one day be King."

In an instant, all the pieces of Arwen's life flew back together. "Oh, thank you!"

Her look-alike smiled gravely. "He is in a dire situation, this man of yours, but do not be too hasty to protect him. The banner you made saved him once, twice, and again, but at the end of the day you must trust in him."

Arwen bit her lip. "I do! He's the best warrior in all of Middle-Earth! I just want him to come home," she said, near tears.

Luthien shook her head. "Go on, then. Return to the King."

And with a burst of magic, Arwen opened her eyes.

"My Lord!" Beregond came thundering up, his great black stallion rearing. "There is a force of then men arriving from the East. Five thousand strong!"

Aragorn looked at Faramir, aghast. "Five thousand? Where could they get such a force?" He looked up at Beregond. "Are you sure of their identity?"

The general nodded uncertainly. "Only one of our riders returned, and died of arrow wounds shortly after he relayed the message. They're coming on strong. I suggest you ready the men now."

Aragorn nodded, a pit of hopelessness growing in his heart. How could they combat such an army? Where were all these men coming from?

With a sigh he turned toward the encampment and shouted an order. He drew Anduril, looking grim. Hopeless or not, the men of Gondor would fight to the very last.