A/N; For a brief period, this story was called "Eternal,"but after a
change of heart and some inspiration, I've decided to call it "Walking in
Beauty."If you haven't read "She Walks In Beauty" by George Gordon, Lord
Byron, I suggest you.. Well.. Read below. Ha. But anyway, so I decided to
continue it. :x Things you need to keep in mind.. Arwen is having to deal
with mortal emotions, and living in a completely new environment, and being
a Queen. She's bound to be a bit.. Well.. Lets just say PMS-ie. Kay? We
don't have cool-calm-collected-elvish Arwen here. Other than that, enjoy!
Thanks to..
Everyone who reviewed the introduction! You guys just rock my socks off. ;)
b-witched83uk, Your stories make me cry.. And laugh.. And sometimes both. Keep doing what you do! I fear your wrath.
Viviana - No fears, I am the biggest A/A shipper around.
Gionareth - I'm glad you like it! I thought that too.. Apparently no one's first marriage years are a breeze.. I wouldn't know, I'm not married. :x
Taylor - Glad you like it that much!
Em (diabolique67@aol.com) - It's good to hear that something of mine is intriguing! I like that! I am an angstie girl. Rar.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
The snow fell in heavy sheets, and the weather was altogether the perfect picture of winter in Gondor. A cold wind would rush through the city, chilling everyone to their very bones. And it was in such weather that the Queen of Gondor could be found, the white snow mixing and melting in to her unprotected ebony locks. She stood high upon the balcony of her and the King's private quarters, her fingers gripping the cold railing. The White City glittered with the snow that had not stopped falling for three days, and it was a cold and beautiful sight. Arwen deeply enjoyed it, but the view did little to satisfy her quiet desire for her home. She leaned slightly over the railing, enough so that she could see her distant husband surveying the outer wall. He and some of his advisors were making notes on which sections still needed repair and which were finished. She frowned as she gazed upon him, his distance making it near impossible to make out anything about the fine features of his face.
After the war, Minas Tirith was badly damaged. They had built from the inside out, so that they were finishing the last repairs to the outer wall and outer parts of the city. Aragorn had been deeply entrenched in this task, and Arwen could understand his desire to turn the city back in to the center of beauty and culture. She also knew that he wanted to restore respect to his lineage that had fallen from the throne, for there were still doubters amongst his people. And no doubt the fact that he was married to an Elf would not help him either.
She leaned down and picked up a handful of snow, marveling at the acute sense of cold that she felt. Her fingers were turning red, and she let the watery slush slide from her hand back to the ground. Her fathers words were haunting her, and she could still see his eyes so clearly in her mind...
*Flashback*
They had been traveling to Minas Tirith for several weeks now, and they new they would be near soon. Her brothers and father had stayed near her, and as they stopped to rest for the night, Elrond had pulled her away from the camp.
"Arwen.." He grasped her hands gently, the moonlight giving him that ethereal glow. "I must tell you something.. For these may be the last days that I spend with you."
"Ada.." Her eyes swelled in tears, the bittersweetness nearly making the words impossible.
"I love you, my daughter. Despite how I have been cold to you concerning your love for Aragorn, I love you. It warms me to see that, even if you will die, you will be happy. I would rather see you happy for a time than miserable for ages. And it took me a long time to see the depth of your love. For I cannot stand in the way of such a bond.. For I too know how it feels. I love your mother as much as you love Aragorn, and he to you. I shall never forget when she left these shores.." He choked up for a moment and looked away, his hands brushing away the tears that he had tried to fight. "After all.. Your mother would be sorely upset with me had I kept you from your truest love." He gave her a weak smile, and she felt the ache of losing her family when she was altogether gaining a new one.
"Please remember this, Arwen. Marriage is not as easy as you would like to think. Your mother and I had many rough times.. But the good times outweighted the bad by thousands. Do not give up because it is not as easy as you thought." He had gently grasped her face and kissed her forehead, and it was the only outward sign of emotion he would show her again.
*******
Her father's words made sense to her now, and though she could not ignore them she could not forget them. He was right. But she was so hurt, and she was unsure of how to fix things..
Lately they had rarely spoken more than "Good night" to each other. She, stubborn and hurt because of his sudden absence due to his duties, and he who was too tired to engage a conversation, let alone an argument.
"Milady, Do you want a shawl? You shall catch a horrible cold if you stay out here much longer." Arwen glanced over her shoulder to see her personal maiden, Aladriel, standing there with a heavy shawl in her hands.
"Thank you, Aladriel, but I was just about to head inside." She gave a final fleeting glance to her husband before she followed Aladriel inside, into the warmth.
Minutes later, she was gladly sinking into a hot bath, scented with vanilla and cinnamon. Her hair had been braided and pinned up in a bun, and as she soaked her thoughts began to gather frantically. Tears gathered at her eyes as she thought of the past months, the scathing looks from Aragorn's advisers, who saw her as a threat to the throne, and the horrible whispers from the other Gondorian women. She had no friends, aside from Aladriel, and she was terribly lonely. And Aragorn's abandonment, whether it was accidental or purposeful, hurt the most. The long years of separation before the war had caused her to ache with loneliness, but having him so close but so far from her made her hurt even more. She sank down even further into the tub, crystal tears slipping down her cheeks as she coughed back a sob. She gasped for breath, desperate to keep the grief from overcoming her. Memories of happier times, times that were not that long ago, flooded her as she ran her hands over her face. Her arms gently wrapped around herself, her head bowed in pain. She missed the way his arms would feel around her, as if they were walls that kept out the pain of the world. Was she losing him to another? Or was she no longer tempting to him since he finally had her completely? For the first time in near three thousand years, Arwen felt the strings of mortal uncertainty and jealousy.
She could still taste his kisses, and she felt certain that his love for her would never perish. Biting on her lip, she gripped on to the edge of a towel as she stood, a new resolve sweeping through her. She would not let things stay this way, she would not let her marriage fall apart all because of duties. She would not let the people of Gondor think ill of her. She would prove herself. Brushing away her tears, she toweled off and went to dress. It would begin then.
The latest group of councils from another city had exited, leaving Aragorn alone with Faramir. He sighed and slumped down into his throne, his fingers gently removing his crown and setting it in the empty seat next to him.
"Tired?" Faramir regarded him as he stood.
"Quite." Aragorn murmured in return, his fingers massaging his temples as he closed his eyes.
"Well, I think that was the last group before--" The doors were thrust open, and a tall figure strode through. Faramir drew his sword quickly but Aragorn nearly fell as he realized who it was.
"Gandalf. You still know how to make an entrance.. And Legolas, Gimli!" He stood from the throne and descended, gladly grasping each of them in welcome. "You are most welcome, old friends. What brings you to my realm?"
Gandalf removed his hat and set his staff down, snow dripping from the old mans cloak and beard. "Well, Aragorn, King, we have come to pay you a visit. Things are rather quiet, peaceful, and all together boring. We thought perhaps we could be of some use in rebuilding the city, perhaps give you some rest?" The wise wizard's eyebrows rose as he studied the state of Aragorn, who was visibly exhausted.
"You look worse than when we were on the quest!" Gimli exclaimed, laughing as he hit Aragorn on the back. Legolas was the only one who remained quiet. He was curiously studying the empty throne that sat beside Aragorn's, where his crown was now resting. The queen's throne.
He turned to Aragorn with suspicious eyes, a frown upon the fair elven features. "Where is the queen? Why does your crown sit in her place?"
Aragorn turned and looked at what Legolas spoke of. He had, inadvertently, sat his crown down where Arwen should be seated. He frowned as a wave of ache swelled over him. He knew he had neglected her, he missed her terribly, but when he was done with his work he was too tired. He also knew she was upset with him. She no longer waited up for him, nor would she cuddle up to him when he would climb in bed. He released a defeated sigh, having realized with pain the mistakes he was making.
A silence fell over the room as Aragorn approached the throne and removed his crown gently. Placing it back on his head, he turned to his friends and gave them a smile. He glanced back to Faramir.
"Faramir, was that the last of the meetings?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Good. I shall retire early this evening, please see to it that dinner is served to Queen Arwen and myself in our chambers." He turned from his Steward and looked to the company. "I appreciate your coming. You have opened my eyes to many things.. If you'll excuse me. Oh, and make yourselves quite at home." He gave them a small grin and exited the throne room.
Arwen would be terribly upset with him, he knew. But he had had a special surprise built for her, and though the private garden would not be ready till spring had bloomed, he knew it would bring her a certain amount of comfort. He knew that she missed Imladris, her home, and so he had specially ordered several of the plants for this massive garden he was planning. She would love it. He smiled at the thought. Though it had been months, it still delighted him to know that she was his wife. Eagerly he hurried down the hallway to their chambers, ready to ask for her forgiveness. He had been a fool! The sudden rush of responsibility, and the weight of the crown had blinded him. How could he have pushed her aside like that?
As he pulled the doors open, he could smell the delightful scent of vanilla and cinnamon. He strolled in, the doors closing behind him. All was lit in candlelight and their food was already sitting on their table. A bottle of elven wine was sitting out, chilled with two glasses. "Arwen?" He walked past it all, frowning as he saw no sign of his bride. But then he stopped. He saw her now, she stood out on the balcony, her slender body wrapped in nothing but a thin elven gown and a thin shawl. He swallowed hard, her whole posture suggesting anger. He felt his mouth go dry at the sight of her, the mix of pure lust for her and yet utter concern for why she looked the way she did. He opened the door that lead to the balcony and crossed outside, the snow crunching under his boots.
"Arwen? What is the matter?" She would not turn to face him, but instead turned directly away from him. "Please.. You should not be out here in such thin clothes!" He slid his coat off and attempted to place it upon her shoulders, but instead she shrugged it off so that it slipped to the ground. "Arwen! What is wrong?" He placed his hand on her freezing shoulder, and only then did she turn to face him. Tears were in her eyes and she sobbed hard as she thrust a piece of paper to his chest and ran back inside.
b-witched83uk, Your stories make me cry.. And laugh.. And sometimes both. Keep doing what you do! I fear your wrath.
Viviana - No fears, I am the biggest A/A shipper around.
Gionareth - I'm glad you like it! I thought that too.. Apparently no one's first marriage years are a breeze.. I wouldn't know, I'm not married. :x
Taylor - Glad you like it that much!
Em (diabolique67@aol.com) - It's good to hear that something of mine is intriguing! I like that! I am an angstie girl. Rar.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
The snow fell in heavy sheets, and the weather was altogether the perfect picture of winter in Gondor. A cold wind would rush through the city, chilling everyone to their very bones. And it was in such weather that the Queen of Gondor could be found, the white snow mixing and melting in to her unprotected ebony locks. She stood high upon the balcony of her and the King's private quarters, her fingers gripping the cold railing. The White City glittered with the snow that had not stopped falling for three days, and it was a cold and beautiful sight. Arwen deeply enjoyed it, but the view did little to satisfy her quiet desire for her home. She leaned slightly over the railing, enough so that she could see her distant husband surveying the outer wall. He and some of his advisors were making notes on which sections still needed repair and which were finished. She frowned as she gazed upon him, his distance making it near impossible to make out anything about the fine features of his face.
After the war, Minas Tirith was badly damaged. They had built from the inside out, so that they were finishing the last repairs to the outer wall and outer parts of the city. Aragorn had been deeply entrenched in this task, and Arwen could understand his desire to turn the city back in to the center of beauty and culture. She also knew that he wanted to restore respect to his lineage that had fallen from the throne, for there were still doubters amongst his people. And no doubt the fact that he was married to an Elf would not help him either.
She leaned down and picked up a handful of snow, marveling at the acute sense of cold that she felt. Her fingers were turning red, and she let the watery slush slide from her hand back to the ground. Her fathers words were haunting her, and she could still see his eyes so clearly in her mind...
*Flashback*
They had been traveling to Minas Tirith for several weeks now, and they new they would be near soon. Her brothers and father had stayed near her, and as they stopped to rest for the night, Elrond had pulled her away from the camp.
"Arwen.." He grasped her hands gently, the moonlight giving him that ethereal glow. "I must tell you something.. For these may be the last days that I spend with you."
"Ada.." Her eyes swelled in tears, the bittersweetness nearly making the words impossible.
"I love you, my daughter. Despite how I have been cold to you concerning your love for Aragorn, I love you. It warms me to see that, even if you will die, you will be happy. I would rather see you happy for a time than miserable for ages. And it took me a long time to see the depth of your love. For I cannot stand in the way of such a bond.. For I too know how it feels. I love your mother as much as you love Aragorn, and he to you. I shall never forget when she left these shores.." He choked up for a moment and looked away, his hands brushing away the tears that he had tried to fight. "After all.. Your mother would be sorely upset with me had I kept you from your truest love." He gave her a weak smile, and she felt the ache of losing her family when she was altogether gaining a new one.
"Please remember this, Arwen. Marriage is not as easy as you would like to think. Your mother and I had many rough times.. But the good times outweighted the bad by thousands. Do not give up because it is not as easy as you thought." He had gently grasped her face and kissed her forehead, and it was the only outward sign of emotion he would show her again.
*******
Her father's words made sense to her now, and though she could not ignore them she could not forget them. He was right. But she was so hurt, and she was unsure of how to fix things..
Lately they had rarely spoken more than "Good night" to each other. She, stubborn and hurt because of his sudden absence due to his duties, and he who was too tired to engage a conversation, let alone an argument.
"Milady, Do you want a shawl? You shall catch a horrible cold if you stay out here much longer." Arwen glanced over her shoulder to see her personal maiden, Aladriel, standing there with a heavy shawl in her hands.
"Thank you, Aladriel, but I was just about to head inside." She gave a final fleeting glance to her husband before she followed Aladriel inside, into the warmth.
Minutes later, she was gladly sinking into a hot bath, scented with vanilla and cinnamon. Her hair had been braided and pinned up in a bun, and as she soaked her thoughts began to gather frantically. Tears gathered at her eyes as she thought of the past months, the scathing looks from Aragorn's advisers, who saw her as a threat to the throne, and the horrible whispers from the other Gondorian women. She had no friends, aside from Aladriel, and she was terribly lonely. And Aragorn's abandonment, whether it was accidental or purposeful, hurt the most. The long years of separation before the war had caused her to ache with loneliness, but having him so close but so far from her made her hurt even more. She sank down even further into the tub, crystal tears slipping down her cheeks as she coughed back a sob. She gasped for breath, desperate to keep the grief from overcoming her. Memories of happier times, times that were not that long ago, flooded her as she ran her hands over her face. Her arms gently wrapped around herself, her head bowed in pain. She missed the way his arms would feel around her, as if they were walls that kept out the pain of the world. Was she losing him to another? Or was she no longer tempting to him since he finally had her completely? For the first time in near three thousand years, Arwen felt the strings of mortal uncertainty and jealousy.
She could still taste his kisses, and she felt certain that his love for her would never perish. Biting on her lip, she gripped on to the edge of a towel as she stood, a new resolve sweeping through her. She would not let things stay this way, she would not let her marriage fall apart all because of duties. She would not let the people of Gondor think ill of her. She would prove herself. Brushing away her tears, she toweled off and went to dress. It would begin then.
The latest group of councils from another city had exited, leaving Aragorn alone with Faramir. He sighed and slumped down into his throne, his fingers gently removing his crown and setting it in the empty seat next to him.
"Tired?" Faramir regarded him as he stood.
"Quite." Aragorn murmured in return, his fingers massaging his temples as he closed his eyes.
"Well, I think that was the last group before--" The doors were thrust open, and a tall figure strode through. Faramir drew his sword quickly but Aragorn nearly fell as he realized who it was.
"Gandalf. You still know how to make an entrance.. And Legolas, Gimli!" He stood from the throne and descended, gladly grasping each of them in welcome. "You are most welcome, old friends. What brings you to my realm?"
Gandalf removed his hat and set his staff down, snow dripping from the old mans cloak and beard. "Well, Aragorn, King, we have come to pay you a visit. Things are rather quiet, peaceful, and all together boring. We thought perhaps we could be of some use in rebuilding the city, perhaps give you some rest?" The wise wizard's eyebrows rose as he studied the state of Aragorn, who was visibly exhausted.
"You look worse than when we were on the quest!" Gimli exclaimed, laughing as he hit Aragorn on the back. Legolas was the only one who remained quiet. He was curiously studying the empty throne that sat beside Aragorn's, where his crown was now resting. The queen's throne.
He turned to Aragorn with suspicious eyes, a frown upon the fair elven features. "Where is the queen? Why does your crown sit in her place?"
Aragorn turned and looked at what Legolas spoke of. He had, inadvertently, sat his crown down where Arwen should be seated. He frowned as a wave of ache swelled over him. He knew he had neglected her, he missed her terribly, but when he was done with his work he was too tired. He also knew she was upset with him. She no longer waited up for him, nor would she cuddle up to him when he would climb in bed. He released a defeated sigh, having realized with pain the mistakes he was making.
A silence fell over the room as Aragorn approached the throne and removed his crown gently. Placing it back on his head, he turned to his friends and gave them a smile. He glanced back to Faramir.
"Faramir, was that the last of the meetings?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Good. I shall retire early this evening, please see to it that dinner is served to Queen Arwen and myself in our chambers." He turned from his Steward and looked to the company. "I appreciate your coming. You have opened my eyes to many things.. If you'll excuse me. Oh, and make yourselves quite at home." He gave them a small grin and exited the throne room.
Arwen would be terribly upset with him, he knew. But he had had a special surprise built for her, and though the private garden would not be ready till spring had bloomed, he knew it would bring her a certain amount of comfort. He knew that she missed Imladris, her home, and so he had specially ordered several of the plants for this massive garden he was planning. She would love it. He smiled at the thought. Though it had been months, it still delighted him to know that she was his wife. Eagerly he hurried down the hallway to their chambers, ready to ask for her forgiveness. He had been a fool! The sudden rush of responsibility, and the weight of the crown had blinded him. How could he have pushed her aside like that?
As he pulled the doors open, he could smell the delightful scent of vanilla and cinnamon. He strolled in, the doors closing behind him. All was lit in candlelight and their food was already sitting on their table. A bottle of elven wine was sitting out, chilled with two glasses. "Arwen?" He walked past it all, frowning as he saw no sign of his bride. But then he stopped. He saw her now, she stood out on the balcony, her slender body wrapped in nothing but a thin elven gown and a thin shawl. He swallowed hard, her whole posture suggesting anger. He felt his mouth go dry at the sight of her, the mix of pure lust for her and yet utter concern for why she looked the way she did. He opened the door that lead to the balcony and crossed outside, the snow crunching under his boots.
"Arwen? What is the matter?" She would not turn to face him, but instead turned directly away from him. "Please.. You should not be out here in such thin clothes!" He slid his coat off and attempted to place it upon her shoulders, but instead she shrugged it off so that it slipped to the ground. "Arwen! What is wrong?" He placed his hand on her freezing shoulder, and only then did she turn to face him. Tears were in her eyes and she sobbed hard as she thrust a piece of paper to his chest and ran back inside.