Title: The Voice of Deceit (Chapter 3/?)

Author: The Converted

Rating: R

Genre: Suspense/Tragedy

Summary: Arwen receives visions that she believes foretell Aragorn's death. But as she begins to unravel the mystery, things aren't what they seem. Who is sending these visions, but more importantly, can they be trusted?

Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien… nor do I claim to be.

A/N: Hopefully this chapter doesn't seem too forced, as I was determined to get it posted before my three day weekend was over.

The Voice of Deceit
Chapter Three: A Woman's Counsel

"Morion, I must speak with you," Arwen exalted, brusquely rushing past the old woman.

Drawing the curtains closed, she turned and opened her mouth as if to speak, but stopped at the look on the human's face.

Giving her charge the usual once over, Morion whistled in disapproval. "And what have you been up to this afternoon, dearest? Rolling around in the stables again?" She gave a lilting little laugh that shook the light brown curls atop her head from side to side.

Arwen shifted nervously, her hands unconsciously clenching the light fabric of her gown. Stepping forward, Morion batted her hands away from the ruined fabric and unceremoniously began to pull it over Arwen's head.

The Lady of Rivendell lifted her arms skyward, sighing deeply at this affront to her pride. She was, after all, no longer the wayward elleth who terrorised the household as frequently as Elladan and Elrohir had, and as much as they liked to deny it, still did.

"Now take a deep breath and tell me- calmly,what is so important," Morion said, folding up the gown and searching for another amoung the clutter of Arwen's dressing room.

"It- it's about Aragorn."

Morion chuckled to herself, remembering the difficulties of her own courtship. "Getting cold feet already, are you?" she asked, trying to hide her sly, knowing smile.

"No, it is nothing like that." Arwen stepped into the dress being held before her, holding up her hair as Morion secured the ties near the nape of the neck. She faltered, unsure of how to begin. "Morion, do you remember the first time you were in love?"

"Aye, that I do. Of course, I was much younger then, and not so…" she gestured to her plump figure, "Well, you know."

Arwen smiled indulgently before her eyes became dark and clouded once more. "I too have loved. I loved Aragorn."

"Now what kind of talk is that? Loved? You speak as if that love is lost."

Her eyelids closed shut as she turned from Morion. "Not lost, just dead." Weak hands found Arwen's shoulders and led her to a seat in the corner of the room. "Oh Morion, the things I have seen. Terrible things."

Steeling herself as best as she could, Arwen began, careful to articulate everything clearly for the old woman's benefit, whose hearing had been deteriorating since her arrival in Imladris.

The words seemed to pour out of her as she explained every feeling, every vision, every event that had occurred since her talk with Glorfindel had begun.

She broke herself free of the woman's grasp and stood on legs that would not falter, moving across the room momentarily to move the curtain aside and peer toward the sky, before continuing to retell the events of the past evening.

As she listened, Morion was continually reminded of the kind Elf who had taken her in, pleaded with her own father on a poor wretch's behalf.

The storm whipped her cloak wildly around her as Morion clutched the bloodied bundle closer to her chest.

"Please Ada, all I ask is that you take her in. Give her a position, a place to stay."

She was by no accounts young, four and forty at least. One of the Dúnedain, or so they had begun to assume, long since stolen away from the family she knew, later torn apart from the one she loved.

Murder. Death. Betrayal. All hung heavily in the air as Elrond considered the possibilities.

"Do this for me Ada, just this one thing. You won't regret it."

She smiled to herself as Arwen's rushed diatribe began to slow, the end inevitable.

Morion stood once everything had been laid out before her and took Arwen's face in her hands. "How do you know these visions are sent with malicious intent in mind?"

"What other purpose could they serve if not to tell me that Aragorn is dead?"

Surveying her carefully, Morion used the one thing that Arwen couldn't write off as inexplicable: her heart. "And you Arwen? Do you truly believe that he is dead?"

"I don't… I… No." She smiled up at Morion, the woman who had become more of a mother than a friend. "Then why? Why send them at all?"

"You will know in time my dear, you will know in time."

Arwen watched Morion turn and walk from the room, the black cloak she was so fond of wearing flowing on either side of her like great wings.

Celebrían's silvery laughter floated throughout the room as she struggled to finish plaiting Arwen's hair. "Sit still for a few more moments my little one, you are almost free."

Quickly securing her daughter's hair with a strand of green ribbon, the Lady of Imladris sighed deeply and leaned back against the pillows supporting her back. She watched her daughter carefully, coveting the brief time they were able to share.

Arwen's ten little fingers inspected every object on her mother's vanity, before moving on to rummage through the drawers as well. "Naneth, what is this?" She held the silver brooch in her hand, marveling at the way it gleamed in the sunlight.

"My Naneth gave me that, long ago, and I gave it to your Ada after we were wed."

Carefully carrying the brooch between her cupped hands, Arwen climbed onto the bed and lay next to her mother, settling in the crook of her arm. "It's so beautiful."

"Yes my dear, it is." She brushed her daughter's cheek with the back of her hand. "And one day you too shall give it one you hold dear."

Arwen opened her eyes, allowing the vision to become weaker as it slowly faded to nothing. She held the brooch in her hand, the green gem winking up at her from within the eagle's outspread wings.

It hadn't been a harmful vision, she was sure of that much, lending truth to Morion's statement. Perhaps Arwen had been the foolish one all along, perhaps these visions were meant to guide her.

There was a great deal of movement outside her room as the arrival of the Dúnedain was announced.

And one day you too shall give it one you hold dear.

She only hoped that day would come.

Bwitched83uk: Oh, the Erestor/Glorfindel scene will be in chapter four. ::singing:: They'll make you take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain… With soap-on-a rope. I found Pope-on-a-Rope in California. (Which has nothing to do with anything, but oh well.) Now I see how it is Sadie: My story is only good in comparison to the crap you've been reading. "See Aragorn. See Aragorn run. Aragorn runs fast. Run Aragorn run."

Cerridwen-Evereven: Everyone is capable of flaming. Go ahead, give it a try. And the crow shall keep it's silent vigil, creepy little bugger that it is.

The Last Evenstar: I at least attempted fluidity if that's what you mean. Unfortunately, after working on it for about five hours, I began to forget what tense I was writing in. Now that's a tricky problem to solve. And Jenny dear, once again, you're being far too hard on yourself. That custard/world imploded ending was a brilliant twist. The chapter shall come in haste though, or rather, it has come in haste.

ME132: Well roared Kayleigh, much better than that stupid lion anyway. Maybe just a little bit of fluff, but only a little. This isn't supposed to be a happy story you know. That's the point. How can I build mistrust and confusion if everybody is hugging and unicorns are running back and forth across Rivendell? Awww, then it would be a cornucopia of love… and we don't want that at all, do we Precious?

Tusk: I sure as hell am going to try. The longest prose I've ever written is two chapters, but hopefully I'll be able to stretch this one out a little longer than that.

Valia-Elf: Well I certainly can't tell you if he dies, now can I. However… Would you be upset if I had castration intended? Well maybe not a swell head, but at least slightly bloated. My physician is looking into it.

Viviana: You know, just because you asked so nicely, of course I'll continue.