Title: The Voice of Deceit (Chapter 4/?)

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: I tweaked chapter two a tiny bit to smooth out some OOC-ness from Glorfindel and fix some tense problems I was experiencing. Nothing major.

And this has been written since Monday, but with the upgrades… FEH!

The Voice of Deceit
Chapter Four: Golden Dreams

She ran, just as she had a hundred times before; down the hall to the outer stairwell, continuing on, traversing the never ending hallways turn by turn. The goal as usual, to get to him. To Aragorn.

Arwen reeled her hands away from banister as a pulsing light invaded her senses. Stepping back slightly, she pulled her arms up into her sleeves. How desperately she wanted to exercise caution. How desperately she wanted to understand what was going on. Was this unexplainable curse some hidden power she had suddenly been able to tap into, or was she part of something bigger?

As hard as she tried, Arwen could come up with no explanation for this sudden surge in mental prowess. Perhaps there was no explanation at all. Maybe the time would come when she'd have to learn to live with it, and turn her curse into a gift. But she would cross that bridge when she came to it. For now, she was just set on trying to control it.

After all, it had become quite bothersome to be assaulted with a searing vision every time her skin came into contact with something as simple as a dinner fork. Not to mention painful.

Each vision she had experienced left her feeling drained and empty, as if a piece of her soul had been ripped out, leaving a gaping wound behind to fester in its place.

She continued onward, cursing the position she had long since chosen for her room, wishing she was no longer sequestered in the farthest most reaches of the house.

At the sound of voices, she slowed, straightening her gown and tucking any errant strands of hair behind her ears. Soft footsteps sounded behind her and she felt Morion slide her plump little arm through her own. Arwen found her so much like her mother when she did things like that. It was almost endearing.

Celebrían was larger than life, a Goddess who made you feel clumsy and awkward around her, like a colt who couldn't quite grasp the concept of walking. Morion was more like a naughty child who did as she pleased, and hell be damned if you got in her way.

But for all their differences, they still held that spark of life within them, that essence that allowed them to feel so free. Arwen felt like a crow around them, a scavenger trying to live off their happiness. They were the eagles, soaring through the sky, while she was stuck behind, taking what others had forsaken.

It only seemed fitting that she was haunted by the one thing she feared: herself. The crow.

"Steel yourself my lovely, deep breaths." Arwen obliged, albeit with difficulty. "Very good. Everything is going to work out just fine. Trust me." She patted Arwen's arm for reassurance, slowly leading them both outside as she continued talking in soothing tones. "I used to have jitters too when I was your age- well not exactly your age- but the feeling was the same nonetheless."

She eyed the woman suspiciously before turning her back toward the approaching Dúnedain.

"Oh I see. What would an old woman like me know of this love nonsense, huh? I could tell you a thing or two about love. Let me guess, you get that warm tingly feeling every time he's near? Butterflies in the stomach…"

Arwen tuned her out. She couldn't listen to Morion's well calculated distraction. She couldn't even watch helplessly as the men came within her view. All she could do was hope.

"I don't want you to leave."

"You know I must. Arwen, I'm doing this for us. There is no other way."

He nuzzled his nose against her neck as he committed her scent to memory, the smell of lilies reaching him as Arwen moved to rest her temple alongside his cheek.

"Don't leave me," she pleaded again, tightening her hold.

He kissed her swollen lips as gently as passion warranted. "I will return. I promise."

"And then what?" Arwen smiled coyly, moving forward to place a kiss on the shell of his ear.

"And then," he teased, "You and I will run off together and get married. Maybe raise some children-"

She raised her eyebrow slightly and crossed her arms, tucking her hands into the large open sleeves. "You Estel, have your head up in the clouds."

"And you, Undómiel, are your father's daughter."

"Don't you forget it."

"How could I? Especially when he reminds me of that very fact almost every time I speak with him. I'm surprised he hasn't had Morion sew it into my bed sheets by now."

She laughed and Aragorn pulled her closer.

"Oh how I will miss that sound."

"You don't have to leave," she reminded him as her hand began to wander up and down his chest.

"I will return. I promise."

"And that's how Lord Elrond and I fell in love- "

Arwen turned to Morion, utter stupefaction written across her entire face. "What?"

"Just making sure you were paying attention Darling. And now that I have that which I seek, I believe it's time to calm that little heart of yours. I'm practically deaf and I can hear it beating all the way over here."

She heard the thunderous sound of hooves bearing down upon her before they slowed down to a slightly audible level. She could hear the Men dismounting and greeting the gathering of awaiting Elves. And still, she could not find the strength to look up.

"Mae govannen."

His voice was weary, but to Arwen it was the most beautiful sound in the world. He was there. Aragorn had returned.

She raised her eyes slowly, trying to smile, but found she could not. He was as torn up as the rest of the Dúnedain. The fabric of his clothing was ripped and his body scratched from head to toe. Several men were sporting black eyes, and a small bruise was forming on Aragorn's cheek.

The healers rushed forward to begin attending to the men as the horses were led away.

"Aragorn, what happened?"

He looked at Glorfindel and smiled. "I never thought I'd be so happy to see your face again."

Glorfindel laughed and patted him playfully on the back. "I'll consider that a compliment. But in truth Aragorn, what happened?"

"We were ambushed by Orcs."

"Even more reason to strengthen the borders." Aragorn looked at him curiously, but Glorfindel just laughed it off. "I'll explain later. You, have more important business to take care of my friend."

"That I do."

Aragorn straightened himself up as he walked toward Arwen, exerting all his strength so as not to crumple at her feet.

She smiled, both out of pity and joy. "You kept your promise."

"And I'm glad I did. It does my heart some good to see you again Undómiel." He picked up her trembling hand, his thumb resting just above the pulse in her wrist.

He kissed her palm and she could see them dancing underneath the mallorn trees in Lothlórien, the golden leaves kissing their feet.

She jerked back, the pain of the vision subsiding to a dull ache.

"Arwen? Is something wrong?" he asked, his hand instinctively reaching out to feel her forehead.

She reeled slightly, frightened by the contact. Please don't do this to me Aragorn. I don't want to hurt you. She laughed lightly, trying to ease the hurt in his eyes. "Everything is fine Aragorn. Don't be silly."

He frowned, turning to the tiny figure beside his betrothed and smiled as widely as the ache in his face would allow.

Morion grasped his hand in both of hers and bowed slightly. "Ah, my Lord Aragorn. It's good to see you back so soon… And alive," she added, looking up at Arwen, the mischievous grin she usually sported present in all its glory as she nudged her charge in the ribs with her elbow.

Any cause for explanation quickly evaporated as Elrond stepped toward them, his brow furrowed in thought, hands clasped behind his back. A slight inclination of the head was all Aragorn needed to know that his presence was requested.

Aragorn looked upon Arwen's face, trying to pinpoint the cause of her unease. "It seems that your father would like a word with me."

"Indeed," came the Lord of Imladris' stony faced reply. He turned and walked through the archway, motioning for Aragorn to follow.

"We shall continue this later." She paled as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. He pulled back quickly, mumbled some incoherent apologies, and as quickly as he had come, was gone again.

The rest of the household slowly dispersed, gossiping to each other about the strange turn the Lady of Rivendell and the Heir of Elendil seemed to have taken, heedless of the shuddering creature they had left in their careless wake.

Morion wrapped her in a loose hug, letting Arwen lose herself in the soft fabric of the black cloak, like a baby bird being protected within its mother's wings. "When he kissed you just now," she asked, lightly toucing Arwen's cheek, "What did you see?"

She closed her eyes, recalling the infinite blackness and the ache she had felt deep within her heart.

"Nothing. And that scares me more than anything."

Try to make as much sense out of these as you can. Unfortunately, they were written about two months ago and even I can't remember exactly what I'm responding to. My sincere apologies to you all.

ArwenElfstone: So I screwed up your update soon wishes. Hopefully this chapter has made you happy, as it's going to be the "lightest" one in the story. Well, maybe the next one will be a little more so, but not by much.

Bwitched83uk: Yes, if they only knew that you really wanted to make it sexual. Which I suppose gives me a dirty mind because I assumed that you were intentionally putting slight twincest into your stories. But that explanation does make me feel better.

Cerridwen-Evereven: I liked those too, it gives me an excuse to bring Celebrían back. Fine, you may say that now, but I'm sure you've been tempted to flame something truly terrible. And I think the crow needs a name. What say ye?

ME132: In case you haven't noticed Kay, Viggo isn't going to be in this. End of story, no Viggo. But… You were in my dream a while ago. Sure you were an obese forty year old with bright red hair who worked at Wal-Mart, but you were still Kayleigh nonetheless. (Well roared lion!)

Valia-Elf: Wow, I really suck at this whole update thing, don't I? Sorry about that, it won't happen again.

Viviana: No idea how to respond to your review yet again, but I'm glad that you're taking the time to actually read this.