The Same Woman

By Rose-Arwen-Padme

The Meeting

"What about it?"

"Well, the rain storms in-"

Glir stopped his sentence halfway. Both of their attentions were suddenly fixed on an approaching sound. Though the noise was obviously far off, Glir was able to hear it by the use of his pointy elf ears, while years of living and hunting in the woods had trained Aragorn's ears to pick up on even the slightest sounds.

"That sounds like..."

"Hoof beats," Aragorn finished for Glir. He listened again. "A single horse approaches."

Glir smiled. "Well! Although I had expected to enter the gates of my home again unannounced, surprising everyone with my presence, the thought of an encounter now does not dismay me." He looked to Aragorn in excitement.

Aragorn offered a meek smile. Something, his instinct perhaps, which had guided him through many things during his life, told him that this was not going to be just some elf from Rivendell to meet them. He could not place it, but somehow, he knew the person approaching.

Then the mild curiosity switched to fear. He knew who was coming. He had had an abnormal, beautiful connection with the creature since he had first met them all those years ago. He could always feel their presence before Aragorn even saw them.

He knew Arwen was coming.

Slight panic overtook him. He had hoped to plan for a long speech for Arwen. He wanted to know what to say. Now, all of a sudden, things were moving so fast, and Arwen would emerge from the trees in a matter of seconds. For the first time in a long time, Aragorn decided to hold his breath and just wait for the storm.

Glir was happy as a lark, swinging a bag around carelessly. Aragorn couldn't help but feel sorry for him, while envy him for his present calmness about the situation.

"So, our journey comes to an end," Aragorn said to Glir, who wasn't fully paying attention. "Our journey as traveling companions," his voice dropped, "and as friends."

"Look!" Glir called. "The rider comes!"

Aragorn turned, a for a moment the time's problems and concerns melted away, and all he thought about was her, as his eyes longed to see Arwen once again.

Yards away, Arwen hummed to herself contently. "Not far now," she muttered under her breath. Louder, she commanded, "Noro lim, Asfaloth!"

With a new surge of energy, Asfaloth raced even faster, gracefully carrying his rider through the shrubs and fallen trees. Arwen smiled. Her heart pounded in her chest with excitement. Over the sound of Asfaloth's light hooves hitting the ground, she could hear two male voices up ahead... and... and one of them was Aragorn's!

She rode on and soon emerged into the clearing.

Aragorn had dreamed of Arwen every night since he had last left her, of her smooth skin, red lips, and captivating eyes. He did this every time they were apart. However, each time they were reunited, her beauty still seem to amaze him and cause him to lose his breath for several moments. Even when he had been sure he had memorized every line, every feature of her face, every time he saw her she seemed to have another detail about her he could not recall that he missed. This meeting was the same as ones before.

The scenery blurred and melted away from Aragorn's world, leaving only Arwen, her face beaming when she caught sight of him. All of their actions seemed to occur in slow motion. Even while she hastily dismounted he ran towards her to meet her in his arms before her light feet even touched the ground, yet to him his legs could not seem to get there fast enough. It seemed like years before he had crossed the eight feet between them and caught her in a tight embrace, oblivious to the world around them.

Arwen held him to her, never again wanting to let go. Yet she pulled back only to grasp his head in her two hands and pull it towards her face in a fiery kiss. Aragorn returned her passion with even more of his own, and Arwen felt her self slipping to the ground as her knees gave way, powerless to the pull he had on her. He merely slipped his hands to her lean back, and pulled her closer, making sure there was no empty space between them.

After several moments, they pulled back, ready to actually talk and whisper loving hellos.

"You're here," Arwen muttered as she ran her hands up his muscular chest, as if making sure he was real. "You are actually here, my love."

He smiled adorably at her. "There is no other place I would rather be at this moment, my Arwen."

Arwen smiled lovingly, and they kissed again. Suddenly, something caught Arwen's eye, and she broke away in surprise.

"Glir?"

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Aragorn remembered that there were other people on Middle-Earth besides Arwen and himself. The color in his cheeks and the glittering in his eyes vanished as if they had never been there when he looked to the elf standing not so far away.

Glir's face was pale, his eyes lifeless, even as he stared at Arwen and Aragorn. His mouth hung open, and the bag he had been swinging merrilly through the air lay as a crumbled heap on the ground beside him, forgotten. His palms were balled into fists, and he stood as still as a tree rooted deep into the soil. No wind passed by them then, and even his blonde hair seemed to lay cold and dull against the green of his traveling cloak.

But what Aragorn saw next scared him most. In the deep pools of Glir's eyes, the intense sadness and destruction in them slowly, progressively changed to something darker, eviler as they looked steadily at Aragorn. They changed to balls of overwhelming hatred.