Please keep this story's rating in mind, with this chapter most of all.

The Same Woman

By Rose-Arwen-Padmé

Aragorn Elessar

If there was one thing during those tense moments that could bring Glir out of the stuttering, frightful stage he was in then, it was his consuming hatred of Aragorn.

"You?" Glir asked incredulously, not believing. After a few more moments of pause, he stated in a firm, dark tone, "You."

Aragorn leaned forward in a mock bow. "Me."

For good measure, Arwen called out, "That is the man I love, Glir. Remember?" she sing-songed in a tone that underlined her true anger, "The one I told you who's eyes you are dust in?"

With a warm smile that he only reserved for Arwen, Aragorn sent her a playful wink. Immediately though, as his gaze returned to Glir, it became serious, grim…. deadly.

"Elladen!" Aragorn called, without breaking eye contact with Glir. "Fetch this worthless elf a sword please." He raised the sharp tip of his own weapon and pointed it at his opponent. "Let us see if the legend of Glir's swordsmanship was nothing more than a false myth, born out of arrogance and vanity." Elladen complied with a quick nod before hurrying off.

A bleak smile crept upon Glir's face. "I warn you… my skills are not of false pretences. Do not underestimate me."

"Oh, Glir," Aragorn mused in a deadly tone. "I already made that mistake months ago. I won't do it again."

After a pause, Glir cocked an eyebrow in mock amusement. "A well conceived plan, Aragorn. I would never have suspected you to be intelligent enough to first concoct it and then carry it out."

Aragorn replied darkly, "The plan will only be complete once your corpse lies beside my feet."

Glir broke into a wide grin—his excitement about the impending fight was gathering. "Ah, my—such harsh, black words from a man who claims to be so noble and dignified! You probably think me to be the barbarian, yet one could hardly tell the difference between yourself and one with your words!"

Aragorn began to orchestrate something of a dance—he would move clockwise, and Glir would move in turn with him. The two opponents circled each other with dangerous gracefulness. As he spoke, Aragorn resumed pointing his blade in Glir's direction. "You caused the only family I've ever known grief and heartache." His eyes grew shimmered with an even darker intensity. "You struck Arwen," his lips quivered with fury of boiling emotions, "and then insulted her lineage!"

Glir's eyes flickered menacingly. "Ah, yet another surprise! So you saw that little encounter, did you? Tell me, Aragorn, did you enjoy the show?"

Engrossed with the thought of the fight beginning, Aragorn called out to no one in particular in a voice filled with raw rage, "Get this elf a sword!"

Glir shrugged his shoulders. "I have realized my past mistake of not killing you when you were defenseless. Why commit the same error? Your fate and your life will be mine when a sword is put in my grasp."

Aragorn shook his head from side to side slowly, his chin low. "Your overconfidence is your weakness."

Glir harshly bit back, "Your faith in your so-called family is yours." After a few seconds, he continued, "Do you know what our conflict is, noble Aragorn?"

Silently, Aragorn nodded. Then he replied, "You and I are in love with the same woman."

"No, no," Glir replied with a frown. "That was an infatuation. No maiden is worth all this trouble."

Aragorn stole a glance at Arwen, who was still standing nearby, wringing her hands. "I disagree," he answered.

"I press," Glir continued, "that our conflict is really, well, mostly your conflict. You see, you can't kill me, Aragorn. I'm an elf—immortal. Surely you know this!" A hoarse laugh escaped from his throat.

A smile that could be called nothing other than sinister tugged at Aragorn's cheeks. "Tell me, Glir… what good will having an immortal body do you if you have no head?"

Glir's laughter abruptly stopped.

"Poor, poor Glir… he didn't realize that Elves aren't immune to everything."

While the dangerous exchanges were being passed between the hostile elf and man, a maiden stood to the side, listening anxiously—Arwen. Her brow often creased as she heard some of the dark words fall from Aragorn's mouth. They were so different from his usual calm, passive, and compassionate speech. This was Aragorn, the angry, protective warrior who had already seen too many harsh things in the world, talking— not Estel, the loving, reflective companion who spent quiet hours reading in her father's library and whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

Arwen had never seen him face someone he hated before. In fact, she couldn't remember him hating anyone else at all. It was so easy to forget that the kingly Aragorn was capable of such a raw emotion as hate.

"I seek vengeance for Arwen," Aragorn was saying. "You've disgraced her in a way no maiden should ever be."

The idea that Aragorn was doing this for her was no comfort to Arwen. Such a large part of her just wanted Aragorn to put down his sword, wrap his warm arms around her, and take her to their memorable tree clearing where they'd told each other of their love endess times. Instead, she could only watch as Aragorn and Glir continued to circle each other.

That is, until her brother returned with a threatening sword… and a crowd of disbelieving onlookers in tow. Their gasps rang in Arwen's ears. Elrond sent his son a questioning look.

"I am most sorry, father," Elladan began. "The guests were already on their way towards this abode. They quickened their pace once they saw me run by them with an unsheathed sword."

Elrond nodded gravely. "I understand." Seeking command of the situation, Elrond spoke again loudly, "Fair guests! An announcement is to be made by the one who speaks words this very moment. I have news for you distinguished ones." Immediately, all of the dozens of guests hushed with avid attention to the Elven Lord. He took a deep breath. "There is to be no wedding this day. Glir will never, in all the time of Middle Earth, be wedded to Lady Arwen Un—"

"Never say never, Lord Elrond," Glir broke in haughtily, echoing his exact same statements to Arwen over an hour earlier.

Sternly, Elrond replied quickly, "Hush, foul thing!" Then without missing a beat, Elrond turned back to the surprised guests, continuing diplomatically, "As you can all see, Rivendell's beloved Estel, Aragron Elessar, has returned, alive and secure!"

A wave of gasps arose amongst the group—apparently not all could see over the heights of their encounter parts, and had not realized yet that a ghost had returned to their midst.

Aragorn sent them all a brief appreciative look, and then returned to alternating his focus between Glir, and Arwen—who was only looking at him. He offered a small smile of acknowledgement when a round of happy applause broke out.

Glir's face contorted in disgust at the sound.

"A matter has to be settled in the rawest form," Elrond continued. "Both of the opponents have agreed on the decision of the swordfight. But I would like to extend the suggestion to the opponents… to, ah, move their duel into a more open clearing?" Leaving his voice hanging, he finished his question with a graceful motion of his hand into the nearest clearing.

With a quick nod from Aragorn, followed by one even shorter from Glir, Elrond led the way out of Admir Garden. Aragorn sheathed his sword, but gripped the handle tightly with one hand. The procession followed Elrond with Elrohir, who was followed by Glir, who was flanked by Elladan. Behind the twin brothers and the hostile elf that they had silently agreed to guard as they walked, traveled Aragorn, with an agitated Arwen on his shoulder. She gripped his arm firmly.

"Aragorn, please, do not do anything unless you know that it is the right course of action!"

Aragorn looked at her pleadingly, nothing but love, devotion, and timidness in eyes. "Do you not support me, my Arwen?" His quiet voice made him sound vulnerable and exposed. He only looked at her like this—he only let Arwen see this side of him. This was the Estel that lovingly kissed her goodnight; this was the Estel that told her he loved her with every fiber of his being; this was the Estel that would die for her.

Which was exactly what Arwen was afraid of.

Arwen raised her trembling hand to touch his unshaven cheek. She stroked it with the utmost tenderness as she said, "I will support you in all that you do, no matter what." Careful to still be mindful of her steps, Arwen leaned forward to lay a soothing kiss on Aragorn's temple. "I am full of your heart, do you remember, my Estel? And you are just as full of mine."

Aragorn closed his heavy eyes, his powerful emotions for this maiden temporarily overpowering him. He realized with a heavy heart that Arwen had remembered his words to her the night he'd finally told her he loved her.

He wrapped a firm arm around her shoulders and pressed her to him, and they walked like that contently. "Oh, my Arwen…." he breathed into her hair. "I am so glad that I was able to return to you. So very glad…"

Arwen nodded faintly. "As am I, Estel."

Their arrival at the clearing came much too soon for either Arwen or Aragorn.

While Glir went directly to the center of the forming circle of guests, Aragorn followed Arwen to a side of the ring. They were clutching each other's hands so tightly that their knuckles were white.

Aragorn stopped and spun on his heel to directly face Arwen. "You know that I love you, right, Arwen?"

She looked into his eyes with sincerity. "Yes, and you know that I love you, as well?"

He darted inwards to meet her mouth in a quick kiss. "My heart beats powerfully with that knowledge."

"Oh, I am so sorry to interrupt, Aragorn, but I have a fight to kill you in!"

They both continued as if they hadn't heard Glir's taunting voice. "Aragorn," Arwen whimpered, feeling tears below her eyes. "Aragorn, please—"

"Arwen, you must be strong for me. Be on my side in this fight!"

"You know that I am!"

Another quick kiss. "Promise me that I won't see you cry during this ensuing battle. I saw you cry buckets earlier today—I don't think I could do it again."

She grasped the sides of his face in her hands, and then Arwen leaned up to give Aragorn a long, meaningful kiss that left his lips burning.

As he rested his forehead against hers with sorrowful eyes, she said, "You have my love, Aragorn. Use it as a shield against his words."

"Aragorn!"

"I love you, Evenstar."

A last, desperate kiss. "And I love you, Elessar."

They broke away reluctantly. When Aragorn turned and switched his focus to his opponent in front of him, his gaze and demeanor were nothing but severe and fatal.

By now Glir had wrenched the sword from Elladan and was slicing it through the air dramatically. "Pray, tell me, Aragorn," he began wistfully. "Are you ready to die today?"

"No," Aragorn answered in a rough voice. He strolled towards Glir in a walk that mimicked how predators stalk their prey. "But that doesn't matter much. After all, I am not the one who will draw my last breath today."

"Well, perhaps you can at least draw your sword, so that this fight may begin eventually!"

Aragorn complied immediately, his steps quickening towards the Elf. His sword shone brightly in the sunlight, and its blade was razor-sharp. As Glir came ever closer, it seemed only moments until the two would meet in a fiery clash to begin the anticipated battle… until…

"HALT!"

Both opponents froze at the command of the authoritative voice.

Lord Elrond held up his hands, and all eyes were focused on him. Once he knew he had everyone's attention, he slowly lowered his palms until they hung by his side. His voice boomed around the clearing, "No bystander shall interfere with the battle in any way. The duelists are completely dependent on themselves in this fight. Have you both come to the terms of when this fight shall cease?"

With eyes locked on each other, Aragorn and Glir both said in almost perfect unison, "Till death."

Nodding as though he was terribly afraid that he might hear that, Elrond finished, "May the Valar be with them both."

It was assumed by everyone that that statement was the end of the speeches. They were proven wrong when a loud, determined, feminine voice continued,

"Especially with Aragorn!"

Many heads turned—with either an amused or a disapproving look—towards a heavily breathing Arwen. He father frowned gravely at her with his face, but his sparkling eyes told another opinion.

With one last word, Lord Elrond proclaimed, "Begin!"

With the hatred that had been brewing in him for months, Aragorn finally unleashed the rage and anger through his sword. The opening sound of the climatic battle began with Aragorn's, son of Arathon, Elessar, and Glir's, son of Egerlio and Irenil, swords meeting in a loud clash that rang in the ears of the witnesses and threatened to shatter the weapons into dozens of pieces.

Some time later...

The swords hit with another resounding BANG! "Oh, what was that, Aragorn?" Glir's voice mocked, taunting.

"I said..." A swing, a thrust, a parry. "That a body cannot survive without a heart. "He paused to block a swing headed for his left arm. "Even if the heart is as black as yours! You are not invincible, Glir, although I know you believe yourself to be."

"Really? I never would have guessed, the way this battle was continuing!"

With his strength failing, Aragorn lunged clumsily at Glir. He manage to add yet another deep cut along Glir's arm, but when he passed, Glir swung low and his sword gashed into the side of Aragorn's right leg.

The only sound that rang louder than Aragorn's sudden scream of utter, blinding pain was Arwen's.

Glir laughed as he watched his opponent sway. "Come now, do you really think you could have defeated me? I am a master in sword fighting, while you are just a pathetic hopeful."

Aragorn gasped in agony, glancing down at the bleeding gash in his leg. The pain was incredible. He looked up at Glir, who was laughing manically. He took a deep breath, and remembered what he had learned from his teachers and from his experiences. He must concentrate!

Glir stopped laughing, and sighed. In his eyes he could already see that this threat was finished. "You failed, you fool of a Man… and now you will suffer for it."

Aragorn looked up at Glir, and a smile hinted in his expression. "I am not dead yet."

"All in time! You soon will be."

Aragorn shook his head, "I do not believe so."

Glir raised an eyebrow, and then suddenly moved in for the kill. He came on in a rush, striking right and left, determined to take away Aragorn's life. Arwen fought to hold back a worried scream.

Aragorn parried and then thrust— he didn't have much agility left because his leg dragged and he could barely stand on it. He slashed up with a right arc, then changing directions to slice sideways.

Glir watched in amazement as his earlier movements were mimicked by the young Man. There was only one thing to do— catch the impersonator in his own trick. The moves were his, thus they should be easy to anticipate.

Aragorn saw that the Elf was falling for the trap, and set the bait. One curving strike and-

Glir moved to counter-act, but found that his opponent's blade was not where he had thought it would be. Instead, he not only missed Aragorn's chest, but he also had his weapon away and practically out of commission. He heard a chuckle from his intended victim, and realized that he may have had actually been overconfident. On the side, Elrond and Arwen breathed sighs of relief.

Aragorn's blade was also out of the way, and he couldn't use it fast enough to kill Glir. By the time he would have had his sword ready, Glir would have moved away. Briefly settling for hand to hand combat, Aragorn balled his left hand into a fist and slammed the Elf in the back.

Glir coughed heavily, his breath knocked out of him. The Elf was not fragile, but Aragorn's fist might as well have been a sledge hammer. Still, he managed to get away from Aragorn's grasp and came back with a torrent of thrusts, but the chestnut-haired man countered every stab and reversed many of the offensive measures.

However, while Aragorn was successfully holding off Glir, he was drastically wearing out. The injury in his leg seeped blood and made him weaker by the second. Glir knew it as much as Aragorn did, and he smiled smugly.

Aragorn slashed down, but Glir parried. The two warriors stood opposite each other, in a momentary limbo. Arwen took a deep for the first time in what felt like minutes.

"You have surprising skill, for a weak and feeble Man," Glir said, sneering, "But you are no match for my skills."

Aragorn gritted his teeth. "You, Glir, are nothing but fancy words and overconfidence."

"It is finally finished!" Glir reared up, weapon drawn high.

Aragorn parried, but Glir was very powerful. The two swords were brought against each other, driving against each other, shaking with the energy being exerted behind them.

Glir grinned as he saw that his strike was bringing his opponent down, and just when he was about to raise away for yet another, Aragorn darted his hand into the as-yet-unnoticed sheath by his right leg. In a flash, he emerged a long dagger, and thrust it deeply into Glir's thigh. The Elf cried out in horror, pain, and surprise as he fell backwards onto the earth.

Aragorn didn't hesitate. He raised his sword into a tight arch, preparing to cut it down upon the Elf.

Glir shut his eyes, too much of a coward to see his own demise, waiting to taste the bitter pain of his death.

And he waited… and waited…

But even after several moments, it never came.

Finally a trembling, gruff voice spoke. "I…. I am not going to kill you."

Glir's face shot up. "What!"

"I am not going to kill you, Glir. You deserve to die a painful death. You deserve to suffer immeasurable agony and ache, and I would treasure the opportunity to be the administrator of it all." In the beats of silence following his remarks, the clouds that had briefly covered Aragorn's eyes seemed to part. He spoke in a heavy, breathless tone. "But… you see… killing you would bring me down to your level of cruelty, manipulation, and pure evilness…." He moved to cast a longing look at Arwen. The couple's eyes met in a strong embrace, conveying what words could not. After a long moment, he returned his gaze to the loathed Elf before him. "… but if I was equal to you… I wouldn't deserve Arwen anymore than you do." He leaned forward with steely eyes, and continued in a low voice, "And one day, she will be my beautiful and very willing bride. I am not going to make myself unworthy of her." He turned once more to gaze upon Arwen, who by now was crying silently, although she was trying to hide it from Aragorn. "I love her too much to do that to us."

A gasp escaped Arwen's red lips, and she briskly wiped the tears that were tickling her cheeks away. Breathlessly, she replied, "I love you too."

Aragorn looked upon her with a kind of sacredness, and then turned to face Glir again. He leaned forward to extend his hand to the fallen Elf, but after a few long moments of reflection, Glir turned his focus to the ground—away from Aragorn. Resigning himself to Glir's decision to not split civilly, Aragorn turned and began to slowly walk away. His footsteps were heavy and dragged on the earth. His eyes were tired and his eyelids heavy. A trickle of blood followed him from his deep cut on his leg.

Arwen took a few steps after him, prepared to follow Aragorn, but stopped herself a few feet away from Glir. She told herself that there would be time for clutching embraces and desperate kisses later.

Glir stood gradually. Blood seeped from the cuts in his arms. No one dared to stay a word. Glir noticed with hot eyes that Arwen was still casting a longing look after Aragorn. Disgusted, humiliated, defeated, exhausted, and on the verge of insanity, Glir gripped his sword's handle firmly as he lunged at Arwen, raging, "IF I CAN'T HAVE WHAT I WANT, NO ONE WILL!"

Aragorn spun around instantly, his face frantic. He screamed with the terror of all of Middle Earth inside of his heart, "AARRWWEN!"

In a flash, Aragorn was crossing the distance between himself and Glir and Arwen with two purposeful strides, his sword ready and protective.

But it was too late.

The horrific sound of Glir's sword slicing into Arwen's abdomen would haunt Aragorn for the rest his days.

Aragorn dropped his sword, stopped in mid-step, with his mouth agape in shock and fear.

Arwen's gasp was meek and barely audible. She raised her tearful eyes filled with hurt to lock them with Glir's. He sneered at her once before harshly removing the sword from her. He had no care or mercy as to whether or not his brash action would cut into her even worse. As soon as the sword was completely out of Arwen, she started to double over in her collapse.

Seeing his love fall, Aragorn, with a face as white as his eyeballs, rushed so quickly that his hands were a blur.

One moment he was running.

One moment he had grabbed Glir's sword.

One moment the blade was singing through the air, its voice a haunting foreshadowing.

One moment the weapon was being ruthlessly plunged into Glir's heart, delivering a fatal blow.

One moment he was catching Arwen in his sturdy arms while Glir sank to the ground.

The next moment his tears were dampening Arwen's robes.

"A-Arwen? Ar-Arwen? No, NO! Oh, Valar…."

"I'll b-be alright," Arwen was repeating in a shaky, frail voice as Aragorn lowered her to the earth. "I'm an e-elf." But her words did not coincide with the evidence her paling face and rapid blood flow were producing.

"I-I'm immortal….im-imortal…" she breathed hoarsely.

Behind the anxious couple, Glir sputtered his own blood through his parted lips. His hands and feet flayed about the dirt floor as his body encountered short spasms. Aragorn didn't cast a glance at him.

"It's all my fault," Aragorn croaked out through his sobs. "I should have swept you into my arms and just taken you far away from here the moment I returned!"

He squeezed her hand harder. Straining, she continued, "I-I…I…" Arwen's eyelids suddenly fluttered closed, and Aragorn's panic continued to escalate as he fell from his hunches to his knees.

Glir finally stopped moving. His open eyes stared off into nothingness.

"Get her to the healer's ward! I will have enough materials there to help her!" Elrond commanded to the surrounding observers in an extremely agitated voice. "She is about to pass out!"

Not only would Aragorn not wait for others to come and lift his love away to the healers, but he quickly forbid in his mind and heart the possibility of anyone else besides himself carrying her. With his tears still falling on her damp robes, Aragorn reverently slid his shaking hands underneath Arwen's backside and gently lifted her into his strong arms. Once her weight felt secure, he rolled back on his ankles-- aloud cry of painfrom his leg couldnot be restrained from his lips--and then used his leg and thigh muscles to stand. Solemnly and quickly, he turned in the direction of the healer's ward and began his walk. The witnesses followed him silently, concern for their princess clearly evident on all of their faces.

Agitated, Elladan called out, "Someone of a stout heart carry the lifeless body of Glir away to the proper place!" Immediately, two able-bodied Elven men stepped towards Glir's corpse, and promptly—with out too much care—raised the body and walked away. Satisfied enough, Elladan followed his family.

Elrond fell in step behind Aragorn. By now, a deathly pale Arwen had already passed out and slipped into the unconscious realm. Aragorn, without breaking his stride and without looking at the Elven lord, asked in a voice that trembled, "Lord… tell me that our Arwen shall be well."

Elrond paused only briefly before answering, "There is no reason to believe otherwise. She is of Elven-kind. The life of the Elder flows through her veins."

Elrond thought that Aragorn had heard and understood when the lord didn't receive an answer, but after several tense moments the man replied, "Then why does my heart beat with such ferocious anxiety, and why does my breath come in such short gasps of despair? Why do I feel as if I must clutch my love desperately, as if the warmth of her body will not last?"

After several minutes of contemplation, Lord Elrond simply did not have an answer to Aragorn's frantic questions.

"Why does she react so deeply the way she does? She is immortal!"

Elrond let out a heavy sigh. "Aragorn… Glir has cut her fragile body deeply."

The ensuing silence hung between them, choking their hearts.

As the procession crossed over a bridge, bringing them closer to the healers, Elrond asked worriedly, "Aragorn, my son, you are exhausted both from your travels and your fight. I can see it in the way your muscles tense and clench. Why don't you allow a fresher one to carry your precious load?"

Without hesitation, Aragorn answered with an edge in his tone, "No."

"You have your own injuries to worry about!"

The severity in Aragorn's voice was enough to silence even the mighty Lord Elrond. "No."

Stay tuned for the final chapter in The Same Woman coming soon…..

By the way, hey Star Wars fans… did you catch a familiar-looking quote in there? ;-)