AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks once again for the lovely reviews!. Don't worry Tinúviel Undómiel...there will be plenty of romance later :). Lindahoyland: thanks so much! I hope to write many more stories in time, but I might be a little slow when high school starts up again :D. Here's chapter 6!
Elrond greeted the man he called a son warmly. "Aragorn, you have returned at last! It has been long."
"Indeed," Aragorn smiled. "I am glad to return. It will be a long tale to tell of what I have done in all these years."
"And I shall be glad to hear of it," said Elrond. His piercing gaze moved to join Aragorn's, who knew he would learn of Arwen's choice if he discerned it in his eyes. He stood erect, prepared for whatever would come of Elrond's discovery. "Many things have happened in all this time. Many things." Elrond's voice was cool and serene, yet Aragorn sighed for he had seen something he was not pleased with.
"Too many to be short with. Perhaps tonight we shall speak."
"It would make a fine tale in the Hall of Fire," said Elrond.
Aragorn nodded and felt the mood shift about them. Elrond was no longer concentrating on the present. "Forget the future," Aragorn murmured. "There are many years yet." Elrond had a strange expression on his immortal face but said nothing. "I must leave you now and rest from my journeys, though I will not be here long for I must again go into the Wild where I belong. Till later, Lord Elrond."
Aragorn bowed and walked away without looking back. Elrond stood in the sunlit corridor, eyes sad and heart heavy. It would be some time before his smile returned or he spoke freely for he was often silent afterwards. Aragorn felt sorrowful for the man he called his father, yet his heart was bursting with a joy unquenchable. He donned fresh apparel and went in search of Gilraen his mother.
Gilraen heard of her son's arrival after all his years in Rohan and Gondor. She walked patiently in one of the countless rooms that were open fully to the outside. A light breeze blew through with a sweet fragrance borne aloft on its wings. She turned and saw that Aragorn had approached without a sound.
He smiled down upon her with tenderness filling his eyes. "Dear mother, it is good to see you again," he said sitting in a chair at her side. "I thought of you while I stood upon Minas Tirith's white ramparts overlooking the fair land. You would have loved to see the magnificent city of our kin of old."
Her smile was slight and dim. "Yet often I must put such thoughts aside for I am old and worn. There will be no more journeys for me."
Aragorn's smile faltered. "You speak darkly. You have yet many years to live. Do not foresee such despairing things for your own sake."
She shook her head and sighed. "I feel it, Aragorn. I feel it more than ever. My years will not be as long as most." She looked up into her son's grey eyes. "But come! Let us hear of you." Gilraen loved her son dearly for she looked upon him and saw a mighty man of valour, courage, and strength. He was the pride of her life, and she heard often the praise of Elves saying how exceptional he was. Though he was a man in appearance, he was an Elf at heart and behaved as one even among Men. Never had such a thing happened since the days of Tuor who is said to have been granted a place on a ship to Aman long ages ago when the world was young and the lands unchanged. And so the Elves—even the immortal kin!—respected him as they would the great wise ones of the age. Gilraen placed a wrinkling hand upon his, smooth and yet untouched by time.
"Mother, there are many Men still worthy of song in the Southern realms! I have walked among mighty soldiers and captains, sat with wise elders and sages, and celebrated with merry-hearted men and women. I have found that the lesser race is not so weakened as they are spoken of. Hope and courage still linger in Gondor and Rohan."
"Before you came, did they? Before you encouraged them with your sword, did it?" said Gilraen. She witnessed the extraordinary effect Aragorn had had on others when he was present. His confident, unwavering gaze eased beating hearts, his tempered mood calmed flailing emotions, and his strong will led the frail feet. He hung his head and was silent. Gilraen squeezed his hand and smiled adoringly upon him. "You bring hope and joy with you wherever you go, my son. If the men in Rohan and Gondor are holding to these things...it is because of your message to them as you fought and walked among them. They were encouraged at the sight of you alone, and their enemies quailed at your footsteps. Have you not yet realised who you are?"
"I know who I am," he said in a voice that could have been Elendil himself, "if only because of you."
Gilraen was taken aback by his answer, yet it brought tears to her eyes. "My Estel, my dear Estel." She grasped his hand even tighter and held back the tide of weeping of bittersweet joy.
"I will never forget what you have done, dear mother. Never. Yet...the men in Gondor and Rohan clung to their hope even before I came out of the North. I only strengthened it."
"You never fail to lift my spirits," she sighed. Then she looked again in his face and remembered something. "You stayed long in Lothlórien, my son. Is it as magnificent as they say?"
"Even more," he said, suddenly knowing that he would have to tell her of what had occurred in that bright place. "It was made fairer than ever by one who trod there."
Gilraen's eyes pooled with worry. "She was there, was she not? You again met beneath the trees and spoke to one another?"
"Yes." He turned his attention to the view from where he sat. "She is as the brightest star in the heavens. The birds sing in her presence, the trees whisper as she walks past in the wind that gently touches her face, and the flowers bloom when she is near. There is none like unto her in this day and never will be again."
"She has made her decision; she has cloven unto you," said Gilraen. He smiled sadly and told her what had passed between them in the elven-kingdom. Gilraen sighed when he had finished and slipped her hand from his. "Elrond will not be pleased by this news."
"He already knows for once he set eyes upon me...he knew."
"Then you must speak with him, Aragorn. You must finish this at last."
Aragorn had no need to go to Elrond, for the Lord of Rivendell later called him to his study. Aragorn approached with an anxious heart, yet without dread. Elrond loved the Ranger as a son even though he had taken that which was most precious to him in all of Middle-earth, and so would not be wounded overlong.
Elrond looked up slowly when Aragorn approached him where he stood gazing upon an image of Elendil and Gil-galad side by side before the great battle of the Last Alliance. His face was set as in stone, weary and distraught. "My son, years come when hope will fade, and beyond them little is clear to me. And now a shadow lies between us. Maybe, it has been appointed so, that by my loss the kingship of Men may be restored. Therefore, though I love you, I say to you: Arwen Undómiel shall not diminish her life's grace for less cause. She shall not be the bride of any Man less than the King of both Gondor and Arnor. To me then even our victory can bring only sorrow and parting—but to you hope of joy for a while. Alas, my son! I fear that to Arwen the Doom of Men may seem hard at the ending."
Aragorn stood silent and could not say a word. He looked down and closed his eyes for a brief moment.
"You may go," said Elrond softly.
Aragorn nodded and turned to leave at once for he knew Elrond needed time by himself to fully realise the situation. He glanced over his shoulder once more before he left his father. The following day, Aragorn departed Imladris to continue in the fight against the Dark Lord and all evil creatures and men of Middle-earth.
Galadriel was in the company of Arwen near where Galadriel's Mirror stood, and she glanced at the rippling basin. It was clear water that glittered in the light that was not only rays of the sun; it was an elven-light, that illuminated the woods of Lothlórien, mingled with sunlight and reflection off crystal water.
Arwen sat on a root of a tree which curved around to serve as a seat near the clear basin of Galadriel. She had always felt discomfited by the water of the mirror, though she could never explain just why in her mind.
Galadriel looked at her curiously and asked, "Do you remember well the tales of Valinor? I still dream of the white shores coated in snowy foam from the crashing of the waves that were a colour beyond description that shimmered in the light that surrounded the Undying Lands; yet it was not the light of the sun or moon. The stars perhaps. There was another source of light that I see in my mind every night. Its beauty was so great that I can hardly think of it without a feeling of mirth purer than the waters of Lórien."
Arwen felt herself move out of that place and see Aman once more as she always had pictured it. A shimmering form moved across the sandy shore, swathed in shining light. It was an elven-maid with pale hair and bright eyes brimming with love. It was such a beautiful sight that Arwen fell into joyful weeping mingled with tears of vast sorrow for it was her mother standing there as she ran towards her as fast as her feet could carry her. Suddenly the image vanished, and the sunlight of Middle-earth caressed her white face. But even then she shuddered.
Galadriel was sitting beside Arwen with her slim arm round her shoulders in comfort for she had seen the look in Arwen's shining eyes. "I should never have broached the subject. It has brought you grief knowing that there is a choice before you; depart the shores of Middle-earth and see those bright shores...or remain here," said Galadriel.
"No, I have already made that choice," Arwen answered. She stood and began walking away. "What you read was that you have reminded me of the consequences."
Two more years had passed in Middle-earth since Arwen Undómiel had sojourned in Lothlórien with her friend, counsellor, and kin the Lady Galadriel. It was a long two years for her though she was of elvish form at the time. Arwen remained solitary most of her days there, yet sometimes was in company with Galadriel, Celeborn, or the Elves that had accompanied her when she first arrived long ago. They still were with her for they had no need to be in Rivendell. Now there was a pressing upon her heart to return.
Arwen, Evenstar of her people, went and met with Galadriel. "I feel the need to leave this place again and go to the land of Imladris. There will my heart ever rest, I fear, and will always return in the North. May I take leave of you now?" she said.
Galadriel nodded her head sadly. "I will miss your company, dear maiden and kin." Galadriel loved Arwen as she had loved her own daughter Celebrían, and so she was there to see them off the following day. Arwen was to be accompanied by the same Elves from the first journey to the Golden Wood. Their passage would be a long one but not always perilous. Arwen hoped there would be no trouble, and the others wished for the same.
"I will see you again, Lady Galadriel, before my fate finds me and brings me to the place I will remain until the end of my days."
"The little you will have," Galadriel said sorrowfully, fingering a soft, white blossom of niphredil in her pale hands. They were only just beginning to bloom in full. "I fear your choice will bring much pain."
"And joy. You do not know the depth of love and gladness in my heart for the love of Aragorn. This place reminds me of him each time I come here to Cerin Amroth." She sighed and murmured, "What is his fate?"
"To rule the lands of Men and Middle-earth, but if he comes to it is another question. There are many decisions in his path, and I do not know what will come of them in the end." Galadriel looked to the East and shuddered. She rarely showed such outward emotion. "The Darkness spreads as the lands in the East grow ever more dangerous to roam."
Arwen's grey eyes darkened at mention of the shadowed East. "Aragorn will wander those lands searching for...something someday. I fear for him."
Galadriel clutched one of her hands comfortingly, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "You have made a wise decision, Evenstar. The Heir of Isildur is the greatest of Men and mingles his kinship with the Elves the more so every time I see him. If it is not in his face, it is in his eyes and voice. I wonder more young maidens did not have their hearts captured."
"They might have, yet few would dare mention such a thing be they of Elven kind. Few are there of the Elven race that would give up their gift of everlasting life and chance to sail to a land unmarred," Arwen said, lowering her eyes to stare at the soft grass beneath her unshod feet. A sweet breeze blew a strand of shadowy hair into her face as it stirred the tree branches around them. She tucked it behind an elegant, pointed ear with hands as pale as Galadriel's. Arwen stooped to lift one of the white flowers from the green earth into the palm of her right hand.
"The niphredil first bloomed at the coming of the Nightingale when she left her mother's womb in Doriath," Galadriel whispered into the wind. Arwen nodded, letting the bloom go. It was carried away by the wind into the trees.
"I ought to go. Elrond wishes for me, and I must go to him. Namárië Altáriel." She lighted down the emerald hill of Cerin Amroth to depart for many long years.
Galadriel watched her go and murmured, "And the niphredil shall leave this world once the next Nightingale passes away beyond the circles of this world as the first also gave up her immortality." The words of Melian of the Maiar echoed through her mind as clear as yesterday.
Galadriel bid farewell with words of blessing as they mounted their saddleless horses. They were also given the elvish waybread called lembas; or in the ancient tongue coimas. This was a sign of close friendship for the keeper of the waybread of the Elves did not bestow it heedlessly.
Arwen smiled as they rode out past the borders of Lórien and were no longer under their protection from enemies. They were on their own and would have to defend themselves if trouble surfaced.
"We will go over the pass of Caradhras," said Falastur, the leader of the Elves. "It is the shortest and safest route; if you could call it safe. I believe you all know the rest of the way we shall take."
Arwen wore a mantle of lilac with silver detail along its length with the hood shrouding her face. She looked down or to the sides most of the journey so if anyone caught sight of the passing company of Elves they would not become aware of her. Elrond and others thought it best for Arwen Undómiel to remain unseen from the rest of the world.
The journey went without hindrance for the following days until at a time when they came down from the mountain of Caradhras. There trouble met them. They were camped at its feet where large boulders were strewn about, and in-between these they sat mostly hidden from view. They also were aided by their elven-cloaks of an exceptional material that blended with the colours of earth, acting as a camouflage from friends and enemies alike.
"My lady, we are not far now from the valley of Rivendell...I also feel its pull on my heart."
Arwen looked up when Falastur approached her where she stood gazing over the flat land. She smiled warmly. "I am glad, for I hoped I was not alone in the matter and forced you all to leave Lórien; for I know you must also take pleasure there as much as do I."
"Yes, as do the others with us. It is a blessing to be able to see our kin again that we have not in some time. Someday I will return for longer years perhaps."
The foresight of Arwen's kin came upon her. "As will I, but you will never return to Imladris once you go there again in the time you live."
The Elf looked upon her carefully and confusion was in his eyes. He turned and walked away in silence, his head bowed. Arwen watched him with a keen gaze. His future held a foreboding that grieved her to see. She lowered her head to pray silently that the Valar would spare him as a feeling of dread fell upon her spirit and the sky darkened.