The meagre fire Arwen's escort had built began to burn low for the night crept on in short time, and the moon rose barely above the earth; the bright orb was glowing in its full. Arwen stood secluded from the others, wandering in her own pondering thoughts. Her mind rested on one man whom she wished was there at that moment more than anyone else in Middle-earth or beyond. The one she loved was far-off wandering the Wild, guarding those whom he cared for, and growing stronger and greater than any before him in his bloodline since Elendil himself. Arwen's thoughts watched over him in his path.
Piercing howls shattered the stillness, sending a great tumult into the quiet of the night. In the fading firelight, Arwen shuddered at the sound and felt her hand move instantly to the hilt of the short knife that hung at her side, gleaming coldly in the moonlight. She had been hoping there would be no need for the blade on any of her journeys, yet now she had a strange feeling of foreboding that had fallen upon her with the howling of the wolves.
The other Elves were alerted immediately at the clamorous sound, their hands also reaching for their weapons. Falastur unslung his bow in one movement of cat-like grace and drew up an arrow to the string. He looked on all sides with his sharp eyes searching for the source of the awful noise.
Arwen moved to draw closer. "I fear we may have use of our weapons before the night is over," she said quietly. "There is trouble stirring. I can feel it."
"I can hear it. Those wolves shall soon be moving in our direction, if I know rightly. They have dreadfully good senses."
"If so, they should have sense enough not to come near us this night, or they shall reach their end...or come nearer than they ever wished; but there is something else that disturbs me, and I do not think it is the wolves. There is something else out this night that is far worse than evil beasts of the wood."
Falastur was silent for a moment before agreeing. It seemed to Arwen that he felt it also after listening to the night wind that blew chill from the North. The other Elves heard their words and also knew the wolves would not bother them, nor any beast of the earth. It was something else that was close at hand and sure to attack the small company of fair Elves.
Arwen closed her eyes to listen more closely. "Be silent!" Her eyes opened. "I can hear an unusual noise drawing near: it is like the clatter of steel upon steel. I fear it is a band of wretched Orcs we must slay tonight."
"Yes, I see now. I can feel their terrible presence as they move closer to us," said Falastur, shuddering.
Another Elf drew close to him. "What shall we do if they are too many? Yes...they have a great number," he said. He stood erect as a stone pillar gazing out into the shadows of night.
"We will fight against them as best as we are able and use whatever we have even if it means dying for the Evenstar's sake. She must not be captured, harmed, or found. Do not let any of the Orcs see her and live." Falastur's voice was fell to hear upon the air and fear would have shaken their hearts if the Orcs were close enough to hear it. "They will wish they never came this way tonight." Falastur strung the arrow in his hand to his bow as did two other Elves of the company. The last few held knives or swords at hand in case the Orcs came upon them unexpected in the dark.
1. "Tulielto!" cried one of the Elves.
Two Orcs suddenly leaped out of the dark with their armour glistening hideously in the moonlight. They rushed forward for they had known of the presence of the Elves. But they soon dropped to the ground, slain from the swift arrows released upon them. They were not the only ones, of course, for there were many more following behind and ten more took their place almost immediately…and many more after that. They moved rapidly towards their prey. There appeared more Orcs from the shadows, so they soon numbered twenty-five or thirty. They even had a captain in their midst with burly arms and legs who stood taller than the rest.
They seemed intimidating to the eyes of lesser folk, yet the Elves feared them not and slaughtered their numbers without hindrance after a short portion of an hour when their captain was finally killed. All the Elves were unharmed…except one. There had been archers in among the orcs, and one alone had hit its mark. The Elf sat against one of the large boulders with a blunt arrow between his ribs.
Arwen knelt before him and reached out to the arrow, but he grasped her hand. "Please my lady, let one of the others," he said in a hushed voice. His face was abnormally pale, and Arwen felt pity for him.
She refused his request. "I will not, my friend, for there is the gift of healing in my blood of which I have fulfilled many times. I have learnt from my father, Lord Elrond, who is known for his healing power. You shall rest in peace once I remove the arrow for I see it is not poisoned as those they sometimes use. You are indeed blessed."
Falastur knelt as well. "Arwen, let me."
She heard but ignored. She took the arrow firmly in her hand and closed her eyes as she put her other hand against his chest near the wound. The Elf let out a quiet cry of pain when she removed it with one swift jerk. He gritted his teeth and lowered his head to his chest.
"There...we shall bind the wound for you to heal quicker. Bring me clear water and binding. We must hurry to cleanse the wound for we know not what the arrow had upon it besides poison." Arwen took the water and poured a little where the arrow went in before she wet the cloth. After a short time it was cleansed and bound skilfully by the hands of the elf-maiden. In her hands was healing for it was in her blood of high lineage, and many Elves had the gift from the start.
The Elf thanked her softly as he stood slowly from the hard ground. Arwen held his arm in case he grew light-headed from the loss of blood. "Falastur, we must move on now, I fear, though his hurt should be rested. It will heal in time. Come, let us go lest more enemies befall us this dawn. The sun shall guide our path along the way to Imladris," she said.
Arwen drew the cowl of her cloak over her head again, and they were on their way. The journey was a smooth one from then on with no hindrances to slow them. The weather showed improvement, though the harsh wind still blew in defiance against the small escort.
It was in the midst of the day when they reached the Last Homely House of Master Elrond. The sun was high in the sky looking down on them with its rays shrouding them in warmth. Arwen uncovered her head once more since they were in the boundaries of Rivendell. The dark locks of her hair stirred in the breeze, shimmering in the light. Her pale skin was bright as the streaming waters in the sun, smooth and radiant.
"Home at last," Falastur said under his breath.
"I miss the gardens and waters of Rivendell when in Lórien," Arwen said to him. "Though they are both two of the last elven-dwellings, Lothlórien and Imladris are unlike in many ways."
Falastur nodded. "Both of them are a sort of home to my heart yet in different ways as well."
Soon they were met by Elves who took their horses to be cared for and led them in to where they could rest from their long journey. They were made welcome again and were immediately recognised when seen moving through the trees on horses of Rivendell. Arwen thanked the Elves that had accompanied her. She especially spoke with the Elf she had healed of the Orc-arrow wound who was almost completely recovered for the arrow had not been poisoned like the fated one which struck Celebrían, wedded one of Master Elrond and daughter of the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Arwen dwelt on her mother and the fond memories of their time spent together. She only wished she could have remained long enough to know she had found her beloved for whom she had waited many long years.
Later that day, Elrond came to her where she sat reading in flickering candlelight.
She smiled up at him. "Father! It is well to see you again."
"And am I glad to see you as well, my daughter."
She stood and embraced him tightly after seeing the distant, anguished glaze in his eyes. He most assuredly knew of her choice made final in the golden forests of Lothlórien. She guessed that Aragorn had already told him.
Elrond stroked her dark hair as he felt a lump form in his throat. The pain of losing his only daughter was too heavy a burden to bear on his own, and he stemmed the tide of mourning for another day when the time truly came when they would part forever.
Arwen spoke softly, still unyielding in her hold. "Forgive me, father, if I have harmed you so, yet this is the way of it now. There is still time for us both, and I still love you." She decided then that she would not return to Lórien for some time, or perhaps never again, for she would remain with her father whom she loved dearly while she had time. "Do not yet fear the end."
Arwen was in Rivendell for three days before finally inquiring of Aragorn. He was with the Rangers of the North as was most often and had not been in Imladris for many months. Her heart despaired at his absence. She spent many hours watching him in her thought wherever he journeyed. She could almost feel him if she tried.
One night she had a dream they were together again in Rivendell, walking along a path at night while the moon rose high above the earth. It shone brighter than ever before. Aragorn and Arwen spoke softly in the elvish tongue as they walked silently arm-in-arm with the soothing sounds of the evening around them. It was a dream like those of the Elves when they rested, for theirs were like as to the waking world as this one. She felt him beside her with his very presence as real as if he were actually there.
"What dreams we have, we must cherish," Aragorn said, "for those such as these in our sleep."
"You know all my dreams would be like this if it were possible and I willed it. But rarely ones such as this have I had so that my heart fills to bursting with delight indescribable," said Arwen. "If we cannot be together in life, then shall we meet in dreams."
Aragorn halted in his step and met her gaze. She felt a deep love for him stronger than ever before from seeing the devotion, love, and admiration in his bright eyes. He was nobler than any of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth that lived in that day. He was among the great; only Elrond, Celeborn, Mithrandir, and Galadriel stood so esteemed in her mind.
"Then shall I despair if it is always so for I would see your face when I am waking. Shall it always be thus, my love?" he said softly.
"Not always for there will be a time if the darkness is destroyed that we will never be separated again unless one of us wills it, and the Lord Elrond will give up that which he loves to death and mortality. I would not do so if it be possible, yet there is no other choice I would have but you," Arwen smiled, "my love. A short span of years with you in Middle-earth is greater to me than all the years until the end of time regretting my decision to leave you, feeling the emptiness of your absence."
Aragorn's eyes filled with sorrow at the thought of her beauty diminishing to death at the end of the road. He looked upon her with compassion and gently pressed his lips against hers.
Arwen's mind suddenly awakened as she lay in bed resting with her eyes open in the manner of the Elves. She saw that the sun was rising in the East and that a ray of light had come across her face. Yes, the dream. What a dream it was. Aragorn was right: we must cherish dreams such as these for we must visit each other in the night when we are leagues and leagues away in the light of the day.
Arwen sighed with pleasure when she thought of it. She stood in one graceful movement from the bed and stepped out the door. She walked across the cold floor with bare white feet, her flowing gold dress brushing upon the ground. The morning was brisk with the crisp, cool air filling her lungs. It was still cold after some time of walking, so she seized a cloak from her quarters to keep warm. From there she travelled down halls and stone steps outside where the sweet smell of life hung in the air. Her slow, sonorous steps were silent and graceful, and a soft light shone around her as it often does when Elves are deep in thought. In her mind she thought of what Elrond would say concerning Aragorn. She knew he opposed the bond between them, but she loved him as well for he was her beloved father. It grieved her to afflict him so.
Arwen and Elrond spent much time with one another while she was in Imladris. They had chosen not to speak of the bond of her and Aragorn after the brief moment at her return for it grieved Lord Elrond too much until a time when he could bear the burden.
One of these times Arwen broached the matter of Sauron gathering forces in the East. Elrond's eyes darkened, and he clasped his hands tightly as he thought how to word his answers. "Yes, the Enemy is moving...but slowly. We do not yet know his full purposes."
"Do you not? It is to destroy all who oppose him," said Arwen, "and to quench all that is bright and beautiful."
"That is his intention, yet how he shall try to accomplish it no one can guess for the moment. In time he will begin to reveal bits of his mind whether he wishes to or not. It is then we will piece it together...I should hope."
"The simple-minded are easy to understand."
Elrond's brows drew down slightly. "You are saying Sauron is simple-minded?"
"Yes, father. He wishes and yearns for one thing only: power. That makes him simple for he can think of nothing else," said Arwen. "Other things confuse him such as love, hope, and courage. Can we not use it against him?"
"All we can use against him is force, Arwen. Do you not know that we have tried to understand his thoughts for hundreds—nay, thousands!—of years? He was defeated for a time only by strength." He was silent for a moment. "Yet will it be so again?" His foresight had come upon him, though it revealed only that if the Dark Lord would truly be destroyed it would be much different than the times before. It would be as Arwen said: love, hope, and courage would prevail if all the right courses were taken.
Arwen saw his change of thought and nodded to herself. As long as they held on to hope...the Enemy could never truly defeat them no matter how mighty his arm had become.
The Evenstar sat in a cushioned chair made of soft crimson velvet and dark wood in her quarters, clutching a plump pillow to her chest. The light of the sun caressed her face as she closed her eyes in memory of days before when Aragorn had been at hand. Now he was gone. It pained her heart to think of how long he might be in the Wild. If he were ever hurt... She sat upright in a flash of movement, her eyes opening. No. She could not think of such things; not now while the days were long and bright.
Arwen arose from the chair to find Elrond. She left her room and walked down the hall to where his study was. After listening for any sound inside with her ear pressed against the door, she knocked lightly. There was no answer. He must be amidst the trees or among the fountains. He often took pleasure in walking in the forests of Imladris or watching the bright fountains shimmer in the sunlight or moonlight. It took his mind away from all the darkness growing in the East.
She made her way outside where the smell of flowers met her like a clear veil she had stepped through. She looked around for any sign of the elven-lord but did not see him. The thought of where he might be was not known to her though she knew him well.
"Arwen!" called a voice behind her.
She turned round. It was not Elrond. "Good afternoon, Cemendur," said Arwen, smiling faintly. He had come to Rivendell not long after her, bearing a message from the Lady Galadriel. Arwen wondered if that was the only reason, yet he was a noble Elf, so she soon abandoned the foolish notion knowing her mind was worn from the strain of the past few days.
He bowed. "My lady, you look as though you were searching for someone or something. Could I be of service to you in any way?"
Arwen thought for a moment. "Perhaps. Do you know where Master Elrond is? I have looked for him in his study, inside, and now I have come out here. Could it be that you know of his whereabouts?"
"Yes, I do. He is sitting by the fountain near the pool of water west of us. I saw him there, but I did not disturb him for he looked deep in thought."
"Thank you," said Arwen. "I shall go and see him then."
Cemendur smiled and watched her go from him with his eyes upon her receding back. Her flowing hair was pulled back with a golden string so that it did not stir before her face, and she wore garments of deep green like gleaming emeralds and the leaves of the forest trees. Her physical beauty was so great that to him she was a star that had fallen from the heavens to walk among them in her glorious wake. He shuddered as he watched the Evening Star.
1. They have come!