Behind the Waterfall This story is dedicated to my bestest friend Emily, who is so amazing that she deserves the whole world!

– also titled as the Unwritten tale of the meetings of Arwen and Aragorn in Rivendell.

This is after Arwen and Aragorn first meet at twilight under the birch trees (if you do not know it you can read it in Appendix A (v) p1033). Because he is a mortal he is supposedly unable to love an immortal elf-maiden and he fears that she will not love him…

Chapter 1 - Aragorn's Tears

It was strange, Aragorn thought, when something you had been so sure in was suddenly overturned, and scattered into a million pieces before you. How were you meant to pick up all the tiny pieces to once more form the beautiful object it had been before, or was it impossible and should you just give up and leave everything behind? Who was to say what was right when you alone could make that one decision?

xxxxxx

He was not allowed to love her… he was not allowed to love ARWEN…

When Aragorn thought about it, it hurt him so much. It cut his heart so deep that somehow he felt even more in love than he had before, as if his blood from the fresh wound had leaked throughout his whole body.

Aragorn almost screamed in frustration. He glanced up from the green grass beneath his feet and headed straight for the nearest trees. The topmost branches were swaying in a soft, warm breeze, blossoms and leaves twirling down in the air movement. He wished he could free himself like that, to just let go and leave this form of himself behind and become someone new. He hated himself, he hated everyone, he hated the laws of Arda and he hated every single thing -

Except for Arwen. She was so gentle, calm, loving, kind… she was the one he could never despise or have anything against. She was the one who would always be there guiding him ahead through the dark shadows. Like a pale white niphredil flower she tenderly watched the world go past. She was perfect, a dream, a heavenly being – and he wasn't allowed to love her.

Suddenly Aragorn had the fierce urge to flee, to escape as fast as he could and leave all this suffering far, far behind. He broke into a run, charging through the trees and sprinting away from the sight of the fair elven house. He had to get away, he had to leave this agony behind him.

Aragorn just ran, ran and ran, desperately trying to find some way to express himself, the anger and the pain. Nothing could crush his love, but if he could not destroy the way he felt about her, then how was he meant to live?

Branches whipped at his bare arms and cheeks while he fled, but they were nothing compared to the inflictions of knowing Arwen probably did not love him. He could not leave her, he just couldn't. He loved her so much – Aragorn nearly gasped to hear himself think it. But although he had never said it, he had known that his heart had been stolen at his first sight of Arwen. He had given the whole of his soul to her there and then. He could never let her go.

Aragorn couldn't see anything, his eyes were watering so much in the stinging of the raw air – such was his speed and desire to get away. Trees were blurred objects passing through his hazy sight, and the land under his fleeing feet was all one continuous streak of pale green. The tears brimmed in his eyes, filling them with that sad silvery liquid he had never felt so desperately before. Then the only thing he could see was Arwen, in his dreams, in his hopes. She was his pure love, she was his heavenly star, faultless and flawless; yet he was a mortal so he could not love her…

Aragorn suddenly collapsed to the ground, bursting into tears. Rivers overflowed from his eyes, they streamed down his face and dripped in huge drops off his chin. He hugged himself into a tiny ball, trying to console his conscience by rocking slowly from side to side. But he could find no comfort, because how could he when he could not love? Love was the heart of happiness, the blood of life. You could not destroy it, neither you could not call it on command. It fell upon you by fate, and even the rules of the world could not change it; he had simply already fallen in love.

Aragorn whimpered in distress, crying out for her. For Arwen. She was the moonlight shining out through the dark night, she was his fire keeping him warm, she was his hope out of lonely despair. He had seen her, he had talked to her; her voice was pure music more lovely than the soft rush of water falling down, and her touch was one to raise the dead; her aura was a sweet fragrance bringing life to nature, and her face was lit by the white Evenstar up in the midnight sky; but it was her eyes, her beautiful deep eyes, so much gentleness and peace, and love… if nothing else it was her gorgeous blue eyes which stirred Aragorn's heart.

He cried harder and harder, for he could not understand why he could not love her. He could not help it; his passion was set on her, and set unchangeably. Even though he was a mortal. He knew far within him he would not live with out Arwen, he would not be able to survive. Not unless he knew she loved him too.

But what was the chance? What was the hope that that was true? How could it be true, when she was such a high elf-maiden, Evenstar of her people? Aragorn wept to ease the pain, but the pain hurt him more and more. He buried his face in his hands, trying to hide himself away from the thought of her not loving him. His hands curled up into tight fists, frantically attempting to close around his hopes, escaping so easily from his weak hold. Huddling up so small, he wished he could just vanish from the entire trauma he was in, to be given a life of peace.

And Aragorn shut his eyes so firmly, closing out all the light around him, and shutting out the vicious pain of ice white knives stabbing down on his heart, just leaving the plain untouched darkness where he could see her, Arwen. He tried so hard to make himself believe that she was there, and that she was coming to soothe him.

Then quite suddenly, without any realisation before, he heard a gentle voice speaking out to him nearby.

"Aragorn?"

Her whisper made Aragorn at first think that he was imagining, his dreams really playing in his mind, too realistically. But Arwen really had come to him before when he had seen her, when he had believed that she was Lúthien.

And then a light touch came to rest upon Aragorn's shoulder, sending an immediate uncalled-for shiver down his spine.

"Aragorn?"

This stole the hot breath from Aragorn's lips. Cautiously, his heart beating violently, he turned his face away from his damp hands, and slowly raised his tearful eyes to see who had found him. There, his dream had come true. Arwen stood before him, shimmering like a crystal, so clear and defined even through his relentlessly watering eyes. As his sight fell on her face, Aragorn trembled, he was moved so greatly by her beauty.

"Aragorn, Ú-nirnaeth…" (do not cry) Arwen fondly washed her eyes all over him, at once recognising his painful anguish and lamenting tears. Her gentle expression changed to deep concern, and she quietly knelt down beside him. Another couple of tears rolled down Aragorn's cheeks as his sore eyes brimmed again.

"No…" she breathed. Sighing softly she moved her hands downwards and Aragorn watched her, also squeezing more out more tears. She held a swan-white handkerchief in her hand, which she urgently opened out. Then, lovingly gazing at his troubled face, she gently reached forward and ever-so-delicately wiped his tears away. As the last few drops trickled down from his cloudy eyes, each one Arwen caught, and she never let any run down his face. She always found them and almost magically made his tears disappear.

"Ú-nirnaeth…" she repeated again, smiling softly as she met his misty eyes. Then she took her moist handkerchief away and carefully folded it up. As she looked at him, immediately she warmed Aragorn's heart and took his worries away. He was entranced by something in her glance, a power which was mystical and unfathomable, and held him in quiet ease, making him forget his pain.

Then Aragorn felt something silky being pressed into his hands. Frowning somewhat, and, not finding any clue in Arwen's elf eyes, he looked down. He saw her long elegant fingers placing her handkerchief into his palms. Smiling in gratitude he looked up again.

"Just in case…" she whispered.

Aragorn bowed his head a little. "Hannon le." (Thank you) Then he suddenly seemed to realise what had just happened and how strange it must have looked to Arwen; and he was ashamed.

"Goheno nín, Arwen," (forgive me, Arwen) he murmured, purposefully not making eye-contact.

Arwen sighed quietly. "Aragorn; Ú-moe edhored." (There is nothing to forgive)

He looked up, and his gaze fell upon her smile, spreading throughout her face. Then he was unexpectedly aware of the sense of her just about to say something to him, yet it was not quite that, but a movement lingering in her crystalline eyes. Before he knew it, the moment had gone.

Arwen took a fleeting glimpse to the side, and then gracefully stood up, bringing her hands elegantly together. In suit Aragorn followed, planting her handkerchief inside his pocket as he hurriedly tried to remember his manners through his concern.

"I'm sorry," he said to her, under his breath. This time however, she laughed softly. But then her smile fell. "But why do you weep?" She reached out to touch his hand in concern.

Aragorn looked down at their touching hands, but he could sense Arwen's gaze upon him. At her gentle question he felt more tears rise up his throat, and he was afraid of what he could say.

"Do not worry, Aragorn," she then whispered, and he glanced up to her. "All of your fears will pass away." She smiled gently and her eyes softly twinkled like stars. He inclined his head and looked down once more.

Aragorn barely dared to let himself say what he wished to ask her. Suddenly he found his voice and looked up at her. He asked her the question, his fear showing in the quietness of his voice.

"Would you care to walk with me a while?"

He held his breath as he gazed into Arwen's blue eyes. His heartbeat sounded like a drum within him. What would she say?

And then all his fears vanished as she smiled tenderly.

"Of course, Aragorn," she replied, as her eyes sparkled like stars and her smile deepened beautifully. "I would not miss it for the world…" Aragorn felt her touch his heart and he smiled. He held out his hand to and she delicately took it.

Then she leant in to whisper something in his ear, so quietly it was as if she desired to keep their moment secret forever.

"Thank you, Estel…" she breathed.