Chapter 3 – The Secret of the Waterfall

"Aragorn?" Arwen whispered. He looked at her so enquiringly that it made her veins blaze on fire. "Um, you said all those things about this garden, and you know everything I did, it is just… err… except one."

Aragorn's look thickened. "I don't know what I missed. I cannot remember anything else."

"No, Aragorn," Arwen tried to explain, "When you know what it is, you will never ever forget it. You will not find it unless I show it to you."

She glanced away over the water. Then she gently slid into the water and it rose up her body steadily until it was waist height.

"Arwen, are you okay?" Aragorn's voice was full of anxiety, but Arwen merely started to walk through the water. After only a second Aragorn had jumped in and he waded after her. Even though he had known it would be warm, it felt surprisingly balmy as it lapped around his body.

He followed without a word, but soon he became increasingly worried. Watching Arwen's slim body glide through the water with her dress floating around her waist, he found her heading towards the waterfall. Still he did not say anything, even though the rushing sound became louder and they started to be hindered by tall ripples. It was only when they came so close that they felt spray upon their arms and faces that Aragorn finally spoke.

"Arwen, where are you going?"

Hearing a note of panic in his voice, she turned round. "Don't worry," she replied, but said no more and just smiled. Then she began walking even closer to the tumbling waterfall.

"Arwen! You cannot go there!"

She turned round again. "Aragorn, it is fine," she replied in elvish. She made to move forward but Aragorn leapt forward so that he was almost next to her.

"Don't go there, you will get hurt! Please!"

Arwen smiled. "We will not get hurt, just follow me."

But as she tried to carry on walking into the foaming cascade of water, Aragorn called out to her.

"Please Arwen, no! Please do not go there!" She looked back and saw concern etched onto his face. Concern. Concern for her. "Please Arwen, you will be hurt! I don't want to see you in pain! The rush of water is heavy and the rocks are sharp! Arwen, ple-"

"Shh…" She placed two fingers to his lips and silenced him. "Aragorn," she whispered, "trust me, we will be fine." Fear was still leaking out of his eyes.

"I do not want to lose you, Arwen," he whispered back.

"Estel, do you trust me?"

He nodded humbly. "Of course I trust you, Arwen."

She took his hand and enclosed it in her damp fingers. "Then just close your eyes and walk into the waterfall with me." She smiled lovingly.

But Aragorn was nearly trembling with worry for Arwen. He heard her call "one" and he closed his eyes, "two" all he could hear was the rush of the water and all he could feel was Arwen's soft hand in his, "three"

He took a deep breath as Arwen pulled him forward and he stumbled into the waterfall…

…and out the other side.

Aragorn felt the water raining upon him fade away, and the loud sound of the water falling down died into the background. Beside him Arwen stopped. Now he could not only feel her hand, but also dry stone beneath his feet, smooth and safe to walk on. Instead of fear he now felt curious. So he opened his eyes.

He blinked in surprise and his hold on Arwen's hand lessened. They were standing inside a lovely cave, small but dry, and also it had a kind of beauty, a touch of secrecy to it. In the centre of the floor was a stone circle for a fire, and up above, where daylight streaked down, was a hole, hidden from above by a veil of trailing green leaves. There were two ledges in the walls, perfect for sleeping on, and other smaller alcoves for placing things on.

Spinning round in wonder Aragorn saw the beautiful curtain of water behind him, hiding them from the sight of prying eyes. The silver beads strung on threads of the stream gave off dancing light, which glimmered upon the opposite wall and lit the whole room up in magical light.

Arwen laughed, and looking at her he realised he had a smile of awe on his face. She took him over to near the empty fireplace and they sat down, facing the shimmering waterfall. Now he could see on one shelf nearby a cup made from a large shell and a plate made from something grey and shiny. There were also sheets rolled up at the end of each bed.

"Arwen, how did you find this place?" he asked, "it is wonderful." He looked all around them, taking glimpses of many things, even stones that seemed to be multicoloured pearls.

Not receiving an answer he turned to Arwen. To his amusement he saw that she was trying very hard not to laugh out loud; she was shaking with silent laughter and there were tears in her eyes. Her smile was so radiant that Aragorn's focus was taken off the cave.

He was about to ask why, when he suddenly noticed something extremely odd.

"Err, Arwen, why are you not drenched?"

She just smiled and gave no reply. Even her hair seemed to have never been soaked with water. In fact she looked perfectly normal.

But then Arwen suddenly gave a huge intake of breath and jumped up in fright, with mortal fear in her eyes.

"Arwen-!" She spun away from him, gasping and with a hand over her mouth. Thoroughly confused and bewildered Aragorn looked down at himself to try and work out what had made her so stunned.

"I am not wet!" Aragorn plucked at his pale shirt and discovered it was bone dry. "Arwen, do you know why-?"

He fell silent as he glanced up at the elf. Standing over near the cave wall, she had her back to him, and was bent over as if consumed in great shock. Carefully pushing himself up onto his feet, Aragorn padded quietly over to her. He was filled with great concern.

"Arwen?" he whispered. Then he saw that she was struggling to breathe, and had one hand clutched to her chest, while her mouth was parted and her lip was trembling. Her eyes stared blankly downwards, but each had a tiny white flame burning in them – the unmistakeable white fires of shock. Aragorn could sense that she was desperately willing something not to be true; yet it was. Unbearable distress was flooding out from her body and Aragorn was moved with pity.

"Are you okay?" he asked her hoarsely, but the disbelief in his voice was open. Arwen seemed not to have heard him; but she was only half there, and she was too overwhelmed to be able to reply or even react to him. He saw her give an almighty shiver, and her whole body shuddered.

He questioned her more urgently. "Arwen, what is wrong?" He moved nearer to reach her, but she stumbled away, her breaths becoming shorter and quicker, and her dark raven hair slipping from behind her ear and falling down to conceal her face. Tenderly Aragorn drew it back, almost trembling like her in his worry.

He could not bear to speak as he revealed her face. Her fraught expression was heart-rending and in one sheer cut it threw all other thoughts from his mind. He knew she needed him, so empty and alone, and in that moment he felt her sense this. Slowly, her blue eyes swung up to fix on him, and a single, round tear escaped and ran down her pale cheek. She shivered.

"Arwen…" he moaned. This time when he reached out to comfort her, she did not withdraw, but collapsed into his arms, sobbing her heart out to his shoulder. It hurt Aragorn to hear this, it was agonizing, and he felt extremely aware of her incredibly thin and fragile body underneath his strong hands. He gently cuddled her to his chest, but Arwen's tears slipped so easily down her face.

"Shhh," he murmured to her. She leant in closer to him and weakly wiped away her tears, snuggling into Aragorn's warm embrace. But although Arwen wanted to stop, it seemed as if she was still too afraid to believe that something was true, and she kept on crying, and more tears escaped and ran between her long fingers. Her cheeks and forehead seemed deadly white.

"Shhh… Arwen…" He called to her as he held her gently. But Arwen cried harder, and her tears fell heavily and like a swollen river. With a thumb Aragorn kindly wiped under her sore eyes, but even as he stemmed the flow yet another burst poured out and trickled rapidly along his hand. He looked down and watched her as she sobbed to him, and his heart poured out to the elf-maiden.

"Arwen, come with me and sit down," he whispered, and taking her clammy hand he unravelled himself from her, and gradually led her to near the fireplace where the stone floor was smoother and more hospitable. He lowered her to the ground before bending onto his knees and sitting next to her. She looked so torn and yet still so beautiful that before he knew what he was doing Aragorn had her lying in his arms and was cradling her silken head.

Arwen took a sudden cavernous yawn and trembled. Blinking hard through her glassy film she gazed up at Aragorn, almost fearfully. The expression of the utmost loving and concern touched her right to the heart and she could not bear to look at his handsome face.

"Arwen?" he called her. Amidst knowing that he did not understand why she had been disturbed this way, she was sure he had just questioned her at the abrupt breaking of eye-contact. He simply saw straight to her heart.

"I'm sorry…" she managed to say, before looking helplessly to the side and leaning into the soft material of Aragorn's shirt. His hands ran down her hair and onto her back, creating trails that beckoned to her so unearthly.

His voice spoke to her like sweet music stilling the tower-high waves of a dark devastating storm. Her heart was still thumping insufferably from her shock. "Arwen, it is okay, you do not need to be sorry." He smiled as she stole a glimpse of him. More tears slipped onto his shirt and left dark patches issuing on the material.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…" she repeated again and again in between her muffled sobs.

"Shhh…" Aragorn soothed. "Don't worry, everything will be fine…"

"No," Arwen sniffed, trying to meet his eyes, "I am horrible for not telling you."

Aragorn looked at her sadly. "Arwen, of course I understand if you cannot tell me why." He held her gaze and leant nearer to her, stroking a finger down her cheekbone. "All I want to know," he whispered, "is that you are happy."

She fixed her watering ocean-deep eyes on him and he looked back with a soft smile on his lips. She shivered. "Everything will be okay," Aragorn assured her gently, "do not worry about it. Time will work itself out on its own."

Arwen nodded and swallowing she glanced away, trying forcefully to stifle her sobs. Although her tears ran dry, Aragorn could see that was far from okay. In his lap he felt her becoming weaker and more tired. Her breathing was still unnaturally fast and causing her a vast amount difficulty.

"Would you like some water?" Aragorn asked her. He looked at her once more and noted with surprise that she was appearing fainter by the minute. A fresh drink could revive her, so as she nodded again he crept out from underneath her body. By her own accord Arwen lay down on the stone and followed his every movement with her trailing eyes.

Aragorn searched around for a glass or mug or anything that could hold a drink. He caught sight of a flat and worn wooden cup in an alcove, so he took it before looking for water. His eyes fell immediately on the waterfall at the cave entrance, so he leapt towards it as fast as he could. Gripping the wide shallow cup tightly he held it into the channels of water. The cool spray bounced up onto his face and he withdrew the wooden leaf, with the water rippling as he steadily turned to walk over to Arwen. His eyes flicked over the surface of the water to look at her; her chest was rising and falling rapidly and she looked incredibly faded. His pace quickened.

When he came to Arwen, Aragorn bent down and knelt beside her. Her eyes feebly moved up to focus on him. With a spare hand he helped her sit up, but she felt so vulnerable that he edged round so that he could support her. He placed the flat cup to her lips and tipped it upwards. The water ran into her mouth and she swallowed, her eyes longingly on his, and drank all of the cool liquid.

Aragorn put it to the side and lowered Arwen back down. She smiled at him and his fingers fondled her ebony hair. When he smiled too she sighed deeply and gently closed her eyes. She did not open them again, and her breathing spread out into a slow rhythm. Arwen had fallen into sleep.

Almost immediately as he saw this Aragorn gasped and realised what he had done. He had given her the water from the waterfall, and she had drunk it. The water which she had charmed. The water which contained Arwen's magic.

His eyes fled back to her face. But it was calm, light and dreamy. She was asleep, but dreaming, not in a deep slumber. Then Aragorn found himself watching her closely, and he began to love more and more the peaceful expression upon her face. She was unbelievably beautiful, with her delicate but incredibly attractive features, and he had a sudden desire to move closer to her. So he did.

Now Aragorn was so close. He was near enough to see every last eyelash, to see her defined eyebrows, and the locks of wonderfully dark hair which tumbled down and softened her face. His eyes swept over her smooth pale skin, yearning to be touched, and making his fingers tingle. His gaze ran down her fair face, until he saw her magenta lips.

She was beautiful. So beautiful.

Aragorn kissed her. He felt the heavenly touch of her lips against his, and he softly pressed to them, unable to resist the wonderful sensation shooting right through him. His sudden rush of love poured into her, and the kiss he gave was so tender and heart-calling that Aragorn wished Arwen was awake to remember this stirring moment.

Breathing silently Aragorn drew away, and sighing he leant upon his arm so that he could still watch her. The sweet taste of Arwen's lips still lingered on his, and he could smell the flowery scent which swirled around her body. He had loved the wonderful feeling, he had loved it so much, so close to Arwen…

Arwen's eyes flickered open. He held his breath. Her gaze fell upon him and she blinked before smiling… she looked so pretty. Holding his grey eyes, she turned her hand over on the stone floor and touched fingertips with him. But then suddenly, as if she realised something, Arwen blushed; she blushed bright scarlet colour, redder than roses, hotter than fire. Arwen had realised what she had just dreamed.

She had dreamed of kissing Aragorn.