Title: Racina Lote /Broken Flower/
Rating: K
Summary: It started as a gift from Aragorn to his only love. It ended as a symbol of Arwen's sacrifice.
Timeframe: First part: Lothlorien, TA 2980. 2nd Part: Imladris, Post LOTR. 3rd part: Imladris, the November before Aragorn's death.
Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR.
Note: I hope the formatting is correct. This is my first fic posted on stared first at the ring, then at the rose, then at Aragorn, joy, fear, and sadness fighting in her eyes. "Do you realize what this will mean for us? Ada…will he understand?"
"I can only hope." He clasped her trembling hands in his firm ones. "Arwen, I love you. You know this. I want to be with you forever. Please return this love."
She turned away, tears blurring her eyes. "You are young. You have no concept of forever. You don't know what love is…"
"Do you love me?" He grasped her shoulders and turned her to meet his eyes. "Just tell me this. That's all that really matters to me, to us! Do you love me?"
She smiled as tears ran down her cheeks. "Yes, Estel, I do."
The flower dropped into the grass, forgotten for a moment, as they kissed each other, an unspoken promise between them.
Elrond picked the rose, dried so well it looked freshly-picked, out of the bookcase and held it gently. He was cleaning out Rivendell, sending all its treasures to Minas Tirith, where they would serve better use to the coming age. But this…
He knew what it meant. He had seen it in Arwen's hand when she came back from Lorien. She had asked for it when she was on the edge of death, when he thought that Sauron would destroy all of Middle-Earth. Though she had never talked about it, her actions said enough.
For a moment he contemplated burning it in the fireplace, crackling temptingly nearby. Or flinging it against the wall and smiling at the crunch of its petals. After all, it was this rose that was to blame for all this, for Arwen's mortality, for Aragorn's descendants. How would he explain to Celebrian what had happened to her daughter? He saw her tear-streaked face, holding him and gasping sobs. And the flower did nothing. It just lay there, beautiful, oblivious to his plight.
He placed it on the stone window seat and continued clearing out the books.
An old, gray Aragorn picked up the rose and examined it. Tears began to roll from his eyes. He couldn't believe she had saved it for so many years. He thought it was lost long ago.
"Mellon, you know it was her choice to make. She has chosen to stay and die with you." Legolas spoke softly, reclining with Ellesar on the window seat. "She will stay with you to the end."
The king nodded. "I think, my friend, I now know what forever feels like. And now I think I know what love is."
"No…" Legolas turned to meet his eyes. "Love…you know that. But not forever. Only an elf knows forever."
Looking down, he sighed. "I feel like I do."
He crushed the flower and watched the petals skitter across the stones, driven by the cold November wind.