It's Raining, It's Pouring

13 Years Later

It had not stopped raining since Gilraen's death five days before. Aragorn was torn and sat in his mother's bedroom saying nothing to anyone. Elrond could not comfort him. Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel all failed in lifting their friend's spirit. Gandalf was not overly worried for him because he knew Aragorn would pull through soon.

The person Gandalf was discouragingly worried about was Arnen. Every time she was spotted the girl would run off and hide. She was one of the few who could cheer up Aragorn when he was in such a state, but she was too sad to do anything. With the unending rain, only Gandalf and Lord Elrond knew how depressed she truly was. When her emotions were so strong the control she held over her powers would slip as it was now. Both elf lord and wizard were on a constant watch. But, both elf lord and wizard had underestimated how well Elladan and Elrohir had trained her in the ways of the aloof Rangers.

Sixteen-year-old Arnen ran along the shores of Bruinen. The river was swollen with the "tears" she had afflicted upon Rivendell for the past five days. She knew Gandalf was either livid or worried that she had not returned to Rivendell for that dreadful potion to help regain control.

'I cannot go back there now. It hurts too much,' she thought.

Arriving at her destination, the grief stricken youth pulled herself up the gnarled tree Aragorn found her under when she was just three-years-old.

Since that day Arnen had grown to be only five foot, five inches tall. Her midnight hair was straight and shoulder length. She was pretty but not beautiful. Those eyes of hers were still extraordinary. The gold and silver shone as if they were alight with fire. They were the only part of her being that could not lie; they reflected her soul through and through. Now, her orbs' lights were drowned in tears. Fresh rainwater and salty tears mingled upon her face. On her favorite branch of the tree she sat weeping for her lost mother. She settled back into where the trunk and the high branch met and thought of her naneth's last days.

Gilraen had told her she was going to die soon; told her to mind Aragorn, Gandalf, and Elrond; told her that one day, a long time in the future, that they would meet where Eru places those of the race of Man who had passed. Arnen sniffed as a brine drop fell from her eye and plopped into the river below.

'It is almost time for me to go, child.'

'No. Please do not leave me!'

Gilraen pulled her daughter into a comforting hug. Arnen laid her head upon her mother's shoulder like she did as a toddler. Begging and pleading for her to stay just a little longer, she cried bitterly.

'Shhhh. You are almost a woman and do not need me. Please do not make this any harder, my dear Hên.'

Arnen lifted up and obediently wiped her face. Taking Gilraen's hand she sat on the bed and waited. Slowly, Gilraen closed her eyes, smiled, and then breathed her last. The sunlight dimmed as Arnen bent over to kiss her mother's forehead.

'Goodbye, naneth.'

'Arnen.'

'Naneth?'

'Arnen.'

'

"Arnen, child, where are you?"

"Gandalf?" Arnen jerked away from her dream state and looked down through the branches. Gandalf was standing below, his cloak and beard soaked. He looked up through the limbs of her tree. Spotting her, he beckoned, "Climb down, now."

Her decent was slow with reluctance. Silently the apprentice tried to stop the rain; but the moment she loses control it takes time to regain her grip. Once she hit the ground Arnen bowed her head ready for the oncoming scolding. Something happened, though, that she did not expect. She felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her shoulders. The wizard had not hugged her in a long time, which only contributed to the pleasantness of the surprise. A feeling of comfort and love spread throughout her being. It was like a warm fire for her rain-chilled spirit. She nestled her head into his chest. His cloak smelled like pipe-weed and trees. The hug reminded her of naneth. This time new tears did not come, instead a faint smile brightened her eyes. Pounding rain turned into a soft drizzle and sunlight began to peek through the storm clouds.

Sensing her temperament had changed Gandalf studied her at arms length. His façade was one of doubt. To reassure him Arnen stood up straight and put a sweet smile upon her face. Gandalf smiled back, shaking his head in disbelief.

'She will never change.'

Arnen's teacher reached into a pocket of his grey cloak; when his hand retreated from within, a small vial came out also. Lapis blue liquid inside the crystal carrier jumped with tiny lights. Removing the cork Gandalf held it out for his apprentice to take. Arnen wrinkled her nose but slowly drank the horrid draught. Under instruction from Gandalf, Arnen lowered the waters of Bruinen. Once that task was complete, she gratefully leaned on his shoulder as they made their way back to the Last Homely House.