A/N: So…Arnen has arrived in Rivendell the night before the famous Council of Elrond (she doesn't know this yet), Aragorn hears about the attack at Sarn Ford for the first time, and now on with the story.

The Strangeness of Rivendell

Aragorn hoped that he heard her incorrectly. He prayed that she had not said WE were attacked at Sarn Ford. He guessed already that there had been some attack for the Riders to reach the Shire, but not by the Riders themselves; and he did not think Arnen was with them. 'Halbarad could not have allowed her to be with the watch on the Road knowing of the danger,' he thought. 'Next time I see that man I will assuredly like to speak with him about a few matters.'

Arnen continued. "Last month, they just appeared. We tried to fight, but…" her voice faded for a moment as she remembered the blood on the Rider's sword. "But they overpowered us. Twenty from an original fifty of our brothers were killed before we fled. They chased us, all nine, through the night. We do not know when it happened, but four of them turned back for the Shire while the rest kept after us. They did not stop until the next night."

The woman felt drained thinking about the whole ordeal. She rested her forehead on Aragorn's shoulder. His arms wrapped around her gently. Arnen could have almost cried she had forgotten how good it felt to be hugged by her brother. His embrace was always a comfort. 'Even when there is mail under his cloak,' Arnen laughed to herself.

"Is Arwen here, or are you just trying to impress the new guests that I hear have arrived?"

Aragorn chuckled and gave Arnen one last squeeze before releasing her. Taking her arm, he led her to the door. He could hear her groan as he opened the door and ushered her from the room. The woman turned before Aragorn shut her out. Gold-grey orbs pleaded with him, but the ranger stayed firm.

"Go and get dressed so you can see Lord Elrond before the night is over."

"But Aragorn – "

"No, Arnen. I will meet you in the Hall of Fire."

And with that, he closed the door.

Arnen walked quickly to her old quarters so she could change. She had sorely missed her home, so she decided to excuse Aragorn for his usual brotherly habits. Taking one last turn to the western corridor the wanderer of the woods came to her room door. The cherry doors were so familiar to her and so…. Arnen could almost cry. She could not explain what was wrong with her. It had been a long time since she had seen Imladris, true, but that was no reason for tears was it? Putting aside her thoughts she turned the handle and entered her chamber.

It was just as she had left it besides the fresh sheets on the bed. Her closet and chest of drawers lay to the right as she stepped into the room. Beside her bed stood a small bookshelf so stuffed with books she had to lay them horizontally so more could fit. Atop the bookshelf a glass bowl of water was set. Floating inside the bowl were small lit candles. Arnen smiled while remembering her first fascination with the beautiful display when she saw them in Lady Celebrian's room. She was a child then, yet unnamed, and it had been very long since the Lady left for Valinor.

Scanning the room again she saw her desk was still in front of the window. Silken curtains were drawn and moonlight washed over the stone floor. The fireplace was lit and kept away the chill of the autumn night. Paintings decorated her walls and one tapestry hung beside the full length mirror with gorgeous carvings. Every detail of the drapery always captured Arnen's eyes. It was of Valinor, the Undying Lands, the Forbidden Lands. But the most interesting part of it to her was the land beyond Valinor that was just barely visible. That, Elrond had told her, was the Aman. It is the Land where Manwe and Varda, as well as most of the Valar and many of the Maiar, dwelled.

Arnen pulled out of her enchantment and looked to the glass doors that led to the balcony. Pushing them open she looked down on the garden beneath her it was one of her favorites in Rivendell. She and her mother took many a walk in that garden when she was a child. Leaning upon the banister she took a deep breath and the fragrance of lilies and other floral scents wafted up to her. A nightingale sang its ode to the beauty of night. The rocking chair that she sat in as a youth was swaying back and forth in the breeze. Arnen closed her eyes to savor the sweetness of the moment. Indeed she was home.

She glanced at the garden again and turned to leave, but something caught her eye. Someone was in the garden. It was an elf of that she had no doubt because she could not hear any footsteps. Who he was, Arnen did not know. His golden hair was adorned with strange braids that denoted he was not an elf of Imladris. But by their intricacy she could tell he was of noble blood. The elf lord seemed to be in deep thought as he strode through the gardens. Moonlight made it hard to tell what color his clothes were or else she might have been able to tell where he was from. There were only four elf kingdoms left.

Suddenly the elf turned and looked up at Arnen. His eyes were bright and a smile graced his lips when he saw her. She returned his smile and gave a deep nod. She did not know how to greet him, so that gesture seemed the safest to make. He in turn bowed. The elf opened his mouth to say something, but Arnen's attention was caught by the sound of her door opening.

"Lady Arnen, your presence has been requested by Lord Estel in the Hall of Fire," Irima, her maidservant from when she first came to Rivendell, called from within.

"I am coming."

Arnen turned back to the garden, but the elf was gone. Shaking her head at the constant mystery of the Elves she walked back into her room. Irima stood beside her canopy bed with a dress as golden as the autumn leaves draped over her arm. When the elf maiden laid the raiment across the bed Arnen immediately fell in love with it. The dress was simple. There were no jewels; there were no bell sleeve. What made her love the dress even more was the embroidery on the bodice. It was a blossoming tree, but at the same time it was just a cluster of beautifully dancing stitches. The thread was a green that complimented the gown.

Arnen went behind her dressing screen and changed. When she walked out a smile of satisfaction was on Irima's face. The maidservant had always tried to make Arnen into a proper lady. Now, the sapling she once remembered had grown. She had finally allowed her hair to grow past her shoulders; and even though she lost the curves she once had Arnen was much taller.

"It fits," the woman said simply while checking herself in the mirror.

"Of course it does," Irima nearly rolled her eyes. "When I saw you walk in I knew you would probably fit one of your mother's old gowns."

Arnen stilled as she looked into the full length mirror. Yes, yes, it was one of her mother's dresses. Gilraen wore it only once because she said the color was wrong for her. The woman ran her hands across the tapering V of the bodice that led to the skirts.

'I am as tall as naneth was,' Arnen thought to herself as Irima began to work with her dark locks.

"Leave it Irima." She always hated to have her hair done up only to take it down a few moments later.

"Oh no. Not this time. You have just returned home and I will have you at least wearing braids," the maidservant pushed Arnen into a chair and paid no heed to her heavy sighs as she braided. Ten minutes later (which felt like twenty to Arnen) the elf was satisfied with her handiwork and sent Arnen to the Hall.

Exquisite music from elven minstrels filled the room. Laughter, song, and conversation mingled to bring a smile to the eyes of Lord Elrond. The presence of his daughter by his side also gave him joy. He had missed her sorely for she always brought light where ever she went. The elf felt sad though that under such circumstances he had to beckon her. Again his mind turned to the council that was to be held the next day. There was so much that needed to be said and many weighty decisions to make. His eyes wandered over to Frodo where he sat with Bilbo and Aragorn. In his heart he knew the young hobbit's journey was not over. He had foreseen many things and many things had been withheld from his vision, but this he knew: Frodo son of Drogo was not going back to the Shire for some time…if at all.

Suddenly a figure entering the Hall caught his eye. She was mortal, one he had not seen in Rivendell. But when the woman turned and saw him the smile that spread on her face made him recognize her instantly. The elf lord stood from his seat as she ran into his embrace. Others who were sitting near Lord Elrond wondered who the woman was that she gained such a greeting. When the two stopped hugging they just looked at one another for a time.

"Arnen, Arnen, precious child. You have finally returned," Elrond smiled.

Those who had wondered understood for they knew the adopted daughter of Gilraen who had become dear to those who knew her. Glorfindel and Erestor both stood and bowed. Arwen greeted her with a sisterly kiss for she also remembered the child from her yearly visits to Imladris.

"Come, sit. Tell me what you have learned and what you have seen on your journeys with the Dúnedain," Elrond invited her to a chair.

"Oh, I would love to sit and talk with you all night, but I have not seen Gandalf for some years now and I would really like to speak with him. I promise that tomorrow I will give you as much information as I can."

Elrond laughed, "Tomorrow will not be the best day, but we will speak when time allows. But, very well, Gandalf is by the fireplace speaking with Glóin."

"Thank you." Arnen tuned and began to walk towards the fire. When she realized what Elrond had said, she turned back and addressed him.

"Glóin? Glóin son of Gróin, one of Bilbo's dwarf companions?"

"Indeed, he is here to seek council. His son Gimli accompanied him."

Arnen wondered at the strangeness of such guests. If she remembered correctly, Elves and Dwarves were not really the best of friends at the moment. Making her way towards the fireplace, she halted at Gandalf's side. The dwarf stood and bowed. Arnen curtsied as best she could (being mistaken for a man when she had on her cloak often gave her better practice at bowing than at curtsying) and said, "Arnen at your service."

"Glóin at your service and your family's," Glóin responded.

Gandalf laughed and embraced her shoulders. His beard tickled her as it always did and she laughed in turn. Pulling back she eyed the old wizard. He had a noble air to him tonight and she nearly lost herself in the aura except Gandalf finally spoke in his deep, comforting voice.

"If you would please excuse me, Glóin, I must take my leave."

The noble miner said farewell and Gandalf led Arnen to a darker corner of the Hall away from everyone else. The two sat down together and Gandalf began.

"How are you, Arnen?"

"Very relieved to be home among family and friends," she sighed contentedly.

"Good, good." Gandalf's voice lowered, "I came upon Sarn Ford on the twenty-eighth of September. I saw the effects of the attack."

Arnen thought about the long chase and dropped her head. She felt Gandalf lift her chin to look into her eyes.

"You have revealed yourself to a deadly foe. Riding with the Dúnedain is not safe…"

"Gandalf, it was going to happen. We knew this, but now that it has I cannot just sit around."

"It is foolish to believe that you can fight this enemy."

Arnen felt her anger begin to rise. "I will fight the enemy even though I may not win."

"Not winning the battle means you will lose your life, child."

Arnen took a deep breath to calm her nerves as she felt a soft humming grow in her chest.

"I have learned something, dear Gandalf, as I journeyed these past ten years. I would rather die than to watch others fight and know I can do something to help. These gifts were a curse to me while I sat here in Rivendell with no way to really use them. But out there I could use them and the load became easier to bear. Imladris is my home and I am happy to be back, but now that I see I am of some use…I'll never be at ease waiting here."

Gandalf sighed, "Do not be angry, Arnen. For once, listen to my words of wisdom. These gifts, for that is what they are, were given to you for a purpose. There is a time for everything, but I do not think it is time for your purpose to reveal itself."

"Then when, Gandalf?" Frustration rose in Arnen as she whispered, "When will the time come? Will it ever come?"

The old wizard reached out to place his hand on her shoulder in comfort; the disheartened woman just shrugged it off and went to sit closer to the fire. The dwarf had retired for the evening and Arnen was glad for it because she did not wish to speak with anyone. Her heart was troubled. She wished to help, but Gandalf's words echoed in her head: '…I do not think it is time for your purpose to reveal itself'. She had waited twenty-seven years for the time to come when the reason why she had such gifts would be made known. And now, she could almost taste it. Arnen could feel that very soon her time would come.

'I just have to watch for it,' she thought.

Just then she heard applause and turned to see Bilbo in a circle of elves. They were asking for him to sing his verse again, but the hobbit declined. Arnen smiled. Bilbo Baggins was always trying to have the elves guess which mortal made which part of his songs. The listeners would always say the same thing: "It is hard to distinguish between two mortals."

She watched as the hobbit rose from his stool and left with Frodo. He looked older than what she remembered. His hair was a full mop of snow instead of the brown and grey from when she left. His gait was not as quick and his back was not as straight. The old hobbit was finally starting to look just that: old. Arnen wanted to speak with him but decided against it. Frodo held his attention. Instead, she decided to corner Aragorn again and get more news about what exactly happened to cause so many to come. Scanning the room she gave up on that idea when she finally saw him. He was by Arwen with his dark cloak thrown back and mail shining.

The woman found herself heading for the garden. Upon stepping foot outside she felt peace wash over her body. The night air was crisp and the Bruinen's voice was not as loud from where she stood. Arnen strode across the grass with ease. She hummed along with the music that wafted from the Hall of Fire. It was a song about the ride of Ithil and his path through the sky. He was always trying to catch Anor as she blazed across the heavens, and so he was never on a sure course. The woman looked to the silver flower as it shimmered in the night. A sigh escaped from her lips as she thought of what her brothers-in-arms were doing at the moment.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" a soft voice asked from behind.

Arnen was startled, but replied, "Ithil is always beautiful, as are the stars."

"Yes. Elbereth's handiwork is a lovely sight to behold."

The speaker now stood to her right. It was the elf she saw earlier from her balcony. She was barely above his shoulder and she could see the hue of his attire. It was green and brown. He was an elf of Mirkwood. Arnen had never been to Mirkwood, but while she traveled the Grey Company had encounters with the elves of that wood. This just added to her wonder of Rivendell's many guests.

"Indeed," she said after a pause.

"I did not see you at the feast, but I believe I saw you earlier this evening." He turned to face her and Arnen could see that his eyes were a dark grey. His features were fair; he was an elf so that was to be expected.

"I was unable to attend the feast, but you did see me earlier. I am…"

"Arnen! Arnen, where are you?" Aragorn called from inside.

With an embarrassed smile she said, "Please forgive me. I am being called."

The mysterious lord bowed. "Of course."

She turned and hurried back inside, trying as hard as she could not to trip. After a third failed attempt Arnen picked up her skirts as she looked for her brother. He was not in the Hall and when she did not see Arwen either, she began to wonder if she had heard him at all. Once half an hour of searching went by she gave up and made her way up to her room. When Arnen turned a corner leading from one of the many staircases in Rivendell she ran into a body. Staggering back she would have fallen down the steps if a steadying hand had not reached out to catch her. After regaining her balance she saw that the man holding her arm was the elusive brother she had been looking for.

Aragorn gave a sigh of relief, "Where have you been?"

"I could ask you the same question. So, how is Arwen? She was not in the Hall of Fire when I went there to look for you."

There was no expression on Aragorn's face that gave away his awkwardness, but Arnen could see clearly in his eyes that she had hit the mark.

Laughing she had mercy on him and said, "I was in the garden, tôrnim (S. my brother)."

"I thought I heard your voice there…and someone else's."

She became indignant, "Oh no. You cannot try to make it seem like I was doing anything."

"I would never say anything of the sort," the ranger feigned innocence.

'Of course not,' his annoyed sister thought.

"Goodnight, Aragorn."

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Arnen. It is wonderful to see you again."

Before Arnen drifted off to sleep that night she could not help but wish that her time in Rivendell would stretch. She needed rest and she needed the love that she remembered from her youth.