Chapter II: …Glimmers of the Future
24 June, 2980
It had been long since I had lain eyes on Aragorn—the Sun had set many times since he bade me farewell in Imladris. I was once again visiting my mother's kin in Lothlorien. It was cruel of Galadriel not to tell me that he had come… I would not have been taken by surprise, and perhaps some things would have been different now. I know she knew of his coming, for none can escape her comprehension in Lothlorien—she knows all that happens in thought and in deed.
I was lying under a tree, living in my dreams of my mother, kissing her tear-stained face once more, when I saw a Man coming towards me. I stood up, and realised it was Aragorn—more by sense than sight, for he looked nothing like I had remembered. He was clothed in silver and white, and his cloak was Elven-made. A white stone was bound on his brows. He might have been an Elf-lord; he had changed to something so much nobler than the youth who had taken me for Lúthien so many years ago.
"Arwen," he said, approaching me. I stood stock-still, unable to move.
"Aragorn!" I smiled. It was so long ago. He can't still love me. "Long years have passed since you and I have met."
"To me they are only yesterday," he said. "I have not forgotten you. So it is just like old times… I love you from afar, against your father's wishes, and unrequited by you."
I heard my voice from so many years ago. I will not love him. Will you have my oath?
"I do now," I whispered.
"What?" he asked, drawing even closer. Our faces were inches apart, and I had to look up to meet his eyes.
I flushed. "Melin le."
He looked awe-struck. I smiled.
"You silly child," I breathed. "I just said I loved you."
He took my hand. "Arwen—"
I put a finger to his lips. "Don't," I said. "Please don't speak."
I led him by the hand away from where Galadriel and Celeborn were watching. We went into the deeper part of the forest, where it was not watched. We went to where Lúthien had made her enchantment, and I told him the story of how Lúthien's father had not wanted her to wed the mortal Beren, so he had locked her in a flet. She had made an enchantment with wine and water that caused her hair to grow and touch the ground. She then cut it off and used it as a ladder to climb down.
He kissed me, suddenly, as we walked. It was strange to be so old, and yet to have never kissed. I revelled in the experience. And when he drew away, I kissed him. I held him close, under Hírilorn—the tree from which Lúthien had escaped. "Don't let me live forever," I begged. "Don't let me live alone."
"You won't," he promised.
That whole season, I do not think anyone lived in Lorien. We were the only ones alive in all of Lorien—nay, all of Middle-Earth! I supposed we ate and slept, but I remember none of it. I remember only a golden cloud of love. I remember that Aragorn counselled me to tell Adar of our love. I felt afraid to—he knew that we would, I knew, but telling him felt like plunging a knife into his heart. So I delayed, and revelled in my short season of love.
Later, we plighted our troth on the hill of Cerin Amroth, barefoot in the soft grass.
"Dark is the Shadow," I said, "Yet my heart rejoices, for you, Estel, shall be among the great whose valour will destroy it."
I called him Estel, for he was to be our hope, and such was his name among those who'd known him before he knew his true identity. "Alas!" he replied, "I cannot foresee it, and how it is to come to pass is hidden from me. Yet if you say you hope, I will hope. And the Shadow I utterly reject. But neither, milady, is the Twilight for me; for I am a mortal, and if you cleave to me, Evenstar, the Twilight you must also reject."
It had come… the moment I had sword to Adar would never happen. It was time to give away my immortality, and for what—the love of a Man? So much pain… and all for him.
I held his questioning gaze steadily. I would not back down. "I will cleave to you, Dúnadan, and turn from the Twilight." Then I turned away from him, refusing to let him see the anguish as my face crumpled. "Yet there lies the land of my people and the long home of my kin…" I couldn't speak anymore. I didn't want Aragorn to hear the tears threatening in my voice.
We sent word to Imladris at last, telling Adar of my choice. Aragorn left me to go talk to him, and returned with word that Adar refused to give me in marriage to any man but the King of both Arnor and Gondor. We could not be wed until Sauron fell.
When he told me this, I burst into tears.
"Arwen, you cannot despair—it may yet come to pass—" Aragorn tried to console me. "You told me to hope—why can't you?"
I had to laugh, a little, in spite of my tears. I who had lived so long in this world was crying over a few more years! "Why must he ask this of you?" I said. "You know this may not happen for so many years…"
"But I will speed it along, if I may," he said. "I must leave you, Arwen. And I cannot return for a long time."
He kissed me, then, and left. Soon after, I returned to Imladris, and when I dismounted in the courtyard, Adar met me there. "Daughter," he greeted me. I saw tears on his cheek.
"You are sad."
"You will not return to Valinor with me."
"No," I said.
He hugged me, hard, and both of us shed more tears. Then he said, "I want you to know, daughter, that your choice may yet be reversed. You may still—"
I interrupted him. "No."
"Yet if you ever wish—"
"I will not wish."