Chapter IV: Lover and Beloved
24 Girithron, 3018
The company was leaving tomorrow—I would not Aragorn for a long time—if ever. I was in the woods late that night, walking alone, thinking. I beseeched Elbereth, the beloved Elven star, to watch him for me, to allow him to conquer Gondor, to give him support when I couldn't be there to give it. The stars above me sparkled and the wind rustled through the trees.
I had not expected anyone to be walking so late at night, but I met Adar about the time the moon was rising. "Daughter," he said when he saw me. "I thought you'd gone to bed."
"No," I said. "I am troubled."
"You mourn Aragorn's imminent departure."
I nodded, and looked back up at the stars. I saw the Evenstar shining far above, and I touched my collarbone where my pendant used to lie. I missed the mithril against my skin… unlike Man's hard jewels, mithril was never cold to the touch; it was so comfortable to wear that you forgot it was there. It never needed polishing; it was as beautiful as the day it was mined an age later.
"You have no hope, Tindomerel."
It had been a long time since anyone had called me by Nana's pet name for me. I turned in his direction. His profile-silhouette stood out clearly against the night-sky. "There is still hope."
"It is not to late to retract your promise, daughter."
"I do not want to retract it, Ada."
"Think well of it before it is too late."
"It is too late."
He turned to me. I met his gaze steadily. "No."
I tried to tell him without words that I loved Aragorn—why, only the Valar knew—and that death at his side was merciful in comparison to an eternity alone, without the man I loved. But I knew that Adar would never understand. All I could hope for was that he would respect my choice and not hate Aragorn for his love. Was that so much to ask?
Yes, of course it was. Parents are parents, and very little will make them cease being parents.
Many ask Time to slow, and others beg it to speed. Yet they all know in their hearts that it can do neither at their bidding—the Valar determine what course is best for it. So it was with my future: I could not change course at Adar's bidding; I had lost control by giving the pendant to Aragorn as token of my oath. I had given him the reins of my life, to drive it where he would, and I had changed from driver to passenger.
Adar's eyes glistened with tears. "Valinor without you…"
I turned away, trying to departmentalise the thought of life without my father. I knew that pain was bearable to love's separation, but the comparison did not make it easier.
"Even if you stay, hope may not come. Aragorn may fall into darkness. He may never return to you. He may never take the throne of Gondor and Arnor."
An unbidden and unwanted tear fell down my cheek. My heart pounded. My head whirled in terrible agony. Adar saw my pain—his eyes mirrored my torn heart. I was caught in a whirlwind of emotion—doubt—pain—horror—misery—love—longing for Adar—longing for hope—longing for Aragorn.
Relentlessly, he continued. "Is this what you want, Arwen? Do you want to stay here, not knowing if you will ever get what you dream of? Can you honestly say you have no regret?"
I couldn't breathe. Tears were falling like rain down my cheeks as I fought a losing battle for control of my voice.
"Can you?" he probed. Adar was cruel—very cruel—to hurt me like this.
I managed a breath like a drowning gasp. It rasped, and I nearly choked on tears as they fell into my mouth and tainted it with salt.
"Tell me."
I wanted to scream words that refused to come. Why are you hurting me like this?
"I—" no more would come. I was strangling… icy fingers gripped my throat and would not let any sound escape. I managed another breath, shaky and tremulous. The words I wanted to say spun through my head, screaming loud silences at Adar. Why are you saying this to me? Do you not know I would welcome death rather than your questions that force me to truly face what lies ahead? Leave me alone… stop making this so hard for me! I dropped my head, overcome and unable to muster strength even to look him in the eye.
"Arwen, answer me—have you truly given your whole heart to this man—with no room for regret? No room for me? No room for your mother?"
More tears. More again. More pounding from my heart that knew the truth. Yet my choice now seemed less permanent. Did I truly want this? I wanted to say yes… and mean it. Yet it refused to come to my lips. But my heart screamed it for me. Yes—yes—yes—yes! It shrieked. Tell him yes!
The cry shaped itself on my lips. "Yes."
It was a whisper, almost inaudible. I looked up. Adar was crying, too. We wept, looking straight at one another, our wills batling.
"Arwen… no." His eyes had a dull stare of despair in them. Adar realised—I knew he had to—I woudl not forsake my choice—though my heart broke into million pieces. I had chosen, and for Aragorn, I would remain. Adar knew me. He knew I would not sway now, for all his tortuous questions. So why was he asking? Why did he insist on hurting me?
"Yes." Still a whisper, but a loud one. I spoke up, louder. "Yes. I have given my heart to him."
"No…" He was grave. "Please… for our sakes…"
"Yes…" I said, louder still. "I would wait for my love until the end of the world. None will come between us."
He said, in a voice that was almost malicious, "Very well. Yet if Aragorn survives this war you will still be parted. If Sauron is defeated, and Aragorn made king, and all that you hope for comes true, you will still have to taste the bitterness of mortality." He began to pace back and forth, painting an all too vivid picture of what lay ahead. "Whether by the sword or by the slow decay of time, Aragorn will die.
"And there will be no comfort for you, Arwen, no comfort to ease the pain of his passing. He will come to death, an image of the splendour of the Kings of Men, in glory undimmed before the breaking of the world."
His voice dropped to a whisper, and he drew closer. "But you, my daughter… you will linger on, in darkness and in doubt, as nightfall in winter that comes withut a star. Here you will dwell, bound to your grief, under the fading trees, until all the world is changed, and the long years of your life utterly spent."
He stopped, and the silence broke me from my horrified reverie. I swayed; he reached out to steady me. I shied away from his hand as if he were Melkor himself—and in that moment, the Dark Lord's evil master was preferable to the tormentor my own father was to me. I turned and ran blindly towards the House. The wind roared suddenly and hit my back with a shove that seemed supernatural. I tripped and nearly fell as I stumbled up the steps of the House.
I ran down the hallways, past curious onlookers, past even Aragorn. I had to get to my chambers before I collapsed in agony.
I made it. Lambë caught me as I ran through the doorway and helped me into bed. I curled in a fetal position and sobbed. Somewhere in my misery, I fell into a stupor.
Hours later I heard Lambë's voice in the dim corridor outside my room. "She has been talking with her father… I think he has been pressing her."
"I would not have her come with me if she wills it not," Aragorn's voice said. "Bitter though it may be, if she chooses her people, I won't force her to be mine."
"She loves you, milord."
"And I love her… too much to see her suffer. Tomorrow I will leave. If she wishes to revoke her bond to me, I will not return for her. All I ask is a moment with her."
I sat up and looked at their profiles through the thin tapestry. Lambë's smooth and well-proportion face was defined to the smallest detail; I could see parts of Aragorn's beard on his chin in his silhouette. "That I will give you, meleth-nin."
He came through the tapestry and sat on the edge of my bed next to me. I embraced him, letting my still-flowing tears flow onto his tunic. It was a silver-grey one he had received from the Elves long ago. It had worn even smoother than it was to begin with, and I loved to lay my head against it. "Estel…" I whispered.
He stroked my hair gently, as my mother used to. Shutting my eyes, I could imagine I was lying in bed and she was brushing my hair. But then I looked up, into his incredibly deep grey eyes that told me in a glance that I was free to choose—that he would not force me—that he did not want to hurt me, nor allow me to hurt myself. Go with your people, Arwen, his eyes told me. Don't die for my sake.
Don't you see that if I go, I might as well die.
"Estel—Father said that in the end I will beg for the chance to recant…" The tears began anew with a vigour that hurt to feel. Adar's image was too clear for me—I felt the grief only mortals must face, years ahead though it might be. I could see the Queen Arwen of Gondor weeping beside the tomb of Ellessar the King, and longing bitterly that her chosen life had not brought her to such a pass. It hurt to think that someday I would grievously repent what I now accepted so willingly.
"That time may come, if you allow doubts to overcome you," he whispered. "But for now, you must go to sleep."
I drew in breath to say something—anything—to protest what I knew was true—but he covered my mouth with a kiss. I lay back against the cover as he began to hum a song that followed the tune of a lullaby my mother had used to sing to me. I fell asleep with Aragorn singing, stroking my hair, and the realisation that my choice was irrevocable, and whatever may lie ahead, I did not regret it. Yes, my choice was made. Come what might, I had chosen. The future, bitter and painful as it might be, was not yet here.
What was here, for the precious moments we had before his departure, was Aragorn and I; two people in love.
Not a Man and an Elf. Not a mortal and an immortal. Not one of Numenor and one of the Twilight.
We were lover and loved one. Two people. Us. Aragorn and Arwen. Ellessar and Undomiel. Estel and Evenstar.