Author's Note: Arwen is the last of the new ladies to be introduced in this story...enjoy!

Rivendell Reflections

Imladris – Narquelië 3018 of the Third Age

"They are past due."

Arwen turned from her spot overlooking the entrance of the valley to meet the sympathetic gaze of her father's chief counsellor. A soft smile blossomed on her face as Erestor moved to stand beside her. Most people misunderstood his place in the household, believing him to be a mere seneschal who kept the household functioning and allowed his lord to concentrate on loftier things. While such duties did fall to Erestor, few people realized how much they revealed to him after writing him off as a servant – and that all of their revelations would be passed on to the Lord of Imladris for use in his counsels.

He touched her shoulder. "And you are worried."

"Yes," she agreed, her eyes moving back to the valley floor. "Gandalf's warnings, Saruman's betrayal, the other portents…they make me nervous."

"Glorfindel will ride out," he told her, "if you ask it of him."

"I know."

And she did. If she approached him, the golden-haired Elf would go. So too her brothers, but she would not ask. No matter her fears, her father saw more than she – if he felt the need to wait, then she would wait. "Father will know the right time."

"And yet-," he prompted.

"And yet," she sighed, a helpless laugh coming to her lips. "My confidence in father's instincts does little to assuage my heart's anxiety."

"Elrond will not allow harm to come to Estel if he can prevent it," Erestor comforted her.

Quick steps behind them drew their attention before she could reply. Lindir, Erestor's assistant, came up to them and offered a deep bow to Arwen. "Forgive my interruption, my lady," he apologized and then turned to Erestor. "Lord Elrond requests your presence in the main courtyard."

Arwen's eyes darted down over the balcony to see her father, her brothers, Glorfindel, and Gandalf gathered and conversing. "It appears serious," she noted, her gaze shifting to meet Erestor's. "Perhaps I shall accompany you."

The hint of a frown flickered in Lindir's eyes, but Erestor gave a simple nod. "Of course," he agreed, holding out an arm. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and they moved off, letting Lindir trail behind them.

She remained quiet, listening as they debated who should travel out and in which direction. Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel…each of them seemed determined to ride out in search of Estel and the missing Hobbits. Each of them glanced at her as they stepped up to volunteer and chose their particular path, knowing as they did the various routes the Rangers would take to keep their movements secret or unnoticed. Erestor met her eyes and lifted a brow even as his own gaze flickered to the west. Then she realized, the one route she had not heard mentioned.

"I shall take the East Road."

Silence descended on the courtyard as all eyes turned towards her.

Arwen hated leaving with her father unhappy behind her, but she would not be left out of this search – or the fight to come. Mithrandir's experience with Saruman and his surety about the Ring carried by Frodo meant this would be their one chance to end Sauron's evil hold on Middle Earth. While her father accorded a good deal of the blame for Sauron's continued existence to Isildur, it would be truer – in her mind – to acknowledge the fault of all of them. Granted, she had not been born at the, but…had they not moved on, knowing Isildur possessed the Ring? No one thought to search after his death – to ensure the removal of so great and evil. This despite the time before when Elves presumed evil ended forever at the breaking of Thangorodrim by the Valar. If they did not learn from their earlier error, then on whose shoulders rested such blame?

And what of the time that came after?

The great kingdoms of Men entered a slow decline due to wars, plague, and the regrouping of evil after their defeat in the War of the Last Alliance. The Istari came long after that war and it should have been a sign, but none remembered – or thought to consider – the One Ring. They thought it lost to history and best left so. Men alone did not hold that responsibility. The Valar could not have been clearer. The arrival of the Istari should have sounded a louder alarm – evil would once again begin to rise and men should not face it alone.

Yet more and more did her people withdraw, pulling themselves behind their borders, content to live in their quiet havens while the world moved on without them.

Throughout the centuries which followed Elves continued to participate in the fight between the forces of darkness and the free peoples of Middle Earth, but they became minor notes in the great song of the world. Angmar, the decline of the Greenwood, the wars and disasters of the Dwarves, the various wars and battles of Men – the Elves played secondary roles, or no role at all. Instead they watched, watched for the return of Sauron himself. For all their power, for all their watchfulness, they had been blind. Blind in particular to the change in Saruman who kept them blind to the truth behind the Necromancer. Thus did Sauron return once more and begin to rebuild his power.

Miracles abounded even in the dark however. They might have remained blind to the dangers of Dol Guldur longer save for the warning of Radagast the Brown. The wizard that Saruman scoffed at proved to be the one who began the awakening of the wise from their long watch. Even the wisest could not see all things.

Bilbo Baggins was proof enough of that.

The Elves' retreat from the world worried her father and her grandmother. Their long watch turned into a long defeat – they no longer had the ability or the forces to face off against the might of Mordor. Too many of their kindred had sailed into the west. The others who remained…they faded, growing ever more remote from this world as they prepared to follow their family and friends. Even should Sauron be destroyed and his taint removed from Middle Earth, the Elves would find no victory in it. Their time grew to a close – the Age of the Elves would soon end. The race of Men would inherit all they once fought to guard and protect.

Yet…their descendants would be among those who shared in that inheritance.

Arwen shook herself free of memories. She knew her father's heart – knew his hopes. And she planned to disappoint them. A loving daughter she might be, but one could not remain a child forever and she knew her own heart. By whatever name he chose to bear, Estel alone would share her life, carrying her heart as she carried his. If all their hopes came to pass, then Arwen would never leave Middle Earth, choosing to share a lifetime with the King of Men. She would share it with him were he to remain forever a mere Ranger of the North were it not for her father's decree.

"Therefore, though I love you, I say to you: Arwen Undómiel shall not diminish her life's grace for less cause. She shall not be the bride of any Man less than the King of both Gondor and Arnor."

She felt her lips thin as she remembered Estel's expression when he repeated her father's words. Love and loss, desire and hopelessness – all mingled in his eyes. He loved her, desired nothing more than to bind his life to hers, but he feared it would not happen. It led him to try and put a little distance between them. While she respected her father's opinions, this action of his disappointed her. To make such a demand… To not consider her own wishes… Elrond Half-Elven might be renowned for his wisdom, but no one who knew him would ever argue one simple fact – his emotions got the better of him when it came to his only daughter.

No, for all her love, she did not accept her father's choice.

A darkening shadow loomed in her mind and she focused herself back on task. She drew close to the Trollshaws, and one of the highlights of Bilbo's journey. It might have amused her to remember his retelling of it, but the shadows called for her attention. Wind whispered in the trees and she let her senses expand, listening to all that the world around her could say. Nature itself shrank away from those shadows – five of them. An acrid tang of fear came from the wild creatures as they burrowed deeper into nests and hideaways.

In contrast to the deepening shadows she could feel a gentle tug on her heart, a flicker of light that drew her towards voices floating through the trees. Three small figures gathered around one on the ground as a taller form, a beloved form peered towards the west with worried, calculating eyes.

A scream – the kind that sent ice through the strongest soul – echoed in the night.

Arwen lifted a brow as she observed one of the small figures dart through the woods, searching for something with a torch lifted high. A Hobbit. She must be close. Her lips began to curve into a smile as Estel slid through the trees, also searching. Though she knew not what he sought, the opportunity to surprise him came so rarely that she could not resist, even with the shadows nearby. Her steps followed him, silent and measured, but her worry began to outpace her amusement. Estel should have felt her presence by now; he should be on his guard. That he was not…

Something worried him, something moving him beyond his caution in the wild.

Hadhafang steady in her hand, Arwen crept forward to see Estel harvesting a clutch of athelas. One of the Hobbits bore a serious wound then. Grave though the situation appeared, a little lightness would help dispel the darkness – and that could only aid in the moments to come. She placed the tip of her sword under his chin, a thread of humor winding through her mind as he froze.

"What's this?" she asked, letting her voice reassure him. She saw the corner of his mouth tilt up and his muscles relaxed. "A Ranger, caught off his guard?"