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And thanks to Cairistiona for the beta.

Chapter 14: Arwen

   “What you will see, if you leave the mirror free to work, I can not tell. For it shows things that were, and things that are, and things that yet may be. But which it is that he sees, even the wisest cannot always tell.”

The Mirror of Galadriel                                                                    Fellowship of the Ring

~oo0oo~

   It is nearly a week now since he left, since I last saw him, riding away through the golden canopy of the Mallorn-trees. He turned to smile at me before he disappeared from my view. That smile I have tried to imprint upon my mind, but as every new day passes, I find it slipping a little further from my memory. And yet I must not lose it.

   It is all I have.

   These last few days have been a torment, an oscillating delirium of boundless joy and fathomless despair and it is only my treasured memories of our times together that bring me any comfort at all, shallow reflections of those blissful times though they are. Never before have I known turmoil within me such as I am feeling now. My eyes long only to gaze into his, while my ears listen constantly for the sound of his voice, My arms ache for the feel of his body within them, my skin yearns for the touch of his fingers and my lips…..How ever will I endure our time apart?

   And yet I know it can be no other way. When first I beheld him again after so many years, I did not doubt I would cleave to him. As he walked towards me on that spring morning, I was powerless to change my fate. I have in truth known it from the day I first met him, when I heard him calling to me among the silver birches of Rivendell. He was only a boy then, yet still my heart warmed to him. But a choice such as mine is not lightly undertaken; I had to be sure.

   I have thought of him often and wondered how he fared. I was sure we would meet again some day, but then I was content to wait for that day. Now everything is changed. He is in my every waking thought. I can not breathe without thinking of him. My body will not be as peace again until I am near him.

   He has gone to Rivendell to talk to my father; our father. He left full of hope, but I know, for all that Elrond loves Estel, he will not permit our marriage. Not yet. The least of his reasons may be that Estel has yet to fulfil his destiny. My father has forbidden him to marry at all until he is proved worthy, though I can not help but ask; how worthy must he be? Has he not worked tirelessly and selflessly all his years? Does he not intend to do so still? In the three millennia of my life, I have had no shortage of suitors among the Eldar casting their eye in my direction. I heeded none of them, yet, had I done so, my father would have consented, though few could compare in ‘worthiness’ to Aragorn.

   No, I know the true reason my father will deny us our wish. I have tried to explain to Estel, but he is mortal; he can never truly understand. He does not really see the enormity of what he asks of my father. A separation until the end of Arda is something beyond the imagination of Men. They lead such fleeting lives within its bounds and then depart to a place that only Eru knows.

   I have chosen now to take that path with Estel. It is no small sacrifice, and the grief and pain I shall cause my family will be almost unbearable for any of us. And yet my grandmother, who would share this pain, has given us her blessing. More than that, she has encouraged our union. I do not doubt Captain Thorongil would have won my heart soon enough, but my grandmother ensured I met only a king.

   But such things are of small concern to me now. Estel is young and strong. He has his whole life ahead of him. Unless some ill chance befalls him, there are many years when we can hope to enjoy a life together, if we are only permitted to do so.

~oo0oo~

   I am roused from my thoughts by my grandmother who walks towards me across the lawn. Silently she comes and sits on the bench beside me.

   We do not talk for a long while. She knows only too well what ails me.

   After a time, she asks: “Would it ease your heart, child, to look into my mirror?”

   I have considered making just such a request, but I do not answer immediately for I know the mirror can deceive. My longing may cloud my judgment and the mirror may not bring the peace that I hope for.  But such is my unrest I decide to take that risk.

   “Yes, I believe it might,” I say at last.

   “Come then,” she says, holding out her hand to take mine. She leads me to the hollow within the enclosed garden where the basin stands. This she fills with water from the stream and, when it has settled, she breathes on it. We wait as the water slowly levels again.

    “Do not touch the surface,” she quietly reminds me.

   Tentatively I lean over the basin and gaze into its depths. I can see nothing at first; all is black. Gradually the darkness recedes and I see a vision of myself. I am standing beneath the great trees on a bright spring morning. They are at their most beautiful, leaden as they are with their bountiful golden flowers. The sun filters through their leaves, casting dappled patterns on the grass beneath my feet. And there walking towards me is Estel. I see him now as I did on that glorious morning when the course of my live changed forever. I knew him at once, greatly altered though he was. This was no bashful youth, but a man of great might and wisdom. And he was fair; fairer than any man I have ever seen. None of his forbearers caused my heart to lurch as mine did at that moment. Clad in silver and white, he walked towards me as some king from the distant realms beyond the sea.

   He bowed before me and, smiling, he took my hand in his and raised my fingers gently to his lips. A tremor, as I had never felt before, raced through me in that instant and I smile now as I recall how joyously alive I felt at his touch. Shyly, I lifted my eyes to his and there, in their depths, I saw, unveiled and unguarded, the full magnitude of his love for me. Openly trusting, he welcomed me into his heart. I sensed his pain and his loneliness, but the purity of his spirit touched something in mine and suddenly, and quite without warning, my own heart overflowed and I knew I was his. The vision fades, but the memory lingers and leaves me wrapped in my newfound joy and awash with tenderness for the man I love.

   But the mirror has not yet finished its work. The water remains dark, but then I realise it is a dark mound that I can see; it stands before an even darker sky. There are Men upon the hill, and held aloft are many banners. The largest among them is black and upon it is the emblem of a white tree. There are seven stars above it and in the centre is a crown. I know this is the standard of the King of Gondor. The men are in the midst of a great battle, but the battle does not go their way. They are fighting hard, but they are being slaughtered by a vast army that surrounds them; an endless mass of orcs and fell creatures. They are out numbered many times over. Suddenly, I see Estel standing in the centre. He looks defiant, but I see the sadness in his eyes. Beside him is a figure all in white; it is Mithrandir, but not as I know him. My brothers are there too, and the Dúnedain.

   There is no escape; they are all going to die.

   Gasping I step backwards, trembling with shock at the horror I have just witnessed. Is this how it is all going to end? Gondor will fall, her army destroyed and Sauron will have the victory. All our sacrifices will be for nothing. Why, oh why did I want to see this? My grandmother takes my arm and steadies me.

   “Look again,” she says, softly.

   I shake my head and back away. I do not want to see my beloved slain, hacked apart by those foul beasts. Or worse, captured and taken to the Dark Lord’s tower to endure unending torment for daring to defy him.

   “Trust me,” she says. “Look again.”

   Shaking, I reluctantly step towards the basin. I realise I cannot leave this unresolved. I have to know more, no matter how terrible it may be to witness. Once again the blackness recedes; this time though, it reveals a room, the walls of which are made of smooth, white stone. It is a bedchamber; my bedchamber I deem, for it is I who is lying there, but I do not know this place. I am exhausted and I know I have endured great pain, yet I feel only joy. A woman smiles at me and hands me a bundle. Wrapped within it is a newborn child. With great joy I realise it is mine and that I have given birth to a baby boy.

   Then Estel enters the room. He looks well, but tired, and a little older than he is now, for there are streaks of grey in his hair. He beams me a smile and bends to kiss me gently on the lips. I hand him the child, for, as the vision unfolds, I know without doubt the baby is his. Tears glisten in his eyes as he gazes at our son. Tentatively he kisses the child on the brow. On his face is a look of utter joy and complete happiness. Moved by my love for him, without thinking, I reach out my hand to him. As I do so, I break the surface of the water; the light goes out and the vision is gone.

   The mirror is black and lifeless again.

   As I turn away, I realise I am crying. The tears have been pouring down my face as I watched the images unfold. I look to my grandmother. “What am I to make of all this?” I ask pleadingly. “How shall I know which vision is true?”

   “Who is to say that both visions are not true?” she replies mysteriously, as is her way.

   “But how can they be?” I cry with rising despair. I need answers, not riddles. “Is it true then, that Estel and I are permitted to marry and we have a child together?  But if this is so, how shall I ever bear it if he goes to war and is killed?”

   “How do you know the battle does not come first? You did not see them fall.”

   I have to sit down; I should never have looked in the mirror; it has brought me no comfort at all. I put my head in my hands and sob. “I do not want to lose him,” I say between my tears. “I love him so very much.”

   My grandmother puts her arms around me and waits for my sobs to subside. “I do not think you will lose him, child,” she says. “I did not bring you two together to give you heartache. It may yet be a long while before you can wed, but in that you will have to be patient. Aragorn will find he still has a long road to travel before he can make you his wife, but I believe he will succeed in embracing his destiny. I think you know this yourself. You are his Hope now. He will need all his strength in the years ahead, and already he is stronger because of you. Watch over him, Arwen. Rejoice when you can spend time together, but be prepared for many years when those meetings will be rare.”

   I take a deep breathe, forcing my emotions to settle. I know I must be strong for Estel. I am normally so calm and self assured. Such feeble-mindedness does not become me. Yet still I look for reassurance.

   “Have I done wrong to bind myself to Estel?” I ask. “Adar is going to be very displeased with him, isn’t he?”

   “I do not think this will come as a great surprise to your father. He may well be deeply grieved at first, but I think, in time, he will accept it. Do not forget, he loves Aragorn as his own son. It is not as if you have taken up with just any dúnadan, is it?” she says, smiling.

   I smile back, a little shyly, but I am pleased by her gentle teasing.

   “He is a good man, is he not?” I ask. I have no doubt as to the answer, but I find myself desiring my grandmother’s approval nonetheless.

   She laughs, dismissing my fears. “He is indeed a good man and may yet become a great one. I have not had many dealings with the Dúnedain these last two Ages, but I remember well the courage and loyalty of Aragorn’s forbearers. He would be able to hold his head high in the company of any of them.” It is a joy to hear her words and I am reminded suddenly of how welcoming she was to Estel throughout his stay in her realm.

   “I have yet to thank you properly, daernaneth, for being so kind to Estel or for helping him the way you did. I still marvel that you encouraged him so, knowing as you must how Adar would feel.”

   “Why should I not welcome him? He is your father’s foster son, and I would not incur the wrath of the Lord of Imladris by turning away one whom he loves as his own,” says my grandmother, smiling. But then she grows serious. “As to encouraging him, I confess it was not an easy choice; you are my grandchild after all and I may one day have to account for my actions to my daughter. But the Dominion of Men will soon be with us, child, and Aragorn, because of who he is, will have a great part to play in this. He is not, I think, the Hope Unlooked for, but he is the Hope of his People. I see in him a great sense of duty; he labours tirelessly, though he does not seek power for his own ends. When he entered our borders, I was so aware of the terrible emptiness in his heart. He needed some hope for himself and it was at once very clear to me what he truly desired. And you, Arwen, have not always concealed your thoughts in this matter.  You needed little encouragement either as I recall!”

   I smile at that for I know how truthfully she speaks, but my heart can not yet find rest; the images I have seen still assault my mind. I have made my choice and I shall not waver, but beyond that I am powerless to determine my fate. I do not doubt Estel either; he will never forsake me, but now I can do nothing more than wait patiently and hope he returns one day.

   The years stretch ahead into a long and empty distance where every day we are apart is a torment to be endured. Nor is there any certainty we shall ever be together. Yet I must have hope. Without that, we are lost for sure. I will cling to the vision of the two of us sharing a time of great happiness and perhaps the days in between will become bearable.

   Resignedly, I begin to accept my doom.

   As I mull over my thoughts, I play with the ring, newly acquired, that sits upon my middle-finger. I recall to myself the tale of how my great uncle gave it to Estel’s distant forbearer. Strange that is should have been my great, great grandmother who then made the same choice as I so that she might wed his son, Beren. It brings me a small measure of comfort to be reminded that I am by no means the first of my line to tangle my fate with that of the Secondborn.

   A sigh escapes me as the emerald eyes of the two serpents seem to stare directly into mine. I smile at my daernaneth who still sits patiently beside me.

   “We have always had something of a fondness for Men in our family, haven’t we?”

~oo0oo~

 ………and when Aragorn was abroad, from afar she watched over him in thought.

The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen                                                       The Return of the King