Love is Blooming in the Golden Woods

Under the trees of Caras Galadhon

Another night was spent in Lothlorien by Aragorn, though this one was spent in a flet that had prepared for him rather than the grass. Sweet was the rest, and refreshing the sleep that enveloped him. He awoke the next morning naturally and ate the food that had been set out for him. Clothing himself once more in the elven clothes provided for him, he went down and walked once again under the trees of Caras Galadhon.

Though he did not know, he was being keenly observed by another who was also walking amongst the trees on the outskirts of the city. She watched him until he stopped at one of the mallorn trees and turned slightly toward her. The question in her mind was answered as he beheld her and began walking towards her. Her heart leapt for joy within in her as she saw who it was.

Bowing slightly as he stood before her, Aragorn said, "Almáre' rain Lady Arwen". She responded politely, but could not help and wonder at the formalness that showed through his grey eyes. She was surprised to know that she was saddened, nay hurt, by the lack of warmth in his eyes.

"Would you walk with me Lord Aragorn?" she asked gravely, responding in the same formal manner that he had greeted her.

"Certainly my lady."

For many moments they walked in silence, observing the beauty around them. Arwen was personally reflecting as she walked. She had met him many years ago, and knew that he had loved her on the day that they met in Imladris, but so had nearly everyone who had seen her. She had never returned the feeling for anyone, but this, this was different. Having heard word of his exploits often from her brothers, as they had often traveled with him, she felt that she had known him.

As Aragorn walked gravely beside her, she observed him closely. There was something about him, the way he walked lightly upon the grass, scarcely leaving a print, he almost seemed like he belonged in the elven world. "He belongs in my world," she impulsively thought. She then blushed at this.

"Estel," she said hastily.

The man turned to her, smiling slightly at the use of his childhood name, "Yes Lady Arwen," he said, a degree of the formalness leaving his voice.

"Let us sit, and you may tell me of the adventures of your travels and the many wars you have fought. I have heard some, but not a first-hand account recently."

So it was that as the day continued, oblivious to the world around them, sitting upon the roots of a mallorn tree sat two, a man and an elf-maid. Stories flew back and forth between them till the formal barriers were broken down between them, and simple communication was held.

Hearing him now tell the same stories she heard from her brothers, she smiled. Where her brothers had spoken of the battles, they had talked about  Aragorn rallying the men and fighting the many orcs that came against him, miraculously defeating them all. When Aragorn spoke, however, he did not glorify himself. He spoke instead of the gratefulness of the people for whom the battle had been fought, the joy of mothers when their sons came home, and the joy of children in seeing their fathers alive and well. The man who sat beside her, she knew to be a man of great bravery, but also a man of great tenderness.

That night as Aragorn slept, Arwen walked deeper into the woods, as she walked, she pondered. An elf only falls in love once, and they do not give away their heart naively. She was not sure what she should do, but deep down she knew that her heart was quickly slipping away, and being given to another.

Walking up the stairs, she quietly walked into her Grandmother's flet. It was simply crafted to blend in with the trees, but decorated so that if one were to closely observe, they would be astounded by the detail. It was a peaceful place where her grandmother often retired at night.

Walking in, Arwen bowed slightly. Though Galadriel was her grandmother, Arwen still bowed out of the respect that she had for her.

"Quel re Arwen," Galadriel said quietly, looking out upon the woods as the lanterns hanging upon the trees were lit.

       "Quel re Grandmother," Arwen replied.

Galadriel turned around and observed her lovely granddaughter quietly. She was standing there, her long hair flowing down her back, and slightly past her waist. "You are burdened with care."

       "I am Grandmother."

"Do you wish to speak of it?"

       "I do."

Galadriel smiled gravely at her granddaughter. "He loves you Arwen, even as Beren loved Luthien. It may be, that even as you look like the fair maid Luthien, you may follow her footsteps. Yet, I do not see the despair of her following you. Come, the well lies nearby, will you look?"

       "I will."

Gazing into the clear pool, Arwen watched as the reflection of the stars of the night sky changed. She saw herself at Rivendell, walking with her father, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm. Then she saw her walking with him onto a ship as it left the grey havens. Her face was grave, and looking into her own eyes, Arwen could see the sense of duty that was holding her to the boat. She watched as a single tear slid down her cheek.

The view changed, and she saw a man standing on the shore, nay, now he was kneeling, and she was almost certain she could hear his sobs as the boat traveled further and further from the shore. Her heart broke. She knew who it was, it was Aragorn she was leaving.

The view swiftly changed again. She was standing at the gates of a strange city that she did not recognize.  The gates had been broken, and many surrounding buildings destroyed, but a temporary gate had been built. The makeshift gate opened, and Arwen felt her heart catch as she saw him. Dressed as a king, fulfilling his birthright, at last, Aragorn stood at the gates of Minas Tirith, and Arwen's hand was placed in his. Once again a tear slid down her cheek, as this time, she gazed upon her father.

One last scene flashed before her eyes before the well went dark. She saw a young boy run through a hall to a man standing at the balcony. Upon hearing his footsteps the man turned and picked him up. Then both turned and looked at her, in the man she saw the likeness of Aragorn, but in the boy, she saw her own likness.

As the visions ceased, Arwen felt her Grandmother's hand upon her shoulder. "I do not know what to choose," she whispered. "I love him, it is undeniably true, but my father I love as well. If I cleave to him, I lose all hope of seeing Mother again, and shall leave Father forever."

"Yes Arwen, but if you leave him now, will you regret it forever?"