Title: Estel

Author: Prophecy

darlinggrrrl@hotmail.com

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Pairing: Arwen/Aragorn

Rating: PG

Status: New. Complete.

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Disclaimers: The characters and events refered to in this story belong to the estate of J. R. R. Tolkien, and probably some dudes at New Line Cinema.

Notes: 'Estel', as well as being one of Aragorn's many aliases, is Sindarin for 'hope'. This story is for Jenwyn.

Summary: Eavesdropping on the meeting of the Council of Elrond, Arwen muses on Aragorn and their destinies. Arwen POV.

Watching he whom my people call Estel, and who I call 'love', move among this company of men, elves, dwarves, wizards and halflings and for the first time I begin to doubt my heart. I ought to know better than to listen in on a conversation that father chose to exclude me from. About a thousand years ago my father, Lord Elrond, came to accept that his daughter had a certain perspective and could be counted upon to question him where others dare not; had he thought my attendance wise, I would have been invited to this council meeting...

From what I have been able to overhear, I come to the inescapable conclusion that Aragorn will be leaving Imladris again, and soon. Listening to my father speak of the Ring of Power that the halfling Frodo bears with him, I know that someone will be called upon to take into the fires of Mount Doom... as my father and Isildur once did. Is this why I have been excluded from the council? For I would gladly walk into the Enemy's land by Aragorn's side, and I would be there with him as he cast that wretched trinket into the flame...

... I think my father may be trying to spare me the grief he felt at seeing his friend fail at this purpose. I think he understands that the sword that would pierce my soul, should Aragorn's fears be justified, would be tenfold that which pierced his and left him without faith in men.

His intervention, while appreciated for the demonstration of love that it is, is unnecessary on both motivational fronts. Aragorn will not fail, and he would not have me at his side on that quest. Oh, I do not doubt that his soul is as bound to mine as mine is to his, but he would seek to protect me, though I need no more protection than he himself - perhaps less. I have wielded a blade for longer than he has lived...

It is difficult not to resent the gilded cage he would keep me in.

Not that I do not understand... He is man, after all. The females of his blood people are fragile creatures who are not expected or encouraged to do a great deal of anything, really, except for birthing children which, I am told, is gruelling enough. Raised by my people, I thought him above that. But it is also true, and I must not forget that a warrior who sees pain and death all too frequently instinctively looks for something pure and unspoiled; for a refuge of grace and peace where his heart can rest. I did not seek to be semi-diefied, but he has called me his refuge... his peace. Aragon once told me that when he is away from me and his heart grows heavy, he awaits the dusk and finds peace under the light of the evening star... I

would rather be by his side, but that he keeps part of me with him of his own accord does my spirit good to hear. As he walks into the shadow of the enemy, he will need all the light that he can bind to himself...

Despite the fact that it is a destiny he rejects, for fear of Isildur's blood running through his veins, Aragorn is first and foremost a warrior, nay, a leader of warriors; king at heart if not in actuality yet. He is a

truly good man, yet he struggles day by day with the knowledge of his heritage; with the failure of his ancestor. But above all things, I believe that it is not his destiny to repeat Isildur's failure, nor to escape the

call to take arms against Sauron and defeat him. It is in his heart to do great good for Middle Earth; he has been called to serve all races as their foretold king, and thus I accept being without him when he is away. Elves do not reckon time the way men do; with long life comes a different perception on the passing of seasons and a patience that truly shows our age. Yet, when he is gone from me, the moon and sun seem to crawl a slow path through the heavens and the pause between each beat of my heart seems interminable.

I first met the man my father had raised from childhood upon returning to Imladris from Lothlorien, walking among the trees that reminded me of my grandmother's home. A voice was raised in song, the ballad of my ancestress, Luthien Tinuviel, and Beren - the man she came to love above all of elvish blood... My memory does not fail me of the encounter, especially regarding my words to him that would, in time, become prophecy. Maybe my doom will be not unlike hers, I said not entirely in earnest. I was feeling

light of heart, and he was looking at me with such adoration...

He was a pretty enough young mortal, and his gentle eyes were pleasing. Understand that to those of us to whom eternity is promised, it is hard to see the world, sometimes, with the awe that it's beauty deserves. Walking through fallen leaves and among moonbeams talking to this young man, I found myself seeing my world through his eyes. Talking with him, sharing laughter, poetry and lifting my voice in the old songs of my people with him I found my heart touched in a way that I had not expected. I think I fell in love with the son of Arathorn on that very first encounter and my heart will remain with him as he walks on to Gondor.

And should he not return to me, I know that I will see him again one day beyond the Sundering Seas in the place where no shadows fall...

END