AN: Gasp New work! Lord of the Rings too!

lol... Finally I found enough heart to do a serious Lord of the Rings fic that is neither sci-fi, nor crossover, nor completely AU (though still slightly AU). All credit goes to the incredible Extended ROTK DVD I got from friends... beautiful masterpiece that was, and endlessly inspiring.

Anyway, hope you like this work. Don't forget to review and tell me what you think!

When Aragorn, son of Arathorn, first beheld my daughter and loved her, I thought little of it. He was young then, only twenty summers of age, and though the darkness of the world he had witnessed plenty, his spirit was still bright and undaunted. All youths have their moment of fantasy, when they lose their hearts in the pursuit of some great beauty that they do not truly love, only adore. Did not his fathers before him also looked on the Evenstar with awe and adored her with such fervor only young men are capable of? He succumbed to the charm of the Evenstar like many before him, but he would grow to forget his infatuation, of that I was certain.

I had watched him for a long time before I summoned him and spoke to him. My words were not gentle, but they were more out of formality than true concern. I tried to read his reactions, and I found little. He spoke only a few words, and he wore a mask of pensiveness unbefitting of his tender age. He looked at me always with a strange silent gaze, and I knew then my words had injured him. How? I wondered. I loved him as a son of mine, and I spoke these words to him only for his own good. Had I indeed done him injury with my rebuke?

The next morn, when the sky was still grey, he came and bade me farewell, saying he wished to go into the wild, and perhaps join his kin in the north. His voice was calm and clear, harboring neither bitterness nor resentment. I bade him farewell and prayed the grace of Valar be with him. For what else could I do? Young he still was, and precious to me, and if I could I would not let him wander into the dimming world alone, yet he must seek his own road, and that I must allow him. I went with him down to the pair of great birch trees that marked the gate of Imladris. There we parted. He went on down the winding path that led away from the last sanctuary west of the mountains, east of the sea, without turning his head once. I did not hasten back, but watched him from under the shadows of the tree. He did not get very far when I saw my daughter came to him, leading a great black stallion behind her.

"Take this horse," She said quietly, "He runs like birds on wings and he knows the land well."

Aragorn looked on her with bewilderment and awe, but he answered quietly, bowing his head. "He is your own steed, my lady."

Arwen smiled. A smile of its like that I have never seen before, tender and with a wisp of wistfulness. She said softly, "You had not the grace to come and bid me farewell, at least do not refuse my parting gift."

Silently Aragorn took the reins of the stallion in his hand. For a long while they did nothing but standing there, gazing at each other. They had similar eyes. Grey and clear like the lingering twilight their eyes were, inherited from a common foremother whose beauty was unsurpassed in the realm of Arda. And now such a light was in their eyes, a light so bright and stirring that it moved me.

At last I heard my fair daughter ask, "When will you return?"

And to that Aragorn answered with a minute shake of his head, "I do not know. Perhaps after no more than a fortnight, perhaps next month, or perhaps after many years have passed."

"I shall wait for you then." I heard my daughter answer simply.

I slipped quietly away until I could hear them no more. My heart clenched, and a sudden dark foreboding was over me. I have never seen my fair Undomiel look upon anyone with such a light in her eyes, be he Man of Elf. Suddenly I was afraid. What if Aragorn, son of Arathorn, was indeed distinct from all his forefathers? What if he should win the heart of the fair Undomiel, treasured star of her people?

Arwen had fallen silent after that day, and though she was near me I knew her mind wandered far. The ever serene light was gone from her, and she was oft worried and grieved. Three months passed and not a moment of peace she had. Finally a cold morning, she went out ere the sun had risen and went to the tall birch trees at the gate of the fair house. There she stood, silent and still like the white tree by her side. The sun rose above her; white clouds flew past and birds wheeled in circle of spirited dance. When the sun dipped in its easterly descend at the end of the day, finally a lone rider was seen approaching the gate.

I stood on the high terrace and watched silently. The lone rider was none other than Aragorn. His shoulders were slightly stooped with weariness, and his cloak stained with many leagues of travel. He left a trail of blood behind him. Upon the sight of Arwen he leaped off the horse, his back suddenly straight, his strides long and urgent, and his weariness and injury seemingly vanished. He pulled her into a tight embrace, and my fair daughter returned that embrace with the same fierce longing. And under the descending sun and the wheeling birds they kissed, and the last ray of the sun was upon their black hair like spilled gold. All the while I watched, and my heart was sinking.

In the days that followed they never left each other's side save the time when Aragorn was closeted in council with me, my sons or Mithrandir. I saw them from time to time, glimpsed their figures between trees and under stars, and I heard their laughter ringing like the clear sound of water. Aragorn departed once again after only ten days, and when he was gone I breathed a sigh of relief. It was almost as if I feared him. Ah, indeed, my dear Estel, last descent of my beloved brother, hope of the world, young, fair, noble, selfless and generous; he had put in my heart more fear than even the Dark Lord could ever stir. But he was gone, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

After that, he returned from time to time, perhaps after only a fortnight, perhaps finally homeward bound when a season went by. Yet no matter when and how, the day he would be returning, the fair Undomiel always stood by the white birch tree at sunrise and waited him there. Their reunion was always like when first the scene was played out. They would embrace, and stand there like statues of stone, needing nothing save the arms of each other.

Aragorn never stayed long, yet the short few days he did linger in Imladris were always enough to pull my heart like a drawn bowstring. The sight of him and my fair daughter, side by side with the joy of young love that only they themselves understood, that was a sight beyond me. The wheeling moon overhead stretched lingering days to fleeting years, and six swift years flew by.

One cold winter morning, I saw Arwen again by the white birch tree, and thought sadly that Aragorn would be returning this day, after almost half a year of wandering on endless errantries. The sun sailed the sky with patience, and from sunrise to sundown Aragorn was not seen. He did not come. Was my fair daughter mistaken?

When the sun set she was still there under the tree, and she would not move. The stars slowly rose, and when nearly all else was slumbering away in the deep night she was still there. I watched from the high terrace and I grieved. When Earendil's star rose to the top of the dome of heaven she turned and went away like a startled night bird. Moments later I saw her upon the narrow path once more, with a hasty cloak and atop of a great stallion. Glorfindel's great war steed, I noticed. She raced away like a shooting arrow, vanished into the shadows and night, horse and rider, ere I could utter a sound.

Valar. My heart would have stopped then. But Glorfindel's steed was the swift like the wind, and Arwen rode like a warrior of old; there was naught I could do. So I stood upon the high terrace and watched.

Into the night. Out of the night. Under the first light of dawn she returned, riding as if the hounds of Morgoth were behind her heel. Upon the great horse, sitting before her was Aragorn, hanging on the steed's mane with waning strength, with every sign of about to topple over the next moment. I rushed out to receive them both, along with my worried sons. Aragorn dismounted and stood before me, his eyes dim and clouded. He seemed very ill.

"Ada." He whispered.

My heart clenched again. He had not called me Ada in many long years, so long that I had almost forgotten how I always loved him like a son. That's all he said, before his eyes closed and he fell. I caught him in my arms and supported him. He was very ill indeed, burning to the touch, and every part of his clothing was drenched in blood.

Elladan came to my side, brow furrowed in worry. "Let me take him inside, Ada." He said to me.

I allowed him to help Aragorn inside and turned to my daughter. She looked disheveled, and her face was dark. She did not speak, only looked at me with despairing eyes.

"How did you find him?" I asked. Receiving naught but silence I pressed, "Speak, fair daughter! I must know if I am to help him."

"I found him on the mountain pass." She answered in a whisper "He was half buried in snow, and he was so cold, not like this burning fever that assails him now. I feared him dead."

"Did he say aught to you of what had befallen him?" I asked once more.

"He told me that it was an ill encounter with the goblins in the mountain on his way home. He was overwhelmed and captured…" She spoke no more there, and trembled like a leaf in the wind.

I drew a breath. "They tortured him." I said, and it was not a question.

"No doubt," She whispered, "Yet he said nothing of it. He only said that he managed to gather enough strength to escape, but not enough to reach the safety of Imladris. He apologized to me for this. Oh Valar!"

The day dawned about us, though a miserable silence had fallen. The wind whistled shrilly beside our ears. Finally she whispered imploringly, "Save him, Ada. Please."

I nodded and answered her quietly, "I will."

From sunrise to sundown I was beside Aragorn, putting forth all the skills I possess to heal his injuries. When the last light of the day waned he seemed better. The fever was gone, and he was no longer burning to the touch. Yet he did not wake. He had lost much blood, and there was still some poison in his body that I could not dispel. I did not know if he would ever wake.

I found Arwen in the Hall of Fire, sitting by the hearth alone, staring listlessly into the flame. When her eyes had caught mine she rose hastily. "How is he?" She asked.

I pondered a while, before saying, "He is better."

She looked at me with her clear grey eyes, and she said, "But I see fear in your eyes, Ada. Something is not well. Please, tell your daughter the whole truth, and deceive her not with false hopes."

I bowed my head and said quietly, "He has not waken, not even once, and I fear he would never wake, only waste away until the shadows of death claim him."

Silence had fallen once more, and she looked away, avoiding my eyes. She seemed so distraught, so grieved, and so lost.

"The Valar will guard him." I said gently. "Come, we shall eat, then rest. You have not rested for a long time, surely you must be weary."

She shook her head and pulled away from me. "Nay, I am not weary." She said. "I shall go to him. I shall go sit by his side, until he wakes."

Before I could utter a word she was gone.

Three days and three nights flew past on fleeing wings, and still Aragorn did not wake. Arwen sat beside his bed, still like a statue of stone. She would not leave his side. Food and water she took none, and even the pleas of her beloved brothers were unheeded. On the forth morning I went to her, for I could not bear it any longer. She looked pale, and her grey eyes were dim, and the light that was always about her was gone.

"Arwen, my child," I called to her imploringly, "Speak to me."

She did not even turn her head. I suddenly noticed how hollow and glazed her eyes were, and I was afraid. I took her hands and they were cold like snow, without a single trace of the warmth of life.

"Arwen!" I called once more. "Come back. Return to me and be well. Arwen!"

Still she would not answer. She sat still like stone. That frozen posture and dimming eyes I understood well, and the thought chilled my heart. Celebrian had been like that many centuries ago, begging me with her stillness to sail across the sea to the Undying Land, to rest there, parted from our children and me until a reunion in the distant future. Now Arwen with her stillness, she was begging for me to understand that she would wander across the sea beyond the sight of all, to be parted from me until the ending of the world.

"Arwen!" Still I called. "Undomiel! Do not fade and wither away. Stay! Stay yet! You mother awaits your return west of the sea, as your kinsmen and friends. Do not leave us!"

I called her name a thousand times, until my voice failed me. Still she would not stir, and still she would not awake. Her spirit was fleeing beyond my grasp, and she would not return to me. At last I despaired. I released her cold hands, and words died upon my lips. Yet once again I heard her name uttered, strangely not by my own voice. Aragorn had woken, and he was half sitting in his bed, grey eyes still dim but burning with fear.

"Arwen, Arwen!" He called softly.

He received no reaction. He pushed himself up and grasped her hands tightly, and he called once more, "Arwen, return! Do not desert those who love you. Return!"

That was all he said, and he only waited after that, patiently with his burning gaze locked on my daughter's eyes. There was an agonizing silence, and he only waited. Slowly, slowly the eyes of my daughter began to clear, and slowly, slowly colour and warmth returned to her. At last she stirred, though she did not turn to look at me. She looked into Aragorn's eyes and her gaze did not shift for a long time.

"Estel…" She whispered, leaning closer to him.

She looked as if she was about to say more, but Aragorn said gently, "You had your lord father worried, my lady."

Arwen paused, and slowly she turned to me. Her face coloured, and she lowered her eyes uncertainly.

"I apologize, Ada." She said quietly, the unspoken request that begged understanding from me was clear in her voice.

I understood well enough. If Aragorn had not woken she would not have either. She would have gone with him, never returning, parted from her kin until the ending of the world. She would have left her brothers yet another heartache, her mother across the sea an eternal regret, and me endless misery. My fair daughter was cruel indeed.

I could bear it no longer. When she recovered her strength I sent her to Lothlorien, land of her mother's kin. There in the guarded realm, she would be safe, and there Aragorn should not be able to reach her. But would that be any use? Luthien followed Beren to Morgoth's throne, to Mandos' hall, and finally across the boundless sea to death, forever sundered from her kin. Thingol could not keep his treasure, could I? I did not want to think over much. I only wished that Aragorn, son of Arathorn should never cross the path of my Evenstar again.

Years lengthened in shadows, and fifty years flew by on the wings of birds. I have not seen my daughter, and very little of Aragorn, for he went south on many errantries. The shadows of Mordor were ever expanding, and the entire Middle-earth was listless, the brooding calm before the storm. I called Arwen back to Imladris, for my selfish wish to keep her safe and near.

When I beheld her once more I noticed there was something different about her. She glowed with a brilliant light, bright, burning, not that serene and frosty light of the Eldar that she wore before. I looked on her wonderingly, until I caught a ring on her finger, a regal gold and green. The ring of Barahir. I understood everything then, and my last hope was dashed. My fair daughter was lost to me forever.

I dreaded speaking with her. I would watch her from afar silently, pondering over what I should say to her. I espied her working on a great banner always. She wove it out of the finest black silk, and adorned it with bright crystal and pearls that she had horded since she was a little girl. The embroidery she would stitch with thread of mithril that she took from a circlet of pure mithril that she wore about her neck ere she could walk. That circlet her mother had made for her. I remembered how Celebrian had spent countless evenings, weaving strands of mithril together for her little girl. Now the little girl had grown up, and she was unweaving the mithril circlet her mother made for her, to make the banner for her love.

My heart sank lower and lower, until I thought it could never be uplifted anymore. Finally I spoke to her, for I must know her reasons, I thought.

"Why have you chosen him, child?" I asked her while she was bending over the great banner that now displayed the rough outline of the white tree.

She put down the needle in her hand, though she did not turn her head. "You know of his qualities, Ada." She said quietly.

"I know of his qualities." I said. "But there are many among our people who are far wiser and fairer than he, and many who loved you, yet you have chosen none of them. Why did you give your heart to him, daughter?"

She looked at me pensively, before at last replying, "He has the wisdom and beauty of Eldar, and more, Ada. He has the life and passion of the Edain, and he is full of hope even if pressed on all sides by darkness. And he loves me, Ada. He would give me everything he possesses and ask nothing in return. I have walked long upon this world, but I have only existed in an unchanging dreamscape ere he loved me, doomed to wash ashore the river of time, never finding its flow. But now I have his love, and finally, I live. I can not leave him now, Ada, for he is my life, and to forsake him is to die."

I gazed at her wonderingly, moved and shocked. Suddenly I realized how little I knew my daughter. I looked at her silently, at finally I said, "So you would forsake your kin for this one life. You would forsake your brothers who treasure you like the Silmarils, your mother who await eagerly for your return across the sea, and you would forsake me."

She turned her gaze and lowered her head. "What would you have me do then, father?"

I stay silent, and at last I said, "I would have you wait, Undomiel. You shall be Queen of Middle-earth, no less, if you are to stay here."

She raised her head abruptly and looked at me, and in her grey eyes there was surprise, puzzlement and just the slightest touch of discontent. But she bowed her head again and said calmly, "If that is what you wish, father."

So she waited. Another ten years before finally her waiting was over. From Minas Tirith came winged words of blessing: the Dark Lord was defeated, his tower and fortress thrown down. A King had come again to Middle-earth, and he was crowned in the White City.

Year 3019 of the Third Age, in Mid-year's day, I laid the hand of my fair daughter in Aragorn's. A great King I saw in Aragorn that day, keen eyed and strong willed, a soldier among men and a leader before men. He burned with a great fire, bright, firm and lordly. Yet so great was his light that I thought it too glaring. Still I feared him, this selfless and generous man who will place everyone else's welfare before his own, too great was his nobility that I feared him. And I knew that day my daughter was sundered from me forever, and no glory could lighten my grief.

After I parted from my daughter on my westward road home, Legolas son of Thranduil said to me, "Do not be grieved at this parting, my Lord Elrond. When Elessar passes away, I shall take the Evenstar on my ship and sail her to Valinor. The Undying Land should not be without the Undomiel."

I smiled wanly at him. Legolas was still young, and in his heart was joy that can not be touched by any darkness. Yet his words left a small hope in my heart, and on the white strands of Valinor I waited for his grey ship to dock on the shore and find my fair daughter on his ship. Would she come? Would she return to me?

Six scores of years passed, and I have waited with that sliver of hope. Six scores of years later, Legolas' ship had come. And my daughter was not there.

"My regrets, Lord Elrond. She would not come." Legolas said to me, his clear eyes shadowed. "I thought I had convinced her, for she followed me all the way to the mouth of the Anduin. But she only looked on the waters and said farewell, and…"

His voice trailed off here.

"And?" I asked.

"She turned back. No words could move her. Already I saw she was fading away." He said sorrowfully and bowed his head.

I shook my head mutely. Had I not always known this was how it would end? Had I not foreseen it a long time ago? Yet I had always harboured some vain hope, and now the last of the hope was ended.

Faintly, I thought I saw the scene in Imladris many long years ago. Aragorn was leaving, and my fair daughter came to him, leading a great black stallion that was her parting gift.

"I shall wait for you then." She had said.

When she said that then, did she know she would wait on him with her life?

When she said that then, did she know I would wait on her with an eternity of heartache, waiting for the ending of the world?

Perhaps when she passes beyond the sight of even the Valar, she would be reunited with her foremother Luthien, who passed that way before her. Small condolence it may be, but I thought Luthien would love my little daughter immensely.