Author's note: Heya again guys! I've a bit of a block with 'The Birthday Boy', so tonight I just got the notion to get this ready for postin' to make sure ye don't forget me until I get thenext piece of 'TBB' up! So for those of you who have checked my 'Teasers' pg (just click on my name) you'll know about this fic. But in yesterday's updates, I've said that this again, will be a two-chapt. fic. I know the story's main plot & title doesn't exactly tie in with this piece, but silly ol' me can't seem to write this without goin' into the history and backstory of Aragorn & Arwen (with reference to the movies). I wanna create a kind of emotional attachment for ye so the second part'll work better (woa, you'd think I was Peter Jackson or somethin'! LOL!) So whilst I promise the whole Éowyn & vision thing will feature in the second part, here's your opening. All reviews are really appreciated and I 'specially dedicate this one to Vivianna whose wonderful praises make my head grow so much with! Here's my thanks to you girl :-)

Aragorn's Vision

The usually cold stone ground of Rohan's Golden Hall was tonight more unforgiving than it had ever been. The even, heavy breathing of his slumbering friends echoed against the tall walls, also heightening Gimli the dwarf's drunken snoring. In their sleeping, they were all appeared to be without concern or bother. The army of Rohan, aided by the elves, had recently won a massive siege against thousands of Isenguard's Uruk-hai. Due to the triumph, the Golden Hall had several consecutive nights of celebration over the past week, perhaps allowing many to relieve themselves of the strains and realities of the war in which had waged the lands. But even in such a huge victory, Aragorn could not find peace.

Though he had slept in much worse conditions through the many years of wandering, this night on the hard ground proved to be significantly difficult. The cold air tightened his lungs with each breath. The rough blankets would not allow him to settle in a comfortable position. But these physical complaints merely added to his restlessness. It was the thoughts that ran riot through his worn head that kept him awake.

Sleepless nights were common for Aragorn, mostly as of late. Worries constantly dominated his mind as he reflected on the goings on around him. He had faced much turmoil throughout his life, both physically and emotionally, but this particular period was definitely proving to be severely trying. He was now faced with many choices of huge importance, regarding his own future and the future of Middle Earth. Whatever the choice he made, it would involve and affect the welfare of another.

In choosing, Aragorn had little chance to be selfish. This applied even to romantic matters of the heart. He lately realised many had taken for granted that life simply consisted of falling in love with someone and raising a family with them. Aragorn encountered his love many years ago in the elven wood of Rivendell. He was only 20 at the time of their meeting, though age was of no significance regarding his feelings or those of the fair maiden, Arwen.

Arwen was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Upon first sight of her twirling between the trees and singing among the falling leaves, he fell in love. So limitless in perfection was she that he mistook her for the alleged most beautiful woman in the history of creation, the ancient elven Princess Luthien. He was enchanted as he watched her ebony waves of long hair sway in the slight breeze and the delicate garments in which she wore caress her slender, elegant shape. Not only did she resemble Luthien, but Aragorn was to learn that Arwen too was an elven Princess. She was the daughter of Lord Elrond, an elf of high status who had raised the child Aragorn.

To his surprise, Arwen in return, had fallen in love with him. Despite the fact that Aragorn was a mortal man and she an immortal elf, the love between them blossomed. Earthly status did not matter to either of the pair. So strong was their affection that it overcame many obstacles, including Aragorn's many years in the wilderness - where he adopted the guise of a ranger and named himself 'Strider' - and their separation for decades. The most prominent gesture in their relationship was Arwen's sacrifice of her elven immortality and eternal life in the lands of the Valar, solely for him. He had never dreamed of asking it of her, and even tried to dissuade her decision, but he knew that if she felt as strong as he, it was the more attractive choice.

As he lay between the coarse blankets, Aragorn recalled their last meeting in Rivendell.

It was dusk, and the mist of the haven's falling waters swirled in the air. It was the evening before the department of the 'Fellowship' on their journey to Mordor in order to destroy the One Ring. In the chance that he may never again return, he bade to say his 'farewells'… The first was to his mother's grave.

During his prayer before the white marble stone, the tall form of Elrond Halfelven approached him. With a stern look, the elven Lord reminded his adopted son that he would not give his only daughter to the bitter content of mortality. For, same as Aragorn, Elrond too had lost a loved woman to the sorrow of death. His wife, Celebrían, daughter of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel of the Golden woods of Lothlorien, had died after an attack from a band of vicious Orcs. Upon the grief of her sad parting, Elrond vowed to himself he would not lose another. And yet, though Arwen had been sent to stay with her grandparents in Lothlorien, she had only just returned to the land of her father before she pledged herself wholly to Aragorn. There was no warning of it and there was nothing in which Elrond could do to prevent it

Elrond went to speak with his fostered son that night in a final effort to keep his daughter. Of course, Aragorn knew why the elf Lord came. The ranger tried to reason that Arwen and he loved eachother, but Elrond would not have it. "I will not leave my daughter here to die!" he grimly declared, staring the rugged man before him with both a steely and desperate gaze.

But Aragorn, too, was desperate. Though he knew great trouble lay ahead, he adopted Arwen's hope and believed in the power of good against the forces of Sauron. And should they win, and he crowned King, Aragorn wanted Arwen by his side. "She stays because she still has hope."

"She stays because of you!" came the haste reply. Elrond's affirmation left no margin for reason. "She belongs with her people."

Aragorn mustered all his strength to hold the tears in his burning eyes. He could not speak an answer with the choking lump that now pained his throat. The elven Lord's last comment hit him hard as his worst fear became realised. His fate, nor the fate of Middle Earth, was not part of the life in which Arwen belonged. It never had and never could.

Aragorn last memory of Rivendell was that of his second farewell; his farewell to Arwen. He had gathered his requirements for the lengthy journey and before the dawn, and he quickly tried to depart in a bid to avoid her. Seeing her pristine face would cause him more pain. But as he dashed from his lodgings with his backpacks in tow, she would find him

"Is this how you would take your leave?" she playfully chided upon appearance, circling around him. "Did you think you could slip away at first light, unnoticed?"

He kept his face to the ground in order to prevent contact. "I will not be coming back."

Arwen dismissed his almost cold tone. Of course, it was expected of one to be somewhat apprehensive before such a huge quest. "You under-estimate your skill in battle. You will come back," she reassured in confidence.

"It is not of death in battle that I speak."

"What do you speak of?" she asked tailing his quick pace, unaware of the severity of his answer.

Aragorn stopped still now, briefly looking to her before hanging his head again. He sighed in defeat. He could not but speak of it to her. She deserved at least to know. His crystal eyes finally lifted to meet hers, "You have a chance for another life….away from war…grief…despair."

Her brows fell in confusion. "Why are you saying this?" she whispered, unable to fully register what reached her pointed ears.

"I am mortal, you are elf-kind," he said, he fighting to keep his face rigid and voice strong. "It was a dream Arwen….Nothing more."

Their gaze remained locked as he looked to her and she to him, reading every part of his very soul. "I don't believe you," she remarked weakly with hurt.

Retaining all his strength to still lie, he took her soft hand into his, and with the other, he held out the glowing white gem. Her promise, her pledge and her life. "This belongs to you."

Staring at it for a moment, Arwen upraised her head with a false smile, perhaps pretending to make sense of what was happening. "It was a gift. Keep it." Placing a porcelain hand over his, she closed his fingers around the Evenstar.

No more was said between them after or since. No words were of aid. Even as the 'Fellowship of the Ring' made their departure to the outer lands, Arwen could hardly look at him. He knew she was hurt, and it broke his heart. If only she knew of his hurt, and of the depth of his love for her!

His last sight of the elven princess Arwen was in his delayed stand at Rivendell's gates, and he stood until the calls of his friends beckoned him and he could remain no longer.

The encounter faded and Aragorn again became aware of his surroundings. Rohan was far away from Rivendell. The cold encamped him again, and in the dark, he heard numerous colliding rhythms of breathing. Rubbing a heavy hand across his bristled chin, Aragorn restlessly tossed his head. He had said to Elrond that the relationship would become 'nothing more than a memory,' but the deep pain that pierced his heart every time he thought about her was much more than nothing. His greatest wish was for some miracle – just some slight hope - that she would remain in Middle Earth, or at the very least, that they would share another, kinder goodbye before her leave for the Undying Lands of Valinor.

He did not know what he saw now in his future. It once was so certain when he pictured his growing old with her. What was he to do? There was no doubt of his love for her, but what good was there in loving something that was 'nothing more than a memory'? His eyes would never fall upon her again. Her musical voice would not reach his ears and her sensual touch would no longer be his? It gnawed a hole in his every waking and breathing moment to think of their end, but if he were to continue to live, he had to do so in the present and not the past.

He slowly lifted his stiff arms behind his neck. Brushing his chestnut locks to one side, his fingers searched for the small delicate latch in which it was tied. Pressing against the tiny lever, for the first time, the chain purposely fell loose. His fingers again grasped the familiar dainty shape of her necklace.

Only one had noticed the chain and asked of it. Whilst on the road to Helm's Deep, Éowyn, niece of King Theoden of Rohan questioned him of its origin. She was an observant and intelligent lady of a strong character. He was somewhat hesitant to answer her inquiry, but speaking aloud of Arwen's passing to the Undying Lands made it seem all the more real to him. She had probably left now, or was on the journey to the Grey Havens.

For the first time in his life, Aragorn's faith in the strength of their feelings began to fade as the bitter truth began to set in.

Arwen was leaving.