Chapter Nineteen: The World Ahead
Aragorn trailed kisses along Arwen's jaw. When he reached her neck, he buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply of her familiar scent, so delicate and sweet. Then he placed one final kiss on the point of her ear, and that reminder that he truly held Arwen in his arms overwhelmed him. He clutched her so tightly that she gasped and murmured his name.
He loosened his grip slightly. "I am sorry, meleth nin. I did not think I would ever hold you again…"
She placed a hand over his mouth. "That time is past, Estel. Let us not speak of it again." He nodded his agreement and pressed a kiss to her palm. The Elven-light in her eyes brightened, and when she moved her hand to cup his cheek, he leaned in slightly to kiss her again.
Just before his lips met hers, he heard a twig snap. He straightened and studied the trees; even in the early morning light he could easily see two figures walking through the garden. A moment later Elladan and Elrohir stepped out of the shadows, broad grins on their faces.
Elladan lounged against the trunk of a tree. "Good morning, Estel. Legolas told us about your… discussion last night, so we came in search of you. We had thought to knock some sense into your head, but it seems that will not be necessary."
Aragorn looked at them and then back at Arwen and realized all they could see was her dark hair, so similar to Olwen's. At last, I know something they do not. He hid his smile and knit his brows together. "I am afraid I do not follow."
Elrohir snorted. "As if there is any other woman you would be holding…" His words trailed off when she turned around. White-faced, he mumbled, "Arwen?" She nodded and held a hand out to each of them. They reached in her three long strides and pulled her into a tight hug.
For many minutes there were no words, then Elladan finally asked the question. "How is this possible? Ada sent you to the Blessed Realm…"
Aragorn saw his own pain mirrored in Arwen's eyes. "That was not his choice to make."
"Even so," Elrohir said, "once the choice was made…"
"I am not the first elleth to be sent back to Middle-earth."
The reference to Lúthien was obvious. Aragorn stood in awe that he should be as lucky as Beren, that the Elf-maiden he loved should have chosen a mortal life over the immortality of her kin. His brothers flinched and he knew the reminder had affected them differently. Though they had not left Middle-earth with their father, they would follow eventually. For them, Lúthien raised the scepter of their sister's death—a thought which did not belong in this moment of joy.
He stepped forward and placed a hand on each twin's shoulder. "Come, my brothers. The Valar have gifted us with many years together—wish us joy."
The mood lightened, as he had hoped. "Perhaps it is Aragorn who should be given a choice," Elrohir suggested. "He is not familiar with some of our sister's mercurial moods."
Aragorn rolled his eyes. "I made my choice seventy years ago, and I do not believe I will regret it."
"Very well, but when the romance fades, remember we warned you."
Arwen crossed her arms. "I have a few tales I could tell your prospective brides—you are neither of you prizes."
Elrohir protested loudly, but Elladan remained silent, a frown on his face. "Elladan? Does something bother you?" Aragorn asked.
"Estel, what of Olwen? I know you did not give our words credence, but I assure you, the maid cares deeply for you."
Aragorn tipped his head back and laughed. "Yes, I believe she does."
His frown deepened. "It is no laughing matter. I rejoice with you at Arwen's return, but…" He broke off when Arwen's laughter joined Aragorn's and his eyes narrowed. "There is something you know that I do not."
"I am sorry, Elladan, could you repeat that?"
Arwen placed a hand on Aragorn's arm, and the feel of her soft skin against his stopped him. "Do not torment them, Estel. Elladan, I do appreciate your concern for Olwen but it is unnecessary I assure you. Olwen is… She was… That is, I am…"
Elrohir pieced her rambling sentence together first. "You were Olwen?"
Arwen shrugged. "Or she was me."
"But how…"
"That was the one condition the Valar placed on my return."
Elrohir frowned, and for a moment Aragorn wondered if he would question their reasoning behind such a condition. He himself had wondered, but it seemed a trivial thing compared to the blessing of Arwen's return.
Elrohir must have reached the same conclusion, for instead of pushing the point he said, "I believe it is time for breakfast." A wicked gleam entered his eyes. "I look forward to seeing the look on Legolas' face when he sees you."
They were a merry party as they walked from the garden into the Citadel. The revelation of Olwen's true identity cast many events in a humorous light. Aragorn recounted his fear when Elladan and Elrohir arrived in the City—that they were Olwen's relatives, come to take her away. "And indeed, you are her relatives," he concluded, earning laughter from his companions.
They had almost reached the palace when they were stopped by the last person Aragorn wished to see: Tarondor. "Your Highness, my lords Elladan and Elrohir… and I do not believe I am familiar with the lady." He took her hand and bowed low over it, and Aragorn knew the astute man had not missed the way his king held the strange lady close to him.
"Good morning Tarondor. This is Lady Arwen, sister to Elladan and Elrohir—and my betrothed." Aragorn was grateful the courtyard was still mostly deserted, for he was not ready to announce that to the entire court. However, Tarondor offered him one thing. Here was the opportunity to test the reaction this news would receive.
Aragorn watched his noble carefully, but Tarondor did not show even a glimmer of surprise. He bowed low once more and said, "This is a joyful day indeed. Welcome to Minas Tirith my lady. When is the happy event to take place?"
She looked at Aragorn and he said, "As soon as the preparations can be made." Tarondor's eyebrows rose slightly at this, and Aragorn knew it was a huge change from the king who, mere weeks before, had been unwilling to consider marriage at all. "I assure you, I will explain our story later. Will you inform the Council that I wish them and their families to join me for lunch this afternoon?"
"Of course, Your Highness."
"Thank you. Now if you will excuse us, we have not yet broken our fast." Tarondor bowed and they continued past the fountain and into the palace.
In the corridor, servants were busy extinguishing the sconces. Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows and reflected off the threads of gold and mithril woven into the tapestries. Has this city always been so beautiful, or is it my own joy that makes it so?
Elladan broke into his thoughts. "How much do you intend to tell your people, Estel?"
Aragorn knew what he meant: would he tell the truth regarding Olwen and Arwen? He sighed; it was a question that had been growing in the back of his mind since Arwen's appearance, and he still did not have the perfect answer. "What do you think, Arwen?"
She plucked at a loose thread on her gown in a gesture he knew so well from Olwen, and he marveled that he had not recognized her all those months ago. "We cannot keep the truth from them," she said after a moment's thought. "It may be too much to be believed, but if Olwen were to disappear… how else can we explain that but by the truth?"
Aragorn nodded. "That was my thought as well. I would like to introduce you to the Council this afternoon and tell them the whole story. From there, it will get passed around the City, though it is likely most will not believe it."
Elrohir laughed. "You are likely to become a legend in your own time, Arwen—Olwen, the lost maiden of Minas Tirith."
They reached the small dining room where Arwen had often met with Legolas, and Elladan reached for the handle. "There is still one who we know will accept the truth, and I agree with my brother—I cannot wait to see the look on his face when he sees you." He opened the door and peered into the room. "Perfect, he is not here yet. He must still be out looking for Aragorn."
"Why would he be looking for Aragorn?" Aragorn shifted under her gaze and her brothers just laughed. "Estel? Is there something you wish to tell me?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Can we not sit down?"
"Of course. And then you may answer my question."
Aragorn took his time reaching his own chair. First he helped Arwen to hers, then he made sure the door was closed. A few of the servants they had passed on the way here had given them very curious looks, and he did not want any part of this conversation being passed around the palace.
He heard Arwen drumming her fingers on the tabletop and he knew her patience wore thin. He sat down and crossed his arms. "Legolas and I… quarreled last night."
She raised an eyebrow. "I do recall that you dragged him away rather precipitously."
He picked up his fork and twirled it around. "Our conversation was not entirely comfortable. I might have… well, consider the position I found you in."
She laughed. "Estel! You do not mean to tell me that you accused Legolas of…"
It seemed ridiculous now, and he shifted in his chair. "I do not believe I made any actual accusations, but my intent was clear."
She placed her chin on her hands. "And what did he say?"
Aragorn felt his face turn red. "Beyond telling me that I should know him better than to believe the ridiculous rumors floating around the palace?" She nodded. "He told me that if the thought of you with another man bothered me that much, then perhaps I ought to admit to myself what everyone else could see months ago."
He shook his head; it was hard to believe how much had changed in the last twenty-four hours. "I must thank him, for if he had not delivered those pointed words, I would not have been outside where I could catch you."
The image of her lying on the stones passed before him again, and he shuddered. Arwen laced her fingers with his and he looked into her calm grey eyes. "Do not fret, meleth nin. You found me, and I am yours."
Before he could respond to those words, the door opened. Arwen quickly turned away so her face would not be visible right away. Legolas looked around the room and let out a short laugh. "Elladan, Elrohir, good morning Aragorn. I see you have brought Olwen with you, does this mean…"
Arwen chose this moment to reveal herself to her friend. He stared at her for a long moment and then came forward to bow low over her hand. "Lady Arwen, I take it we have unwittingly been in your company for all these months."
"Aye, Legolas, I was Olwen. It is good to be myself again, however."
"I am sure it is. It is good to see you again, mellon nin, though I do not quite understand how…"
Arwen told the story once more while they ate, and as Aragorn watched Legolas' reaction to the tale, he knew that his decision to share the truth with the Council was the right one. Olwen had touched many lives, from those she had tended in the Houses of Healing to the peasants whose lives she had enriched by the gifts she had given them. The connection between Olwen and Arwen must be made obvious, or those same people would resent Arwen for replacing their beloved Olwen.
Nevertheless, he was not without trepidation when he and Arwen stood together at the door to the dining hall that afternoon. To explain the truth about Arwen, he must reveal his own hidden grief to them, something he was not wholly comfortable with.
Arwen smiled up at him. "Are you ready to present me to your Council, Estel?"
There was no trace of fear or doubt in her expression, and her confidence inspired his own. He nodded at the servants to open the doors. "His Royal Highness Elessar and the Lady Arwen!" the seneschal bellowed.
The entire room rose to its feet. Aragorn inclined his head in acknowledgement and led Arwen toward the head table, where Faramir and Éowyn awaited them. They were halfway across the room when the whispers began. "Who is that?" I have never seen her before." "Is she an Elf?" Aragorn knew this was but a taste of what was to come, and fixed a smile on his face
When they reached the front of the room, he motioned for the people to be seated. "My lords and ladies, I present to you Arwen, daughter of Elrond, to whom I have been betrothed for many years." He waited for the whispers to die down before he continued. "She was grievously injured by Orcs three years ago after the fall of Barad-dûr, and her father made the difficult choice to send her to Valinor. Several months ago, she was returned to Middle-earth in the disguise of a woman of Gondor."
He saw glimmers of understanding on the faces of some, though many were still puzzled. Faramir sucked in a quick breath, and he knew that with his greater knowledge of all the circumstances, his steward had easily picked up the truth.
"As some of you are beginning to understand, that Gondorian maiden was the Lady Olwen, who stands before you now in her true form as Arwen Undomiel." The chatter started anew, and he was forced to pause for a long moment. When he finally held the attention of the room once more he said, "I now give you your future queen, the Lady Arwen."
The assembly rose to its feet and clapped enthusiastically. He could tell many did not truly understand, but all rejoiced with the announcement of his betrothal. Arwen curtsied prettily and then they took their seats.
As soon as they were seated, their companions began to question Arwen about her sudden reappearance. Aragorn enjoyed both the novelty of not being the focus of everyone's attention and the chance to watch Arwen work her magic on his people. Within minutes she had won them all over, save one.
To his surprise, it was Éowyn who was more reticent to welcome his bride. She remained quiet throughout the whole meal and only turned to Arwen when the footmen appeared to clear the plates. "Lady Arwen, I had though to ask Olwen if she wished to ride with me this afternoon. I do not know if…"
Arwen placed a hand on the other woman's arm, and Aragorn took it as a good sign that she did not pull back. "Please, Éowyn —call me Arwen. We are friends, or we were when I was but an unknown lady. That should not end now simply because I am known as myself. I will see you in the stables at three o'clock."
The White Lady relaxed and Aragorn realized she had been unsure if Arwen would accept her as a equal as Olwen had done. "I will be there, Arwen," she promised.
Faramir cleared his throat and stood. "My lord, will I see you in your study this afternoon? I wanted to discuss the progress that has been made in the flood aid for Anórien."
"I will be with you shortly." Faramir nodded and he and Éowyn took their leave of the royal couple.
Aragorn sighed and turned to Arwen. "Much as I would love to spend the afternoon with you, I fear the country will not run itself."
Arwen laughed. "Do not concern yourself, Estel. I too have work to do—someone has decreed that a royal wedding should take place 'as soon as possible'."
"Is that acceptable? If not…"
"You worry too much, my love. I have no more desire to wait than you do." She looked down, and for a moment Aragorn wondered if he truly had placed too much pressure on her by stating his desire to marry soon. "I had thought… could we be married on April 25?"
He was glad she had not looked back up, for she missed his instinctive recoil. For him, that day would be forever tied to her attack at Imladris, even though the latter had happened at least a week later.
She reached out and took his hand, though she still did not look up. It is important to her; why? He carefully hid his antipathy and squeezed her hand. She looked up and he nodded. "The start of a new year."
"And in celebration of the moment that made our union possible."
He was struck dumb by her ability to throw a positive light on events that had haunted him for years. He cleared his throat and said, "I will leave the arrangements to you, Arwen." Then he kissed her hand and left the room.
He nodded absently to the nobles he passed in the corridor, but his mind was still on her words. Can I celebrate something that caused so much sorrow? But she is right; we would not be here if that day had not come to pass.
He was halfway across the courtyard before his mind registered that something was different. He set aside his musings and looked around him; the Tower gleamed in the sunlight, soldiers hurried to the practice fields, the fountain bubbled in front of the palace, and the tree…
His heart caught in his throat. The Tree of the King stood before him as it did every day, but today, the single blossom was open. Until you can let go of the past and accept your new future, the White Tree will not flower, nor will its one blossom open. Finally Aragorn could remember those words without bitterness. Past had become future, and he was ready to accept both the pain and pleasure that truth brought him.
The next few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of activity. The entire city was abuzz with the news that King Elessar had chosen a bride. It had been many years since Minas Tirith had hosted such a grand event. Those who could recall the wedding of Denethor to FInduilas found their tales were suddenly in high demand.
The tale of Arwen and Olwen was even more talked of. As Elrohir had predicted, many did not believe the truth, and wild rumors regarding Olwen could be heard on every street corner. The lady's charm and her perfect memory of all she had done as Olwen soon convinced those who had known her however, and among these people the king was considered lucky to have captured her heart.
Their wedding day arrived at last. The guests were assembled in the Great Hall. Aragorn stood at the front with Legolas by his side, waiting for Arwen to enter the room. Outside the door he heard the clarion call that announced her arrival, and he stood up straight. A herald threw open the doors and she walked in, with a brother on each arm.
All the air left his lungs in a loud rush when he saw her. He had loved this woman since the moment he first saw her, and today she would become his wife. He was in a daze for the entire ceremony, his whole being focused on Arwen. He forgot to speak a few times, and she squeezed his hands gently, her eyes laughing at him.
At last it was done, and Aragorn stared down at his bride. He knew custom dictated he should walk her out of the hall decorously, but the joy welling up inside him could not be contained. Instead of offering her his arm, he placed his hands at her sides and picked her up off her feet. He spun her around a few times, delighting in her laughter.
When he set her down, the joy and laughter melted into tenderness. Finally, she is my wife! He brushed the hair away from her face and when she leaned into his slight caress, he dipped in suddenly for a kiss. He felt first her surprise and then her enthusiastic response and he gave himself over to the pleasure he found only with her.
AN: This is the end. I did have an epilogue planned, but after some thought I realized it wasn't necessary. To use my beta's words, it was the difference between walking away from a meal satisfied and walking away thinking, "I really shouldn't have eaten that last bite."
Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story, whether or not you've reviewed. Double thanks to those who have reviewed—your words of encouragement have helped more than you realize.