Thursday, 15 February 2007

Lorien Love Files- Part 1

Title; Lorien Love Files; Part 1
Author; captainraz
Format and Word Count; 2624
Rating; G
Warnings; pure, unadulterated fluff
Summary; The continuing story of Aragorn's and Arwen's love. Or at least, the parts that occur in Lothlorien.
Author’s Notes; Don't own any part of LOTR- especially not the great chunk of text at the start of this fic

“It came to pass that when Aragorn was nine and forty years of age he returned from perils on the dark confines of Mordor, where Sauron now dwelt again and was busy with evil. He was weary and he wished to go back to Rivendell and rest there awhile ere he journeyed to the far countries; and on his way he came to the borders of Lórien and was admitted to the hidden land by the Lady Galadriel.
‘He did not know it, but Arwen Undómiel was also there, dwelling again for a time with the kin of her mother. She was little changed, for the mortal years had passed her by; yet her face was more grave, and her laughter now seldom was heard. But Aragorn was grown to full stature of body and mind, and Galadriel bade him cast away his wayworn raiment, and she clothed him in silver and white, with a cloak of elven-grey, and a bright gem on his brow. Then more than any kind of man he appeared, and seemed rather an Elf-lord from the Isles of the West. And thus it was that Arwen first beheld him again after their long parting; and as he came walking towards her under the trees of Caras Galadhon laden with flowers of gold, her choice was made and her doom appointed.”

Aragorn had seen his Lady. All the fevered dreams of his youth seemed at once aflame in his veins. His heart beat fast, and his senses were tingling. She was there, still beautiful, still perfect, and yet he could not think what to do. He averted his gaze and stared at the ground. A sudden thought came to him and he snatched up a handful of the golden flowers that grew by his feet; and he walked toward her, butterflies in his stomach.
And so it was that Arwen turned and beheld him. And in her heart of hearts she was glad to see him, yet his face was stern and unreadable to her, for long years of toil and secrecy had taught him how to hide his true nature.

“My Lady,” he almost whispered.

“Mae govannen, Éstel.”

“Long years have passed since our first meeting under the woods in Imladris, and yet you are still as beautiful as the new born stars.” Arwen laughed, but her voice shook slightly.

“You wonder at that Dúnadan? As I said to you long ago, the children of Elrond have the life of the Eldar. But you, you have grown. No longer are you the boy just come to manhood. One could have mistaken you for an Elf-lord as you walked toward me then.”

“You flatter me,” Aragorn replied, forcing down the blush that threatened to surface in his face, “I am but of the race of Men.” Arwen could almost hear the thought that formed in Aragorn’s mind, and men are weak.

“Be not so hard on yourself, Éstel, Men may yet prove to be greater than the Eldar.” Then he smiled and looked into her eyes, but for all his skill he could not read her thought. Then he suddenly remembered the flowers in his hand.

“For you,” he said “beautiful blooms for a beautiful Lady.”

“Now it is my turn to feel flattered,” laughed Arwen “but is that all that you see in me, beauty?” her face grew grave and there was almost an anxious note in her voice.

“Nay, Lady,” answered Aragorn, “tis true that I see in you Lúthien Tinúviel come again, but methinks that which is pleasing to the eye may also be reflected in your fair nature.” This time it was Arwen’s turn to force down a blush, but she was feeling pleased with herself, and with Aragorn’s fair words towards her. Curse his unreadable face she thought.

As they had been talking they had wandered far from the court they had met in each other in, and now both found themselves to be somewhat lost. And completely alone. Aragorn sighed and stared at the trees around him.

“What are you thinking about?” enquired Arwen.

“The names of all the stars, and of all living things, and the whole history of Middle-earth and Over-heaven and of the Sundering Seas1.” Answered Aragorn, somewhat untruthfully, he had been thinking on his Lady. Arwen laughed.

“Wise and full of wit art thou, Éstel, be sure that it is not your downfall.”

“I will” whispered Aragorn, still full of thought. The day wore on, and still they stood, side by side, each lost in their own thoughts. At last Aragorn turned to Arwen, meaning to say something, but he lost his nerve at the last minute. Once again he caught the elven wisdom in her eyes, and turned away, ashamed.

“What is it Aragorn?” asked Arwen gently. Aragorn paused and looked around him.

“It must be nearly dinnertime. The day wears on and we still stand here.”

“Indeed it does, but I find your presence comforting. If you are finished thinking of the names of all the stars, and of all living things, and the whole history of Middle-earth and Over-heaven and of the Sundering Seas, then we may go to the evening meal.” Aragorn smiled.

“Then let us eat.”

Yet out of this brief conversation was born a great friendship. For the next seven days the walked and talked and laughed together in that fair land. And Aragorn found that all his fears slipped away when he was with Arwen, that they had much to talk about, and had much in common. And he found that for all his fears she was easy to talk to and they came to know one another almost intimately. And Aragorn found that as the days passed, he loved Arwen more and more.

But by that time Arwen knew him well enough to see that there was a shadow between them, and that something troubled him; for he had not yet told Arwen of his love for her. And being in nature a lot like Galadriel her grandmother, Arwen was as outspoken as a man and confronted Aragorn on this matter.

It happened when they were resting together in Caras Galadhon. Aragorn was laid on the ground seeming to sleep but not. Then Arwen found the courage to ask the question that had been driving her mad.

“Aragorn?” she asked gingerly.


“I hope that over the past week we have spent together we have become friends.”

“We have my Lady.”

“Friends don’t keep secrets from each other.” Aragorn sat up then, fear gripping his heart.

“What do you mean?” he tried to keep the fear out of his voice, but he spoke thickly.

“I can tell when someone is keeping a secret from me. And I should think I know you well enough by now to know when you are lying to me.”

“I have never lied to you.” Aragorn’s voice was low and dangerous, but it was tinged with hurt.

“But I know you keep something back.” This Aragorn could not deny. “Why won’t you tell me.” Aragorn looked away.

“I cannot.”

“Why? Because I am a woman?” The last comment was said with vehemence, Aragorn knew how she felt on that matter.

“I cannot tell you because I can tell no one.”

“But I thought we were friends.”

“We are!” Aragorn’s was raised now. “But friends also respect each others’ wishes. I can tell no one!”

“I thought you’d be able to tell me.” And with that Arwen stomped off to dinner, leaving Aragorn feeling hurt, upset and confused. How was he ever going to make things right? Then he too left for the evening meal, trying unsuccessfully to force the thoughts to the back of his head.

Dinner was an awkward affair that evening. The tension between Aragorn and Arwen could have been cut with a sword, never mind a knife. This was something that did not escape the notice of Lady Galadriel. Being able to read the hearts and minds of others, she also discerned the cause of the problem, and vowed to confront Aragorn on it.

After dinner Aragorn sulked off on his own, and Galadriel took her chance.

“Aragorn?” he whipped round to find himself face to face with Galadriel, and lowered his eyes.

“My Lady Galadriel, what can I do for you?”

“You can answer a few questions for me.” Aragorn felt dread then, for he knew Galadriel could read many things, and would discover more than he could give in his answers. But he also knew that Galadriel was already perfectly aware of the situation.

“Is that really necessary my Lady? Surely you already know thrice that which I would give you in answer to your questions.” Galadriel smiled at this subtle compliment.

“And you know more than is good for you also.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Tell her.”

“I cannot.”

“Why?” but Galadriel already knew the answer to that question. “She would not rebuke you Éstel. You underestimate my Granddaughter greatly.”

“Nine and twenty years I have loved her, and long since I gave up hope that she could ever love me in return. She is too far above me.”

“Think not so of yourself Aragorn, you are not so low down as you think. And I do not think that you have given up all hope.” Aragorn sighed.

“For twenty-nine years I have hidden who I am, how I feel. It is hard for me now to open those gates long locked.”

“But you will open those gates for me, why then can you not for Arwen.”

“You my Lady have no need for open gates to read someone’s heart. Long ago you read my mind, and I have been naked to you ever since.”

“But you would ask me of my advice Naked One?”


“Then tell her, if only for the friendship you two share. Both of you are too lonely to fall out like this. Would you not rather share her friendship than her hate, if she cannot love you?” Aragorn knew that Galadriel was right, as always. He bowed and went off to think.

Arwen will go to him she thought this may yet turn out right.

Aragorn knew that Galadriel was right, but still he could not find the courage to tell Arwen how he felt. Coward he thought you have led armies to victory against impossible odds without fear, yet you are reduced to a trembling wreck at the thought of telling someone you love them.

But he knew why he was so afraid. All his life he had had to hide his true nature, he had become accustomed to shutting everyone out. If he let someone in then he would be vulnerable, a feeling he did not like. It did not help that he had been told quite clearly by the man he had called Father that he wasn’t good enough. Not good enough for Arwen. She is too far above you. He was broken from his musing by a quiet voice.

“Éstel?” It was Arwen. Aragorn took a deep breath and turned to look at her, a heartbreaking look in his eyes.

“I must tell you something Arwen…” then he faltered, unsure. What if she laughed? But a nasty little voice in his head told him: if she does, then she is not worth your love. Aragorn braced himself. “Arwen… you must forgive me if I… seem forward… but I cannot put what I want to say into words.”

Then Arwen found Aragorn’s lips on hers, in a brief but fiery kiss. To his surprise she did not push him away, but when he pulled away he was breathless from his own daring. He cared not if Arwen thought him a rogue, so sure was he of being rebuked. But he knew he had to plough on, though his heart felt ready to break. Arwen was still stunned from the kiss, so he took his chance.

“What I really meant to say… wanted to say is… I love you.” If Arwen was stunned before then it was nothing compared to her shock at this revelation. She was used to men desiring her body, but not to them confessing love to her. He continued “I have loved you ever since I first looked into your eyes, and saw there the elven light. Each long year that passed for me only increased the pain. But the last few days have made that pain unbearable. I love you, Arwen Evenstar, you and no other.”

Then Aragorn turned as to walk off as he felt the tears fall down his face. His life felt over, his heart was broken. All seemed lost until Arwen stirred.

“Wait!” she called “I would not have you leave with a broken heart. Not if I am the only one who could heal it.” Aragorn stayed then, if only to hear her voice one last time. But then Arwen too faltered. “I am afraid I have been somewhat hypocritical. I pressed for you to reveal your secrets, but still I kept my own. I am sorry. Since you have now opened your heart to me, I feel now is the right moment to return the favour, lest that moment be lost forever.”

Arwen knew what she had to say, and that she could say it now, but still she feared to say it. Once said, it could not be taken back, and that was what scared her. Yet Aragorn had found the courage to reveal long hidden secrets, she had to return the favour. But still she was transfixed by that brief kiss.

“You say you have loved me since you first looked into my eyes. You are certain, I am not. I know not whether my heart was turned when I saw you seven days ago, or whether I merely understood. Certainly I have thought much of you in your absence.” ,i>Stop digressing she thought “All I know is how I feel now, and I say to you Éstel, that I love you too.”

Then Aragorn understood. Hope at last came back into his heart, and filled it till he thought it would break with happiness. For that moment at least he cared not whether he was dreaming or not, all he cared for was Arwen’s eyes.

Somehow Aragorn kept his presence of mind, when Arwen seemed to lose hers. He took her chin in his hand, and their eyes met for a moment before he kissed her. Into this kiss he poured all of his love and desire of many years alone, and all his fears washed away. The kiss was as fiery as the last, but it ran deeper. In this kiss they told each other of their love over and over again, and they lost themselves in the passion of that kiss.

“So it has happened at last.” They were broken from that perfect moment by a voice; Galadriel. Both blushed, still breathing heavily; but their hands remained clasped, though neither could remember them coming together. Galadriel looked vaguely amused at their embarrassment. “I wondered when you would both realise.” Then Aragorn understood, it was not just his heart that she had read.

“Thank you.” He said. Galadriel merely smiled and left them alone again. Aragorn felt a light touch on his lips, and looked down to find Arwen with her arms wound around his ribs. He laughed and kissed her again, not caring who looked on.

For that moment all that mattered was that they were together, in love. Neither cared how long they stood there. Indeed it was awhile before they came up for air.

But both knew that this was only the beginning.

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