But she couldn't show Aragorn what she felt: she didn't want him to stay just for her. So she smiled and reassured him that the end to his weariness was what they both wanted. She was sure they would see each other again after.

He smiled upon seeing Arwen curled up in a chair in the corner. When she didn't acknowledge his entrance he assumed she was absorbed in her book. Her mother had done the same from time to time and Elrond had learnt it was best to leave her to it.

Since Celebrían left, Elrond and Arwen had found they had little to say to each other. Elrond couldn't say why their relationship had changed so much, so he was glad of a chance to spend some time with his daughter. Even if neither of them spoke it was enough to be in her presence for a time.

However, the accounts of Imladris were not very distracting and Elrond found he couldn't concentrate on them after a long day. After a while spent trying to read, but mostly staring out of the window, he realised Arwen hadn't turned a page in her book since he sat down. When he looked up he found she was looking off into the distance.

"Arwen?" he asked softly, and waited until her eyes met his before continuing. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head. As she slid the bookmark inside the book and rested it on the table beside the lamp, Elrond waited for her to correct that statement. "It's too quiet."

He raised an eyebrow. It was early yet and outside the window the birds were singing as they gathered for bed. The Men chattering and the Elves' songs could still be heard, though they were further afield. It was not noisy precisely, but neither was it very quiet.

Arwen knew what his expression meant without him having to ask the question. "It's too quiet without mother here," she elaborated.

He nodded. He often felt the same. Celebrían's absence made the house feel too empty, despite the number of people in it. Yet he said nothing to Arwen. It was hard to offer comfort when he had none to give.

The silence stretched between them before Arwen stood and wandered over to the mantelpiece, frowning. "There always used to be flowers here."

"Violets." Leaving his papers on the chair as he stood, Elrond joined her. "They were your mother's favourite flower. They used to grow in the flowerbed by our rooms but they have not bloomed since..." he trailed off, certain she knew the gardens well enough to have noticed.

She ran her fingers over the space on the mantelpiece where the violets once stood. Elrond hated to see her look so sad and was frustrated at his inability to help her. However, he could bear this melancholy no longer and knew he was failing as her father by not finding a way of cheering her up.

"Perhaps we might grow something else in its place," he suggested.

Arwen's fingers stopped, but it was a moment before she turned to face him. "I don't know what would grow well in that patch, but I think it should be something bright."

Elrond smiled, liking the idea. "I know where we can find out." He held out his arm. After a moment she smiled and took it, and together they walked to the library. On a low shelf on the left was a book on flowers that Celebrían had often consulted. Elrond had frequently seen her with it and knew where it lived. He picked it and handed it to Arwen. "I believe the answer to your question is in here," he said.

She opened the book and flicked through it, looking at the drawings and the information that told her what type of soil they grew best in. Elrond peered over her shoulder, offering no comment, wanting Arwen to choose something herself. She didn't linger long over any page until she came upon the rose. "I have heard that they are trying to breed a purple rose in Lothlórien," she commented.

He raised an eyebrow. "I would like to see that." Celebrían had also been fond of roses, but none she had were purple. "But the soil and the light are wrong in the flowerbed where the violets grew."

"No, but I know where they could go." She handed him the book before moving over to the desk. There she began sketching the garden, noting what grew there now and what she would like to grow.

Elrond smiled as he watched her work. She had taken over many of Celebrían's duties out of necessity, but Celebrían's garden had, until now, not been something she had been interested in, beyond looking at it. Now Celebrían was gone, Imladris would never be the same again, but at least he still had Arwen. Perhaps if they worked on the garden together they would once again find something they had in common.

"She will break many hearts in the future," Celebrían said with a smile.

"She will break mine," Elrond said quietly. Although he could not imagine how or why she would do such a thing. It was a vision he would remember, but not anticipate.

Elrond was also terribly upset that day. Arwen had been torn away from him and when he went to the West he would never see her again. He would not be there to see how she prospered, nor to greet his grandchildren.

But today he could be happy, tomorrow he would grieve.

Frodo begins the passage of the Dead Marshes at dawn. Entmoot continues. Aragorn meets Gandalf the White. They set out for Edoras. Faramir leaves Minas Tirith on an errand to Ithilien.

Théoden fought hard for thought. As much as he tried, though, it slipped through his fingers. Yet there was something important he could not remember. He must, he knew, but could not recall what it was about. Éomer was not there to remind him, he knew not why. Éowyn spoke to him but he could not hear the words. He thought Gríma might know, but Gríma told him there was nothing, and to let him worry about it. Gríma was always right so Théoden tried his best to put it out of his mind, but it occupied all his thoughts.

2nd March

Frodo comes to the end of the Marshes. Gandalf comes to Edoras and heals Théoden. The Rohirrim ride west against Saruman. Second Battle of Fords of Isen. Erkenbrand defeated. Entmoot ends in afternoon. The Ents on Isengard and reach it at night.

The day had been long and hard, as had all of their days since they left the rest of the Fellowship and struck out on their own. Sam wished for the others to be here, to help him watch over Frodo, and so someone could watch Gollum all the time.

In his dreams Gollum cut their throats, carried off the Ring and all was lost. When he awoke he berated himself, for there had been ample opportunity for Gollum to do that very thing. So he did not sleep because he feared what might not be there when he awoke.

3rd March

Théoden retreats to Helm's Deep. Battle of the Hornburg begins. Ents complete the destruction of Isengard.

Éowyn was finding bravery was harder in the face of war. She did not fear battle, nor fighting or dying for Rohan. But she did not want any more death, not of Théoden or of Éomer, for they were all she had now Théodred was gone.

She was scared that though Théoden was healed, his counsel was no longer sage and Aragorn was right. They could not lose, not just for Rohan but for the whole of Middle-earth. She was frightened they might fail and they all might lose far more than just the lives of the ones they loved.

4th March

Théoden and Gandalf set out from Helm's Deep for Isengard. Frodo reaches the slag-mounds on the edge of the Desolation of the Morannon.

Even as he enjoyed the spoils of Isengard, Pippin still found time to worry. They no longer knew of the rest of the company, save Gandalf, and had no way of receiving news, unless anyone came to Isengard, or they could convince the Ents to take them from here. Except they had no way of knowing where anyone else was, what they were doing, or how to get to them.

He thought about saving some of the pipeweed to take home but did not know if he would ever see home again and Merry was no help on the subject.

5th March

Théoden reaches Isengard at noon. Parley with Saruman in Orthanc. Winged Nazgul passes over the camp at Dol Baran. Gandalf sets off with Peregrin for Minas Tirith. Frodo hides in sight of the Morannon, and leaves at dusk.

As they rested, Halbarad looked at the staff that was his responsibility to bear. He longed to unfurl it and fight under its banner but he would not. He knew what it represented, what it said, who it was for, but the choice to use it was not his.

He had not seen his kinsman for some time and although he thought they would have heard if Aragorn was dead, he had no way of knowing. Elladan and Elrohir cautioned optimism but someone had to consider the worst, and the burden that would be his if it came to pass.

6th March

Aragorn overtaken by the Dúnedain in the early hours. Theoden sets out from the Hornburg for Harrowdale. Aragorn sets out later.

Faramir shivered, despite the warmth of the fire and the hot meal in his stomach. Things were going badly; he could feel the evil that surrounded them, getting closer all the time.

He knew this day would come. Boromir rejoiced in it, for battle was a chance for glory; fighting evil was what he did best.

Faramir just wished it had come sooner and he was now living in a new world, for better or worse, for at least it would be over. Now they were just waiting, counting the dead, and the darkness only grew with each passing day.

7th March

Frodo taken by Faramir to Henneth Annun. Aragorn comes to Dunharrow at nightfall.

Merry missed Pippin bitterly. In all their travels they had not been parted and now he faced a second day without his cousin. He had faith that Gandalf would protect Pippin, maybe even better than he could, but Merry was not there with them and could not know Pippin was safe.

He blamed himself. Pippin had grown up much since they left the Shire, but he was still Pippin. Merry never wanted that to change but he wished he had not trusted Pippin so much and watched him more. Then maybe they would be together and Merry would feel safe.

8th March

Aragorn takes the 'Paths of the Dead' at daybreak; he reaches Erech at midnight. Frodo leaves Henneth Annun.

The company marched on cautiously and in near-silence. The place seemed more and more like a tomb; one from which there would be no escape if Elrond's words were wrong. Legolas never once questioned Aragorn's judgement in coming here, though, despite his own misgivings.

The Paths of the Dead were well-named, for it felt as if they contained no other living thing and the land might yet claim recompense for their steps here. However, Legolas knew this path to be a necessary one. Hope was fading and faith was all they had left to cling to in these dark days.

9th March

Gandalf reaches Minas Tirith. Faramir leaves Henneth Annun. Aragorn sets out from Erech and comes to Calembel. At dusk Frodo reaches the Morgul-road. Théoden comes to Dunharrow. Darkness begins to flow out of Mordor.

Bilbo knew something was wrong, how could he not? Although Rivendell seemed as timeless and unchanged as ever, the elves within it did not.

He remembered Frodo being here, being ill and being in much danger. But since coming here his memory had got much worse and much of what happened last autumn was hazy.

Still, he knew the danger was not yet past and was one that threatened them all. He knew he was safe for now, but not for how much longer that would last. However, he entirely trusted the elves he lived with to keep him safe.

10th March

The Dawnless Day. The Muster of Rohan; the Rohirrim ride from Harrowdale. Faramir rescued by Gandalf outside the gates of the City. Aragorn crosses Ringlo. An army from the Morannon takes Cair Andros and passes into Anorien. Frodo passes the Cross Roads, and sees the Morgul-host set forth.

From high ground Elrond surveyed the land and saw Rivendell looked the same as it always did. He knew it to be a trick, though; the rest of Middle-earth could not escape as Imladris uniquely had so far.

He wished he could keep all of the people safe but that job was trusted to another. He only had to protect his home. Yet his task in this was so big that sometimes he wondered if it were even possible. All he could do was try his best to carry on and trust to Hope that his best had been enough.

11th March

Gollum visits Shelob, but seeing Frodo asleep nearly repents. Denethor sends Faramir to Osgiliath. Aragorn reaches Linhir and crosses into Lebennin. Eastern Rohan is invaded from the north. First assault on Lórien.

Haldir loosed first one arrow, then another, and another, until he lost count. They had not been unprepared for this: the whole of Middle-earth fought once more and it would have been madness to assume Lórien would escape.

But it had been so long; so many years that even the Elves had trouble remembering their last battles. Their peace had only been transitory and so they had enjoyed it while it lasted.

Now it seemed nothing could protect them and the elves of Lórien would fight with the other good peoples of Middle-earth against the darkness that threatened them all.

12th March

Gollum leads Frodo into Shelob's lair. Faramir retreats to the Causeway Forts. Theoden camps under Minrimmon. Aragorn drives the enemy towards Pelargir. The Ents defeat the invaders of Rohan.

Gandalf worried for there was much to be concerned about. He knew not how Frodo and Sam fared, could only trust they would not be led astray. He could tell Denethor had already resigned himself to a loss and Faramir, though he knew it not, along with him. Pippin was doing his best to be brave but it was much to ask of a young hobbit, even though he had come so far. Aragorn had faced many similar situations and Gandalf hoped that all he had learnt was enough to carry them though and be enough to save them all.

13th March

Frodo captured by the Orcs of Cirith Ungol. The Pelennor is overrun. Faramir is wounded. Aragorn reaches Pelargir and captures the fleet. Théoden in Druadan Forest.

Treebeard was happy to return to his roots in Fangorn, knowing the Ents had done their part to save the land. He was glad the two hobbits had brought news of events outside the Forest to them, in time for them to avenge Saruman's killing of the trees. Afterwards they had gladly gone to the aid of the White Wizard to save the people of Rohan from the Orcs that surrounded them.

Treebeard knew the war was only just beginning, yet it would be over so quickly most of the Ents would probably barely notice it had happened at all.

14th March

Samwise finds Frodo in the Tower. Minas Tirith is besieged. The Rohirrim led by the Wild Men come to the Grey Wood.

Denethor despaired. All was lost, it was merely a matter of time before the others recognised it. All that was worth living for died with Boromir. Then there had been some hope they might prevail. Now all of Gondor was reduced to Minas Tirith.

There were so many orcs, trolls and others that the Men of Gondor could not hope to win; could never win. He knew it in his heart and in the stones that showed him the future they would be facing. A future so terrible he did not know how he could bear to live in it.

15th March

In the early hours the Witch-king breaks the Gates of the City. Denethor burns himself on a pyre. The horns of the Rohirrim are heard at cockcrow. Battle of the Pelennor. Theoden is slain. Merry wounds the Witch-king of Angmar, and Eowyn gives the killing blow. Aragorn raises the standard of Arwen. Frodo and Samwise escape and begin their journey north along the Morgai. Battle under the trees in Mirkwood; Thranduil repels the forces of Dol Guldur. Second assault on Lórien.

Éomer did not know how he could bear it. When Théodred talked of when he would be king, Éomer had been content to be by his side. Never did he imagine he might be king himself, and not so soon.

It was too soon. Théoden was only just returned to them and Éomer needed his wisdom yet. Governing Rohan was a hard pursuit on its own, but they were fighting a war - although the battle was over Éomer knew this was not the end of it. It was no consolation that he had run out of kin to lose.

16th March

Debate of the commanders. Frodo from the Morgai looks over the camp to Mount Doom.

Aragorn gazed at the standard he had fought under, almost unable to believe it was his standard. He ran his hand over it, feeling the rough material and the smooth threads beneath his fingers. In his mind, he pictured Arwen making it, stitching her love into it. He yearned for the day when he might see her again, but he knew there were more tests he had to pass before that day could come. He knew what he must now do, and that it might prove to be a greater trial than any of the ones he had already faced.

17th March

Battle of Dale. King Brand and King Dain Ironfoot fall. Many Dwarves and Men take refuge in Erebor and are besieged. Shagrat brings Frodo cloak, mail-shirt, and sword to Barad-dur.

Gimli looked out over the Pelennor Field, which was gradually being cleared. There was still evidence of battle, as it was taking time to clear away the bodies on both sides. The damage of the Easterlings weapons were still imprinted in the depressions in the ground.

Despite this, there was an air of jollity in the city, for many thought to be dead come morning were still alive.

The war was not yet over, though. Only once Frodo had completed his task would Middle-earth be free of the shadow. Gimli had sworn to help and he would not stop now.

18th March

The Host of the West marches from Minas Tirith. Frodo comes in sight of the Insenmouthe; he is overtaken by Orcs on the road from Durthang to Udun.

It had been three days now since Thranduil and his people had prevented the evil that grew in the forest from gaining a bigger foothold. He wished they had been able to do something about it sooner, yet they had lost too many trying and he was now in mourning for a good many more.

And yet it was still not done. They had merely repelled the forces there, not destroyed them for good. Now they had to regroup and find a way to do the deed, for the evil could not be allowed to lurk here for much longer.

19th March

The Host comes to Morgul-vale. Frodo and Samwise escape and begin their journey along the road to the Barad-dur.

Arwen felt useless. While she had been making Aragorn's standard she had at least felt like she was contributing. Now she had to wait in Rivendell, hope it made a difference and hope that she would be able to see Aragorn again.

Her choice was already made and she was looking forward to life with Aragorn in Minas Tirith, should he prevail. Should the forces of good lose then all was lost. Yet, if they won and Aragorn was killed then she really did not know what she would do or whether she would be able to live without him.

20th March

Celeborn took a turn around Lórien, as he had done every day since it was attacked. Both times the guards had held, although chatting with them now, they were quiet, tense and worried. Not to mention they were fewer than before.

Celeborn knew how they felt. But for how much longer would they be able to hold Lothlórien? Another attack they would survive, he was sure. They could not afford to take too many losses, though, for another attack after that would surely defeat them. All they could do was wait and fight and hope Sauron fell before they did.

21st March

Frodo tried his very best to think of the Shire but his memories of the good times he'd had there just slipped through his mind. He was tired, worried and he ached. With every step he took the journey grew ever harder.

He envied Sam for having the choice of doing this and for being able to sleep without the Ring in his dreams. Every night it showed him the same thing: Frodo could have all of Middle-earth if he wanted. He so badly wanted to go home and if it weren't for Sam's words he would have forgotten why.

22nd March

The dreadful night. Frodo and Samwise leave the road and turn south to Mount Doom. Third assault on Lórien.

Galadriel was saddened as she heard the fight for Lórien around her. Every elf in the wood had been drafted to help in whatever way they could, for they needed all of them to survive this night. The situation grew more desperate with each passing day and each attack. Not even Nenya could help them.

That they had lasted this long was a testament to the courage of the Lórien elves and her skill with the ring. But even its power was not enough to disparage the evil that threatened them, and she feared for the safety of her home.

23rd March

The Host passes out of Ithilien. Aragorn dismisses the faint-hearted. Frodo and Samwise cast away their arms and gear.

Elrohir could not help but admire Aragorn. Often, in his mind, he had seen Estel as the child he had been when Arathorn was killed. Now, though, Aragorn was assuredly king of Gondor. It only remained to him to safeguard the life of Frodo, and in doing so, the rest of Middle-earth.

As much as he had worried over Estel as he grew up, he was glad he no longer felt any need to. He had faith that Aragorn would achieve what was necessary, and the number of warriors he had brought with them to fight was proof of that.

24th March

Frodo and Samwise make their last journey to the feet of Mount Doom. The Host camps in the Desolation of the Morannon.

Elladan scoffed at those who would turn back from the path Aragorn had put them on. He was right, there was no place here for the faint-hearted. If he had been in charge he would have made sure they carried on, as the warriors they should be.

But it was not his place. Aragorn had made his decision, as was his right. The two of them often had different views and Aragorn had learnt from his mistakes in the past, so Elladan did not say anything. He knew Aragorn's plan would come right in the end, for they often did.

25th March

The Host is surrounded on the Slag-hills. Frodo and Samwise reach the Sammath Naur. Gollum seizes the Ring and falls into the Cracks of Doom. Downfall of Barad-dur and passing of Sauron.

There was a change in the air, the land and the water. The sun shone bright and colourful flowers turned to face her. The water bubbled and flowed clear, tasting sweet to those with need of it.

Even those that did not know what happened could feel the difference of a place without evil. All over people sang and laughed, even if they thought they had no reason.

Tomorrow there would be much clearing up to do - evil could not be vanquished with one stroke. But the tide was turned, the good would win and peace would reign again.

Their eyes slid away from the Lady, yet if they had looked more closely they would have noticed the couple's eyes did not meet and they did not dance together as easily as they were used to seeing. In time, they would improve, as both Elrond and Arwen grew used to her new role.

Elrond turned to her and there was a tear in his eye. Arwen stepped back - her father never cried. But he held out his arms and smiled at her, so she stepped into them.

"I wish things were different," she said.

"We cannot change the past."

Arwen said nothing, wishing she could hold on to childish fantasies.

"I should not have let your mother go, but now I must, though I do not want to."

"Neither do I."

But they both knew he would do what was best for Celebrían, not Elrond. He always had and always would.

"Yes," she replied. "When we marry you will be King."

"It is better than we hoped," he said, taking her hands. "I feared he would not let you go."

"He would if I wished it." She knew if she pleaded with him she would be able to marry Aragorn sooner, but that she would not do, for he only wished to ensure it was truly what she wanted. "I fear," she continued, "that you will go and I will never see you again."

"Not when I have you to come back to."

It was bad enough that the orcs would inflict life-threatening wounds to those who fought them but then those who were not so badly injured would also die. Most of the Men who had been brought in the previous night had been lucky. All except one, that was. He was deathly ill and would likely die that morning unless a solution could be found. They had tried many things but nothing had worked. Now they were running out of time.

Arwen called him, interrupting his train of thought, and he lifted his head and met her with a smile that was genuine, even through his tiredness and frustration.

"Nana says you have to come for breakfast."

"I am sorry, Arwen, you will have to go to breakfast without me. A man is very ill and we must find a way to make him better before I can eat." Celebrían would understand - it would not be the first time he had done such a thing.

"Can I help?"

Elrond gave her suggestion some thought. Arwen often assisted him in healing the injured Men, Elves and other races that passed through Imladris. He was proud that she was already learning how to treat some common wounds and he enjoyed the time he got to spend with her, even though he could never concentrate fully on her at those times. It was likely, though, that Berandir would die, and he did not want her to see that.

She did seem to have a calming presence, both on himself and the ill that lay in the infirmary, and he would be glad of that this morning. One day she would learn what death was but Elrond had hoped it would be far in the future. Although she was growing up fast she was still an innocent girl, at least in his eyes, and he wanted her to stay like that for as long as possible. He looked down at the eager expression as she waited for him to answer and he could not deny her. He told himself there was still hope that the Man would yet live but in reality it was his usual inability to say no to his only daughter.

"I would be glad of your help. Why don't I introduce you to Berandir?"

Arwen smiled and took his hand as he led them to the room Berandir had to himself not far away. As they entered, Elrond nodded to the other Man, Maethor, noticing how tired he looked. He had obviously not slept much this night either.

Maethor looked at him, hoping he brought good tidings. "Have you found an antidote?" he asked.

"I am sorry, Maethor. We will continue to search."

"I fear it no longer matters. His condition is much worse this morning."

Elrond released Arwen's hand so he could move closer to the bed and examine Berandir. As he did so he heard Arwen and Maethor introduce themselves to each other. As he leaned over, Berandir opened his eyes. Elrond could see the pain in them and he feared for the worst.

"How do you feel?" he asked, being careful not to show his worry.

"Not well. I am cold and the hurt is more than last night."

Elrond placed his hand on Berandir's forehead. It was as he feared - the Man had a fever. He lifted the covers to examine his wounds and he could see they had not healed. He did not expect much improvement over one night but there should be more than there was. Berandir had been hit by many arrows, although none of them had pierced any vital organs. It was a wonder Berandir had lived as long as he did. Elrond closed his eyes and kept his face to the ground to avoid the others seeing his disappointment until he got his expression under control.

He looked up to find Arwen was no longer in the room. He was thinking that perhaps that was for the best, when she returned carrying bandages, which she held out to him.

"Thank you, Arwen." He took a short time to marvel at his wonderful daughter before he took the bandages from her and started the process of changing the old ones. It would probably not help very much but at least it would all look much better. As he did so, Arwen stayed by his side and he knew she must have seen Berandir's wounds from where she stood. She had previously seen plenty of blood and never once had nightmares after, so Elrond did not worry too much. He had more important things to think about at the moment. Berandir, though, had closed his eyes and his breathing had become more laboured. Elrond could tell he was unable to rest enough to sleep.

"He is very ill, isn't he?" Arwen asked, perceptive as always. Although for once Elrond wished she were not.

"Yes, he is," he replied.

"Will you make him better, ada?"

"I cannot."

Arwen frowned at this statement. In her limited experience every patient Elrond treated recovered. She could not understand why any of them would not.

"He does not deserve death," Maethor observed.

"There are many that do not deserve death."

Maethor nodded at this statement but said no more, for Elrond spoke the truth.

Arwen observed the whole exchange with big eyes. Elrond picked her up and placed her on the bed. "I want you to sit here and hold on to Berandir's hand. Can you do that for me?"

Arwen nodded obediently. "I will kiss it better," she said and bent down to kiss Berandir's hand. Both Elrond and Maethor smiled indulgently. If only it were that simple. He wished he could do more for the Man but they had given him as much for the pain as they dared.

"I have a daughter about her age," Maethor said, "and she is the sweetest little thing you ever saw. Every time I go home I wonder how I can leave her again."

Elrond smiled and nodded. He could not bear to be parted from Arwen for such long periods of time, at least not yet.

"You..." Berandir managed to say and then there was a long pause while he gathered himself. They all waited patiently to hear what he wanted to say. "You are a pretty girl. What is your name?"

"Arwen. And I will look after you."

"Then I feel better already." Berandir managed a small smile for her benefit and she leaned down to kiss him on the cheek, being careful to avoid touching any of his wounds.

The short conversation had exhausted Berandir and he again closed his eyes. Arwen looked up at Elrond, worried, but before she could ask him anything else he did not wish to answer, there came a knock at the door. Elrond had almost never been so pleased to see his wife before, not least because she had the remains of breakfast with her.

"I thought you might be hungry," Celebrían said with a smile.

Elrond went over to the doorway to collect the food and a kiss. "You thought right. Whatever would I do without you?"

"Starve probably." Celebrían's smile soon turned to worry, however. "Will you be home tonight?" she asked quietly.

"I will make sure of it."

Celebrían spared a smile for Arwen and then left, with a meaningful expression directed at Elrond.

Elrond handed a roll to Maethor, who accepted it gratefully, but only picked at it. To Arwen he gave some fruit, along with instructions not to spill any of it on the bed. Elrond found he was hungry despite his worry. The Men had been brought in shortly before dinner the previous night, so he had not eaten for some time. Before he could eat though, he gave some of the water to Berandir, with the help of Maethor, since Berandir was too weak to hold himself up enough to drink.

Elrond made sure to keep watch on Berandir even after they had eaten. Although he hoped the Man would live, there was a part of him that wished his pain could soon be over. The wait was long for Berandir and short for the rest of them but Elrond was reluctant to leave Maethor alone again. There were other Healers working on an antidote and he was confident in their abilities, whether they found a solution in time or not. Having been told to stay where she was, Arwen did not let go of Berandir's hand and Elrond was certainly not going to leave her in a room with a dying Man without himself being present.

"Can you tell me what happened, Maethor?" Elrond broke the silence.

Maethor looked at Berandir and Arwen before he spoke. "We were ambushed," he said. "Luckily there were not many of them but it was Berandir who was in front. He was hit first and after that he tried to ensure none of the rest of us were. At the time I was only glad we were so close to Rivendell."

Elrond, however, was not so glad. Orcs anywhere were bad news but especially so when they were near Imladris. Many had hoped that the war had seen the last of them but the events at Gladden Fields had shown them all to be always on their guard. They might be living in a time of peace but evil had not gone away.

"Then he is a hero," he said.

"I would rather he was a father," Maethor replied.

Berandir had probably never seen orcs before that day, since he was yet young. At least no children would be left without a father but there would still be people who would lose someone they loved today. It was not a cheerful thought.

At length Elrond saw Berandir squeeze Arwen's hand. She smiled down at him with an expression uncannily like the one he had seen often on Celebrían's face when she was looking at their children. Elrond thought that perhaps one day she would make a good mother, although he hoped it was not too soon. He looked forward to having grandchildren but was not ready to give Arwen up in the near future.

Berandir turned to Maethor. "My sister..." he whispered.

"No, Berandir..." Maethor clutched at Berandir's hand with both of his, perhaps trying to keep him alive by the strength of his own will.

"Tell her..."

Maethor nodded reluctantly at the other's unspoken request and Elrond could see the moisture in his eyes.

Having said everything he wanted to say, Berandir closed his eyes and took a deep breath out.

Arwen had been looking closely at Berandir and it was she who first noticed. "He's not breathing, ada!" She looked up at him, scared, but her face showed the expectation that Elrond would be able to do something.

"That is because he is dead, Undómiel."

Maethor bowed his head. Elrond silently asked for forgiveness for voicing the statement and making it all the more real for Maethor. He picked Arwen up and took her out of the room so as not to disturb its inhabitants any more than they already had.

"Make him better, ada," she pleaded, tears now running down her face.

"I cannot. He was too ill and it was not within my power." Elrond hugged her tightly to him but she did not want comfort, she wanted understanding.

"Why?"

"He had been poisoned. The only way to make him better was to make a new medicine but I did not know what to make."

"It's not fair."

"Death is rarely fair. The good people die and the bad people live. That is the way of the world and there is nothing anyone can do about it."

"I don't understand why."

"Neither do I; neither do any of us. I wish it were not this way. I wish you could live without ever having to see death but I know that cannot happen."

Arwen nodded and wiped her hands across her eyes. Elrond pulled out his handkerchief and gave it to her, which she dutifully used and handed back to him. Elrond made a mental note to get himself a clean one when he had the opportunity.

"Maethor is sad now," Arwen continued.

"Yes. He misses his friend and wants him back."

Arwen looked thoughtful for a moment and begged to be put down. Elrond was only too happy to oblige since she had got heavy. The moment her feet touched the ground she turned and went back into the room they had just left. Elrond followed and, as he stood in the doorway, he saw Arwen go over to Maethor, put her arms around him and lay her head in his lap.

Maethor was stunned for a moment but soon hugged her back. Elrond smiled. He suspected Arwen still did not really understand what had happened but he did not expect her to. He had seen more death than she and he was still not sure he really understood it himself. But just as Arwen had learnt today that her father was not infallible, he had discovered how grown up his daughter was.

As she danced Arwen looked towards Elrond and gave him a smile that proved her to be the most beautiful person there. He could not help but smile back. All he wanted was his daughter's happiness and as long as he got it he would be content.

"Just nervous, that's all."

"Nervous? Afraid she'll change her mind?"

"No. Yes. No, of course not."

Aragorn smiled. "Could you say it with just a little less conviction?"

"Couldn't you just go and see her for me?"

"I can't, Eldarion, you know that."

"But it's just an elven superstition. I'm not an elf."

Aragorn sighed. They'd had this conversation before and there wasn't really a good argument for it just now. Besides, if it put Eldarion's mind at rest... "Very well, I will try."

***

Aragorn approached the room Eldarion's bride was currently in, probably getting dressed. Upon knocking he heard a burst of laughter that sounded suspiciously like his own daughters'. He was therefore not surprised when Arwen opened the door.

"What are you doing here?" Shutting the door, she came out into the hallway, not allowing Aragorn to see in and forcing him to move backwards.

"Oh, well, I just wanted to see-"

"No."

He put on his most rational voice. "But, Arwen-"

"No."

He backed up further at the expression on her face - it was exactly like the one he'd seen many times before on Elrond's. He felt the wall at his back and decided that retreat was probably his best option.

***

When he returned he found Eldarion talking to a silver-haired elf.

"Celeborn! I didn't know you'd arrived."

"Do you think I'd miss the wedding of my great grandson? I came with Elladan and Elrohir."

On cue the twins appeared and Aragorn moved to greet them. It had been a while since he last saw his brothers, and he had been worried that they wouldn't arrive in time

"If you really want to see your bride, I have a way," Celeborn said.

Aragorn couldn't help from smiling, remembering Celeborn's brilliant idea on his own wedding day.

"What about that elven superstition?" Eldarion asked Celeborn.

"Didn't you know that the marriage will not be blessed with children if you don't try?"

Eldarion shook his head. Aragorn hadn't heard this one either - he was fairly convinced Celeborn was making it up just to cause trouble.

"Your father tried, and your grandfather too."

"In that case I will not be the one to break with tradition."

"Good." Celeborn smiled and leaned closer to Eldarion to whisper conspiratorially into his ear. "Now, here's what you have to do..."

Aragorn didn't need to hear the details of Celeborn's plan because it probably hadn't changed since his wedding. And it was probably not going to work this time either.

"Watch out for your own weddings," he said to the twins.

"Oh, don't worry," Elladan replied with a grin. "We'll put him on a ship first."

"I heard that," Celeborn paused in his whisper to Eldarion. "Now are you going to help or not?"

"Not me. I think I'll watch this time. But I'm sure Elladan and Elrohir will, won't you?"

"We'll get you for this, Estel," Elrohir said, but they were already being led away by an eager Eldarion.

"What if he does see her?" Aragorn asked Celeborn.

"Don't worry, he won't. But it will take his mind off his nerves for a while."

They both laughed.

"Did you try to see Galadriel on your wedding day too?"

"Now that's a tale for another time. I wouldn't want you to be getting ideas."

I decide I cannot risk it and I doubt I would get very far anyway since Galadriel is with her, helping her to get ready. I am ready - I am dressed anyway - but I am not ready. How can I ever be ready to give my daughter up?

I wonder, if Celebrían was here, what she would think of this. She would probably tell me to stop thinking on it and be glad that Arwen is happy. Thinking of Celebrían reminds me of my own wedding day. Celeborn conspired with me to see Celebrían before we were allowed...

Elrond wondered for a moment why he was climbing the outside of his own house, rather than walking through the hallways, until he remembered both his future wife and future mother-in-law. He was slightly scared of Galadriel. She had a look on her face that seemed to say 'if you hurt my daughter, I'll hurt you' and looked as if she could carry through with it as well. She had very pointedly shut the door in his face earlier and told him not to come back. So he wasn't going to get to see Celebrían that way.

Sighing, and wondering if there was another method he could try, his grip slipped and his precarious position was lost. Unable to stop himself from falling, he was glad there was a flower bed beneath him. Unluckily, he managed to land on a particularly thorny rosebush, which protested by pricking him with its thorns before lowering him to the ground. He let out a cry and caught a glimpse of his bride at the window above before Celeborn rescued him. They spent the next hour picking out all the thorns and trying to clean his clothes, not to mention preparing themselves to face Galadriel's wrath for their antics.

Technically, Celebrían had seen me, rather than the other way round. Perhaps it counted as half bad luck. If I had succeeded would she have died? If I had not tried would she still be here?

I didn't have much time to wonder at what might have been though, for I heard three shrieks, followed by the sound of Galadriel's voice. Elladan, Elrohir and Estel raced past me, shouting for Celeborn. What had his suggestion been this time? I rose to follow my sons and make sure they had not come to any harm. Arwen would certainly not be happy if they had.

Despite the sadness I felt today, I smiled. Nothing had changed.

"That's my top," Arwen said. He was getting too used to peacetime - he hadn't heard her come in.

"Your top? It was my first toy when I arrived in Rivendell."

"Elladan and Elrohir made it for me. I didn't know father had kept it."

"It must be as dear to him as it is to us."

They didn't know, but it was.

Family dinners were not the same with just the two of them. Usually Arwen would welcome the chance to spend some time with her father without anyone else to compete with for his time. However, at the moment she had competition from her mother. He had been chronically unable to think of anything else. He would show her affection and share in the grief of the unknown, but she had begun to grow tired of making sure he was all right, he was sleeping, he was eating. She wanted him to think of her for a change.

"Arwen, eat your food, don't just move it about."

"Sorry, father." Her reply was instinctive after many years. Elrond had always expected his children to do as they were told, although he was more lenient with Arwen than he had been with her brothers.

"I'm not that hungry," she said.

"Why not? It is dinnertime. Are you ill?"

She gave a laugh at that but it was not a happy one. "My mother is missing or hadn't you noticed?"

"I have noticed," he said, but his voice sounded odd. When she looked at him more closely she saw he also hadn't eaten very much. Furthermore he was pale and looked as bad as she felt. He turned his gaze away from the window to look at her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "We can't understand each other. You don't have a husband to miss and I don't remember my mother."

"We can try," she said. "I keep looking out of the window and seeing the other elves going about their business as if everything was normal and it isn't."

"No, it isn't. Perhaps you should stop looking out of the window so much."

"Maybe you should too." His gaze had wondered back over to the window again.

He rose and moved round the table to take hold of her hand. "Why don't we abandon dinner," he said, "and I will tell you a tale of your mother?"

She smiled and stood. "I'd like that."

***

As Arwen rounded the corner to her father's room she heard him talking to someone but she could hear no other voice but Elrond's. She moved closer to peer around the edge of the doorway.

"Where are you? What are they doing to you?" he was saying. Arwen could just see the edge of a picture of her mother behind him. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you even still alive?"

It startled Arwen somewhat, as Elrond had always been so strong and it scared her a little to see him falling apart. She must have made a noise for he spun around to look at her. Was that a tear she saw in his eye?

"Arwen," he said.

Arwen didn't know what to say or how to react to what she'd obviously not been meant to hear. So instead she flung her arms around him to give him - and herself - some comfort.

"I'm supposed to be comforting you, not the other way round," he said.

Arwen gave a laugh but it turned into a sob and she buried her face in his chest. As he held her and whispered soothing words to her she almost felt like a young child whose father could do anything.

"It's late," he said, when she pulled away and began to dry her eyes. "You should get some sleep."

"I was coming to tell you that."

"I can't," Elrond replied. "What if she returned while I slept?"

"Then someone would wake you, you know that."

Elrond shook his head. "How can I sleep when I am safe at home and she is not? I should be out there looking for her."

"We've discussed this before. I know how you feel, for I feel it too. But what if they found her and were bringing her back as you rode out and you missed each other? You should be here when she returns."

Elrond held Arwen's gaze for a moment before answering. The daughter of Elrond was as stubborn as he was.

"I'll sleep if you will."

"Can I sleep in your bed?" she asked, the same way she had as an elfling when she'd had a bad dream.

He kissed her on the forehead and smoothed her hair away from her face. "I'd like that," he said and for the first time it occurred to Arwen that her father might not like sleeping in his bed without her mother there.

***

Arwen awoke from pleasant dreams to find her father stroking her hair. It was soothing and she lay there half asleep, enjoying his affections. Elrond, perhaps thinking she was still asleep whispered to her.

"I didn't tell you how much you meant to me, my Undómiel. I didn't tell your brothers or your mother. I might not ever get the chance to tell her."

"She knew," Arwen said softly. The hand on her head paused then resumed its previous motion. "We all do. It doesn't always need words."

"Deeds are more powerful than words," Elrond mused.

"And your actions shout from the rooftops of Imladris."

Elrond gave a chuckle at that and Arwen turned to face him.

"I remember her explaining to me when I was younger that she loved you. I asked her how she knew you felt the same way and she told me it was because you worried about her when she wasn't there and cared when she was. Also because you let her go to Lórien."

Elrond took a breath in and looked sharply at her.

"You knew she would have gone, even if you had said no. She would have found a way to persuade you."

"And how can I deny her anything?"

***

Arwen wandered round her room. She felt more awake now for the few hours sleep she'd had the previous night. She now realised why Elrond stayed awake. With her head clear it was easier to think and her thoughts tended to head in directions she didn't want them to go in. Her eyes fell on a necklace of Celebrían's she had borrowed for dinner a few days beforehand. She hadn't given it back before Celebrían had left for Lórien but had been intending to do so when her mother returned.

She picked up the necklace and examined it. The Evenstar pendant had been a family heirloom of her mother's. Apart from its beauty, in all respects it was an ordinary necklace - perhaps Elrond had thought of it when he first called her his Evenstar. Her mother had promised that one day it would be hers, although she had not said when that day would be. For now it was for her to borrow not to keep. Almost absent-mindedly she stopped running it through her fingers and put it on. Perhaps today it would give her strength.

How many days had it been now? She had lost count. How many days more would it be? She thought of all the things she would normally be doing, but discarded them all as being frivolous. At first she had been angry and afraid at what happened and had taken that anger out on the house and gardens. Now though she merely felt afraid and there was no way to purge that. She considered taking a walk but Elrond would probably want her near. She also didn't want her mother to return and her not be there. Thinking of her father she decided to go and check on him, glancing through the windows on the way in case her mother had returned already.

Elrond was in his room - he had not left there since the message came of Celebrían's capture. He was sitting on the bed, reading. Arwen wondered how he could concentrate enough to read anything until she came closer and realised the pages had her mother's writing on them. If her mother were to die would she also lose her father? Unable to help herself she gave a cry, startling Elrond.

"Arwen, what's wrong?" he said, putting the letter he held down on the bed and looking up at her.

"What if she doesn't come back? What if she's dead?"

"She's not."

"You don't know that. Don't treat me like an elfling."

"I'm not, Arwen, but you have to believe that she's alive. I have to believe that. This waiting is intolerable enough but I couldn't do it if I were waiting for your brothers to find her body."

Arwen knelt at her father's feet, put a hand on his knee and looked into his eyes. "You will always be here won't you? You won't leave me, father?"

Elrond paused and she felt her worst fears being confirmed. "I can't promise you that, Arwen, you know that."

Arwen nodded. He was right, she did know that, but now she wanted him to lie, promise her he would always be here. Instead she reached out to take his hand. "Will you promise me something?"

"If it is in my power to grant."

"If mother is... If mother doesn't come back don't.." she swallowed. "I couldn't bear to lose my father as well."

Elrond's response was to hug her. It only occurred to her later that he had never promised.

***

Arwen decided to go outside for some fresh air. The day was warm and the sun was shining. A perfect day - if it was not for one thing. She idly fingered the pendant still round her neck. She suspected that her mother intended to give it to her on her wedding day - that was when Galadriel had given it to Celebrían.

She considered the pain Elrond felt now and wondered if it was worth it. Assuming she ever found someone she loved enough to marry. None of the elves in Imladris or Lórien had so far taken her heart. But she was in no rush. She was happy here. Or she would be if things were to return to normal but she knew they never would be. Her father would be unlikely to let her mother out of his sight once she returned.

Her reverie was interrupted by noise nearby and she turned to see Elladan riding towards their house shouting for herself and their father. She looked up to his window but could see nothing. Surely he had heard and seen and was on his way. But he had not yet appeared. She went back inside to find him.

She ran all the way to his room although running was forbidden in the house. He would overlook this indiscretion for these circumstances. She called to him as she ran, wondering why he didn't answer. Reaching Elrond's bedroom she burst in and found the reason he had not been seen. He had fallen asleep in a chair. She almost didn't want to wake him up. It was probably the first time he had slept since they had heard of the attack and Celebrían's capture - even in the first few days when they knew Elladan and Elrohir could never return in such a short time. Her dilemma was soon solved when Elrond blinked and looked at her.

"She's here, father."

Elrond paced the room. He had done it so often that he knew the exact number of steps it took to get from one side to another. From the door he took five steps until he could see out of the window. He looked out, surveying the all that he could see. However there was no-one new out there, only the elves of Imladris going about their business. Turning his back he took another five steps, reaching the open doorway once more. He had once demonstrated this to Arwen when she had been a young elfling and it had taken her some time and practice to discover why she could not cross the distance using the same number of paces with her shorter legs.

Arwen seemed so calm, much more so than himself. She must have inherited that from her mother. She had been busy while they were waiting and Celebrían would return to find their house spotless and their gardens blooming. They were not usually Arwen's tasks but she detested doing nothing as much as he did.

Thinking of his wife, as he done much in the past few days, he inadvertently conjured up an image of her in his mind so vivid that when he turned towards the doorway he almost expected her to come through it unharmed. He was not only waiting for his wife however. It was likely that if she was hurt and Lórien was closer, Elladan and Elrohir would take her there.

The one thing he would not allow himself to think about was if Celebrían was dead. The thought of never seeing her again made him feel as if someone had taken hold of his heart and squeezed. He just did not know how to live without her anymore. When he slept it was the only thing he saw in his dreams. So he stopped sleeping. She was coming back, she had to.

She had been doing well so far and I was just beginning to relax when we were assigned to clean the royal rooms. We were changing the sheets on the bed when the Queen herself walked in. Marië looked around to stare at her and as we were on opposite sides of the huge bed I had to whisper to her to get back to work before we were noticed. I couldn't really blame her though. I could see why she was the Queen - she was so pretty and poised with it. She had hair I dreamed of and how long had I wished for her height!

I was mortified when the Queen looked round at us. My whisper had not been particularly quiet and she must have heard. Fortunately I recovered myself enough to remember to curtsy and was pleased when I saw Marië do the same. The Queen nodded at us and I returned to our work when Marië spoke up.

"Are you really an elf?"

I closed my eyes and pictured myself telling our mother what she had done. I did not want to return home empty-handed so I tried to recover the situation.

"Please forgive my sister, your majesty. She is but fourteen and a little excitable."

The Queen stopped. She was going to dismiss us herself!

"Fourteen! That is young to be working."

"It is because we need the money, your majesty." Why did I say that? What would a Queen know about money? But she had been expecting an answer and I only had the truth to give her.

"Do your mother and father not work?"

"Father died in the war and mother has the baby now to look after," which was also the truth. She did not need to know any more than that.

The Queen actually looked sympathetic. "I am sorry for your loss. You should not have to go without when your father gave up his life for this city. I must speak to the King about this."

"Please don't trouble yourself on our account," I said quickly. Now I had made the situation worse. If it wasn't bad enough that my sister had asked a question of royalty, now I had made her feel we were ungrateful.

She came over to me and took my hands. I admit I shook a little. The Queen was touching me and talking to me!

"What is your name, my child?"

"Mae, daughter of Lothronor"

"It is no trouble, Mae. The city owes your family for its sacrifice. The same goes for every other family that lost a son, a husband or a father in its defence. Thank you for pointing this out to me."

"You're welcome, your majesty." I curtsied again for good measure once she had let go of my hands.

She turned to my sister. "I did not answer your question, Marië."

I was shocked. We had both been told this very morning that you did not speak to royalty unless spoken to. I thought we would both be dismissed for Marië's remark and then neither of us would have references. Perhaps the Queen is not as distant and as easy to shame as I had thought.

"I am indeed an elf," she continued, "Although you may find that you do not always want to listen to rumours. They often contain unkind comments about their subject." She curtsied to us and said "Good day to you both" before leaving.

I managed to mumble, "good day," back but I admit I forgot to curtsy. I had been so thrilled to get this job, not just because it paid more, but also because I would be closer to the King and Queen and who would not want that? I had seen them from afar and had even been given the day off for the coronation and the wedding. But now I see that they are just like us. They may be royalty but they are people all the same.

I smiled at Marië and we giggled as we imagined telling the story of our encounter to the other girls later, although I feel sure they will never believe us.

*******

Lothron actually means May in Sindarin (according to Dragon Flame)

I considered writing to my brothers of my feelings to ask them for news of Rivendell and home - but I know my decision has caused them pain. They live with it, however, because they know it will make me happy, so I do not wish them to know of my despair. The decision is made; I cannot change my mind.

Grandmother spoke to me before my wedding, which I was glad of, although I wish it could have been Mother. Thinking of her still brings tears to my eyes. When she departed across the sea I missed her but I knew I would see her again. Now I must be content with my memories and she with Father's tales of me.

When the Lady Éowyn came here I found she was in a similar position with only a brother for family. I took it upon myself to impart to her some advice. She was grateful and I have made myself a friend. She also helped me as I try to learn the ways of Men. They love me as their queen but Estel tells me they will accept me sooner if I act as they do. I am unsure how soon this will be granted given that I could see in Estel's face that he spoke from experience. Despite the people welcoming him as their king they are yet to find tolerance of other races.

It is more difficult now Estel is gone. We have been apart much since we cleaved to each other, but I spent that time with my family in Lothlórien or Rivendell. Here I am in a strange place amongst strange people. However, I am the daughter of Elrond and I can manage on my own. I do not wish Estel to think he cannot leave me alone.

The sound of birds singing interrupts my thoughts and I realise I have lain here all night without sleeping. I merely listen to the sounds of the dawn chorus for a while until I realise that one of the birds sounds much louder than the others and I wonder at its location. Tilting my head back I can see a small bird on the windowsill at the head of the bed. It is unlike any I have seen before. As I lay still, studying the bird I realise the cause of my unhappiness.

I thought this city of stone held no beauty for me but I have not been looking hard enough. I have spent most of my time looking at the streets, the dwellings and the city walls. I have gazed upwards at constellations I recognise, to remind myself this is still Middle-earth, my home. I took no heed of the wildlife, thinking it to be the same as that which I've seen many times before. I find myself delighted at my mistake. Sitting up, I startle the bird, which I regret for a moment but I know it will find some other place to rest and sing. Pulling on some clothes I find suddenly that the most important thing is to know the name of this bird. As I leave the room to head for the great library I pause to wonder what Estel will think.

When he left I was unhappy and he knew this; despite my best efforts to hide it. Now he will return to find me full of joy. Will he wonder if it is caused by his absence? I laugh at this thought. Of course he will not. He will return to me the same way for he loves this city and he loves me. It is enough to ensure his own happiness and he will be glad that he will not have to worry about mine.

For Aragorn had been singing a part of the lay of Lúthien... And behold! there Lúthien walked before his eyes in Rivendell. [...] He called to her crying "Tinúviel! Tinúviel!" even as Beren had done in the Elder Days long ago."

The maiden turned and Aragorn saw she was Arwen, his sister.

"Estel," she greeted him.

"Nay," he replied. "I am Aragorn, Arathorn's son, Isildur's Heir, Lord of the Dúnedain."

"And you are proud of it."

This was indeed so, for he had found it hard to keep the smile off his face since Elrond had told him of his heritage. "I am to be king. And you, my lady, must be my queen." He dropped to one knee in front of her and took her hand in his.

Arwen laughed, a sound that was as music to him. "I cannot be your queen, Estel."

"Why not? You are the most beautiful maiden in Middle-earth and surely a queen must be beautiful?"

"In stories they are, but it does not always have to be so. Your queen must bear you an heir and you cannot have a child with your sister. You will learn these things when you are older."

"I am grown in the eyes of Men."

And Arwen looked at him and saw the same change Elrond had. "So you are. Does this mean you will spend less time at home?"

"Maybe, for now I am aware of the dangers I no longer need Elladan and Elrohir to escort me."

"That will be a shame for it is good to have my brothers at home."

"I promise I will come home to see you, dear sister," he said rising and kissing her hand. "For there is nothing in Middle-earth that compares to you."

She laughed. Arwen still thought of her brother as a child, but for Aragorn it was if he was seeing his sister for the first time, for he had fallen in love with her. Although he was able to hide his feelings from his mother and from Elrond, he could not deny them to himself. So he went out into the wild, all the time trying to forget his incestuous feelings for his sister.

***

It was nine and twenty years later that Aragorn came upon Lothlórien. Though he had spent many years learning about Men and the other races on Middle-earth, he found he was longing for home.

He did not know it, but Arwen Undómiel was there, dwelling for a time with the kin of her mother. Aragorn rejoiced at this for when they again met Galadriel had clothed him in an elven-cloak and he was sure that at the age of nine and forty Arwen would be able to accept his adulthood. He had learnt much in that time and with it his love for his sister had grown deeper.

"My little brother is now a man," she told him, but he could see in her eyes she still considered him a child in comparison to herself. Aragorn's heart ached, for on his travels he had not seen a maiden more fair than his childhood companion, who despite his efforts he had not been able to forget.

He had always loved her from a child. Though their brothers were often away, Arwen stayed in Rivendell. The two had spent much time together and Aragorn marvelled at her patience and care with one who was not her brother by blood. She told him it did not matter and she loved him all the same. Now his love had changed, hers had not and Aragorn despaired.

***

When Aragorn returned once more to Rivendell in the company of Arwen, his mother saw the change in him. At last he yielded to her questions and told her of his feelings for his foster-sister.

"My son," she said, "I fear this is my fault, for you have grown up with elves and do not consider yourself to be one of the Men."

"I have tried hard to forget her but I find I cannot. There is no other in Middle-earth to compare. Though she is my sister and my feelings are wrong, it is nothing you have done. If I had not grown up in Rivendell I would now be dead and the line of Isildur destroyed forever."

"When you become king you will find a woman who will love you, bear your children and you will marry her. Perhaps then you will forget Arwen."

"I fear I will not be able to think of her as my sister once more, but I will do as you say for I know it to be necessary."

Aragorn strove to hide his feelings for Arwen knowing she did not return them and they would not be welcomed. Even if he were Beren and she Lúthien they were still brother and sister. Elves did not marry close family and Aragorn considered himself bound by their laws and customs as well as those of the Men, but Elrond saw the difference in Aragorn's eyes and his manner around Arwen. He hoped Arwen knew not for it would be a dreadful burden to endure.

"You must not reveal your feelings to my daughter," Elrond told Aragorn. "For Arwen could not love her brother in this way."

"I know," was Aragorn's reply. "For she is my sister and an elf. My love for her would not be looked well upon."

"The time of the Elves draws near, as yours is beginning. We will stay until you become king but then I must leave Middle-earth and Arwen, if she desires it will go with me."

"That saddens me for I will miss you both greatly, but I am glad Arwen will not see my death."

"My son," Elrond said, "I only say these words because I love you and I do not wish to cause you pain. Though you may one day be King of Gondor and Arnor, you will be free to choose a wife and continue the line of kings. But I will not allow that wife to be Arwen. I would not like to see her death, much as I fear yours, though I have always known it to come one day."

The Third Age ended in victory and hope; and yet grievous among the sorrows of that Age was the parting of... Aragorn and Arwen.