with the weight of his arm upon her side. Her eyes snapped open in cold
fear, but her body gave no clue of the night terrors that had swept over
her. His hand was warm and comforting, spread across her round belly.
She had been standing before the doors of the Halls of Mandos, pleading
to see her mother, her grandmother, anyone to vouch for her. A hand of
unworldly beauty and grace, glowing softly from within, emerged from the
wardens dark robe and underlined the words on a loose page Arwen:
I choose a mortal life.
No! she shrieked breathlessly as the sheet was pressed into
She stumbled back before the sweep of door wardens robed arm. The
great doors opened and gleaming chariots of exquisite gold and silver
rolled out, drawn by joyous eldar steeds. Tears came to her eyes at the
beauty of the First Born.
Not for you, she heard whispered. Your chariot awaits there.
She turned to see a farm cart, decrepit in comparison, drawn by a swayback
ass. The driver beckoned her to join him. Aragorns age ravaged face
broke into a smile as his eyes focused upon her.
My Lady, he whispered hoarsely, joy in every quaver of his
voice I was unsure if I would ever truly see you again. I feel as
if it has been forever
. How are your brothers?
Arwen could not answer. Her throat felt as dry as ashes. She gingerly
took her husbands proffered hand and settled herself on the crudely
covered seat, her fine gown catching upon the rough finished wood.
No matter well have much time to talk on the way.
Aragorn shook the reigns and the cart rumbled off into the darkness beyond
Arwen covered his spread hand with her two. A mortal life.
She whispered, and stared through the window at the moonlit forests beyond
a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for
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used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises,
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