Author’s Notes

I think it is safe to say that this is my first romance-for-the-sake-of-romance story and I’m quite happy with it. I’m not usually one to write just on the genre of romance, however I felt like I wanted to with this story. This was inspired by a myriad of different love songs by different bands, although most of the muse comes from Warmness On The Soul by Avenged Sevenfold, 23 by Jimmy Eat World and This Is Home by I Am Ghost.

This was self-beta-ed as Nightmaric is currently away on holiday.

I would say that the timeline of this story would be right after Gilraen (Aragorn’s mother) passed away and before the War of the Ring. There’s some space there (according to the Appendix) and I wanted to write an Aragorn/Arwen fic to fit I suppose.

Blessed In The Shadows

It was seemingly late summer to early autumn, for some of the foliage of the forest trees had begun to fall. The white peaks of the Hithaeglir were just visible over the canopy of leaves and the moon and stars were especially bright. The cool air enveloping the woodland did not thicken the atmosphere; instead, it complemented it, giving the forest its romantic, surreal beauty. If one looked with a sharp eye through the darkness, one would have spotted the architecture cleverly woven between branches. There were no paths; however, there were stone benches in distinct Elven design as well as sheltered patios. In the distance sat a fortress which was deftly concealed part by Elven craft and part by nature.

The magic that sat over Rivendell and its neighbouring forests never seemed to wane, for its beauty was always awe-inspiring and always, time seemed to stand still in such exquisiteness. As Aragorn quietly hiked through the thickets and bushes – through fallen leaves and nut and acorn – Rivendell still struck him as magnificent. It had done so for what seemed like eternity. He had always loved it as his home. From the comfort it provided to the garrisons and the vast amount of space, it was truly the perfect place to spend the rest of one’s life in. There was, however, a second reason for Aragorn taking a particular liking to Rivendell and it was due to a single event – one meeting – that left him much more enthralled than he had ever been in his life.

As he continued along his way through the enchanted woods, his eyes fell upon that very person who had changed his life. Her pale and slender figure clothed in lavender and lilac shone despite the shadows that would have obscured it all. The soft wind teased her ebony hair, blowing it at just the right degree to complete the image of a perfect woman. She was standing on a small bridge over a river so tiny it seemed like a stream.

“One should not wander out alone during these dark times,” Aragorn spoke softly as he approached her. “Servants of the Dark Tower infiltrate the most protected woodlands these days, especially at nightfall, and you, of all people, shouldn’t meander…Undómiel.”

Arwen gracefully turned to face Aragorn, a small smile playing on her lips at his concern. Indeed, the Enemy was slowly rising. It could be felt throughout the earth, for there was a constant unease floating about the air, however peaceful it was in Rivendell. Still, it was in her nature to argue and she replied, “In Imladris, you know I am safe. Besides, it is not as though I am not able, Estel. You know my skill in war.”

“It gives you no grounds to leave without your father’s consent; you know his rule…”

“And when has his rule ever been so important to you?” Arwen interrupted and adroitly questioned, the depths of her blue eyes – telling stories of thousands of years of knowledge – twinkled as they searched Aragorn’s face. “When has it ever held that much significance to you, Estel?” Those eyes urged him to retaliate with a smart comment to make her eat her words, but she knew that he could not find the right terminology himself. The revelation caused the smile that decorated her face to widen and she let out a chuckle.

In he end, a loud, harsh sigh served as Aragorn’s reply, a grin playing on his lips as he gazed at his feet, feeling a little gauche. It was only then did he realise how close he and the elf-lady truly were. He was not supposed to be this near to Elrond’s jewel of a daughter. He knew what he had to do to “earn” his right to even look upon the beauty. But as he looked up and was met with the stunning deep blue of her eyes once more, it made him forget the qualifications for a moment. As long as he had that instant – any instant, in fact – with Arwen, he would take it. He would do anything for her and for him to be with her.

It was love-at-first-sight for Aragorn the moment he set eyes on the lovely Elf-maiden so kind and so stunning, who was in the likeness of Lúthien. He vividly remembered their first encounter, when he had mistakenly called her by the name of “Tinúviel”. How embarrassing, yet fulfilling that situation was, for it allowed Aragorn to meet the love of his life. Hackneyed moments aside, it was pure fate for them to meet and a relationship blossomed, despite Elrond’s attempts to prevent it from happening.

Aragorn intuitively wrapped his arms around Arwen in a protective, yet amorous stance, not at all wanting to rid of that very space in time. His fingers began tracing circles on the palms of her hand. Arwen’s pale, soft skin felt cold. It was like ice to the touch, for its smoothness and chill sent every hair on his arms on its end. It was a good chill.

Arwen let her eyes shut as she leaned onto Aragorn, her head on his chest as she placed her hand over his, stopping his slow, steady movements. She then snaked her other arm around his waste and pulled him into a hug, feeling the warmth of his body seep through and grip her being. She felt her soul rest as her breathing eased even more at the sheer comfort of having him with her. She put aside all feeling of doubt in that moment in time.

“You worry too much, Estel,” she whispered as Aragorn slowly tightened the embrace. He ran his fingers through Arwen’s silky black hair and played with the small, intricate plaits he found between the strands. He placed his chin on the top of her head and it was like perfection.

“I’m afraid that I cannot help the extent of my apprehension, Undómiel,” Aragorn hoarsely spoke. “You are stubborn and I feel as though I have to look after you for fear that you get in too much trouble,” He said it as though she was still a child and he chuckled as Arwen lifted her head to glare at him and playfully slap him on the chest. They laughed once more and held each others’ gazes, overwhelmed with feelings deeper than any of the scars engraved in their hearts. It felt much like that very first meeting day on the hill, also somewhere in Rivendell, where they had fallen in love.

“Well, thank you very much for the care, Estel, but I think I am fine on my own,” Arwen smiled and laughed gently, wondering why she was still arguing his attempts at being protective. She was truly Elrond’s daughter. Many have said that her obduracy was an attribute strong in her father.

She broke the embrace for a moment, stepping away from Aragorn and looking towards their reflections in the thin river. It was ideal; their portraits painted feature for feature on the clear surface of the water despite it being dusk; and the moon shone brighter than ever over their heads. Large dew drops from the leaves of the overhanging tree fell into the water, distorting their image for only a few seconds before everything was stable once more.

“Is this a dream?” Arwen heard Aragorn’s nearly inaudible whisper as his hand went to clasp onto hers once more, the heat of his calloused fingers emanating to her slim, perfect ones. He was close to her again, his face level to hers as he turned her eyes to his. The look he wore in his eyes spoke a thousand of his worries. He still had doubts about the authenticity of their relationship. It seemed much too perfect and void of trial for it to be real.

“If it is a dream, then it is a blessed one indeed,” she whispered, bringing her lips to his. Warmness filled their souls as they kissed and hugged. Any misgiving that had ever crossed Aragorn’s mind was clearly wiped from memory at that point. It hardly mattered to him. Sometimes, one just needed a physical confirmation to believe in something. Not everything can be put into Faith’s hand entirely.

They slowly pulled apart once more, returning to the simple act of gazing upon one another’s loveliness and goodness, picturing a day when they would finally wed – when all their troubles were put behind them.

“You should be in bed, Undómiel,” Aragorn’s lips barely moved as he spoke to her softly, stroking her face before moving to stroke her hair once again. “The hour is late and you do not wish to oversleep tomorrow. I think I heard something about Elrond having planned your day and it starts right at dawn. I am concerned that you will not be able to arise should you rest any later.”

Sweet, glorious laughter escaped Arwen’s lips as she smiled up at him, shaking her head slightly. Her eyes did not show the slightest sign of tiredness; they twinkled under the moonlight and starlight, bright as ever. However, she acquiesced to his request with a wider smile, saying, “You worry too much, Estel,” and softly pecking him on the lips a final time before turning towards her quarters, leaving him standing alone on the bridge.