For Isha, Aragorn/Arwen, G
For isha_libran
Title: Stars in His Eyes (a set of five drabbles)
Pairing: Aragorn/Arwen
Rating: G
Summary: We are, perhaps, the sum of our past.
Stars in His Eyes
‘And if I may present my son and heir, Arathorn,’ the Ranger says with a courtly bow that belies his tattered appearance.
‘Arathorn,’ Arwen says, extending her hand with a smile.
To her surprise, the Man takes her hand without hesitation, bows over it, releases it without lingering, not like other Mortals of her experience. He seems a solid and steady man, and perhaps that is why Elrond has allowed this meeting.
Later, hearing her brothers jesting with the younger man, she understands. ‘...stars in his eyes indeed! The girl’s father no longer objects! We must drink a congratulatory toast!’
***
‘Life is given, and life is taken away,’ Elrond says slowly.
His eyes are dark with sorrow as he lays the message down. ‘Arathorn takes his father’s place as Chief of the Dúnedain.’
‘Arador is gone?’ Arwen gasps, thinking back to their meeting, not long ago.
‘Slain by trolls,’ Elrond nods. ‘Arathorn takes his place as Chieftain of the Rangers.’
‘He’s young,’ Elladan says, ‘though he has proven himself more than once against the Orcs.’
‘A heavy burden,’ Elrohir agrees. ‘Let us offer friendship, and aid.’
Arwen nods, but her thoughts are far away. Lothlorien beckons, shining green and golden.
***
Her grandmother’s mouth is tight around the edges, a subtle sign of displeasure.
Arwen knows better than to ask.
At last, Galadriel sighs heavily. ‘It seems your father cannot help taking in strays.’
‘Strays?’ Arwen says politely, careful to take more interest in the wine than the conversation.
‘The Chief of the Dúnedain was slain by Orcs,’ Galadriel says, ‘and his heir is but two years of age. Scarcely ready to take on the role of leadership.’
‘And my father has taken him in?’ Arwen says.
‘Strays,’ Celeborn muses. ‘So like Elrond. Motherless pups...’
‘Fatherless Rangers,’ Galadriel grumbles. ‘What’s next?’
***
The skies fade into twilight as he walks, singing. Aragorn, son of Arathorn is his name, and he is the heir of Isildur. He bears the ring of Barahir, and the shards of Narsil rest at his side. It has been only a day since Elrond told him of himself and his future, and now he walks full of hope in a fair world.
The stars begin to wink above, first one and then another, steady in their courses, as he must be in his. There is a world to be won, with great deeds.
And then he sees her.
***
Lothlorien is beautiful at all times, the trees of Caras Galadhon are laden with gold; and yet all beauty fades into the background when she beholds the one who shines upon the hill, for it is Aragorn clad in silver and white, with a bright gem upon his brow, like and yet unlike the Aragorn she remembers.
He is older now; a mantle of toil and years lies upon his shoulders and his face is weary. Yet she sees stars in his eyes, and deep-buried joy. He is as she remembers him, and more.
She chooses: life, love... and doom.
Title: Stars in His Eyes (a set of five drabbles)
Pairing: Aragorn/Arwen
Rating: G
Summary: We are, perhaps, the sum of our past.
Stars in His Eyes
‘And if I may present my son and heir, Arathorn,’ the Ranger says with a courtly bow that belies his tattered appearance.
‘Arathorn,’ Arwen says, extending her hand with a smile.
To her surprise, the Man takes her hand without hesitation, bows over it, releases it without lingering, not like other Mortals of her experience. He seems a solid and steady man, and perhaps that is why Elrond has allowed this meeting.
Later, hearing her brothers jesting with the younger man, she understands. ‘...stars in his eyes indeed! The girl’s father no longer objects! We must drink a congratulatory toast!’
***
‘Life is given, and life is taken away,’ Elrond says slowly.
His eyes are dark with sorrow as he lays the message down. ‘Arathorn takes his father’s place as Chief of the Dúnedain.’
‘Arador is gone?’ Arwen gasps, thinking back to their meeting, not long ago.
‘Slain by trolls,’ Elrond nods. ‘Arathorn takes his place as Chieftain of the Rangers.’
‘He’s young,’ Elladan says, ‘though he has proven himself more than once against the Orcs.’
‘A heavy burden,’ Elrohir agrees. ‘Let us offer friendship, and aid.’
Arwen nods, but her thoughts are far away. Lothlorien beckons, shining green and golden.
***
Her grandmother’s mouth is tight around the edges, a subtle sign of displeasure.
Arwen knows better than to ask.
At last, Galadriel sighs heavily. ‘It seems your father cannot help taking in strays.’
‘Strays?’ Arwen says politely, careful to take more interest in the wine than the conversation.
‘The Chief of the Dúnedain was slain by Orcs,’ Galadriel says, ‘and his heir is but two years of age. Scarcely ready to take on the role of leadership.’
‘And my father has taken him in?’ Arwen says.
‘Strays,’ Celeborn muses. ‘So like Elrond. Motherless pups...’
‘Fatherless Rangers,’ Galadriel grumbles. ‘What’s next?’
***
The skies fade into twilight as he walks, singing. Aragorn, son of Arathorn is his name, and he is the heir of Isildur. He bears the ring of Barahir, and the shards of Narsil rest at his side. It has been only a day since Elrond told him of himself and his future, and now he walks full of hope in a fair world.
The stars begin to wink above, first one and then another, steady in their courses, as he must be in his. There is a world to be won, with great deeds.
And then he sees her.
***
Lothlorien is beautiful at all times, the trees of Caras Galadhon are laden with gold; and yet all beauty fades into the background when she beholds the one who shines upon the hill, for it is Aragorn clad in silver and white, with a bright gem upon his brow, like and yet unlike the Aragorn she remembers.
He is older now; a mantle of toil and years lies upon his shoulders and his face is weary. Yet she sees stars in his eyes, and deep-buried joy. He is as she remembers him, and more.
She chooses: life, love... and doom.