And so she watched him leave.

He and the halflings he sought to protect from the curse of his forebears, from the weakness he perceived was thriving in the blood of his line. Accompanied by a curious assortment of travelers, he set out to battle demons more terrifying than Orcs, Uruk Hai or even Sauron himself because those were the demons inside his heart. The One Ring was his test, they both knew it and so there was never any question that he would not go. He had to. For her sake as well as that of the man he wanted to be, the Ranger named Strider had to make the journey to become Aragorn the King.

Arwen feared that despite his stout heart, his courage and all the things that made her love him, made her willing to give this the immortal life to share a short existence as his wife and perhaps Queen, it would not be enough and he would fall to darkness. However, she had faith in her love to prevail and in those who went with him.

The halflings who appeared like small children but who were not all weak or as vulnerable as appearances might lead others to believe. The fact that the Ring Bearer had come this far without becoming tainted by the One Ring’s malevolence was testament to that. The others who accompanied him had done so on the strength of their friendship alone and even Sauron had not that kind of power. The dwarf named Gimli went with them because his pride refused to let anyone believe that what could be done by an Elf could also be accomplished by a dwarf . Arwen smiled at the old prejudices, knowing as only women could know that in battle against a common enemy, all men were brothers, whatever their origins.

Strange how long it took for men to learn this simple fact.

Legolas, as beautiful inside as he was on the outside, would go wherever her love went and Arwen would always love the Prince of Mirkwood for that loyalty. Their friendship was something she never understood, how two different creatures could find such kinship but it gave her heart to know that if an Elf and a Human could be friends than perhaps an Elven Princess and Human King could be lovers. The last was Boromir, the warrior of Gondor who had accompanied Aragorn with the best of intentions even though Arwen sensed that the seed of doubt in him would flourish in the gleam of the One Ring. She feared not merely for the Fellowship but also for Boromir himself because he was at heart a good man who felt the pressure of rule and wanted badly to rise to its challenge.

And of course, there was Mithandir or Gandalf the Grey as he would prefer to be known. Arwen knew that with Gandalf would keep them safe and hopefully himself too. She had always dreamed of seeing his fireworks on the night of her wedding and his smiling face, next to her father’s table.

But eventually her gaze would fall back to him. To her King.

She watched him from the balcony of her room, alone in her solitude as the fellowship set out, moving further out of Rivendell towards the great unknown of Mordor. She followed the dark cloak on his back, her eyes limpid with tears of sorrow knowing that he might not come back from this great quest that somehow was always his, even before he was born. She watched this man, this human she had come to love who was great in everything but acknowledging that he was. She clutched at her breast, trying to still the flutter of her heart that would know no rest until he came back to her.

Arwen had known it would not be easy loving a human.

Her father had warned against it but it was a halfhearted attempt at best. Even Elrond understood that the power of love was beyond the strength of an Elven Lord to circumvent. In the end, his protestations over the manner in which his favorite chose to bestow her affections withered away and he accepted what would come with a quiet resignation. He did nothing to prevent their mutual declarations of love though he did insist that she comport herself as a Lady of Rivendell. She was not some tavern wench to be taken by the Ranger who could be King. However, he need not have worried, Arwen often thought with a smile.

The only other person who felt as strongly about this was Aragorn himself.

She sometimes wondered if she was real to him or whether or not his perception of her was as the dream he often described to her. He looked upon her as something of an ideal and there were instances where for even an Elven princess that was a great deal to live up to. Arwen accepted this of course because she knew that in her heart his love for her was real and when they finally came together in flesh, he would know as such. She knew that one day when her people had sailed across the sea and she remained behind at his side he might understand that she was all too real. Arwen hoped that the image of the dream would give way at last to the reality of the woman.

It was this that kept her heart and her spirit strong because she saw their future together as a passionate, fiery existence which would eventually sputter into a timid flame, extinguishing in unison in the final twilight as something worth waiting for. She did not mind dying if it meant living an afterlife at his side. Even the immortality of the elves could not promised that longevity and she meant to be with him forever. There could be no other after he was gone and there had never been anything like him before.

So she watched him leave, in full expectation that he would be back, because they had something to live for in the future.

Something real.

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