Requested by the ever-wonderful theambernightingale!! Thank you so very much!! 

Type: one-shot

Pairing: Female (elf!) Reader x Aragorn

Translations: 'Ae thelfirdeith, Ennorath dannathelan lothren.' = 'If he dies, Middle Earth will fall to ruin.'
'Rhosc' = 'russet'
'An man dôr boe im toge?' = 'To what place must I bring him?'

Warning: Suuuuuuper long- I'd recommend grabbing a mug of tea and a blanket (preferably very fuzzy) for this one

Hope you like!

I could see a flicker of light that evening- my first indication that something was amiss. A fire from the ruins, not too far from my campsite, in the moors just outside the borders of Bree. Not many travelers came this way at this time of year- and to find any so close to myself was an odd thing. My sword glinted in the firelight and I leaped up- something was certainly amiss. The fire was suddenly put out and I could hear distant, distraught shouts. Just as I grabbed the hilt of my blade and rose from my seat, I heard the chilling screech of a Wringwraith- and then that of many more. They must be pursuing whomever made that fire, and I knew for a fact that this person was in the gravest of dangers. As fast as my elven feet could carry me, I raced as silently as I could across the plains, my pale golden hair flicking out behind me. I leaped as high as I could when I reached the base of the ruins and landed right at the shadowy edge of the hopeless battle. A scream from my left alerted me to a hobbit, seeming to appear out of nowhere, with a Nazgûl ripping it's blade out of his chest as he collapsed backward in pain. A shout of anger came from my right and I swiveled my head to see a man leap into the fray, his sword swinging wild and feverish at the Black Riders as he wielded a torch in the other hand.

He was a fool to be so aggressive, yet I could see he cared somewhat for the injured hobbit and wished to protect him and his three other hobbit companions as best he could. That, I could admire somewhat, and so I made my decision to help out as best I could. Three swift swings of my silvery blade and back went a Nazgûl, then another with four more swipes. The man who was attempting to protect the hobbits seemed to be rather cornered by then, for he had dropped his torch and it lay, smoldering, on the old stone as he desperately swung his sword at two looming foes. I stooped and snatched up the torch, waving it in a snapping motion in the air as it reignited a little, and used the flames to deter the Ringwraiths to their retreat. They fled into the night, injured and weakened, and I turned the group of whom I had just aided. I gave a single nod and moved to go, wiping my sword on a rogue sheath of grass, but then a voice came from behind me: "Wait."

Somedays, now, I wonder why I looked back right away. Normally, I would have continued on my way without another word- but for some reason that night, that single word stopped me in my tracks. Wait. Little did I know that word would be used by the same person many times in the next few months to lead me to where I am today. I turned and it was the man, kneeling over his injured hobbit comrade. He bade me to help them more, but I hesitated. "And why should I aide you any longer? I owe you nothing," I replied stiffly. I was distrusting of all men (and I still am) due to the abuse men of any race had caused me in the past, so I was unwilling to assist any longer than I felt decently necessary; my time helping them was up. One of the other hobbits lurched forward as I again moved to leave them and grabbed my cloak. I whirled around, angered at his boldness, and he tumbled to the floor. "Please, ma'am," he said, his eyes wide and worried. "He's injured, can't you see? He'll die if you don't do something, please."

"I have aided you past what I see as simple decency." With that, I snapped my head back around and took steps away for the third time. "Wait." The command came again. I stopped. "You are right, my lady." I resisted the urge to turn. His voice had a power in it I had never heard before, a power that called to me, that caused my heart to falter. "Ae thelfirdeith, Ennorath dannathelan lothren." He spoke my language, and fluently, it seemed- something very few mortals knew how to do. Perhaps that's what made me turn then. "The end of the world, you say?" The man nodded gravely. It was obvious to me he was entirely serious, as his companions nodded in agreement with him, all with equally fearful expressions. The apocalypse, caused by the death of one small hobbit? It was outlandish- and just enough to potentially be true. With only a moment's hesitation, I scooped up the wounded, whimpering hobbit in my arms and whistled for my steed, Rhosc. "An man dôr boe im toge?" The man did not hesitate and replied immediately, "Imladris." I nodded and scrambled down the hillside of the ruins, his last words to me then echoing in my head: "Ride fast."

The next time I crossed paths with Aragorn, son of Arathorn, rightful heir to the kingdom of Gondor was in Imladris itself, a few days after I brought the morbidly-ill Frodo Baggins to Lord Elrond to be healed. He arrived with his companions, the other three hobbits, and soon enough, as I'd expected, he ended up walking down the hall at the same time as I. I moved to pass by him swiftly, but he spoke that word once more and I paused. Wait. He gave me a small bow and thanked me for all my help in the last few days, a sentiment I brushed off as formalities. Later, however, I would relent to knowing that, in truth, he was not merely being polite, but truly and honestly thanking me. Then, I merely gave a nod in return and went on my way, but in retrospect, I rather wish I had stayed to speak with him further and discern the happenings that led him to lead four hobbits to Imladris at that time. But alas, I did not and continued along at my naturally brisk pace to meet Glorfindel at the stables and discuss where I was now headed. I had heard rumors of Rohan's monarchy becoming unstable, and I wished to investigate. I did not see Aragorn again before I left, but it was not long before we truly met.

That third meeting took place in Rohan, at the celebrations of the Rohirrim's victory over Isengard's forces at the Battle of Helm's Deep. I had led the cavalry charge down into the valley, just ahead of Gandalf the White and the forces he and I had gathered. The sunrise marked our arrival and the turning of the tide in the conflict. Eomer and his loyal-to-the-end troops broke through the orcish enemies' ranks when they least expected it. The end of the battle saw many Rohirrim men and boys dead, the losses great but not unbearable. I paced the halls of Helm's Deep, searching for those injured- and reflecting on it now, I suppose I was subconsciously worrying for Aragorn and hoping to know he was alright. I did see him, just for a moment or two, as he helped to carry a wounded man well into middle-age to a makeshift healer's post. He was gone from my vision only a few seconds later, and I was enlisted to aide a pair of young boys, still wearing their heavy armor and oversized helmets, in finding their mother and sister in the caves just beyond the main fortress.

The victory brought a sense of joy and wonderment to the people of Rohan I suspected they had not felt in a long passing of time. Their king, Théoden, decreed there would be festivities to celebrate this grand withstanding against such a ferocious army. In the commotion and cheers that followed, I was swept about by merry men and women who pressed me over and over to come and revel whilst thanking me with tears of gratitude in their eyes. I was not planning on it, was hoping to continue my extensively-delayed journey to Gondor, but in the end, I relented and found myself the next morning astride a handsome tawny steed with a magnificent golden bridle, Théoden's daughter Éowyn and the Lord of the Rohirrim himself riding on either side of me and chatting up a mirthful storm. My path to Gondor had again been swayed, though I thought the time of the world would allow me a few days' rest after all the traversing back and forth across the lands of Middle Earth I had done in the last few months. Although, there would be a slight detour I would need to make. (I will elaborate further on that later.)

The reason I was heading to Gondor in the first place was that on my way to the grand Rohirrim hill fort of Edoras for an audience with Théoden, I learned the king was not fully himself and decided it would be best to stay awaiting his return to a right mind. My route swerved to Gondor, Minas Tirith especially, in order to gain counsel with the reigning Steward of the land, Denethor II, in the hopes I could persuade him to strengthen his defenses and call on the race of man's old allies, the elves in their dire time of need; Mordor and Isengard's forces were growing stronger and more numerous each day. I still wished to advise him as such, but at the moment, I was tired for the first time in many years and decided a little rest would do me a bit of good. Three sunsets and sunrises passed on the road before the large party arrived at Edoras, only encountering a few skirmishes with rogue orc patrols along the way, I was told later. At the time, I was away, taking an alternate path through a nearby, thickly-wooded forest, hunting down a count of fifty-or-so of the orcish militia who had fled after the Battle of Helm's Deep. I was also later informed that a few wounded were lost on the road, and for their souls, I mourned silently- for it was a shame, truly, to survive such a conflict only to pass away soon after in bitter agony.

The sun was lowering in the sky to the West as we set up camp and such for the night. Parties were hosted in every other house large enough to hold thirty folks and though the merrimaking looked to be a pleasant experience, I decided it would be best if I first located shelter for the eve. It was not long before I encountered issues finding lodgings, as there was barely enough room for the Rohirrim peoples in the homes along the mountainous hill, the king had spared all the room he could in his modest mansion, and the tents set up inside the fortress walls were quickly filled and left no room to spare. It was as I was searching for a place, I ran into a red-cheeked dwarf I did not recall knowing, but who clearly seemed to recognize me. "Aye, it be yeh, lass, who Aragorn's been ravin' about the last weeks, and fer good reason I'd say! Ye're a fierce one, as brave as me own father, and that is not a compliment I give lightly!" He gave me a thump on the shoulder that was anything but gentle and went on his way, calling roustily for a fifth pint of ale.

I thanked the dwarf as cordially as I could, having not much understood his words, but realizing that when he had said, 'Aragorn's been ravin' about the last few weeks', my mind began to wander. Could it be he remembered me more than I'd assumed? I supposed it would not hurt to seek him out, though I am now amused that the reasoning I gave myself for this decision was that perhaps he could find me residence for the night. In truth, I will allow myself to know that I was indeed curious of the dwarf's words and, though I would have never admitted it to myself at the time, the name Aragorn sent my heart trembling for a moment or two before I composed myself. To be entirely honest with this narrative, it admittedly still does...

Aragorn was, unsurprisingly, not a difficult man to locate, and I soon tracked him down exiting the king's home with a wave farewell to an elf I dimly recognized and assumed was Legolas, son of Thranduil, king of Eryn Galen. I bade him hello as he turned toward me, coming down the stairs, and I noticed he almost startled at my presence. "Do you suppose you could assist me in finding lodgings for this eve?" The scruff of a beard on his chin scrunched up to distinguish a handsome dimple on the left side of his mouth when he smiled a crooked (though not unkind) grin at me. "You do not care for formalities, my lady?" he asked wryly and I tilted my head just the slightest to my right. "Very well." I gave a swift bow, the fabrics of my tunic and cape ruffling as I straightened up, announcing, "A pleasure to meet you, my lord. I am Tinuviel." "The pleasure is all mine, and I am Aragorn." I nodded with three absentminded tilts of the head, hoping now to get back to my request, but he went on, his smile growing a bit friendlier, "I am glad to see you arrived here safely. There were reports of you vanishing completely from the group on the morning of our departure from Helm's Deep..."

I could tell he was waiting for me to acknowledge what he had supposed as truth or fiction, and so I told him of where I had been on the journey back to Edoras. "I was unsatisfied with the orcish legions still lurking in the forests not too far off our route here, and so I deviated from the main travelers to seek out and hunt down the last of our enemy. It was a tiring journey, but one well worth the detour. I encountered and exterminated no less than fifty Uruk-hai on my path." A thought occurred to me as I stood before Aragorn and I paused in my tale to ask, "Was the common consensus that I had passed from this world?" He chuckled softly and dipped his head in confirmation. "Indeed. I was not readily willing to believe these rumors..." "Yet still you feared for me. Why?" Again, he gave an exhalation of amusement and nodded once more. "You are not one to tread lightly about your words, my lady." "Indeed," I replied affirmatively, using his sentiment expressed a moment ago to tease him a little, though still remaining cautious of the idea of any casual banter between us.

He turned and beckoned for me to follow him towards an encampment at the edge of the ridge beneath the king's home, clearly wanting to evade answering my question. I mused on this avoidance as Aragorn led the way to one of the tents, fiddling with the left sleeve of his coat. The shelters here were entirely monochrome, but the commonfolk staying in them differentiated their own from others' by adding swathes of fabric to the outside, hanging charms and tokens off the top, even weaving sticks through the tarps in unique patterns. I scanned the area and was fairly amused when I picked out one specific tent in mere moments. It bore no significant alteration, but my grey elven eyes noticed the silhouette of a pile of armor nudged into the far left corner inside. The man whose tent it was asked me to stay where I was for a moment as he went to speak with the men organizing these extra lodgings. There it was, that word again- wait -and it threw me into my thoughts. As my attention wandered aimlessly, I stood still, contemplating the site. Only a few dozen people remained here, probably due to the festivities in most of the homes nearby, but those I saw seemed to recognize me and many waved with cries of thankfulness for leading the charge to save them at Helm's Deep.

My delicate ears picked up on the sound of Aragorn's voice raising and I turned my head, watching with an impartial expression as his back stiffened and his tone lowered, the man he was talking to shaking his head and appearing apologetic. It was not many more moments before Aragorn returned to me, his brow slightly furrowed and his hands dangling at his sides as though he wasn't sure what to do with them. "There are not any remaining lodgings here," he began, and I gave a delicate sigh. I had expected as such, and I would not be deterred by such a fact. "I shall set off for Minas Tirith tonight, then," I mused aloud, interrupting him, and he lowered his head in acknowledgment and finished, "Or you could tarry one night longer." I raised an eyebrow and watched the muscles of his face contract just a little as he held back from revealing the emotions in his mind, opting to keep a neutral expression. "I have room in my tent. It would be somewhat close in fit, but I-" "I shall take you up on your offer."

A flash of surprise crossed his face, but he brushed it off and nodded. "When would you like to retire this eve?" I considered this, noting his thoughtfulness in planning his time around my wants, and replied evenly, "Just after sunset should do. I have several responsibilities I must take care of before this day is over. I will conference with Théoden and then return." "I wish you well, my lady." "And I wish the same to you, my lord." And so we parted ways for a few hours until I had accomplished all I wished to with the king and was ready to sleep. I ducked into Aragorn's tent and discovered it empty. I felt a wave of relief sweep over me and I released the breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. The chill of the evening was settling into the air and it began to creep into the tent as I discarded my cape, vest, tunic, and boots, tucking them into the corner at my feet, adjacent to the set of armor I'd noticed earlier. I sat on the hard earth for a moment and pondered how exactly would our sleeping work out. Aragorn's bedroll certainly was large enough for two, but would he be alright with that, I wondered?

As if my thoughts had reached out to him, the flap of the tent acting as the entrance shuddered and swooped aside as Aragorn himself stooped and entered the canvas shelter. He noticed me sitting casually on the ground beside his bedroll- how could he not, we were less than two feet apart- and offered a tired smile. It was clear he was weary from all the happenings of the last few months, as was I, and a good night's rest would do us both good, I was sure. I politely turned away so he could undress as he liked, but my cheeks flushed as considerations of just glancing over my shoulder 'by accident' invaded my mind. I preoccupied myself with undoing the tight braids on either side of my head, and after a moment, heard a grumble from behind me and paused, but then continued, thinking Aragorn must have gotten his arm stuck in his sleeve or something of the like. Later, he would admit that he had been halted for a long few seconds in taking off his vest by the sight of my pale-as-daffodils hair waving in the lamplight in the tent, the rhythmic movement of my hands unweaving the neat braids completely transfixing him.

Once Aragorn allowed me to turn back once more, he opened his mouth, likely to inquire as to how our sleeping arrangements would go, but I spoke before he got the chance: "I suppose there is room on this bedroll for the both of us- the only question is if you are comfortable with that." He hesitated a moment, considering it, and concluded that he was alright with it. And so he laid down at the very edge and I did the same on the other side, leaning on my side as to allow a bit more space for him to move over if he wished. I dimmed the lamp beside us and, before too long, his breathing evened out and its rhythmic flow of air began to lull me to sleep. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the night, letting nature's lullaby send me into slumber. Crickets and cicadas chirruped just outside the canvas walls around us. A firework, and then another, went off in the near distance, followed by cheers. Music from a far-off celebration reached my ears, a flute lilted, a harp sang, a fiddle trilled. I rolled onto my back- and suddenly felt an arm wrap around my waist.

I froze, tensing up, but the breathing of the man laying beside me did not change. The movement must have been subconscious, I decided, but that did not change how it still startled me. I let myself relax, not worried enough to remove Aragorn's arm from around me as my heart whirled about in my chest. Nothing would come of this obviously accidental gesture, he needn't even know of it when the morning came, I decided. But then... I heard a soft mumble from beside me and Aragorn suddenly awoke, rolling over to face me just as I turned to do the same. Barely a second passed, leaving me frozen, unsure of what to do, before his eyes opened and our gazes met. Time seemed to slow as my heart sped up and I heard his do the same. We stared at each other, his arm still around me, our faces barely inches apart, until our hearts gave one synchronized thunderous beat. My cheeks flushed, his mouth opened into a little 'o' of surprise- but curiously, neither of us moved. Looking back on it now, I know the reason for this was that we each saw something of the future in each others' eyes, only for the briefest of moments, but enough to slow our heartbeats and calm our thoughts.

Not a word was spoken then. I closed my eyes and breathed in the feeling of him so close to me. I could hear him murmur- wait. That word once more, but this time, I was not planning on moving. I stayed exactly as I was. Perhaps this was all just a dream, but it was not one I wanted to forget soon. I felt like I had not felt in a long, long time. I felt like I could trust him. I felt safe. The blanket above us rustled as he moved just a little and I felt something soft brush against my forehead- a delicate kiss. I gave a gentle sigh and reached out- and little by little, I curled into his embrace. By the time I began to fall asleep again, Aragorn had both his arms around me and I was tucked into the curve of his body. Our chests rose and fell together as we breathed as one. The world outside vanished as I inhaled and exhaled, inhaled and exhaled, safe and at peace. My mind slowed and my conscience passed into slumber, my physical being wrapped in the tender protection of the man of to whom I, that very night as I fell to sleep, gave all my heart to.

(Phew! This one's a long'un. Hope you liked!)