Lady of Darkness
"Should not the Ring be given to Aragorn, Father?"
Arwen Undómiel and her father, Lord Elrond, stood on the balcony overlooking the
gardens in their home of Imladris. The air was crisp, and the scent of turning leaves filled
the air around them. The sun shone lazily in the afternoon sky. A beautiful day, or so it
would have been had they not been facing such a crisis. The One Ring had come in the
hands of a Hobbit to their fair city and it was a threat to them all. Elrond turned to his
daughter with a stern look.
"Peace, Arwen, I have not time for foolish questions. A council will be held tomorrow and
all will be decided."
"Then I shall repeat my question at the council," Arwen said, irritation creeping into her
tone. She could not abide it when Elrond gave no credence to her thoughts and ideas.
Lately, it seemed to be happening more and more frequently.
The Lord of Imladris turned to face his daughter, shaking his head slightly. "No, you shall
not. You will not be at the council meeting. Daughter, leave this matter to those who are
qualified to deal with it. You are not."
"Really!" Arwen's temper flared. "And why am I not? Why am I not as qualified as
Hobbits and Dwarves and Men, and-- and Legolas Greenleaf! I understand the danger
faced by all Middle-earth as well as anyone here. I also know what the right decision is.
Aragorn should have it. After all, he is the heir to it."
"I have spoiled you, Arwen. You forget your place. You forget that I was there when
Isildur failed. He had the chance to destroy the Ring and failed! And you, a maid in love,
would give it to his heir? Your heart guides you and not your mind, Arwen." His words
softened at the end, but Arwen was already livid.
"My heart may be guiding me, but I trust it," she snapped.
She turned away from Elrond and stalked down the stairs into the garden. She heard him
call her name but she ignored him. Arwen walked down the manicured paths of the garden
without paying much attention to where her feet led her. It mattered not -- she knew every
inch of these lands. She tried hard to put her anger aside, but it would not go. What if, a
little voice whispered inside her mind, she were to take the ring from Frodo and give it to
Aragorn herself?
A flash of guilt shook her as she saw Aragorn standing at the end of the path she had
taken. He was lost in thought, his gaze locked on one of the rose beds. She slipped up
beside him and put her arms around his waist. At once he turned and smiled at her, but he
seemed far away.
"Your mind is heavy, my love," she whispered.
"Dark times lie ahead," he replied gently. "And my path is not clear to me."
"It is clear to me," Arwen said. "Do not fear. You will rise up and fulfill your destiny. Of
that, I am certain."
***
She watched the council meeting from the shadows. None knew she was there. There
were other watchers as well. The friends of Frodo would be kept away no more than
Arwen would, though she suspected their reasons were different than her own.
The Man of Gondor worried her, this Boromir. He rose to his feet several times, and no
doubt would have taken the Ring for his own had Gandalf not interfered. In the hands of
one such as that, Middle-earth would surely fall. No. Aragorn must have the Ring. Arwen
would see to it, however she must.
She could hear the Ring whispering to her that she must take it. She alone would be able
to see it into the hands of its rightful owner. Yes, this was her path. It had been decided
when she gave her heart to Aragorn.
An argument began, and raged out of control like a small fire. The elves of Mirkwood
were on their feet. Legolas spread his arms to hold them back from descending upon the
bold Dwarves who dared insult them. Boromir howled in the faces of his betters like a
mad dog. Her father covered his face with his hand. Even Gandalf was waving his arms in
frustration. Voices of many nations joined in chaos.
It seemed as though this had happened simply for her benefit. Arwen had stretched out her
hand before she even began walking into the midst of the fray. The Ring sat on its dais, fat
and shiny. It seemed to wink at her in the afternoon sunlight. The noise of the argument
faded from her ears and there was only a dull hum, vaguely pleasant.
She picked it up.
The world spun around her, faster and faster, out of control. The humming grew. The
faces of the Elves, Men, Dwarves and Hobbits around her blurred. She saw Aragorn, his
expression grim. Did he not know that she was doing this for him? And her father, calling
her name as if in slow motion. She smiled at them all.
The Ring pulsed in her hand like a living thing. She lifted it up between two fingers, noting
how dark was the gold against her fair, pale skin. What would it look like on her hand? A
wedding band?
She looked for Aragorn, but he was no more than part of the blur. He was not as
important as she had thought, she realized with a start. No, this Ring was not for him. It
was for someone far more powerful, someone who knew their path and was not lost.
Someone who had no fear.
The Ring was for Arwen.
The world ground to a halt as she slipped it onto her finger. The chaos seemed to freeze
around her. The sky turned black and the world was painted in hues of lightning and gold.
She threw her head back and laughed. This was what power felt like. It was intoxicating.
Why did Aragorn shun it? What was wrong with him?
They were calling her name. They were all calling her name, chanting it. She was rising
into the sky above them on a wave of sheer energy. She was the Queen of Imladris, of
Arda, of all space and all time. They must obey her now. She would have her every heart's
desire.
What was her heart's desire?
Aragorn? Nay, not him. He was no King, and he had not proven himself worthy of her.
She had done what he had not the courage to. What Arwen wanted most of all was for her
kinsmen to remain in Arda, not to sail for Valinor. This is what she could make possible
now. This would be her gift to the world.
Elves would rule the land now, and she would rule the elves -- Arwen Undómiel. No
longer Evenstar, but Lady of Darkness.
