1 | The Fall of the Sun

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Fili | King Under The Mountain

Location: Erebor, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: September 2980 T.A

Papers, and more papers.

When he became king under the mountain, he was expecting his days' training and ruling upon his throne...not stuck in his study going through reports on the stocks of food and the exports of metal and weapons down to Dale and the Iron Hills.

He just returned from a meeting with his councillors, who already battered him with more problems about the raids and the worry of food for the winter. More suggestions to fortify east of the mountain as well as keeping an eye on any spies amongst their ranks.

His entire mind was going upside down and inside out that he had already cracked out the bottle of whiskey in his special cupboard. Or perhaps he might try the Dorwinion wine King Thranduil gave to him as a coronation gift. If he was ever in a bad mood, he would usually take a glass of the potent wine (of course hiding any indication of it from his wife. Sigrid would definitely hit him until he dumped the entire keg out).

Of course, he had Obara's help; his ever competent and caring daughter that he thanked Mahal for being born. Her mixed blood changed what her age had been, now rather being of age at a shorter span and already a warrior in the making. However, Obara was currently in Dale aiding Bain's son, Brand, with their people and ensuring a passage was safe between Mirkwood, Dale and Erebor. He did not like that his daughter was out there on her own, though a little more assured considering Dwalin was by her side.

Dwalin, his uncle's best friend and one of his childhood teachers: had changed ever since the death of his brother Balin. He had gotten cold for the next few months, hating the elves of Mirkwood for practically existing. But Dwalin also mourned. He mourned for he knew – that everyone knew – that Balin's death had saved another's life. Perhaps a life that they all felt rather awkward to know of, but respected.

They called it The Battle of Unity: written in the books and spoken in the wind. How three different races came together to defeat their common enemy, Azog the Defiler and his orc and goblin army.

What nobody knew was that it was all because of one woman: Illyria Ettelëa.

However, she had disappeared just after the end of the battle.

He didn't exactly know the reason why Illyria had left. At first, he was upset that she had just somehow left without telling them, though he believed after that it was not willingly. Lord Elrond of Rivendell returned to Dale already bearing the news of the death of Lord Glorfindel, the blonde-haired elf he had constantly seen with Illyria during their time in the valley. It was only after Thorin's recovery that she revealed her past life.

The once Lady Elemmírë of Rivendell.

He had only heard of that name as a whisper, word of inspiration and respect as the elven woman once aided the dwarves once of Belegost and Nogrod during the Ancient War. Someone who knew his ancestors from Moria before the ancient elven war against Sauron occurred.

It was hard to believe at first, but it wasn't much of the belief. For him, he felt honoured that she would reveal her story to him and the Company. The amount of trust Illyria Ettelëa had for them told him that she was entrusting them with the secret she held.

As he held the sheet of parchment in his hands, ready to read another page of this report – a knock on the door saved him. He put the report down and ordered them to enter.

Entering the room, his eyes lifted in relief when he spotted the familiar dwarf walking over to his desk.

The dwarf awkwardly nodded down his head as he spoke, "My king."

Not again. Sighing, he pointed out (again): "It's just you and I, Ori."

Ori, despite changing so much in the past few decades, still brought out his shy and awkward demeanour. Even as his head loremaster of Erebor, Ori preferred being in the library to having to discuss politics with him over the dinner table. But he did appreciate that Ori and Sigrid getting along than most, knowing how much his wife was sometimes spending too much bossing the kitchens or running the school she established.

Having Ori within the royal family was a good change, as well as helping to cope after the loss of his oldest brother: Dori. The younger dwarf was a mess after Dori's death. Nori had been there, unsure now how to care for his younger brother because he too felt unsure at him go. Both were given a choice to stay in Erebor for the time until his uncle asked Nori to become his master of whispers whilst Ori would begin his work as a loremaster to the royal family.

Now, they were in the position of what they loved to do. With Nori vanishing most of his days around the mountain to collect entail whilst Ori would keep him in check of his paperwork.

Though today was a change as Ori told him some news.

"Well, Fili." Ori spoke to him, "Kili and Tauriel have returned from Mirkwood. Though they were...slightly ambushed by Easterlings."

Fili's chest tightened in worry – of course, pleased of the news of their return – and asked him, "How long ago did they arrive?"

Ori answered, "They arrived just an hour ago. You were in your meeting and your brother didn't want to bother the council."

Sighing, Fili mentally rolled his eyes. Typical of his brother to not barge in and save him from the hell hole he was in amongst old dwarves. Honestly, he blamed his uncle for leaving him with all of this. Not literally though, he was happy for his uncle. After his abdication a decade ago, he and Bilbo left to go back to the Shire and live the rest of Bilbo's lifespan in peace and away from politics.

He should probably write to them as well and wonder how they were.

As he was about to return his eyes at the drastic piece of complaints, Fili heard the door open and rose to his feet.

The familiar faces appeared from the door and he walked over to them, already with a sigh of relief.

Kili was the first to greet him, hugging him tightly. He murmured, "Brother—"

Leaning out, he then looked over to Tauriel to take her hand and squeeze it in assurance. Fili spoke, "Thank Mahal you are both well."

Tauriel thinned her lips, the red-haired elf responding to him. "Not all of us." She told him, "Some have sustained major injuries, but we have taken them to the healing halls."

Fili darted his eyes to his brother again and questioned, "And what of the Easterlings?"

The married couple eyed each other before Kili answered truthfully: "They are moving faster west." A worried tone in his voice already told him everything. "In time, we might not be able to defend both Dale and Erebor."

Oh, that was the bad news he should have expected. Fili tightened his jaw, before glancing up to his brother's one.

"And what about the alliance with Thranduil? Tauriel?" He asked her.

Even then, Tauriel remained calm as she answered, "Still undecided." She continued, "Legolas is currently with Thorongil down south in Gondor...and it is not doing well."

Taking a deep breath, he looked over to Ori who was already showing the nervousness he had. He should have expected this. The darkness which began growing just after their uncle left had caught them off guard, and even more shock towards the Gondorians in the South. Tauriel had heard from Prince Legolas that they have been doing what they can to ensure defence against Minas Morgul and Sauron's forces in Mordor. [1]

Though the last year and so, it felt as if they were hit by a great wave of evil. Easterlings, orcs and goblins from the East and North were already giving them the time. If the full force of Sauron decided to expel from the Black Gates...he couldn't imagine the carnage.

They were not prepared for the inevitable.

He thanked Kili for pulling him from his thoughts. "Tauriel and I did all we can," His brother told him. "And luckily we have agreed to provide a meeting together to discuss how to defend."

Ori coughed and all eyes turned to him. "If I may interject," He then shoved his hand in his pocket as he added, "I received this from Thorin."

Out in the palm of his hand, Fili took the letter from Ori and took a deep breath as he opened it.

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Fili and Kili,

I hope that when you receive this, that you are well and that your mother is well.

Do not worry, nephew. Bilbo and I are safe. The Shire, along with the rangers of the Dunedain, are doing what they can in aiding in any incoming wargs, wolves and orcs from the north. There are also whispers of elves arriving from the West. How and why, I would not know.

Though the sole reason as to why I write is from Lord Elrond, through his sons Elladan and Elrohir; and that word of the weapon Illyria spoke of, and what Bilbo revealed to us, has been heard.

Lord Elrond is summoning a delegate from each ruling kingdom to discuss the matters of the one.

I entrust that you would follow what Illyria once spoke to us and allow to him the choice to come.

With my heart,

Thorin Oakenshield.

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"What does it say?" Kili wondered, always the younger brother leaning his head over his shoulder.

Fili shooed his brother, before explaining to them the news. "Lord Elrond wishes for a delegate from each kingdom and realm in defence of Middle Earth." He asked, "Who will go to Rivendell?"

"Your choice, brother. You are the king." Kili pointed out, making him roll his eyes.

However, Fili suddenly felt the weight on his shoulders grow heavier as he sighed tiredly, "I wish I hadn't been." He gave them a sad smile, "But I wanted Uncle to be happy with Bilbo."

And he was happy. Never had he felt the light enter his uncle's eyes once they began their journey West. Fili had been upset to see him go, along with his brother and mother. At first, he wanted his uncle to stay for their own sake of safety, but it was with Sigrid and his mother - Dis - that persuaded him to let them go.

They deserved their happiness after such hardship. And they would need it in such times as this.

Especially when a particular hobbit carried the ring. And now Sauron had returned, and he and Kili along with Ori and the Company were afraid for the hobbit.

A hand was placed on top of his shoulder. "You do not have to share the burden," Kili spoke to him, "Tauriel and I will go. Surely both of us will be enough. You, Amad, Sigrid, Bain and Obara are secure until the meeting with Thranduil." [2]

Fili made a soured face. Of course, his brother would do this to him. He exasperated, "And you'll leave me with the blonde prick! Brother!"

His brother chuckling, slapping his back. Whereas for Tauriel, who twitched her lips.

Ever since the Battle of Unity, Thranduil was not pleased that his captain of the guard was in love with a dwarf...a dwarf prince as well. Though with a begrudged expression, he allowed the union due to the persuasion of Thorin's acceptance to Tauriel and Lady Arwen's support to the marriage of two different races.

He had only met Lady Arwen once, and he was not surprised that Illyria's daughter shared the same fire in her words.

"You will be fine," Kili reassured him, "Ori's here. And Nori is your master of whisperers as well...and Thorin will be arriving in a few weeks."

Oh, Mahal, he forgot about Thorin coming. Thorin Stonehelm to be clear.

The lord of the Iron Hills would be making his way to discuss matters to defend the eastern-most post for them. He was much better at conversing with him than his own councillors since he was around his age.

"Alright then," Fili said, admitting defeat before taking out the other letter in his drawers. "Illyria kept this letter, remember. And she said that if Lord Elrond ever mentioned about a meeting to bring...him along."

Whilst Ori and Kili rose their brows in unison, Tauriel furrowed her eyebrows.

"Really?" Kili asked him, "Whatever for?"

Fili shrugged his shoulders. "I do not know," He continued, passing the letter to his brother. "Do let him know if he doesn't wish to come. I do not want to force him."

Flashing a grin, Kili replied, "Oh he'll love it." He added, "He wanted to come with us the first time on the Quest to Erebor."

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Aragorn | Lord Thorongil

Location: Minas Tirith, Gondor, Middle Earth, Arda

As he bathed his hands over the small basin, he then took the piece of cloth beside it. After he had dried his hands, he then heard the knock on the door and placed the cloth down before opening it for the visitor.

The man's face appeared at his sight, a stoic expression as he entered the room and nodded curtly back at him. "Lord Thorongil."

"Lord Boromir," He bowed before the steward's son and shut the door before him.

Lord Boromir took a step towards the bed, where a figure laid down. It was there his face changed to his true emotions, worried for the woman that was resting. He had seen these more frequently in Lord Boromir's face, having to hide his fears to ease the fears of his citizens and soldiers. He understood why he had to do so; a worried leader meant instability for the entirety of the army.

"How does she fare?" Lord Boromir covered his cracking voice with a cough.

At first instinct, he wanted to give optimistic news to him. But what was yet good was non-existent. He took a gulp before answering truthfully: "Not as well as you would hope to be," He breathed in. "Though I am afraid that we are running out of time."

Lord Boromir took a deep breath, glancing away from him before his jaw tightened. "I would rather go down with a fight than run," He told him.

Their eyes met once more. When they first met, there was some slight hesitation between the son of the Steward of Gondor and him. Of course, he was a healer and a ranger, travelling with the Prince of Mirkwood. He was already a wary character amongst the people of Minas Tirith when he first arrived here. But years tending in the healing halls, learning in the library, and aiding the citizens as much as he could, he had gone up the ranks and finally found himself aiding Lord Boromir in their plan of defending Minas Tirith from Mordor.

However, the years had passed, and it had gotten harder to fight back. They already lost Osgiliath a year ago, shocked at how the wave of orcs and the Nazgul already brought the city into flames. Nothing had he imagined of this to imagine. He had thought the power of Sauron had waned through the ages, loss by so much of his defeat.

And now he had almost taken Gondor in just a few years.

The first few months the armies of Gondor kept them back, bringing them enough time to plan. But as their numbers dwindled, they barely had enough to keep the city protected again Minas Morgul's attacks. They needed to evacuate now, for this was the only choice for them despite several protests.

"Not all victories lead to charging into battle." He told Lord Boromir, "If we have no choice, we can only survive if the women and children escape Minas Tirith."

Lord Boromir simply stared, still not persuaded by his plan. Even after he had agreed along with his brother, Lord Boromir still felt there was more for them to do to protect the city he had grown up in. He would not understand it, of course. But as having a connection to this kingdom, he needed to do something no matter hard it was for them to accept it all.

There was another knock on the door, and a servant bowed their head towards them before nervously speaking.

"My lords, the Steward wishes to see you," They informed them before exiting the room for their privacy.

He looked back at Lord Boromir who then told him, "Let me speak to my mother." He strode towards his mother's side and knelt there. "Mother, I am here."

"Boromir...my son," Finduilas whispered, her voice so weak in his ears.

Lord Boromir encouraged her, "Come, mother." He spoke, "There will be a cart ready for you."

He saw in the corner of his eyes as her hand reached to cup Lord Boromir's face. She spoke weakly to her son, "There is no hope left from me, my son... As I have given it all to you and your brother."

Lord Boromir's voice wavered before he cried to him, "No...please. Stay awake. For Faramir!" He rose from his spot and asked, "Where is my brother?"

"I will go get him," He calmly replied to him, offering ease to the steward's son.

Nodding to him, Lord Boromir brought himself back down to Finduilas' side. "Thank you, Lord Thorongil."

After slipping out of the room, he turned down to the right side of the corridor and took deep strides towards the figure approaching him. The Prince of Mirkwood gazed at him, his eyes already asking his question.

"Mellon nin, how is she?" Legolas spoke, as they walked down the corridor.

A sigh left his lips. "She is fading." He revealed before questioning back, "And how is the evacuation?"

Legolas answered, "Most of the women and children are almost out of the city heading West." His eyebrows creased. "Who are you looking for?"

As they turned around the corner, his eyes spotted the familiar lord and hurried to catch his attention.

He muttered, "Him." Bringing his voice louder, he called to the younger man. "Lord Faramir. Your brother and mother wish to see you."

Lord Faramir was similar in appearance to his brother, though much younger and with more similar features to his mother. He looked worn down and tired, his armour covered in dirt and blood whilst his sword was by his hip. His eyes did widen in alarm before they relaxed.

He spoke softly, "She is not doing well, is she?" His eyes shut for a moment, before glancing away. "I have long predicted this. She will not leave these halls, and she always wished to see the sea before her death."

Placing his arm over the young man's shoulder, he assured him: "Do not let her death be lonely, my lord." He encouraged him, "Go to your family."

Quietly, Lord Faramir nodded his head to him and Legolas. "Thank you, Lord Thorongil. Prince Legolas."

They didn't need to glance back as the younger brother headed off towards Finduilas' room. He glanced down at the ground, taking another breath and counting to ten. He had lost already too many patients here, and too many lives in his life. He had seen the horrors of war, and the loss from sickness. Just like Finduilas, she would not last even for the evening to arrive.

Instead of dawdling, they began their trek up to the royal hall. They headed up the stairs to the top courtyard, conversing with each other in Sindarin.

It was his friend that first began, "We won't last by tomorrow." Legolas informed him, a displeased tone in his voice. "The Steward has sent them all in a death trap. Aragorn..."

His friend was trying to find answers from him.

But even he did not know what it was.

Aragorn had not expected this to happen. For the world to turn in so quickly. Only thirty years ago in which his foster father revealed to him who he truly was...how much he would determine the conclusion of the fate of men.

It daunted him at first, hurt by the responsibility that now weighed at him. Angered by the lie that he stormed off into the garden he once called home. Rivendell had been his world once - until he entered the wild of Middle Earth and realized the reality he was truly in.

He returned to where his mother and father once were a part of, taking his place as the next Chieftain of the Dunedain and aiding those around what was once the Kingdom of Arnor. There he met many companions, along with those around Bree and the wandering wizard: Gandalf the Grey.

Then, he returned his eyes back to Rivendell, where he had fallen greater in love to the Evenstar.

However, it was not his destiny yet to be with Arwen Undómiel. She had entrusted him to follow his heart, choose what was right for them. And that had been to go west to aid his people. It was in Rivendell that he also met Prince Legolas, who was also on his own journey to self-discovery. They had become friends, almost like brothers, along with Elladan and Elrohir. The sons of Elrond Peredhel.

When Lord Elrond finally revealed some part of what Lady Illyria foretold, Aragorn was unsure how to respond. Firstly, it had been years since he heard of Lady Illyria, who had been revealed to be Lady Elemmírë of Rivendell, wife to Elrond himself. She had been brought back to life in another world, arriving here and hardly remembering most of her memories.

However, with the loss of memory: she bore news of a version of the future.

Lady Illyria did not fully tell the entire story to her family, only adding parts that were deemed to be discussed. Unfortunately, due to her quick departure, nothing else was accounted for in the details of the time. Though from Arwen's knowledge, she spoke of this all occurring man years ahead.

"My father and Arwen spoke of this. But it is far too soon." Aragorn thinned his lips.

Legolas asked his friend, "Have you contacted her lately?"

Shaking his head, Aragorn elaborated, "She has been busy as of late, trying to reach Lady Illyria from the other world." He continued, "She and the Lady of Lorien have been conversing on how long we have."

Whilst he thought that Legolas had been walking alongside him, Aragorn had stopped to notice his friend's disappearance. He turned his face across his shoulder and peered his eyes to his friend – who now stood staring up at the sky.

"Aragorn...you might want to see this," Legolas muttered.

His eye trailed upwards and all he could do was stare in terror at the sight.

Up in the sky and what was the sun had burst outwards.

Rays of light flowed across the light until it began to disappear.

Soon, the day turned into night as the reveal of stars appeared in his eyes.

Aragorn sharpened his breath, "That cannot be..."

The sun was gone.

How was it possible?

"Lord Thorongil!"

Turning around, they found both the steward's sons racing up the steps, hurrying as their eyes kept glancing up to the sky. However, it did not stop Aragorn to spot the red-rimmed eyes around their eyes.

He bowed his head sadly, "Lord Boromir."

"She..." He spoke before clamping his mouth.

"I am sorry for your loss." Aragorn eyed each of the lords.

Shaking his head, Lord Boromir inhaled and spoke: "It's...there is no time to mourn." His eyes narrowed at them, "My brother and I saw the sun go out. I have yet thought it was dark clouds, but I have realized this is not the time."

"Yes. This should not have occurred yet." Legolas interjected.

Lord Boromir questioned him, "What do you mean?"

Aragorn and Legolas looked at each other for a moment, already knowing from their knowledge of Elven lore and history of what was to come...but not so soon.

"Dagor Dagorath." Aragorn simply answered, "The end of the world." [3]

When those words entered Lord Boromir and Faramir's ears, their eyes widened in disbelief. However, the sound of screams and shouts brought the four of them returning their plans to head to the royal hall.

Once they entered through the great doors, Aragorn noticed a man seated beside the king's throne. His grim expression resting on his face turned to question as Lord Boromir strode to him.

"Father, we must leave the city now!" The eldest of the sons cried back.

Lord Denethor the Second rose from his seat, glaring back at them all. "Did I command you to do so? Or have you disobeyed me?"

Lord Faramir stood by his brother, in front of him and Legolas. He replied, "Father, Boromir does not lie. We have to leave to ensure the survival—"

"Do not interrupt me. You...where is your mother?" Lord Denethor's eyes narrowed.

Lord Boromir was the one, to tell the truth. "She...she is gone."

"...You...You poisoned her!"

Aragorn had learnt over time how to converse with the Steward of Gondor, keeping his voice calm as he answered him. "I did not poison her, my lord. Her life was already waning thin. She passed into the Halls mere moments ago."

"Father, you must stop this." Lord Boromir tried to bring the conversation back to the agenda. "Bring the stewards of Gondor together, allow us to get aid from Rohan!"

Lord Denethor scoffed, "Bah! I have no love for those horse-loving kinds!" He barked, "It was why I did not send Gondor when their precious Westfold fell."

There was a flash of shock between him and the other three. Aragorn had not known why Gondor had not sent aid, and it would seem to be under the orders of the Steward.

He shuddered breath before speaking, "Lord Boromir, I apologize - but I will take my leave along with my companion Prince Legolas."

One thing he knew, Aragorn would not be swayed or affected by Denethor's delusions. The man has been like this ever since he arrived, hardly found any common ground or liking to him and would rather banish him. It was only because of Gandalf and Lord Faramir and Boromir that he had been allowed to stay – as well as Legolas.

If the Steward of Gondor would not open his eyes to the reality happening around him, he would do all he can to save the people of Minas Tirith.

The Steward spat at him, "Go! Be a coward! I will not be moved by Sauron's forces!"

They left the grand hall with shouts of Denethor cut off, allowing Aragorn some peace from his mind. He should have known that the steward would deny what was clearly happening right in front of them. However, they could not do anything else but keep moving forward.

As he strode across the large courtyard, Legolas fell into step. "Was that wise, Aragorn?" He questioned him, a frown on his lips. "You are the heir of Gondor. The rightful king."

He paused from his steps, turning to the blonde elf, and asked back, "And how can a king be useful when he is dead?" Aragorn exhaled, speaking strictly: "Arwen told us to evacuate, and we will follow her instinct and Lady Illyria's foreknowledge."

Legolas didn't ponder long until he silently nodded his head in agreement.

The sounds of the doors opening once more caught him off guard. Aragorn turned around to find Lord Boromir and Faramir approaching them once more, an apologetic expression on their faces. Why should they apologize for their father?

"Lord Thorongil. I will come with you to aid you." The eldest curtly nodded at him.

A small smile rested on his lips. "Thank you, Lord Boromir." Aragorn turned to the youngest son. "And what of you, my lord?"

Lord Faramir firmly replied, "I will send my own group to help evacuate those left around Ithilien."

There was hesitation in Lord Boromir's voice, "Brother—"

"I can take care of myself." He assured his brother, inhaling. "Mother would have wanted us to protect Gondor no matter what. And I will do all I can to save every man, woman and child under the enemy's hold."

Pressing a hand over his brother's shoulder, he watched the exchange between brothers. "Take care of yourself, alright." Lord Boromir spoke to him.

They all shared a willing look before they began to head off to their destinations. With him, Legolas and Boromir heading to where the remaining army of Minas Tirith would protect the back and sides of the citizens. Lord Faramir on the other hand would be amongst the scouts of Minas Tirith, preparing to sneak back into the outrun region east of the city – right next to Mordor.

After praying to the Valar, he gestured for the two. "Let us go." Aragorn told them, "Orcs will begin the raids once he knows that the sun is gone."

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Arwen Undómiel | The Evenstar

Location: Rivendell, Middle Earth, Arda

When she opened her eyes, no longer was she in Imladris' gardens but the forest of Caras Galadhon.

A veranda ornated by the dim lights hanging around them as the vines that decorated the pillars around them. In the middle of the courtyard was the familiar object: The Mirror.

As she brought her head up, she found grey eyes meet her own.

"Arwen." The blonde-haired elleth spoke, deep and relieving in her voice.

She walked over to her and bowed her head as she greeted her, "Lady Galadriel."

Lady Galadriel gave her a solid look before gesturing her hand over to the table. There, she sat down on one of the chairs, indicating for her to sit down.

And so, Arwen followed, thankful for the great elf to sit opposite her.

"You are using too much of your power, my dear." Lady Galadriel spoke to her with worry.

The Lady of the Golden Wood wasn't wrong. Her powers were enough to sustain a semi-corporeal body, let alone be here physically. But Arwen had been conversing with Lady Galadriel more often this year, returning news from Lothlorien to Imladris about the darkness growing in Gondor and the East. Most of the time had been sleeping nowadays, which wasn't something she was used to even though she was half-elven herself. Though with the powers of her mother, she never needed as much sleep as her father and brothers – not until she discovered she could communicate to other telepaths across Middle Earth.

Her mother called it Astral Projection, with this being the strongest form to exist. Arwen had often wondered why she had yet to learn of this as Elemmírë, but Illyria had explained to her that she only began Astral Projecting in full forms in the past year (before she arrived in Middle Earth). Her mother warned her of using too much of her powers to create full bodies, saying that it exposes their energy if not controlled well. Perhaps that was why she never saw her mother use it, who already was beginning to lose her control with her own magic.

However, after decades of training and finally having permission to train from her father: Arwen had stretched her mental and magical abilities. She had done all she could for the sake of protecting not only her family but the Peoples of Middle Earth.

And now with Arwen realizing what had happened recently, she needed to do what she could to aid those far from her.

"I need to speak to you." Arwen gravely began, "About the change of the Song."

There was already a solemn expression on Lady Galadriel's face. "Yes. I already know," She informed her. "Lord Círdan has sent a message. He has sighted ships entering the bay as we speak."

That was not something she had heard yet. Had her father not told her of this?

Well, if she spent more time staying up during the day instead of sleeping, she would have known.

"Ships," She echoed and asked to clarify. "From Valinor."

The curt nod already got her mouth to part in shock. What had happened in Aman that would cause her people to return to Middle Earth?

Lady Galadriel pursed her lip, "Yes. Of which house of the Eldar, I do not know. This was not in the vision I saw..." She changed the subject, asking Arwen instead. "Has your father yet discovered a way to find the opening?"

With the mention of her father, Arwen already prepared her answer. They have to try all they could to find ways to discover a portal to her mother's world. The one up on Ravenhill had vanished, leaving a remnant of energy that resonated such as the jewel. Once they knew some indication of how it was done, both she and her brothers helped their father in finding a way to use the jewel. To communicate with her mother somehow.

However, they had yet to make any progress on this. Not when they have been busy preparing to defend the Valley and making sure the North was defended with the aid of the Dunedain.

Arwen answered her simply, "Not as of yet." She elaborated, "Using the jewel clashes with Vilya. Only one of us can use each one separately."

They were not sure why this was the case. Her father could easily hold the Silmaril along with Vilya, though using the magic of the jewel was an entirely different scenario. It became chaotic and unbalance, causing the ring to burn in her father's hand once, and the Silmaril to almost be dropped onto the ground.

Somehow, the jewel did not affect her as most elves. Quite the opposite. It followed her magic but also terrified her. The amount of power it held had caught Arwen at some points that she wasn't sure if the light she created had been from her or the jewel.

Just as her mother told her before the Battle of Unity: the Silmaril cannot be weaponized.

Her father and she finally recognized the similarities of the Silmaril's power along with hers.

"I have known this already, once when your mother's death occurred," Lady Galadriel told her, "The other had been when Illyria Strange returned to this world."

Arwen straightened her back, a painful ache in her chest as she murmured, "It has been forty years since she left."

Forty years since the foretold Battle of the Five Armies. Now called by a different title due to the alteration of what her mother did.

Lady Galadriel added, "And still not aligned to the song which Illyria Strange spoke of."

The mention of her mother almost caused her to tear up. She wondered if she were alright, and that she would be trying to return to them at some point. Arwen had to hope, for it was the only thing that was keeping her light bright in such dark times. With now her love down in Gondor and her brothers risking their lives to aid the rangers: her father was the only one left with her to keep her heart afloat.

However, she didn't need to worry about her mother's death. Her father still felt something in his fëa, a tiny sign of the bond that was still there – alive and yet so distant.

Explaining, she brought her hands over her lap. "I've been trying to contact her, through the jewel. Something is stopping me. A barrier of some sort."

Arwen then felt herself waking up. Someone must be waking her.

She then stood up and hurried her words, "I apologize my lady; I must bid you farewell for now."

The Lady of Lorien smiled kindly, and responded: "Farewell, for now, Undómiel."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Arwen shut her eyes, feeling her body fade and her mind flow back to her true hröa. When she brought her eyes to flutter open, she stared at a pair of grey eyes.

Her father, Lord Elrond of Imladris, had his hand on hers – trying to wake her up. Though what worried her was the grim expression on him. He never woke her up during her projections unless it was vital.

Worry edged her eyes as she softly called to him, "Father?"

He breathed, "Something has happened." Guiding his eyes out of the window from her room, he spoke. "Look."

Arwen stood up from her bed, carefully walking over to the window.

Her heart stopped when she saw the sky.

What once was the day just mere moments ago had now shown the stars in the sky. A burst light began to wane and all she could do was stare in horror at what happened.

All she could muster was this. "The sun...it has fallen," Arwen breathed, "This was not planned at all."

"No," Besides her, her father swallowed. "The end of the world is not supposed to be in our time."

Turning her gaze back to him, she asked him: "Where are Elladan and Elrohir?"

"On the way to take Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield here," Her father explained to her as they began to head out of her room and to where the noise was coming from.

It was not just them who had witnessed the death of the sun.

Arwen walked alongside her father as he told her, "Mithrandir and Illyria had already confirmed it to be the one ring, therefore we must decide who would go to destroy it with them."

They stopped at the open planned hall as she narrowed her eyes. "It will not be enough. Adar, I don't believe this is all occurring all at once." Arwen continued, "Sauron has recovered too quickly for what Nana foretold me. Gondor has already fallen under the shadow."

Just a week ago, she had contacted Aragorn briefly. It was dangerous for her to project herself in his dreams whilst he was so close to Sauron, but she needed to talk to him. She needed to make sure he was alright and that he was at least alive. Her love had welcomed her in his arms, pressing a kiss on her lips as they laid in their dream in her bed in Rivendell.

They spoke of nothing of the war and the dark times that were around them, though she and Aragorn both knew in the back of their minds that they were not fine. Fear and worry were growing in their minds and they did all they can to keep in the light and the happiness of their love.

It was why she had yet to tell him her choice. And for now, until he returns home: she would keep in her mind of his love.

Her father discussed with her the details, "The meeting will commence in a month." He continued, "In that time, I hope we will contact your mother--Arwen?"

However, her father's voice had faded and what was once the hall of tapestries was now a dark room.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Arwen's breath hitched as she spun around, wondering where she was and how she got here.

"So, it would seem the spawn of the Eternal has mastered her own powers."

When Arwen turned, she found the eyes of the elderly man. Though disguised as an old man was in fact an Ainu.

"Saruman." She spoke breathlessly, questioning him. "Why have you called me."

The maia tapped his staff as he walked over to her. "Ever acting so innocent," Saruman spoke in distaste.

Though as she retorted back, she halted as she heard the weakened words from a familiar voice.

Standing up, with hands shackled: another elderly man called to her, "My lady..."

Her mouth wavered as she raced towards him. Arwen cried out, "Mithrandir!"

Never had she seen the grey wizard battered and bruised. He was bleeding down his temple and his body hunched over – forced to stand by the chains. She tried to take her hands into his face, but as she tried to touch him: her hand went through.

"You cannot save him now! You are not even fully corporeal yet." Saruman loudly spoke, his voice echoing around her. "Your powers are not strong in my dominion."

Arwen bit her lip, refraining herself from slipping. She would not cry in front of him.

"Let him go." Her voice pleaded to him, "Please."

Saruman denied her and spoke, "Your mother had the chance to be on the right side of history. But she chose a weak half-elven boy over one of the Ainu."

Arwen turned her head to the other maia and inhaled sharply. With a strong voice, she told him: "Elrond Peredhel is strong. You underestimate what he can do."

Saruman scoffed back, "He cannot even wield the Silmaril." He laughed at her, "Weak human blood runs through his and your veins. He will die before he even gets to the Eternal."

Her eyes narrowed, eager to prove him wrong. Her father could wield it. He would do so for the protection of his people. Of Middle Earth. Arwen believed he could. She had seen how much he could do.

Mithrandir croakily said, "Go...call to her."

Shaking her head, she whispered to him. "I cannot," She spoke, "It does not call to me. Its light is too much for my own control."

"But your mother's powers do," The grey wizard encouraged her, "Trust the guidance of your mother. You are strong, Undómiel."

She questioned him with concern, "Will you be alright?"

"I will be alright, my dear." Mithrandir brought his hand to reach her cheek, but quickly it went past through her form. "You must wake up."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Arwen felt the pullback to her body like a snap of a stick.

A gasp left her mouth as she opened her eyes, staggering forward.

Her father took her into his arms, looking down at her. "Arwen! Are you alright?" He asked, his hand resting over her forehead.

However, all she could sense was the coldness in her blood.

They have been found.

She gulped back her voice as she spoke, "Saruman knows we have it. He has betrayed the Valar and the peoples of Middle Earth for Sauron."

Her father's eyes widened, and Arwen saw the fear grow in his eyes. Not only Lady Galadriel, but her father as well.

This was ill news to them. Saruman was someone her mother warned them about, and they had done all they can to hide the jewel from the Ithron's eyes. However, with the darkness growing, the valley was now a beacon for their close enemies. And with Isengard just south to them, they shouldn't be surprised that he had discovered them with the Silmaril.

His father looked away towards the window and grimly said, "He would never share such power. And neither would Morgoth."

"Mithrandir has been captured as well," Arwen said, seeing the shock form on his face. "Saruman sends an army to stop us from connecting to the other Earth. I must try to connect with Naneth."

She knew that her father and Mithrandir were close friends, having known the maia ever since he arrived. Her mother was the first to introduce Arwen and her brothers to him, already telling her how he saw potential in her magic. With now his own ally that once was children of Eru an enemy, it must hurt Mithrandir to see his friend become like this.

Her father sternly said, "I trust you that if you are growing weaker, you must stop."

"I will." She promised him.

They made their way to her father's study, allowing for her to sit down. Taking out from the drawer, her father placed a small dark wooden box on top of the desk. Arwen waited with a held breath and stared at the jewel.

Even after being exposed to it for almost four decades, she still wasn't used to its presence.

As her father stood at the opposite end, Arwen shut her eyes and blew out a gentle breath. She allowed her light to flow out from her heart and towards the Silmaril, trying to connect through its entangled web of power. Once she felt she was somehow in control, she tried to wade through the unknown that was remarkably familiar to her already.

When she first connected to the Silmaril, she felt like she tugged into multiple hallways. Arwen began to imagine it as a place of multiple doorways, trying to find the nearest door that drew string from where she was and where her mother could be. Sometimes there was no sign, and sometimes there were too many doors.

She flickered through each one until she arrived at a doorway that was emitted similar energy to her own.

"There," Arwen muttered under her breath. "It is faint."

Her father asked her, "Which part."

She tried to grow closer to the jewel, pretending to reach through the cracks between the worlds until she found the pinpoint.

"Just up at the waterfall," Arwen opened her eyes and turned to him. "The same one you and Nana used to go up to."

He muttered to himself, not surprised by the outcome of the location. "Connected by memory," He shuddered a breath. "We will go tonight."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Both she and her father prepared themselves. Wearing her armour, she slid her sword into her sheath and took a glance at the staff placed on her bed. After her mother's leaving, her father had given her the staff telling her that her mother would have wanted her to train with it. Arwen was not accustomed at first to the magical weapon at first, though over time she had taken to some liking with it.

She had Miriel to thank for aiding her to dress before finding her father conversing with Lindir and Erestor at the front of their home. Erestor had changed since the loss of her uncle. She already knew that there was something between her father's advisor and her uncle Glorfindel. His death had brought them all down, especially to Erestor. He had almost faded until she and her family wished of him of hope...and that Glorfindel would not have wanted him to be gone because of him.

So, Erestor stayed. He had yet to move on as for elves, thirty-nine years was not enough to come to accept loss so much. It did surprise the others how much she and her father and brothers didn't mourn as much. They just didn't realise how much it pained her. She already lost her mother once, and her uncle gone had almost brought her out of control.

She remembered what happened to her when her mother died. Arwen had never felt so much pain, sensing everything around her to shake under her until her uncle soothed her with his own magic. Centuries took her to recover, mostly under Lady Galadriel's aid.

And now, perhaps there was no time to mourn. Not when the end was coming.

Her father wore his own armour, the silver circlet her mother created during their time of courting. Arwen wondered as a child why he would wear something so simple. It was there her mother told her that she had been the one to make it, using some of her light into the circlet – protecting him from the darkness.

Their eyes met and they bid Erestor and Lindir head up to the waterfall.

As they arrived there, her father opened the box and immediately the light from the Silmaril burst from its case. He carefully placed it into his hand and took a deep breath – his eyes turning to her. Arwen gave him a look, wondering why he would not do it, but he simply shook his head.

She knew it was her right to try this time.

With a breath, she took the Silmaril into her palm and closed her eyes.

At first, there was nothing.

As she concentrated her mind and heart, she felt the click and felt the energy pulsate through. Her eyes opened wide and saw a crack of light emit from the air around them. The air around them wavered into a crystal-like structure until a white light appeared before them.

Her mouth parted, awed at the beauty of the light. Its power almost drew her in, mystified and radiant like the sun. And with the darkness already upon the entirety of Arda, this portal would draw too many. As well as this, the portal did not seem stable – crackles of energy that wavered made her worry about how long it could last here.

However, this could be their only chance in connecting to the other world. How they would know, Arwen was not sure. Though as she reached her fëa through, she felt the faint connection of a familiar power through it.

Her mother was through the portal.

Arwen glanced over to her father, and her eyes widened when he began to remove Vilya from his finger. He approached her, looking at her as she spoke, "You will go through?"

Nodding, her father opened his palm to reveal the ring. Gulping her breath, Arwen passed the jewel into his free hand just as he brought Vilya into hers. She already felt the change of energy, a weaker and unfamiliar power she had yet felt in her skin.

Vilya was not accustomed to her; it will always be a part of her father. But with what they have right now, her father would not part from the ring if he had no choice.

Arwen already predicted this, her sight already knowing what her father being the one to go through and not her.

"You are exhausted, my Evenstar." Her father told her, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "Wait for the delegates, Prince Legolas and Estel to arrive."

Tears began to flow down her cheek, but she kept her head high. "Alright." She told him, "Promise me you will be careful, Ada. Both of you."

Then, with the Silmaril in its container, her father glanced at her over his shoulder before heading straight into the light. It was not long until she felt the shift of energy...and the light diminished.

The portal had disappeared.

____

[1] - Minas Morgul: Once Minas Ithil, was the twin city to Minas Tirith until it fell due to the forces of Sauron.
[2] - Amad: Mother in Khuzdul.
[3] - Dagor Dagorath: The End of Arda, aka the end of the song. The second prophecy predicted by Manwe about the final battle against Morgoth and the Eldar and Valar...which is a little different here.

____

A/N: I struggled writing Aragorn's part so much because I still didn't get the gist of the relationships between him, Boromir, Faramir and Legolas. Hopefully, it gets better through the thing but I know it'll be a different scenario.

A reminder that this Aragorn is way younger than the original trilogy so he isn't the sort of wise Numenorean man yet and still has a long way to go.

And we also get to see both Fili and Arwen who have really developed differently but still similar and expected. As you can tell Arwen's arc is going to be slightly different but still that sort of soft-edged sort of heroine. 

Edited: 19/10/2021