TITLE: Lest the years melt away...

AUTHOR: Prophecy

RATING: PG

PAIRING: Arwen/?

DISCLAIMER: The characters and events refered to in this story belong to the estate of J. R. R. Tolkien, and probably some dudes at New Line Cinema.

FEEDBACK: Please: feed my muse!

SUMMERY: Reunited with an old lover, Arwen muses upon the past.

Lest The Years Melt Away...
By Prophecy

You were an impetuous child when first we met.

I was visiting Gondor, ostensibly for diplomatic reasons; in actual fact it was more of a reconnaissance mission. My father doesn't like to leave too much time between sending emissaries to Gondor - his eyes and ears along the border with Mordor.

The people of the White City were very kind and hospitable; things weren't so bad then. Only Orcs and the occasional soldier of the Enemy were laying siege to Minas Tirith then. Your father, Denethor, was only too gracious, and I remember your little brother - what was his name? Faramir, yes... He wanted to hear stories of Rivendell and of my people...

And then there was you. Your father's heir, and obviously the apple of his eye. I remember a rather wild, fierce young warrior in the first flush of manhood. I remember green eyes - predator's eyes, even then - following my every move. I remember...

I was used to Men shying away from the years I carry: used to eyes being dropped respectfully around me due to the bloodlines I come from. But you? You were very different. No other that I have encountered before or since dared to behave around me the way you did - and with such utter confidence. Neither Elf nor Man nor any other creature had ever devoured me with his
gaze; no one else has ever made love to me with his eyes alone.

With you for that brief time, I was not the woman whom all who know me would recognize. Foolish children and idealistic poets speak of an all-consuming flame that burns away resistance, propriety and any boundaries that separate those who share its heat. In thinking back upon our brief time, I find no other explanation as satisfying as that flame. Otherwise I would know not
how to think upon those days; the years that have passed seem to me but the blinking of an eye. And yet not...

It is... rather shocking to see you again. Especially here and now. I am not, and can not be, the woman you knew. Not here. Not now. You see, I never thought to see you again. And in the intervening years I have grown to love another. I ought to thank you for opening my heart: before you I, like so many Elves, regarded the race of Men as inferior. You took great delight in breaking down that which you saw as my arrogance...

Do you remember me as fondly as I recall you? Do you ever think about those days? I still blush at some of the memories...

The years have been kind to you, dear one. The beautiful boy who I remember in such shocking detail has grown into a very attractive man. With the same predator's eyes, and demandingly sensual mouth; a mouth that I dare not taste, lest the years melt away. You carry yourself with that same arrogance you once accused me of... And on you it is terribly provocative.

Had I not pledged my troth only this evening...

Enough of the memories - my father sent me with a message. Welcome to Imladris, Boromir of Gondor.

END