you wound your way up above the glory of rivendelle's sloping structures until the stone benches of lovingly tended elf-gardens grew sparse and patches of mountain trees became thicker. she heard you ages before you approached, but did not move the whole while from her perch on a bench, tucked neatly into the outermost reaches of a whispy, flowering bush. with the sun climbing steadily behind her, the lines of her figure were edged with a hazy white light.

but it was not only her radiance, but the shine of her cheeks that captured your notice. the tear tracks were dried, but unmistakeable. you were a mirror of her own gentleness as you knelt at her feet, bringing her hands into yours. she would not meet your eyes, and her own shone with the threat of fresh tears.

"my star… what has drawn you to tears, and away from me?" you kissed her knuckles with the lightest of touches, a soft pleading in the action. when she could not seem to answer with anything but a stray tear escaping her control, you joined her on her seat and eased her face to the crook of your neck. "what troubles you so?" your voice barely met a whisper. for a long, heavy moment only the meeting of wind and leaves answered.

"dreams," she murmured, voice drowning in regret.

"who's dreams?" you pleaded.

"my father's. and… and my own. they have turned troubling as of late. i cannot— i cannot bear to think upon their truth, for they do not look kindly upon our future." it was not easy for her to admit, afraid that speaking it aloud to you would bring the dark possibilities of her dreams into a space that felt too real.

"i…" doubly, it was not easy for you to answer this confession. it was not as if the dreams of arwen or elrond could be brushed aside as having little consequence and you would be wrong to say it did not frighten you. "the future that these dreams present are not set in stone, but i cannot believe that we are not, nor that we will be unable to weather whatever darkness lurks in these dreams."