It was nighttime, and Aragorn sat with his pipe in the dark, thinking of Miriel. He closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep, and opens them to see a calm pavillion, though he does not recognize the surroundings. Strangely, this does not unnerve him, and he turns his gaze to where the silhouette of a woman stands. Her blonde hair is down in gentle waves, and she wears a dress of tan and burnt orange, covered in a shawl woven with blues, yellows, orange, and brown. He knew her well, even without seeing her face, though he longed to.

"Miriel?" She turned, her face clean of any blood, and a soft smile on her lips as she moved to sit beside him on the bed where he lay. "This is a dream." Her smile grew slightly.

"Then it is a good dream." She leaned down, and her blonde hair brushed his cheeks as she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. He knew he was dreaming, no matter how real this felt, but still he did not wish to let this go. She pulled away, and he ran his fingers over her cheek and into her hair. Concern came to her eyes, and she kissed him gently again. "Rest, my love. Sleep." He closed his eyes again, and her long hair brushed against his fingers as she moved from his side. He opened his eyes again to see her looking out at the glistening lake.

"You knew this was coming, you told me to follow my path, trusted me to make the right choice." She still looked to the lake.

"Your path is no longer directly at Frodo's side, you know that now, you chose it." He sighed, standing to join her. One arm went around her, and the other hand played with her fingers as he looked at them and then to the lake before them. He felt her gaze on him as she waited for him to speak.

"My path is hidden from me." She shook her head.

"Not from you, meleth-nin, but by you. You do not trust your choices. Your path is already before you, but you must trust your feet to follow it." He turned to her.

"Miriel..." She smiled gently at him, and he wished he could stay here forever, the gentle love shared between only the two of them. Her fingers brushed the hair from his face, and she spoke again.

"If you do not trust yourself, then trust me." The fingers of her other hand trailed to the pendant he wore around his neck. "Trust that there is hope. Remember that I am still with you, Aragorn. You are never alone." He kissed her deeply, and again wished only to remain here in her arms.

But morning came, and she faded along with the early mist.