My Winter

A/N I made a small mistake in the last chapter. I said that Eldarion was born in year 30 of the Fourth Age and Arwen and Aragorn had been married for 32 years. For the sake of this story, I am going to say that Aragorn and Arwen have been married for three years and then had Eldarion. That would mean they had been married for six years when Arwen died. Sorry to mess with canon, but believe me when I saw it will be worth it in the end.
A/N From here on out, the story takes place five years in the future. That means 2008 on Earth and year 11 of the Fourth Age in Middle Earth. Please review if you like or have any ideas!

Ch. 1 And When It Appears
“….I’m here without you baby
But you’re still on my lonely mind.
I think about you baby
And I dream about you all the time…”
- “Here Without You” by 3 Doors Down

~ Isabelle’s POV ~
People often say that what one person does well, another does even better. That is definitely the case as I look on at my students skating with their partners or by themselves. They are all practicing for the 2010 Olympic Trials and I am hard-pressed to pick just one who is better than the rest. All I can say is that they are better than me.
Maybe its because they have had more practice. Maybe its because they are at that time in their lives when the world is not so big and anything is possible. Maybe its because they don’t have a weak leg that begins to ache after only five laps around the ice. Maybe it’s a lot of things, but it’s still hard to watch.
I look at the clock at see it’s 7:00. Practice is up and as I watch my students leave, I am reminded of a blonde-haired, brown-eyed young girl who would run to her boyfriend after class. Even after five years, the death of Viktor is still a sore subject for me.
Once everyone has left, I glide soundlessly onto the ice at the rink in the University of Delaware. Looking down at the ice, I see my reflection. It’s not the same as the one that stared back at me over ten years ago when I came to Delaware. My long, dirty-blonde hair is now cut into a soft pixie cut that feathers back around my face. Twin crows feet are beginning to form around my hazel eyes. The loads of make-up I used to wear have been put aside for lip gloss and basic concealer. I look the part of a thirty-year old ice skating coach with a six-year old daughter.
As I skate around the rink, my mind begins to drift. I wasn’t where I was suppose to be. By now, I was suppose to have at least one gold medal and a bookshelf full of other awards. I was suppose to be at home with my husband drinking hot chocolate while our children played outside in the snow. I was suppose to…
“Getting lost in your thoughts, again,” a loud voice called across the rink.
“Just where I was suppose to be right now,” I called back to the two figures that now stood on the ice.
“Am I there, Mommy?” a little voice asked before a streak of blonde-hair jumped into my arms. Laughing, I looked down at my daughter who was standing as tall as she could, reaching my hips. My princess. My Anya. She had so much of her father in her. His pale blonde hair, his energy, his smile. The only thing I saw of me in Anya was my brown eyes and quick temper.
“Yes, you are there, my little snowflake,” I said as I placed a kiss on her forehead.
“Wanna see what Auntie Tori taught me today,” she said with a smile.
“It’s ‘want to’ and yes,” I replied. She skated away and then began to perform a sit spin. Anya managed to hold the spin for a bit before falling onto the ice with a laugh.
“Anya has got your accuracy and Viktor’s speed. She’s going to be something when she’s older,” Viktoria, or Tori as she was known, said as she skated up to me. She looked so much like her older brother that it was possible to mistake them for twins. Same pale blonde hair. Same quirky smile. Same mischievous blue eyes.
“Yeah, she will. Especially if she’s inherited Viktor’s penchant for mischief,” I said with a sigh.
“Are you mopping today because it’s the anniversary of his death or because you still miss him,” Tori asked with a frown.
“Both, I think. It’s just so hard to believe sometimes that he isn’t coming back. You would think after five years, it wouldn’t hurt so much. But all I have to do is look at Anya and I see him,” I replied.
“That’s what the memories are for. To remember the good. And Anya will help you to never forget him,” Tori said as she placed a hand on my shoulder.
“How’s the leg feeling,” I asked, nodding to her left knee. Tori had torn her ACL during warm-ups years ago and it had left her with too weak of a knee to skate professionally. She stayed on as a coach at Delaware with me.
“Like it always is. Alright until I try for a jump, then the pain kicks in,” she said with a shrug, “how’s your leg?”
I looked down at my right leg. Despite months of physical therapy and the best reconstructive surgery money could buy, my leg was never the same after the accident. The doctors said I was lucky to walk away without a limp, but to have my skating career taken away from me by one person’s recklessness hurt almost as much as losing Viktor. But still, like Tori, I couldn’t stay away from skating. So when Coach Daniels had retired as the head skating coach two years ago, I gladly took over her position.
“Alright. Best it’s ever going to be,” I replied.
“Look, I know that today of all days is when you are going to miss Viktor the most. But don’t you think he’d want you to move on, for your sake and Anya? It’s already been five years and I think you have put in more than enough time mourning,” Tori asked cautiously.
I sighed. Of course she was right. Since I had met her ten years ago, Tori had this ridiculous way of always being right. It got quite annoying sometimes, but I suppose a voice of reason is better than a voice of misdirection.
“I know it’s about time I move on. But every time I get the courage to accept a date, it always feels like I’m betraying Viktor’s memory,” I said softly.
“I knew my brother very well. He wouldn’t want you to pine away for the dead. He’d want you to live like you used to; with your heart inside of your head,” Tori said with a half smile, “besides, I have to live vicariously through you.”
“And what is keeping you from getting a man,” I asked with a laugh.
“Well, let’s see. Aside from the fact that I am opinionated, proud and self-righteous, my last date said I was too much of a tomboy for his taste,” Tori explained with a roll of her eyes.
“You’re just too much woman for any man. They don’t know what to do with you,” I said with a smile, “Viktor used to say I was too reckless, free-spirited and wild. But then again, he said that’s what he loved about me.”
“And it would seem that spirit was passed down to my niece,” Tori said with a laugh as she looked out onto the ice. I looked up and saw Anya attempting a double-axel jump. She kept falling down, but she was too stubborn to call it quits.
“We’d better get her home otherwise she’ll be here all night trying to get that move,” I said, then called to Anya.

Later that night….
I looked out at the newly-fallen snow on the ground from my room in the two-story house I shared with Tori and Anya. The stars were shining up against a black sky, like small lighthouses in a storm. With a sigh, I walked over to my bed and shut the lights. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
I have never had what one would call an over-active imagination. As such, my dreams were never very lively or detailed when I slept. But the dreamscape I found myself in moments after falling asleep was one that I would remember with detail in the morning. I was standing on a lake covered with ice. Snow blanketed the countryside around me, barren trees blowing in the winter wind. It looked like the lake I used to skate on back home in the winter, but there was an air of unfamiliarity around it.
As I skated around the lake, I saw in the distance two figures skating at the far left side of the lake. One was a girl of about six with long, curly hair and the other was a boy of about eight with black hair. As I got closer, I could tell it was Anya from the scar that ran across her forehead. But I didn’t recognize the boy she was skating with. He was dressed strangely; he wore what I assumed were black breeches, a long-sleeved dark blue tunic and a small silver circlet sat on his dark head.
I watched as Anya skated with him. It looked as if she knew him, by the way she was skating. They were spinning together, backs arched and hands out. She reminded me so much of me when I used to skate with Viktor; without a care in the world.
Suddenly, I felt another presence near me. I turned to my left and saw a tall man standing next to me. His face was blurry, but I could vaguely make out black hair tinted with gray that fell to his shoulders. I noticed he was wearing the same medieval clothing the boy was wearing; black breeches, a long-sleeved gray tunic and some kind of heavy robe over his clothing. He was standing on the ice in his boots.
I looked up and saw that Anya and the boy had disappeared. I turned back to my strange companion and saw that he now sat on the ice. Realizing that maybe this was my subconscious’ way of telling me something, I sat down next to the man.
“I am too tired to have time for enigmatic dreams,” the strange man said suddenly. His voice was soft and commanding at the same time; almost as if he issued orders on a regular basis.
“Don’t get much sleep?” I asked.
The man turned to face me, almost as if he just now noticed he wasn’t alone. I noticed that he wore a silver and gold crown with wings on either side. It seemed to pick up the silver lines that ran through his beard and hair.
“Who are you, my lady,” he said with formality.
I would have given him my name without a second thought, but it occurred to me whether I could trust this stranger. If he was just a manifestation of my mind, wouldn’t he know my name already?
“Rosemund,” I replied, giving him my much-despised middle name, “And what is your name?”
He looked away for a moment, almost as if deciding what name to give me. Then, he answered in a low baritone, “Estel. I am known as Estel.”
“Interesting name,” I said, “what does it mean?”
“Hope. Hope for all,” he said with an empty laugh, “And yours, my lady?”
“Bitter rose,” I replied with a frown, “Any idea why we’re here?”
“I know not why we have come to this place. I do know that the sleep my advisors so desperately want me to find will not happen on this night,” Estel said as he stood up. It was then that I noticed Anya and that boy were back. Both were skating on the other side of the lake.
“Are you royalty of some kind,” I asked as I moved to stand up as well, “because most people I know don’t have advisors to tell them to go to sleep.”
“I am a king. King of Men, if you prefer the full title,” Estel said with a sigh, “And you, my lady, are you not a princess or lady of some stature?”
“Who, me?” I said with a smile, “I’m just a mother and skating coach. Nothing very royal about that job description.” ;“Is;“Is that your daughter over there skating with my son,” he said as he pointed to where Anya was standing and waving to me.
“Yes, that’s my little snowflake. Anastasia. Or Anya as I call her,” I said with a smile as I looked at my daughter, “and that is your son?”
“Eldarion. Yes, my one and only son,” Estel said distantly.
“Such strange names. And even stranger clothing,” I said, more to myself than the man standing next to me. He must have heard me because he turned to face me with a puzzled look on his face.
“It is not strange for a man to wear breeches and a tunic. It is strange for a women to wear such things,” Estel said as he pointed to my outfit, “and even stranger are your boots.”
I looked down. I was wearing my faded denim jeans, a white turtleneck and my white ice skates. “This boots allow me to skate on this ice. Otherwise I’d be falling all over the place,” I explained. Then, to demonstrate, I skated away gently and then pulled my body into a camel spin. Strangely, I didn’t feel the pain I usually did in my right leg when I did that move.
Stopping, I looked over to the man named Estel. I was then able to see his face clearly. He had faint lines around his bright, piercing blue eyes. He seemed like a man who bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. I noticed his mouth was sitting open in shock.
“Are you a goddess from Valinor? Only such a being could move on water in such a way,” he asked.
I laughed. Not the little giggles I had developed over the years, but a gut-clenching, belly-aching laugh. It felt good.
Once I gained my composure, I skated back over to where the man stood. I pulled off my white gloves and lifted up my sleeve. I then took his hand and placed it on my slightly scarred arm. “Goddess are flawless; perfect. I have scars from a human accident,” I explained then took his hand and moved it to my face, “I have lines from age. I have acne scars from when I was younger. Theref I b I believe I can conclude that I am not a goddess.”
I pulled my hand away, expecting him to drop his own hand. But he didn’t. Instead, he began to trace the contours of my face; my slightly raised cheekbones, my pink lips, my small nose. For a moment, I allowed myself to enjoy it. It had been so long since anyone had shown this kind of attention to me. I closed my eyes and felt his calloused hand move across my face and then to stroke my short hair.
When I opened my eyes, I nearly doubled over at the intensity I saw in his eyes. Whereas Viktor’s eyes were the blue of a shallow ocean, this man’s eyes were stormy like a hurricane. Deep swirling pools of gray and blue stared back at me, filled with a longing and hopelessness that I hadn’t seen but in one place. My own eyes that stared back at me from a reflection.
Suddenly, his face began to blurry. I couldn’t make out those intense eyes anymore. I looked around and saw the scenery around me begin to fade. Before I can call out, I felt the heat from his hand replaced by the winter wind.
I woke with a start. I looked around and saw that I was in my own bed, the sun just peaking over the horizon. Shaking the fog away from my head, I moved to stand in front of my vanity mirror. Pressing my face up against the mirror, I nearly gasped when I saw what was on my face; a faint red mark of a large hand.
Unbeknownst to me, another person was waking in much the same manner far away from me. He threw back his covers and looked down at his hands. A faint smear of pink lipstick lay on the fingers of his left hand.