This is Between Shadow and Thought, by me, i_luv_lotr
Rating: PG-13, for character angst and certain gory images (eventually)
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing in this story and I never will. All of these people and places belong to wonderful Professor Tolkien, may he rest in peace.
Author’s Note: This story is based on the movie version, when Aragorn looks in the palantir in Minas Tirith. Massive spoilers included for the ROTK EE, for all of those who haven’t seen it (shame on you!). And it takes place in Minas Tirith, a few days before the host marches to the Black Gate.

And here’s the story!

Aragorn slowly weaved his way through the stone pillars and beams of Minas Tirith. He paused to allow the night watchman to pass him. He did not want to be seen by anyone, even though he knew that now he was a welcome guest in the White tower. He doubted that he’d be very welcome at about 12:30 in the morning. As the watchman passed, he let out a long slow breath and pulled his spherical bundle closer to him.
Aragorn quietly opened the huge black doors of the throne room and stepped inside, marveling at the sight of his ancestors carven majestically into the stone. He took one last look behind him to see anyone approaching, saw no one, and walked further in, leaving the doors a little bit open for light.
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Meanwhile, Eowyn quietly rolled out of the bed that she had been confined to for the last three days. She only winced slightly when her arm was turned the wrong way. It felt much better than it had been and she was sure she would be fine. But the healers wouldn’t let her out of her bed for more than about a minute a day. She quickly found the spare pillows and bunched them up under her coverlet. Then she put some straw that a friend had stolen from the stables and arranged it on the pillow. Eowyn stepped back and admired her work. It actually looked a little like her. She wouldn’t need it there for long anyway. All she wanted to do was go outside and look around and stretch a little. That wasn’t so bad, was it? Eowyn pulled the sling from around her neck and laid it on the table. She stretched her arm. Ahh, that felt better. Much better than being in bed all day. Her hand suddenly longed for a sword. Eowyn started to search the chamber for her blade but suddenly remembered that it was gone. When she smote the Witch-king with it, it had shot away and melted. She knew. Eomer had told her a while ago. Eowyn decided that she would find one on the way out, then go to the courtyard and simply practice with it for a while. Silently she stole out of the chamber and of the healing houses. There was a guard at the door but he was asleep. Smiling secretly to herself, she reached down and carefully unbuckled his sword belt, then refastened it around herself. She was instantly pleased. She walked out to the courtyard and drew it. It was light and easy. She took a few strokes and lunged. This was much better than sleep. Suddenly she heard footsteps. She hid herself behind a tall fountain. Eowyn had no desire to be found by a guard and be escorted to the houses again. Then she saw who it was. Her heart quickened. This was no guard. It was Aragorn.
He was silently stalking toward the throne room. There was an oddly shaped bundle under his arm and he had on his sword and dagger. Eowyn wondered what he was doing but decided not to confront him. Instead, she trailed him. She went from pillar to pillar, watching and waiting. When he at last disappeared into the throne room, she also entered, thankful the door was opened. When Aragorn’s back was turned as he stared at a statue, she slipped past him and crouched behind the throne and Steward’s chair. Satisfied, she sat and relaxed her arm. It brushed against the sword’s hilt. She started and realized that she still had it. Oh well. She would return it later. For now, she peered around the chairs and watched Aragorn approach the throne.
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Aragorn strode silently before the throne. He had wasted enough time talking to his ancestors and he wanted to get this done. He carefully placed the bundle on the step and revealed the object inside.
It was the palantir of Orthanc. Aragorn took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He placed his hand just above the palantir. It instantly began to swirl and glow. But it took too long. His mind made up, he grabbed the stone and grasped it firmly. He gazed into it. At first he saw nothing but heard a voice inside his head. It whispered words to him in an unknown tongue that made his blood run cold. And then he saw Him. It was Sauron, in his battle armor that was depicted in the painting in Rivendell. He, too held a palantir. Aragorn felt rage inside him as he remembered all of the sadness Sauron had inflicted on Middle-Earth. He began speaking in a slow and dangerous voice.
“Long have you hunted me. Long have I endured you. But no more…,” he paused and drew his sword, Anduril. “Behold the Sword of Elendil!” he cried as he felt the light from his sword strengthen him. The Sauron in the palantir seemed to falter. But then the palantir swirled again and opened a new vision. It was Arwen. Aragorn instantly had a sinking, sinking feeling.
She was lying on a bed, in Rivendell it seemed, but she did not look well. The healthy glow of her skin was diminished and she was pale, far too pale. Then the voices in his head suddenly cried “She is dead…dead…you killed her…”
Aragorn visibly paled and lowered his sword. The vision of Arwen grew larger and Aragorn could see a tear on her face. Then her voice erupted in his head, “I wish I could have seen him…one last time…” And the palantir cleared.
Aragorn did the only thing he could think of. He dropped it, and as it fell, he was thankful that he had been able to let go of it, unlike Pippin. Suddenly a flash of silver caught his eye. The Evenstar dropped from its chain. Aragorn grasped at the air in vain but it was too late. The pendant, a symbol of Arwen’s love, life, and light, shattered on the cold marble floor.