Lady of Imladris
By: HazleSilver
This is the sequel to Trophy. It was originally intended to be about Celebrían; however, it ended up about Arwen. I do intend to write one more, or perhaps two. One will be from the P.O.V. of Eowyn. And the (possible) fourth will be in Aragorn's view. Tell me if you like that idea.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.
She was the lady of Imladris. Tall, strong, and brave, she showed no fear even in the worst of times.
She was the child of Lorien. Young, naïve, smart.
She was the love of his life, sweet, innocent, loving.
She was a mother. Caring, attentive, guiding.
And she was always brave.
She was my mother; she was everything to all of us. And now I know what her life was like. For now I am the lady of Imladris, grandchild of Lorien, a lover, and a sister. But I do not think I am always brave.
In truth I look nothing like her, I am dark where she was light. I am meek where she was strong. But I share that temper that she had. I share those icy words she could wield.
I am the Lady of Imladris. I am the Queen of Gondor.
But most of all, I am her daughter.
Perhaps I carry that confidence; somewhere deep in my chest, perhaps my husband could cherish me half as much as my father cherished her.
Or perhaps…
Perhaps this is but a dream. And I will wake up in her arms, perhaps I am not the lady of Imladris. Perhaps I am not the queen of Gondor.
And maybe, just maybe, she is his wife.
Eowyn of Rohan is everything I will never be.
She is brave.
She is a warrior.
And yes, she is a Queen.
She is not a queen in the same sense as I, but she is a Queen. It is apparent to all who meet her. She is diplomatic, but quick to anger when insulted. She is perfect, warm, and loving.
And I am a petty, cold, elf.
I still do not know why he loves me, perhaps I never will. Perhaps it was no more than a chance of luck that he met me before her. He could have loved her.
He should have loved her.
I do not know why I think that. Yet as I look at myself in the mirror I see her beside him. Eowyn, the horse brat in my place.
I see her in this silky, dark red dress, only hers is dark green. It would go better with her golden locks.
Listen to me, her golden locks. How petty I sound, how completely idiotic. My own locks are the color of the night sky. And he loves me for them.
Or does he? It is that bit of doubt that constantly drives me insane. Who is to say he doesn't like her more? After all, she is more like my mother than I am.
Doubt is a powerful tool to wield. It drives me insane as it does too many others she wields it with practiced eased.
Am I the first whose husband she has loved?
Does Faramir know?
Aye, she is happy with her husband. But the question remains, would she be happier with mine.
Oh doubt I curse you.
She was the Lady of Imladris.
She had not a care in the world.
I am the queen of Gondor.
I fear Eowyn.
Fin…
Series Tbc…