Hello! I'm back, in another futile attempt to write… something! I got rid
of my other stories… but enjoy this one!!
Summary: Arwen gave up her immortality for Aragorn… but was it worth it? Read the darn thing!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The cold is mine, *coughgagchokebarf* but I don't want it. You can have it, if you like.
Achoo!
Chapter the first: What's the elven word for tissues?
"Achoo!" The sneeze echoed about the castle, making King Aragorn wince. Poor Arwen. She had come down with a nasty cold. Normally elves didn't fall ill, but wedding him and giving up her immortality had come with some nasty side effects. It hadn't helped his beloved's disposition either.
"Aragorn!" Arwen shrieked. She lay on her bed, surrounded by glasses of water, elven tissues, get well cards, and various other sentiments that meant only one thing- she was sick. Arwen couldn't care less about them. Sitting up- or trying, rather- she swept the ornaments adorning her chamber. Smiling at the tinkle of glass- the maid would have fits- she called again. "Aragorn, get here RIGHT NOW!" Where was her beloved?
"Achoo! *coughsnifflecough* Achoo!" Aragorn crept slowly to her bedroom door. Arwen had a unrivaled temper, and being sick, she had no control over her anger. He opened the door slowly… only to close it again with a bang as Arwen chucked a ceramic vase at him. Through the door he mumbled, "That was made by the elves of Lothlorien," "Well, now it can serve as carpeting. My love, what took you so long?" Aragorn crept into the room, surveying the destruction. If Arwen had not been so weak from the illness that had befallen her, her room would have been completely defenestrated.* As it was, the grass outside was littered with bits of candy, cough drops and tissue boxes. "What is that you demand, beloved?" Aragorn sighed, defeated. "The window is open, the bed is the finest in the castle, you have all the food you need-" Arwen cut him off. "Don't be a fool, my love. I wish not to remain sick a moment longer. Do something!" She broke off into a bout of coughing. Aragorn looked concerned. "Beloved, 'tis just the common cold. There is no cure, but 'twill not last long. Thank all the gods it is not fatal!" Arwen sighed. He was right. "Elves are not supposed to fall ill," she complained, throwing off the covers. "It's not fair."
"Life's not fair, beloved. My dear, it will not last long…" He trailed off, noticing Arwen's glare. "I know, 'tis unpleasant…" He was interrupted by Arwen's snore. She had fallen asleep.
Sighing with relief- his love frightened him at times- he crept out. Running down the hallway, he crashed straight into his beloved's father- Elrond. "Many pardons, Lord Elrond," he stuttered. He might be king of Gonder, but Elrond was rather terrifying. Elrond chuckled. "No matter, young one. How is my daughter?"
"She is fine, Lord Elrond. 'Tis just a cold."
"Judging by the noise, and the shrieking of maids, she is not happy about it, is she?"
"No, Lord Elrond, she is not." Elrond laughed. For Aragorn to make such a statement, it was obvious that the room she lay in would need to be rebuilt after she was well again. "Lord Elrond…?"
"Yes, Estel?"
"Why is Arwen ill? I thought elves could never fall sick." Elrond sighed. "I do not really know. Perhaps it has something to do with her pledging her immortality to you. It has not happened before, not for a very long time, even for the elves. I cannot say." Aragorn bowed his head. "Will it take longer for her to heal?" Elrond saw the pleading in his eyes- Arwen was dangerous, even ill, and being sick made her temper terrifying. "I do not know, Estel. I hope she will get well as soon as possible- for your sake, as well as the castle's." He swept off, in the opposite direction as Arwen's rooms. Aragorn sighed. This could be a long time, if Arwen is ill for much longer. He looked cautiously towards Arwen's chamber. She appeared to be sleeping, as no shrieks of rage issued forth. Aragorn began to smile. He was due to visit his friend, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, soon. He would make preparations.
So, do you like it? Should I continue? Please, feedback would be nice… The rabid pondslugs will attack you otherwise!! Muhuhahahaa!!!
* Defenestration: To throw something out the window. Verb: Defenestrate. I defenestrated the annoying solicitor.
Summary: Arwen gave up her immortality for Aragorn… but was it worth it? Read the darn thing!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The cold is mine, *coughgagchokebarf* but I don't want it. You can have it, if you like.
Achoo!
Chapter the first: What's the elven word for tissues?
"Achoo!" The sneeze echoed about the castle, making King Aragorn wince. Poor Arwen. She had come down with a nasty cold. Normally elves didn't fall ill, but wedding him and giving up her immortality had come with some nasty side effects. It hadn't helped his beloved's disposition either.
"Aragorn!" Arwen shrieked. She lay on her bed, surrounded by glasses of water, elven tissues, get well cards, and various other sentiments that meant only one thing- she was sick. Arwen couldn't care less about them. Sitting up- or trying, rather- she swept the ornaments adorning her chamber. Smiling at the tinkle of glass- the maid would have fits- she called again. "Aragorn, get here RIGHT NOW!" Where was her beloved?
"Achoo! *coughsnifflecough* Achoo!" Aragorn crept slowly to her bedroom door. Arwen had a unrivaled temper, and being sick, she had no control over her anger. He opened the door slowly… only to close it again with a bang as Arwen chucked a ceramic vase at him. Through the door he mumbled, "That was made by the elves of Lothlorien," "Well, now it can serve as carpeting. My love, what took you so long?" Aragorn crept into the room, surveying the destruction. If Arwen had not been so weak from the illness that had befallen her, her room would have been completely defenestrated.* As it was, the grass outside was littered with bits of candy, cough drops and tissue boxes. "What is that you demand, beloved?" Aragorn sighed, defeated. "The window is open, the bed is the finest in the castle, you have all the food you need-" Arwen cut him off. "Don't be a fool, my love. I wish not to remain sick a moment longer. Do something!" She broke off into a bout of coughing. Aragorn looked concerned. "Beloved, 'tis just the common cold. There is no cure, but 'twill not last long. Thank all the gods it is not fatal!" Arwen sighed. He was right. "Elves are not supposed to fall ill," she complained, throwing off the covers. "It's not fair."
"Life's not fair, beloved. My dear, it will not last long…" He trailed off, noticing Arwen's glare. "I know, 'tis unpleasant…" He was interrupted by Arwen's snore. She had fallen asleep.
Sighing with relief- his love frightened him at times- he crept out. Running down the hallway, he crashed straight into his beloved's father- Elrond. "Many pardons, Lord Elrond," he stuttered. He might be king of Gonder, but Elrond was rather terrifying. Elrond chuckled. "No matter, young one. How is my daughter?"
"She is fine, Lord Elrond. 'Tis just a cold."
"Judging by the noise, and the shrieking of maids, she is not happy about it, is she?"
"No, Lord Elrond, she is not." Elrond laughed. For Aragorn to make such a statement, it was obvious that the room she lay in would need to be rebuilt after she was well again. "Lord Elrond…?"
"Yes, Estel?"
"Why is Arwen ill? I thought elves could never fall sick." Elrond sighed. "I do not really know. Perhaps it has something to do with her pledging her immortality to you. It has not happened before, not for a very long time, even for the elves. I cannot say." Aragorn bowed his head. "Will it take longer for her to heal?" Elrond saw the pleading in his eyes- Arwen was dangerous, even ill, and being sick made her temper terrifying. "I do not know, Estel. I hope she will get well as soon as possible- for your sake, as well as the castle's." He swept off, in the opposite direction as Arwen's rooms. Aragorn sighed. This could be a long time, if Arwen is ill for much longer. He looked cautiously towards Arwen's chamber. She appeared to be sleeping, as no shrieks of rage issued forth. Aragorn began to smile. He was due to visit his friend, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, soon. He would make preparations.
So, do you like it? Should I continue? Please, feedback would be nice… The rabid pondslugs will attack you otherwise!! Muhuhahahaa!!!
* Defenestration: To throw something out the window. Verb: Defenestrate. I defenestrated the annoying solicitor.