A Glimmer Of Hope
Utter despair washed over her. Not a glimmer of hope shone, through her tear stained eyes the world seemed dimmed, as if a mist had fallen thick and covered the world she knew. She barely felt her father move as he rose from the bed. "Arwen..." he said, but his voice seemed detached, as if he was in a world apart, a faint voice on a distant wind. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "No." Her father placed his hand on her trembling shoulder, but she brushed it off and looked up at his face, her eyes glimmering with tears. Elrond's face was fixed in an unreadable expression, only his eyes gave a hint of grief, or maybe anger, and Arwen was too preoccupied to look farther. "Why, father, are you doing this to me? I do not want to live my years with Aragorn with the sight of his death haunting my every step, forever playing on my eyes." Her voice was soft and quiet, but behind her words there was a tone of despair so deep, it sickened his heart. "I will not leave father, I love him." Elrond stepped back, anger now plain in his features. "You do not love him! It is a dream, and infatuation, a fake repetition of a tale already told. You are not Luthien, and Aragorn...Aragorn is not Beren. "He may not be Beren, but he loves me, and he too is prepared to die for me!" Arwen cut in, her voice now shaking. "You raised him as a child you know he would do anything for me!" "If he would do anything for you Arwen, then he would let you go. Elf-kind and mortals are not meant to be, Arwen. How could a mere mortal, whose entire life is a fraction of our childhood, understand the grief we have seen, the time that has passed? How can they understand what time can change, how do they realise what truly is love? It takes a glance, a moment, a kiss and they think it is real. They give in to lust as easily as their feelings change, and who knows when that will be? A month maybe, a year or even a decade? They do not understand eternal love Arwen." Arwen looked at her hands, which were folded on her lap, pale and flawless. She remembered the last time that he had caressed her lips; their final few blissful moments together. Then her heart clouded as she remembered their final conversation before he left on the quest. "It was a dream Arwen, nothing more." It was an echo of her Father words, he had tried to return her necklace, his voice shaking as he told her that it was over for them, but she had made him keep it. She remembered how their hands had touched one last time, and how even in her complete state of confusion she had felt the familiar sensation of his touch, shooting up her body, numbing her senses. Her hands now trembled at the memory. Her father's words had now confirmed her secret hope – Aragorn was trying to save her by pushing her away. Tears of joy trickled down her ivory cheeks, he loved her still. "He does understand Ada. That is why he is fighting for me."
Utter despair washed over her. Not a glimmer of hope shone, through her tear stained eyes the world seemed dimmed, as if a mist had fallen thick and covered the world she knew. She barely felt her father move as he rose from the bed. "Arwen..." he said, but his voice seemed detached, as if he was in a world apart, a faint voice on a distant wind. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "No." Her father placed his hand on her trembling shoulder, but she brushed it off and looked up at his face, her eyes glimmering with tears. Elrond's face was fixed in an unreadable expression, only his eyes gave a hint of grief, or maybe anger, and Arwen was too preoccupied to look farther. "Why, father, are you doing this to me? I do not want to live my years with Aragorn with the sight of his death haunting my every step, forever playing on my eyes." Her voice was soft and quiet, but behind her words there was a tone of despair so deep, it sickened his heart. "I will not leave father, I love him." Elrond stepped back, anger now plain in his features. "You do not love him! It is a dream, and infatuation, a fake repetition of a tale already told. You are not Luthien, and Aragorn...Aragorn is not Beren. "He may not be Beren, but he loves me, and he too is prepared to die for me!" Arwen cut in, her voice now shaking. "You raised him as a child you know he would do anything for me!" "If he would do anything for you Arwen, then he would let you go. Elf-kind and mortals are not meant to be, Arwen. How could a mere mortal, whose entire life is a fraction of our childhood, understand the grief we have seen, the time that has passed? How can they understand what time can change, how do they realise what truly is love? It takes a glance, a moment, a kiss and they think it is real. They give in to lust as easily as their feelings change, and who knows when that will be? A month maybe, a year or even a decade? They do not understand eternal love Arwen." Arwen looked at her hands, which were folded on her lap, pale and flawless. She remembered the last time that he had caressed her lips; their final few blissful moments together. Then her heart clouded as she remembered their final conversation before he left on the quest. "It was a dream Arwen, nothing more." It was an echo of her Father words, he had tried to return her necklace, his voice shaking as he told her that it was over for them, but she had made him keep it. She remembered how their hands had touched one last time, and how even in her complete state of confusion she had felt the familiar sensation of his touch, shooting up her body, numbing her senses. Her hands now trembled at the memory. Her father's words had now confirmed her secret hope – Aragorn was trying to save her by pushing her away. Tears of joy trickled down her ivory cheeks, he loved her still. "He does understand Ada. That is why he is fighting for me."