This is an Idea I can across when I was image searching Eowyn. I would like you all to know I have NOTHING against either of them…but I thought this would be an interesting twist. D

Arwen's thoughts look like this

Eowyn's thoughts look like this

This is narration

Summary: One loved him, one thought she did. But the feeling of rejection never dies. A part of her will always love him, even if she shouldn't. And now they meet…

Disclaimer: I do not own Arwen or Eowyn. Bow down to the great J.R.R. Tolkien! Without him…I might have a real life…

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arwen Evenstar stepped through the door to the small room, her heart fluttered nervously in her chest. She knew there was no reason to be nervous, but she was anyways.

"My lady," a voice surprised her.

So she is the one he loves.

Arwen turned in surprise, in a most ungraceful manner. She recognized the woman to be Eowyn, wife of her husband's Steward.

"Lady Eowyn," she nodded.

This is the girl who thought she loved him.

"Eowyn, if you please," the woman replied, then inclined her head in respect.

I hate that title; you know that, my Queen.

Arwen swished the silk of her dress nervously, why her, why now? Her heart fluttered again.

"Of course, Eowyn," she smiled gently.

I hate you. I hate you and I know not why.

"Is something the matter my Lady?" Eowyn asked.

Arwen jumped, "Oh…no of course not," she replied, her eyes searching the ground.

She is so pretty. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. How could he love her? She is so cold!

So distant, so distant. Maybe that is why I hate you. You and your perfection.

The elven queen smiled softly, but it was a fake smile, and both women new it.

Perfect in your winter chill, so pale, like a breath of snow. Why does he love you so?

Eowyn's eyes were cast downward, the course fabric of her dress clenched tightly in one pale fist.

I hate your hair. It is long, and pale, yet your face is deep. You offer him a beauty I cannot. I hate your eyes; they sparkle in a way I have never seen. I hate your dress; you wear it as though you would rather wear leggings and tunic. I hate you.

"How are Rohan and its horses, Eowyn?" Arwen asked.

Why ask me that? Is there insult in your voice?

I have not bade you call me Arwen. Have I forgotten, or do I wish you to know that he chose me?

"It is well, my brother is a just ruler, the people rebuild."

You flaunt your title, Arwen of Rivendell. We can never be friends.

He chose me, horse child. He chose me not you. I am the one he loves. Go back to the battlefield. You shall not have him.

Rejection betrays me. I can not rest. Why do I still care for him? Be silent thoughts of mine, before I say something I shan't...

"You are lucky, Lady Arwen, to have one like Aragorn," the blonde spoke in anger, her temper flared. Legendary in anger were the descendants of Morwen.

He is MINE!

"Thank you, Eowyn, I am indeed. Not all can be so fortunate."

Oh queen of mine, do not toy with me. That was cruel, how can one so beautiful be so cruel? Or is your heart dark, like your hair?

You are pale as the early sun in winter. I despise you, Eowyn of Rohan. You will never be of Gondor! Go back to your mules, I despise you!

Arwen could not let go, he loved her he did not love a brat of Rohan, who called herself a Princess.

Immortal…ha. You are petty, and horrid. I hate you; I despise you in your…fake perfection. But I shall prove what a mere mortal of Rohan can do!

"I sought to compliment you, my queen, should you not respond in kind? Diplomacy is an important part of being a royal. But perhaps you did not know that," Eowyn said, her voice frosty. Arwen was saved a scathing reply by the opening of a door. She saw Aragorn walk through it.

I will show you who he really loves.

Arwen smiled at her husband, and he came over and planted a kiss on her waiting lips.

He loves me.

But the queen of Gondor watched in surprise as he then planted a kiss on Eowyn's cheek, it was a brotherly kiss, no more than he would have given to his sister, had he one. But it made Arwen bristle in anger.

Flaunt your romance with him, but I have his friendship, my queen. A gift…

Eowyn smiled chillingly at the queen then bowed to the king.

"Pardon me, my Queen, Aragorn, I must take my leave."

"Farewell Eowyn, enjoy your ride!" Aragorn said with a grin.

"Goodbye, Lady of Rohan," Arwen said coolly.

I know why I hate you now, I fear you. You are a threat, goodbye Eowyn; someday you will know that to cross me is not to your benefit.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fin…

Or is it? Anyone interested in a sequel?