Disclaimer: Again, don't own Arwen or any other Tolkien people/places/things. Analyn is mine but that's about it. Thanks to everyone who replied to chapter one, I'd love some reviews from this one as well.
We crossed the borders into Imladris under a damp and dreary sky. Elladan and Elrohir rode silently side by side, sharing in the relative warmth of the nearness of the other. Though I hum lightly to myself, the song of Gil-Galad, I contemplate my companions.
Fair as a summer morning and identical as two raindrops one rarely sees one without the other. They seem to me to have moved on to a place where words lose their meaning and the only true contemplation and comprehension comes in the form of the thoughts they share with one another in a place beyond time, beyond mind and beyond the reason of anyone but the two. Truly I think one would die without the other as truly as I think one would die for the other.
Our mounts are taken from us as we pass through the gates of Elronds house. Bowing a final farewell I take my leave of Elronds sons and make my way to my own chambers. I do not immediately seek out the Lady Undomiel as I know she will find me as soon as she is aware of my return, and I know that the time that will elapse between now and then will be a brief and precious one- the last moments I have alone until my next venture into the wild, as I like to think of my sojourns to Lothlorien.
I ring for a bath and wait as it is prepared for me in my chambers. I slip into it and revel in the luxury so forbidden on the road; warm water easing the aches from my muscles as surely as it eases the grit from my skin. The heady smell of Elanor flowers rises with the steam and brings me back to the golden wood for a moment, and I cling to that moment even as the joy of my return to Rivendell wanes.
It is always like this. As soon as I am returned to the well ordered walls of Rivendell I wish for the untamed roads of the wild, the sweet freedom of Lorien. When I am out there, I miss the security of Imladris, the duties of a handmaiden and the companionship of people who have known me since birth. The door to my chamber opens silently on silver hinges and Arwen enters the room.
I have seen Lady Galadrial more recently the resemblance between her and Lady Arwen is all the more pronounced. I know when I see my lady next to her father I will see the strong family resemblance that runs through both of them, but now I see in Arwen the familiar faces of the Golden Wood. I remember Celebrain very well, and I mourned for her as much as my lady did when she crossed the sea. I remember well the sleepless nights when Elrond tended her, cloistered in their great chamber allowing no one to enter, not even Arwen. Elladan and Elrohir clung to each other, literally holding onto each other through the nights that seemed to stretch out in an eternal darkness. The days were better, the sun in Rivendell did not diminish because it's lady wavered on the edge of eternal darkness, and we could amuse ourselves riding all day, sometimes crossing the river into lands that were unfamiliar. The nights though were a torment of black cruelty. Elladan and Elrohir sad silently side by side arms around one another, heads pillowed on brotherly shoulders, never drifting into sleep. Arwen and I wove or embroidered as if nothing was wrong, the light of many marble-pale candles illuminating our work. We worked in silence as her brothers sat in silence, but we fought sleep as if it were the hand of the enemy. As the night wore on we would all stare at the window willing the blue blackness to yield to the delicate rose of dawn. When it did, Arwen and I would rush to the kitchen to prepare a tray of food and drink to carry to Celebrains chamber. I would carry it and place it on the table beside her bed, while Arwen exchanged a few words, a brief embrace with her father and leaned down to kiss her mothers golden hair- always hoping her gray eyes would open- always hoping in vain.
This is what I think now as I see my mistress again. I realize the sadness really hasn't left her eyes since her mother left, and I know with Dunadan away as he is, it never really will. I can only hope that the small message I bear brings her some measure of comfort, though I know better then to expect that. Rising from my tub I don a robe and cross my room, bowing, then rising to kiss the cheek of the Evenstar.
We crossed the borders into Imladris under a damp and dreary sky. Elladan and Elrohir rode silently side by side, sharing in the relative warmth of the nearness of the other. Though I hum lightly to myself, the song of Gil-Galad, I contemplate my companions.
Fair as a summer morning and identical as two raindrops one rarely sees one without the other. They seem to me to have moved on to a place where words lose their meaning and the only true contemplation and comprehension comes in the form of the thoughts they share with one another in a place beyond time, beyond mind and beyond the reason of anyone but the two. Truly I think one would die without the other as truly as I think one would die for the other.
Our mounts are taken from us as we pass through the gates of Elronds house. Bowing a final farewell I take my leave of Elronds sons and make my way to my own chambers. I do not immediately seek out the Lady Undomiel as I know she will find me as soon as she is aware of my return, and I know that the time that will elapse between now and then will be a brief and precious one- the last moments I have alone until my next venture into the wild, as I like to think of my sojourns to Lothlorien.
I ring for a bath and wait as it is prepared for me in my chambers. I slip into it and revel in the luxury so forbidden on the road; warm water easing the aches from my muscles as surely as it eases the grit from my skin. The heady smell of Elanor flowers rises with the steam and brings me back to the golden wood for a moment, and I cling to that moment even as the joy of my return to Rivendell wanes.
It is always like this. As soon as I am returned to the well ordered walls of Rivendell I wish for the untamed roads of the wild, the sweet freedom of Lorien. When I am out there, I miss the security of Imladris, the duties of a handmaiden and the companionship of people who have known me since birth. The door to my chamber opens silently on silver hinges and Arwen enters the room.
I have seen Lady Galadrial more recently the resemblance between her and Lady Arwen is all the more pronounced. I know when I see my lady next to her father I will see the strong family resemblance that runs through both of them, but now I see in Arwen the familiar faces of the Golden Wood. I remember Celebrain very well, and I mourned for her as much as my lady did when she crossed the sea. I remember well the sleepless nights when Elrond tended her, cloistered in their great chamber allowing no one to enter, not even Arwen. Elladan and Elrohir clung to each other, literally holding onto each other through the nights that seemed to stretch out in an eternal darkness. The days were better, the sun in Rivendell did not diminish because it's lady wavered on the edge of eternal darkness, and we could amuse ourselves riding all day, sometimes crossing the river into lands that were unfamiliar. The nights though were a torment of black cruelty. Elladan and Elrohir sad silently side by side arms around one another, heads pillowed on brotherly shoulders, never drifting into sleep. Arwen and I wove or embroidered as if nothing was wrong, the light of many marble-pale candles illuminating our work. We worked in silence as her brothers sat in silence, but we fought sleep as if it were the hand of the enemy. As the night wore on we would all stare at the window willing the blue blackness to yield to the delicate rose of dawn. When it did, Arwen and I would rush to the kitchen to prepare a tray of food and drink to carry to Celebrains chamber. I would carry it and place it on the table beside her bed, while Arwen exchanged a few words, a brief embrace with her father and leaned down to kiss her mothers golden hair- always hoping her gray eyes would open- always hoping in vain.
This is what I think now as I see my mistress again. I realize the sadness really hasn't left her eyes since her mother left, and I know with Dunadan away as he is, it never really will. I can only hope that the small message I bear brings her some measure of comfort, though I know better then to expect that. Rising from my tub I don a robe and cross my room, bowing, then rising to kiss the cheek of the Evenstar.
