Disclaimer: No. I don't own his work. Thanx!
Arwen was in tears. He had done it—Aragorn had locked her in the dungeon. "It's for your own good," he had told her. Now why had he done it? Arwen didn't remember. But I do. But that's only because I'm the author. I was there. Kind of. Um, not really…oh well. Anyway, ahem, let's get on with it.
After writing several thousand pages of journal, Arwen grew restless. And her hand grew cramped. But she didn't remember what it was called, when that pain came into her hand. She got up and walked out of her room. She was bored: nobody had time for her, and nearly everybody was outside, "Holding the fort."
She walked outside, but when an arrow grazed her forehead painfully, she quickly went inside. The nurse cleaned her up, and she came up with a plan. Actually, she didn't mean for it to be a plan. She just wanted something to happen. But it was actually pretty good. When she left the nurse's headquarters, she stood in the foyer a while, waiting.
After a minute or two, the Queen ran back into the small room and yelled at the top of her lungs, "QUICK!! HE'S HURT!!"
"Who?" Cried the short little nurse. "WHO?"
"He's hurt—oh, he's hurt!" Sobbed the stupid little wretch. Such a troublemaker. The nurse ran out of the room, truly worried, and as soon as she did, Arwen ran in. Looking around, she spotted some colorful powders and potions. "Oooooh…" she murmured, "Pretty…."
***
"Here y'go, Aragorn," said the Elf-maid happily. "This one's for you." She handed him a goblet filled with a yellow liquid.
"Ugh…what is it?" He asked, throwing a javelin at an enemy warrior.
"Lemonade."
To prove her point, the queen shoved the goblet under his nose. He smelt it, and, seeing that it really did have the aroma of lemon, took it and drank. "'Ank 'oo," he mumbled, through a mouthful of the liquid. Then, a happy smile spread across his face, and he dropped to the ground.
Arwen bent over him and took the drink from his hand. She held it up to her mouth and said, "I didn't know it was nap time already," before she took a sip. She giggled and hiccupped at the same time, then collapsed.
***
The pretty Elf-maiden's eyes popped open. So did her mouth. "Ooooooooh…….my head hurts….I've got a boo-boo…."
"Quit whining; it's your own fault you're here." Arwen looked up. A happy Eowyn looked down at her. "Comfy? Cozy? You'd better be; I'm making sure you'll be here for a loooooooong while."
"Where am I??"
"The dungeon."
"Oh. Why are you here?"
"Just checking up on you."
"Oh. Where am I?"
"The dungeon."
"Oh. Why are you here?"
"Just checking up on you."
"Oh. Where am I?"
"THAT'S IT! ARAGORN MAY HAVE PATIENCE WITH YOU, HEAVEN KNOWS WHY, BUT I WON'T STAND FOR IT! No rations for you today!"
Arwen sat there for a while, looking up at the angry maiden. Finally, she spoke. "Where am I?"
"AAAAUUUURRRGGGHHH!!!" Eowyn stormed out of the cell.
The Elven Queen sat still, wondering why people never answered her questions, and wondering where she was.
*End of day 3*
*Author's Note: Did you like it? I hope so. Don't worry; I won't keep you hanging long, though you've probably already guessed what happened to Arwen, and where Aragorn is. If you haven't, all the better, because that way it'll be a surprise.
Again, take pity on Arwen, for she is an abused wretch, destroyed by Peter Jackson. Poor her. Maybe she does have brown hair. The world may never know.