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Third Time's The Charm
Love hurts like a bitch. That's something people tend to find out the hard way. Some are forewarned some are not. Nearly all, however, stumble headfirst into a saddening, painful downward spiral that almost always ends in tears. Only a select few experience the eternal, ethereal bliss and joy that love can be.
Many young ladies much stronger than I have stepped unwittingly into this painful, blissful, extremely confusing web of deceit tangled with happiness. Many have even stepped into the same web as I, revolving around the same person.
Who am I, you may ask? I am a child, a woman, a princess, a peasant, a stubborn young girl known among my father's people as Eowyn. I first stepped into this bloody, cruel web when I was a young lady of fourteen. Merely a child, but some called me wise beyond my years. Ha. If I was so wise, why did I step onto this treacherous territory in the first place? I was so stupid, so naïve, to even imagine, well I suppose you'll want to hear my pathetic and sad story now, won't you? Very well, I shall tell you.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I was of the tender age of fourteen. My heart was upon my sleeve, easily wounded, and lengthily healed. I had learned by the time I was twelve that orcs care not whether you are man, woman or child if they take your castle or burn your village. I decided I needed to learn swordsmanship, if I was to reach sixteen safely. There was only one obstacle, my father. He insisted that it was not ladylike for a young girl to be able to best her suitors at jousting or fencing. He also insisted that the walls of the city would hold against orc attack. I nearly laughed in his face. If those walls held, we had more to fear than orcs.
I went behind my father's back. By the time I could best my instructor, I was nearly fifteen, and had learnt how hard falling in love was on one's knees. They buckled under me every time my instructor was near, to the point where I had trouble fighting. I would lie awake at night, figuring how I could get him to fall for me as hard as I had fallen for him. I was stupid to think he would even consider me. I though that he already thought differently of me because he didn't clean up his coarse mouth for me, saying that I might as well hear it now, and not be terribly shocked later. He wasn't afraid of hurting me, for fear I'd run to my father and have him thrown in the dungeons, saying that orcs wouldn't go easily on me because I was a princess, they probably wouldn't know. In fact, I still have a few scars from his cuts, and it angers me every time I see him.
Then it happened. I was a bit late for a riding lesson, (something my father thought befitted a princess) and cut through a clearing for speed. I nearly tripped over them. Lying there, on the grass, for the entire world to see. At first I didn't recognize them. It took me a moment, as I apologized, to realize it. I could feel my cheeks go so warm I thought I was surely standing with my face to a fire. Tears burned my eyes like tiny white-hot pins. I turned and ran, nearly falling into the creek on the way. I felt as though he had cut my heart from my chest and made me watch as he stepped on it. I felt betrayed. I began cursing myself for being so stupid. I wanted to die like the elves. I didn't leave my room for nearly a month. I hated being around people for almost a year afterward because I felt fragile and stupid. I swore to never fall in love again.
It worked, for about a decade.
Stupid Fellowship, come and mess up my perfect life. My father was not inhabiting his body, and whatever was had bigger fruit to fry than finding me a husband. I was thankful. Then, of course, came the Fellowship, and my walls came crashing down. I'm sure you know of them, and I'm sure you're wondering which one I fell for. Aragorn. Of course, I didn't know of Arwen then. I didn't hate her when I learned; she was a fellow victim. What I hated was that, after leading me on, Aragorn didn't even have the stomach to tell me himself. He got his elf friend to do it for him. He broke it to me very gently, but it still hurt. I felt like an idiot. I cried for a very long time, not leaving my room until long after the fellowship left. I once again got it into my head to never fall in love again. It once again worked for a while.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Now, nearly a decade after that second heartbreak, I look back. It was probably good for me to discover pain and put up some hefty walls about myself. I became stronger, smarter, and less tolerant of my many mistakes. As much as my life has hurt, I would not have changed a thing so far, and probably won't have a chance to anyhow.
I discovered recently a letter that, while addressed to me, was never read. I read it, and the writer, a member of the hated Fellowship, promised to come back for me. He asked me to wait for him, and I will. I trust him, although it has been a long time. He helped me through one heartbreak, he would not cause another. His name is Legolas Greenleaf, he has not betrayed me yet, and I do not believe he will. I may very well be digging my own grave, so to speak, but now I remember why I made all my stupid blunders. I was in love. I may be again. This time perhaps with someone, who, as my father put it, "fits my station in life". He arrives tonight. I am scared, of course. It is hard for someone who has been hurt in the past not to fear. I'll hold my head high, and face what comes. Some think that it's not my choice, I'm possessed, I'm not ready. If they bothered to ask me, they'd hear, oh yeah. I'm ready for this. Third time's the charm, right?
(A/N: So, tell me what you think by hitting that nice little blue button there, and I'll love you for, well, probably less than a week, realistically, but still review. I apologize for anyone who hates it because it doesn't stick to canon. Sorry, I haven't read the books, live with it.)
Third Time's The Charm
Love hurts like a bitch. That's something people tend to find out the hard way. Some are forewarned some are not. Nearly all, however, stumble headfirst into a saddening, painful downward spiral that almost always ends in tears. Only a select few experience the eternal, ethereal bliss and joy that love can be.
Many young ladies much stronger than I have stepped unwittingly into this painful, blissful, extremely confusing web of deceit tangled with happiness. Many have even stepped into the same web as I, revolving around the same person.
Who am I, you may ask? I am a child, a woman, a princess, a peasant, a stubborn young girl known among my father's people as Eowyn. I first stepped into this bloody, cruel web when I was a young lady of fourteen. Merely a child, but some called me wise beyond my years. Ha. If I was so wise, why did I step onto this treacherous territory in the first place? I was so stupid, so naïve, to even imagine, well I suppose you'll want to hear my pathetic and sad story now, won't you? Very well, I shall tell you.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I was of the tender age of fourteen. My heart was upon my sleeve, easily wounded, and lengthily healed. I had learned by the time I was twelve that orcs care not whether you are man, woman or child if they take your castle or burn your village. I decided I needed to learn swordsmanship, if I was to reach sixteen safely. There was only one obstacle, my father. He insisted that it was not ladylike for a young girl to be able to best her suitors at jousting or fencing. He also insisted that the walls of the city would hold against orc attack. I nearly laughed in his face. If those walls held, we had more to fear than orcs.
I went behind my father's back. By the time I could best my instructor, I was nearly fifteen, and had learnt how hard falling in love was on one's knees. They buckled under me every time my instructor was near, to the point where I had trouble fighting. I would lie awake at night, figuring how I could get him to fall for me as hard as I had fallen for him. I was stupid to think he would even consider me. I though that he already thought differently of me because he didn't clean up his coarse mouth for me, saying that I might as well hear it now, and not be terribly shocked later. He wasn't afraid of hurting me, for fear I'd run to my father and have him thrown in the dungeons, saying that orcs wouldn't go easily on me because I was a princess, they probably wouldn't know. In fact, I still have a few scars from his cuts, and it angers me every time I see him.
Then it happened. I was a bit late for a riding lesson, (something my father thought befitted a princess) and cut through a clearing for speed. I nearly tripped over them. Lying there, on the grass, for the entire world to see. At first I didn't recognize them. It took me a moment, as I apologized, to realize it. I could feel my cheeks go so warm I thought I was surely standing with my face to a fire. Tears burned my eyes like tiny white-hot pins. I turned and ran, nearly falling into the creek on the way. I felt as though he had cut my heart from my chest and made me watch as he stepped on it. I felt betrayed. I began cursing myself for being so stupid. I wanted to die like the elves. I didn't leave my room for nearly a month. I hated being around people for almost a year afterward because I felt fragile and stupid. I swore to never fall in love again.
It worked, for about a decade.
Stupid Fellowship, come and mess up my perfect life. My father was not inhabiting his body, and whatever was had bigger fruit to fry than finding me a husband. I was thankful. Then, of course, came the Fellowship, and my walls came crashing down. I'm sure you know of them, and I'm sure you're wondering which one I fell for. Aragorn. Of course, I didn't know of Arwen then. I didn't hate her when I learned; she was a fellow victim. What I hated was that, after leading me on, Aragorn didn't even have the stomach to tell me himself. He got his elf friend to do it for him. He broke it to me very gently, but it still hurt. I felt like an idiot. I cried for a very long time, not leaving my room until long after the fellowship left. I once again got it into my head to never fall in love again. It once again worked for a while.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Now, nearly a decade after that second heartbreak, I look back. It was probably good for me to discover pain and put up some hefty walls about myself. I became stronger, smarter, and less tolerant of my many mistakes. As much as my life has hurt, I would not have changed a thing so far, and probably won't have a chance to anyhow.
I discovered recently a letter that, while addressed to me, was never read. I read it, and the writer, a member of the hated Fellowship, promised to come back for me. He asked me to wait for him, and I will. I trust him, although it has been a long time. He helped me through one heartbreak, he would not cause another. His name is Legolas Greenleaf, he has not betrayed me yet, and I do not believe he will. I may very well be digging my own grave, so to speak, but now I remember why I made all my stupid blunders. I was in love. I may be again. This time perhaps with someone, who, as my father put it, "fits my station in life". He arrives tonight. I am scared, of course. It is hard for someone who has been hurt in the past not to fear. I'll hold my head high, and face what comes. Some think that it's not my choice, I'm possessed, I'm not ready. If they bothered to ask me, they'd hear, oh yeah. I'm ready for this. Third time's the charm, right?
(A/N: So, tell me what you think by hitting that nice little blue button there, and I'll love you for, well, probably less than a week, realistically, but still review. I apologize for anyone who hates it because it doesn't stick to canon. Sorry, I haven't read the books, live with it.)