Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof.

Author's note: Apologies, my beta reader is unable to edit this over Rosh Hashanah, so it has been self-edited. If there are any errors please note them and I will fix them as soon as possible. Thanks!

*****

I tilted my head to the left, watching as flashes of colour appeared in the window. The colours were not real colours; that is to say, they would be difficult to name, although they were certainly there and were certainly colours. Slowly I moved my head to the left, then again to the right but too far: the setting sun intruded upon my vision and at once I recoiled, snapping shut my eyes. When next I looked, the colours were there, but as I moved to change them I took many cares, and a purple circle floated just off to the side of my vision.

It occurred to me then to wonder where the web had come from. Was it the same spider I had watched crawling across the wall near the floorboards earlier that same week, or a different one? Where was this spider now? It might be anywhere, it might be poisonous. This probably should have worried me.

I took the stone tiles from the leather pouch hanging from the bedpost and scattered them across the floor. I chose six tiles and placed then in a line, each one displaying a letter carved into the stone. These stones were each about the size of my eye, and not very heavy on their own, but with enough together their weight was significant. I spelled tear and tears and rates and sat and eat and tat (which I supposed was a word) before finding a word that used up all six of my letters: treats. Then, because I was only one letter short of it, another word came to mind: shatter. Many words, I realized, have strong connotations.

Shatter

Frenzy

They were strong words. These were not big words that felt heavy on your tongue, not acrylic or quintessential or effervescence, not words Ada knew but I did not, but words that were not to be bothered. They could stand alone and not be afraid. I spelled them all, arranging my tiles to speak the words too grand for me. They were harsh, their edges rough. I enjoyed them, toying and playing, but would not draw them from my own mouth into average conversations. I did not know the danger of these toys.

Crazed, I spelled, and Deranged. Demented, the tiles said, Perturbed. My words had begun, as I now realized, violent and uncontrolled. Now they were states of mental negativity. How had that happened? The insanity words, they were strong, but of a different strength. This strength came from a dark and frightening place, a place that cannot be described but can no more be described. The colors on the spider's web.

"Arwen?" It was Elladan, knocking on my door, calling my name.

"What is it?" I asked. "Come in." Hastily, I swept up my tiles. There was no need for him to see those words. In looking up I realized that the sun had long set. It was dark in the room and in the world outside, and seeing was difficult. I could hardly discern the web-threads in the window.

"Arwen!" Elladan exclaimed upon seeing me. "You are not even dressed yet, and Adar and Naneth expect you to be present for the festivities--" He did not stop talking, but I stopped listening. "The festivities." I had forgotten. A holy day, of course. Normally the hours of feasting, tale-telling and dancing did not bother me, quite the contrary I enjoyed them, but that particular night I did not wish to attend. Elladan finished speaking and I nodded, then he left.

I did not don my gown even then. It hung over the mirror on a wooden hanger, and it was beautiful. The entire thing was blue, the sort of forever blue of the mid-afternoon sky, and over the skirt was a second skirt, a loose layer of blue lace sewn with silver stars. It was one a beautiful dress, I do not deny this. Nana and I had spent many hours crafting the garment, careful with our stitches, making it perfect,. I poured my heart and soul into that dress, but it was not mine. It would have looked terrible on me, and I would have felt amiss in it. Instead of putting it on despite this as a good girl ought, I sat on my bed in my knee-length under-dress and knee-length stockings (funny, how everything was knee-length) and stared at it.

I remember now the conversation I would hear, later.

"Mother?" Mother? Am I calling my mother? No, no, that was Celebrían speaking.

"Yes, Celebrían?" She speaks gently, as though she is afraid o hurting something or someone with loud words.

"Mother, please, I do not know what to do. I never thought. Oh, Eru, I thought she was so happy, I never would have dreamed. . ." Why is Nana crying?

"This was not of your crafting, Celebrían." Again she speaks gently. What happened? I wonder. Why are they so upset?

I went to the feast in a white blouse and a light purple skirt. They were very plain clothes. I enjoyed wearing them. Nana and Ada looked at me oddly, then at each other, asking silent questions, but they did not ask me their questions. I know, now, what they asked each other: where is Arwen's blue dress? I thought she loved the blue dress. Smiling sweetly, I held my hands behind my back and felt a drop of blood fall from the cut on my wrist. It was, in my defense, accidental.

"Mother thinks that because of the talk that will surely come of this. . .she thinks it would be best," Nana begins, but she stops. I am standing near the door. I am listening, but I do not mean to eavesdrop. I was looking for my nana.

"My mother will take her to Lothlorien, Elrond," Nana finished in a hurry. She was scared, scared of my ada. That was odd.

"Wh--" This is all he manages. It might have been 'why' or 'what', I am not sure because Nana interrupted.

"And frankly, I agree. She is not safe unattended, and we cannot watch her every minute!" Who? There were, at the time, few significant female figures in my life, and I did not know whom they spoke of.

"Celebrían," Ada said at last, his voice carefully measured but shaking at the same time. Everyone sounded angry and sad. "You are asking me to tell my daughter farewell and send her on her way without so much as inquiring her preference." Oh, they were talking about me.

"It does not matter her preference! She is in no state to decide what is best for her," Mother was practically wailing.

"The fact is, Lord Elrond--" Grandmother was speaking now, I had not known she was there "--that there may be something seriously amiss with the child."

Ada scoffed. "Do you hear this, Celebrían? Are you agreeing with this woman? Do you not hear a word she is saying? Arwen is not defected, Lady Galadriel." Later I would feel a tender love for my father. He argued my defense, after everything.

"Oh, no?--"

Legolas was there, he was standing off to the side of the room with my brothers. They were talking in hushed voices and drinking wine. I could hear what they were saying but remember none of it. It seems highly irrelevant. Grandmother was there, also, and she looked strangely at me, sharply, and in that moment I felt my mind go cold and could think of nothing but the sea, which was odd because I had never seen the sea. Everyone seemed to be. . .regarding me. It was truly strange that they would do this, for they knew me, a fair number of them saw me every day, or overlooked me every day. Why were they staring?

Grandmother was angry now, and she was speaking in a dangerous tone. Why did she hold such low respect for Ada? They never got along very well. "You did not see this coming, Elrond, you were unaware of the danger she was in--and right in front of your eyes, as well. In the forest of Lothlorien I can look after her. Do you not want what is best for her?"

"Here, at home, with her parents, Arwen has what is best for her." I should not have been listening to this, I should have gone away, and I knew it. But I stayed and listened.

"Indeed? Celebrían and I--"

"Don't involve her in this!"

"She is a part of this!"

There was a shout then, a strangled sob of a cry. "Stop!" It was Nana. Why were they doing this to her? "Please, stop." She was calmer when she said this. "Naneth, Elrond, please, you are acting irrationally. We are civilized, we will talk this through." But she was speaking from another time. When? What had happened to Nana that made her so upset?

"You are right. I apologize, Celebrían," Ada said. I went back to bed.

I felt strange that night. I could not smile, my insides were twisting and writhing. Seeing so many people around me, all of them grinning or laughing and talking merrily, feasting, dancing. . .it was difficult. I tried to talk to my brothers and Legolas. They tolerated me. Elladan told a joke, but I did not understand it, perhaps because I could not understand a word of it. That is, I understood them, but the words left my head so quickly that I could not string them together into a clause, certainly not into a joke. It involved Dwarves, probably, Elladan knew a lot of bad joked about Dwarves.

I asked Nana if it would be all right if I left the celebration. I was tired, I told her. She did not hear me; she was watching her mother dancing. She was dancing with Glorfindel. On any other day this would have amused me. On that night everything seemed to be part of another world, a world in which I was an exile: a world of which I was not a part. "I am going to bed, Nana," I said loudly, but she did not hear me even then. I went to bed.

There is a poem, and it reads as follows:

Blessed be our journey's end

No further message home to send.

Blessed be our beds at night

Rest us from this and tomorrow's fight.

Valar see the one I love? Can you?

Promise me you will see him through.

Pray thee keep him from ills and harms,

Return him safe into my arms.

You there, you, the boy beside me,

Is in the sky a star to guide thee?

Who waits for your return to home,

By horse or foot or 'top sea-foam?

Blessed be he by my side,

Who fell in battle rather than hide,

Blessed must I be,

It must be the Valar that guide me,

For home finds me well,

When upon the field Death rose in her swell.

The pattern breaks near the end. I do not remember where I first read that poem.

My eyes flashed open, and this is how I know that I was not asleep. Also because when you sleep there are dreams and I did not dream. Although it felt as though an eternity had passed, Grandmother would later tell me that only a matter of minutes had gone by. The room was filled with shadows, and I lifted my head form the pillow to see better. Dark patches stretched out across the floor, and I thought I might drown in one if I was not very careful.

"You cannot ignore what she has done, Elrond!" Grandmother shouted. I was kneeling at the head of the stairs. Though I could not see Grandmother and Ada, I could see their shadows, flickering and huge in the firelight, reflected on the opposite wall. Both were angry; both were shouting. Neither realized this. Ada had given Nana a tea to help her sleep because she was upset. I wish she had not been so upset.

"What has she done, Galadriel?" They were not using titles or even attempting to pretend to be decent towards each other. "In your eyes, what is this but an opportunity to steal my child from me?"

"You know I do not intend to steal your child, Elrond, but I worry for her safety. Clearly something here in Imladris is affecting her badly!" I felt bad for making them shout, that had not been intentional. "And to answer you question, Elrond: Violated the values of Elven custom, perhaps! That child is sick, she needs help!"

"This is my child you are speaking of, Galadriel. I advise you to watch what you say of her."

"She is my granddaughter, Elrond. You act as though I do not care for her!"

"You speak as though you do!"

"Adar! Adar, Grandmother, you must stop shouting!" Was that--no, it could not be Nana. It was Elrohir, and his voice was a low hiss. "Half of Imladris can hear you and not all of us have taken herbs that cause your feuding to fall on deaf ears. Arwen at least will hear you; Glorfindel and Erestor, Legolas. . .everyone! This is a family matter!" For the first time I considered Elrohir, and realized that he was ashamed of me, of what I had done. How did he think of me? Was I still his sister?

"Arwen." The voice surprised me. Elladan touched my shoulder lightly; he was behind me, keeping low. "Come on, you should be in bed." He lifted me into his arms, though I was too old for that, and carried me down the hall.

"Are you ashamed of me, Elladan?" I asked him.

"I love you," he replied. "And I am not ashamed."

When I stood the room tilted and spun and I fell back onto the bed, but I got up again as though with an important task to complete. I did not hear the door open, but I know it did. I walked across the room and rested my hands on the windowsill, watched the night in a dream state. The trees were obsidian arrowheads, swaying gently in the breeze, moving as one, as the waters in the stream. "Arwen." She said my name. She was standing beside me but I was not aware of her. With shaking feet I stood on the windowsill, braced my hands against the wall on either side. An owl cried and flew into the night. And I followed him.

"Grandmother? Grandmother, what happened? What happened to my sister?" It was Elladan, frantic. He stood in the doorway, watching as Grandmother held me. I. . .I was fighting her. Why was I fighting her?

"Go and fetch your parents, please, Elladan," she said calmly, as though nothing had happened. She was speaking to him as though he was only a child and he did not like that.

"What happened to her, Grandmother?" Elladan demanded. He was angry with her for speaking to him as though he was a child and he was worried, concerned for my sake.

"Elladan, go and fetch--"

Elladan appealed to me instead. "Arwen? Arwen, what happened? Are you all right?"

"Elladan!"

And though it must have been later I was not aware of the time passing.

"Sweet Iluvatar. Galadriel, what happened?"

"Mother?"

I was lying on the bed and they were there, too, looking at me, stroking me, holding me. I was dazed. What was happening? What had happened? Where was the barn owl? Why was my face wet? Because I was crying. Why was I crying?

"It's all right, Arwen, hush, it is all right." Was I making noise?

"No, Elrond, I am afraid it is not all right." About this time I realized that the spider's web was no longer in the window, but had adhered to my fingers as though a fly, and I the web.

This I am certain came later, for I can account for the time between. Elladan was left with me, Elladan and Elrohir. When Elladan brought Ada and Nana back to my room he also brought Elrohir. Legolas came, too, but was asked to leave and was too polite to refuse this. Grandmother went into the corridor and spoke with my parents in hushed voices. Then came the question I could not possibly answer: "Why, Arwen? Why would you do such a thing?"

I was sitting up now, unable to stop myself from crying. Elladan was holding me and I was leaning against his chest, feeling secure in the protection of my elder brother. When the question came I clung to him, gripping his tunic as though in fear.

"Why, Arwen? What were you feeling that you thought this measure necessary?"

And I answered him as plainly as I possibly could manage: My emotions are the spider's web.

*****

To be continued

All right, I know the style was a bit strange. For those of you who do not remember what it feels like to be thirteen years old, that is what it feels like, at least to me. The style in the rest of this is meant to show Arwen's memories as from an adult recalling her child's eyes. This chapter, she is wrapped up in a time she can hardly remember except in these unorganized flashes. The rest of the story will be written in a more similar manner to the earlier chapters.

As to the holy day they were observing, I have no idea what it was. There most likely isn't even an Elven holy day around that time. I apologize for the incongruity.

Concerning Galadriel and Elrond: Galadriel, in her youth, was a part of the rebellion of Feanor. That rebellion resulted in the 'death' of Elrond's mother, Lady Elwing. (to be technical, Ulmo turned her into a bird, but Elrond never saw her again) Because of this, it seems to me unlikely that Elrond would harbor terribly warm feelings for Galadriel, despite their political unions.

Reviews appreciated, flames are not!