Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places
thereof
*****
I had realized at the age of thirteen that playing the porcelain doll no longer befit my countenance. At the time, I thought, 'Never shall I hurt so much as this tearing of my roots from their soil.' Comically, I encountered something not much after that which caused me to thoroughly re-evaluate this supposition.
The songs of Lothlorien hardly do justice to her seasons. In the spring, when the air is fresh in all the lands, Lothlorien of all enjoys the most perfect of feelings, not laden or sickly sweet with the scent of flowers and the song of birds; rather, these things may be taken in without realizing until that breath is within the throat. It causes one to start and gasp in air to find these splendors again. The forest floor is laden with leaves of golden hue. Upon the boughs grow flowers of yellow and young green leaves. One might easily think, having strayed into these depths, to have found him or her self in a dream. It is not so, for dreaming knows not the glory.
With this beauty as a backdrop I chose a book from within the library and took it out to sit with only the trees for company. Such a thing may be achieved only by a long walk, which I did not terribly mind, but the time I spent thinking. Imladris I knew well. Closing my eyes I might walk along its paths and nearly smell every flower and leaf. Lothlorien I had not taken the time to explore, and now my chance had gone. I had grown from exploration to an age of. . .something quite terrible which kept me from laughing too loudly, swimming naked under moonlight, and tearing up my skirts climbing trees.
I settled into a sort of cozy as small rodents create for themselves, a naturally formed den, if you will. It was at the base of a thick tree, two roots forming walls between which I might stretch out my legs, stiff in one place too long, or curl up without feeling vulnerable. The final wall of my fortress, as I thought of it, should have been stronger. Oh, that I had realized my defensive wall as naught but a group of leaves! How different things might have been!
For the greater part of the afternoon I remained in my den, poring over page after page of words of such eloquence and circumlocution as I should only dream to achieve, a being of such whole splendors as logic cannot fathom; this being, of course, was poetry. Enraptured by this world created about me, dreamed safe in the crenels of my mind, I missed the falling of my portcullis to a disliked ally who would in mere moments become my enemy.
"Lady Arwen, the hour grows late."
Through a fog of fantasy I raised my eyes from my books. Stilted birdcalls I had for hours failed to notice now assaulted my ears. Squinting against the sun's low rays I saw Haldir, the self-obsessive march warden, standing atop my leafy wall of defense. I had nothing to say to him.
Lightly he hopped into my den and sat beside me. Because I was a Lady and it would have been rude to do so, I did not scoot away from him. "Do you seek a burden of me?" I asked
Haldir laughed. "I shall never ask you to do anything it is not your wish to do," he said to me.
"This is good," I said. He continued to waste my time, which to my opinion is not refraining from begging a boon.
"I would, however, ask you one favor, as we are friends. . ."
"What is it?" I asked him, for though we were not friends I had not the lack of courtesy to refuse him.
"Lady Arwen, might I. . ." he began nervously. "That is to say, if it were not too bold. . .If I may ask you, that is, if I might say to you. . ." He shook his head. "May I. . ." Unable to ask, he leaned over to me and kissed me then, not on the cheek as a brother might but just like that on the lips! With a muffled shriek I hit him on the head with my book. What in Arda did he think he was doing! "Oh, come, Arwen, these are not the elder days! We are an advancing society, and both of us young. Let me try once more and you will see that, if you are open, you will feel that you want for me as I for you."
Here I must admit the shame of my actions, for I did as he asked: I allowed him to kiss me once more. At first I felt nothing, and for this was thankful. There were no great fireworks dancing before me; all I saw was Haldir, his eyes closed. His tongue moved inside my mouth, and perhaps it is then that I might have felt something, but all I knew was the disgusting warmth of his mouth over mine and the trouble I had breathing at that moment.
When I became truly angry was when Haldir touched my hair, because when he did so I did want him just as he claimed to want me. The moment I felt it I moaned, then shoved him away from me. "By Elbereth!" I shouted at him, getting to my feet. "What did you think you were doing? Do you not recall that I am the Lady Arwen Evenstar, daughter to Lord Elrond of Imladris, granddaughter to Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien forest? Are you not aware of the fact that your actions are completely unacceptable by any standard of decency? I ought to tell Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, Haldir, that is what I ought to do!"
"Arwen, please, wait, I--"
"You nothing! Stay away from me, Haldir of Lorien. I swear to you that if you put one more finger on my body I will accuse you of such crimes no elven realm will harbor you!"
He knew of what I spoke, and back away against the tree's trunk, his eyes wide in fear. If I told my grandparents the truth, Haldir would be in such trouble! I turned from him and ran, ran as hard and as fast as I could.
"Arwen?" Lady Galadriel's voice asked gently as she knocked on the door. "Please may I come in, Arwen?" she asked.
I didn't answer, just moved my knees up and rested flat against them. Water splashed about as I moved to hide my body as best I could. The skin shone pink through the water. Since that rebellion of my physical being against my mental being earlier on, I had heated up the water and waited until I could stand it, then rested beneath the surface with wormy tendrils of hair floating like great leeches before my face. My beautiful, raven locks had earned me many compliments before. That day, I just want to take a knife and cut away every one of them.
Galadriel came in anyway. I did not mind that she came into the room while I was having a bath; she had seen me naked when I was a small child, in the days before I could change my own clothes without help, and that same body now sat amid water tinged brown from dirt--but only a little. What bothered me, I suppose, was that she was seeing the body Haldir thought of. No more was my body my own, but some twisted, distorted idea of the female image in the mind of a sick boy.
"Arwen," Galadriel said my name again, "is something the matter?"
"No," I answered, my word heavy from all the saliva I had not swallowed but allowed to accumulate in my mouth, too scared that when I swallowed my own liquids I should swallow some of his, too. Speaking in such conditions brought to my mind the image of those bubbles floating to the surface of the bath when I lay below. Did my words break the surface, also? "Why should something be the matter?"
Instead of answering, she took a cloth from the side of the bath and poured soap over it. I could hear her 'tsk, tsk' in my mind, could feel her criticizing me: "After so many hours in the bath, Arwen, you are no cleaner than you were when you got in, are you?" She said nothing out loud, though, and I was grateful. At the moment I did not want to talk.
Even the feeling of my grandmother's hands against my skin, and only for the purpose of cleaning away the muck, made me shiver. Ah, but I felt so vulnerable! Haldir had asked my permission, and though I had not given it, he had taken what he wanted. What stopped anyone else from doing the same? I would not have the strength to fight back. My body no longer felt a temple, sacred. It was a traitor, a usurper, deciding my actions, though it had no right: a foreign soldier in a domestic war.
Since the day I started talking, I had been strong. Galadriel began teaching me how to think, how to know, how to stand on my own two feet, and did I ever love it! Now instead of simply doing as I was told I questioned, asking myself, is this truly what I want? Is this hurting me or does it help me? Then, knowing rightly, I might act or not act as I was suited to do.
There was, naturally, the inescapable want to use this newfound freedom against Galadriel and never do anything as she asked. She had expected this rebellion. The moment I moved against her, she was there to put me in my place. You may do as you wish, she said to me, but you must be able to defend your actions. Celeborn asked me not to cross blades with Galadriel, then he warned me not to cross blades with her. You will regret it, he said. That had been his lesson for me: know your allies. I had not learned.
Now I saw my mistake. In the perversity of my youth, I had come to love argument. Sometimes I would pick a fight simply to be in a fight. Galadriel met me blow for blow, of course, always ten steps ahead, but I knew I was catching her. I could feel my mind expanding to new horizons, accepting new knowledge to utilize against the giver. How unwise! I had planned not at all for the future that was now upon me. Lady Galadriel, my ally, had become alienated. Sitting there in the bath, I wanted nothing more than to cry and have her hold me as she had when I was small. Was I her granddaughter anymore? I had to ask myself this. Did I still have those rights, to be treated as a child? Constantly I insisted on being addressed as an adult. No, I resolved, mine was not the right to cry.
"Arwen?" Galadriel asked my attention, worry in her eyes. "How did you come by this?" She motioned the bruise in the soft skin over my shoulder.
Early, I popped my shoulder out of place and back. It was a skill I have honed as a child, though my parents insisted it inappropriate for a young lady. Now, I hardly cared. Snap, into place, crack, out again. I held the bone and felt the top of my arm bone protrude against my skin. I pressed my fingers into the gentle crevice.
Looking into my grandmother's eyes, I burst into tears. Galadriel held me as I wept, sometimes promising me that it would be all right, but mostly not saying anything at all.
That day ended the period of Arwen the Strong and entered the period of Arwen, Weak and Young. I was seventeen years old.
*****
Author's note: I do not know if what happens in this chapter between Arwen and Haldir is considered inappropriate to Middle-earth; I looked at the works of Shakespeare as a reference point. Up until now, I've tried to write three thousand words for every chapter, but that's really hard for me. I'm going to try for two thousand. Chapters will be shorter but more frequent, save for the next as I will be on vacation for a few weeks. Also, now I remind you that Arwen states her age in mortal years.
*****
I had realized at the age of thirteen that playing the porcelain doll no longer befit my countenance. At the time, I thought, 'Never shall I hurt so much as this tearing of my roots from their soil.' Comically, I encountered something not much after that which caused me to thoroughly re-evaluate this supposition.
The songs of Lothlorien hardly do justice to her seasons. In the spring, when the air is fresh in all the lands, Lothlorien of all enjoys the most perfect of feelings, not laden or sickly sweet with the scent of flowers and the song of birds; rather, these things may be taken in without realizing until that breath is within the throat. It causes one to start and gasp in air to find these splendors again. The forest floor is laden with leaves of golden hue. Upon the boughs grow flowers of yellow and young green leaves. One might easily think, having strayed into these depths, to have found him or her self in a dream. It is not so, for dreaming knows not the glory.
With this beauty as a backdrop I chose a book from within the library and took it out to sit with only the trees for company. Such a thing may be achieved only by a long walk, which I did not terribly mind, but the time I spent thinking. Imladris I knew well. Closing my eyes I might walk along its paths and nearly smell every flower and leaf. Lothlorien I had not taken the time to explore, and now my chance had gone. I had grown from exploration to an age of. . .something quite terrible which kept me from laughing too loudly, swimming naked under moonlight, and tearing up my skirts climbing trees.
I settled into a sort of cozy as small rodents create for themselves, a naturally formed den, if you will. It was at the base of a thick tree, two roots forming walls between which I might stretch out my legs, stiff in one place too long, or curl up without feeling vulnerable. The final wall of my fortress, as I thought of it, should have been stronger. Oh, that I had realized my defensive wall as naught but a group of leaves! How different things might have been!
For the greater part of the afternoon I remained in my den, poring over page after page of words of such eloquence and circumlocution as I should only dream to achieve, a being of such whole splendors as logic cannot fathom; this being, of course, was poetry. Enraptured by this world created about me, dreamed safe in the crenels of my mind, I missed the falling of my portcullis to a disliked ally who would in mere moments become my enemy.
"Lady Arwen, the hour grows late."
Through a fog of fantasy I raised my eyes from my books. Stilted birdcalls I had for hours failed to notice now assaulted my ears. Squinting against the sun's low rays I saw Haldir, the self-obsessive march warden, standing atop my leafy wall of defense. I had nothing to say to him.
Lightly he hopped into my den and sat beside me. Because I was a Lady and it would have been rude to do so, I did not scoot away from him. "Do you seek a burden of me?" I asked
Haldir laughed. "I shall never ask you to do anything it is not your wish to do," he said to me.
"This is good," I said. He continued to waste my time, which to my opinion is not refraining from begging a boon.
"I would, however, ask you one favor, as we are friends. . ."
"What is it?" I asked him, for though we were not friends I had not the lack of courtesy to refuse him.
"Lady Arwen, might I. . ." he began nervously. "That is to say, if it were not too bold. . .If I may ask you, that is, if I might say to you. . ." He shook his head. "May I. . ." Unable to ask, he leaned over to me and kissed me then, not on the cheek as a brother might but just like that on the lips! With a muffled shriek I hit him on the head with my book. What in Arda did he think he was doing! "Oh, come, Arwen, these are not the elder days! We are an advancing society, and both of us young. Let me try once more and you will see that, if you are open, you will feel that you want for me as I for you."
Here I must admit the shame of my actions, for I did as he asked: I allowed him to kiss me once more. At first I felt nothing, and for this was thankful. There were no great fireworks dancing before me; all I saw was Haldir, his eyes closed. His tongue moved inside my mouth, and perhaps it is then that I might have felt something, but all I knew was the disgusting warmth of his mouth over mine and the trouble I had breathing at that moment.
When I became truly angry was when Haldir touched my hair, because when he did so I did want him just as he claimed to want me. The moment I felt it I moaned, then shoved him away from me. "By Elbereth!" I shouted at him, getting to my feet. "What did you think you were doing? Do you not recall that I am the Lady Arwen Evenstar, daughter to Lord Elrond of Imladris, granddaughter to Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien forest? Are you not aware of the fact that your actions are completely unacceptable by any standard of decency? I ought to tell Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, Haldir, that is what I ought to do!"
"Arwen, please, wait, I--"
"You nothing! Stay away from me, Haldir of Lorien. I swear to you that if you put one more finger on my body I will accuse you of such crimes no elven realm will harbor you!"
He knew of what I spoke, and back away against the tree's trunk, his eyes wide in fear. If I told my grandparents the truth, Haldir would be in such trouble! I turned from him and ran, ran as hard and as fast as I could.
"Arwen?" Lady Galadriel's voice asked gently as she knocked on the door. "Please may I come in, Arwen?" she asked.
I didn't answer, just moved my knees up and rested flat against them. Water splashed about as I moved to hide my body as best I could. The skin shone pink through the water. Since that rebellion of my physical being against my mental being earlier on, I had heated up the water and waited until I could stand it, then rested beneath the surface with wormy tendrils of hair floating like great leeches before my face. My beautiful, raven locks had earned me many compliments before. That day, I just want to take a knife and cut away every one of them.
Galadriel came in anyway. I did not mind that she came into the room while I was having a bath; she had seen me naked when I was a small child, in the days before I could change my own clothes without help, and that same body now sat amid water tinged brown from dirt--but only a little. What bothered me, I suppose, was that she was seeing the body Haldir thought of. No more was my body my own, but some twisted, distorted idea of the female image in the mind of a sick boy.
"Arwen," Galadriel said my name again, "is something the matter?"
"No," I answered, my word heavy from all the saliva I had not swallowed but allowed to accumulate in my mouth, too scared that when I swallowed my own liquids I should swallow some of his, too. Speaking in such conditions brought to my mind the image of those bubbles floating to the surface of the bath when I lay below. Did my words break the surface, also? "Why should something be the matter?"
Instead of answering, she took a cloth from the side of the bath and poured soap over it. I could hear her 'tsk, tsk' in my mind, could feel her criticizing me: "After so many hours in the bath, Arwen, you are no cleaner than you were when you got in, are you?" She said nothing out loud, though, and I was grateful. At the moment I did not want to talk.
Even the feeling of my grandmother's hands against my skin, and only for the purpose of cleaning away the muck, made me shiver. Ah, but I felt so vulnerable! Haldir had asked my permission, and though I had not given it, he had taken what he wanted. What stopped anyone else from doing the same? I would not have the strength to fight back. My body no longer felt a temple, sacred. It was a traitor, a usurper, deciding my actions, though it had no right: a foreign soldier in a domestic war.
Since the day I started talking, I had been strong. Galadriel began teaching me how to think, how to know, how to stand on my own two feet, and did I ever love it! Now instead of simply doing as I was told I questioned, asking myself, is this truly what I want? Is this hurting me or does it help me? Then, knowing rightly, I might act or not act as I was suited to do.
There was, naturally, the inescapable want to use this newfound freedom against Galadriel and never do anything as she asked. She had expected this rebellion. The moment I moved against her, she was there to put me in my place. You may do as you wish, she said to me, but you must be able to defend your actions. Celeborn asked me not to cross blades with Galadriel, then he warned me not to cross blades with her. You will regret it, he said. That had been his lesson for me: know your allies. I had not learned.
Now I saw my mistake. In the perversity of my youth, I had come to love argument. Sometimes I would pick a fight simply to be in a fight. Galadriel met me blow for blow, of course, always ten steps ahead, but I knew I was catching her. I could feel my mind expanding to new horizons, accepting new knowledge to utilize against the giver. How unwise! I had planned not at all for the future that was now upon me. Lady Galadriel, my ally, had become alienated. Sitting there in the bath, I wanted nothing more than to cry and have her hold me as she had when I was small. Was I her granddaughter anymore? I had to ask myself this. Did I still have those rights, to be treated as a child? Constantly I insisted on being addressed as an adult. No, I resolved, mine was not the right to cry.
"Arwen?" Galadriel asked my attention, worry in her eyes. "How did you come by this?" She motioned the bruise in the soft skin over my shoulder.
Early, I popped my shoulder out of place and back. It was a skill I have honed as a child, though my parents insisted it inappropriate for a young lady. Now, I hardly cared. Snap, into place, crack, out again. I held the bone and felt the top of my arm bone protrude against my skin. I pressed my fingers into the gentle crevice.
Looking into my grandmother's eyes, I burst into tears. Galadriel held me as I wept, sometimes promising me that it would be all right, but mostly not saying anything at all.
That day ended the period of Arwen the Strong and entered the period of Arwen, Weak and Young. I was seventeen years old.
*****
Author's note: I do not know if what happens in this chapter between Arwen and Haldir is considered inappropriate to Middle-earth; I looked at the works of Shakespeare as a reference point. Up until now, I've tried to write three thousand words for every chapter, but that's really hard for me. I'm going to try for two thousand. Chapters will be shorter but more frequent, save for the next as I will be on vacation for a few weeks. Also, now I remind you that Arwen states her age in mortal years.