The Same Woman

By Rose-Arwen-Padme

Where Is My Bride?

Arwen sat in her chambers, alone. All around in Rivendell, others rushed to finish the last minute preparations for her… her…wedding, but she sat as still as stone in her plush chair in front of her mirror. Arwen stared at her reflection with detachment. She ignored her eyes, which had lost their magical spark weeks ago, and the swollenness of them due to her endless crying. She ignored her skin; it had been that white and lifeless for a while now. She ignored her hair, done up in an elaborate fashion by a handmaiden; what was once an ocean of shining waves was now dull and coarse. The only thing bright aboutthe maidenwas her Evenstar pendent around her neck. It's light, although dimmer than what it was a few months ago, was still a glowing jewel. The dark wood around the mirror was engraved with intricate leaves and roses, and real vines fell down the side. Usually, she would have cut the vines weeks ago.They never would have grown so far as to almost consume her dresser table, but there seemed to be no point anymore. Is there a point to anything? Is there a point for living?

She could not find a point for living, no matter how hard she tried, and Arwen wanted to give up. She had already given up hope, given up dreams, given up faith… why hold onto life? She knew that her kind could die of a broken heart—they were not immortal to everything. All she had to do was lie down, close her eyes…surely she was almost to that limit…where the world would begin to pass…she only had to…

"WHERE IS MY BRIDE?!"

Arwen opened her eyes—which she hadn't realized she'd closed. The voice that had shouted the words down the hall just outside her chamber door certainly did not sound friendly. She recognized the voice though; it was Glir, her childhood best friend turned husband-to-be.

Within a few seconds she heard his stomps toward her door. He opened it briskly, and she winced as he shut it suddenly and loudly after he entered.

Arwen had realized not to long ago that her 'friendship' with Glir had dissolved. His demeanor had become cold, uncaring, and selfish. He ordered her, the Lady of Rivendell, around like a servant, and yelled with fury when she stubbornly refused. But he acted so heartless only when he was alone with her; if even a servant of the house was nearby, he was the Glir she had grown up with, the Glir that had greeted her when she was first reunited with him after all those years back in the woods. He was especially on his best behavior whenever her father was around.

Arwen's efforts were in vain to speak of this to her father. He merely patted her hand timidly before she could even finish her first sentence of the subject, saying her grief over her beloved Aragorn's death had confused her, befuddled her judgment.

Glir, dressed in traditional Elven ceremonial clothing, began in a low growl, "My bride, Arwen, is you." He stared into her eyes through her reflection on the mirror, not directly through her eyes, since her back was to him.

Arwen's two blue pools remained lifeless, and her once sweet, melodic voice was hallow and void of any emotion. "I know this. You do not have to remind me of our upcoming nuptials, Glir."

He stormed across the room with a deep scowl across his face. She feared that this would be it, this would be the moment when he finally struck her, something he had not done as of yet.

To her surprise, and to her dismay, he stopped his march only an inch from her back, swaying as he stood. She watched in her mirror as he reached out his hands to her shoulders, but placed them there with an almost eerie softness.

"An…arrangement…you dare to call it, Arwen?"

"This is not a marriage, nor is this a ceremony for a marriage."

"There is a holy one to conduct the ceremony. There is an audience, and there are decorations. There is a broom waiting to make you his wife. Valar, there are even refreshments for afterwards! Does this not constitute a marriage ceremony?"

"A marriage is about two people loving each other, being in love, and swearing to love each other for the rest of their lives. I gave my love to one, and forever will it be to that one." She turned her upper body in her chair to face him, and look him directly in the eyes. Her voice was full of a passion not heard from her in months. Her voice shook with unrestrained emotion,"I will always love Aragorn, and no other." She turned forward again in her chair, and resumed making eye contact with him through their reflections. "That is why is arrangement could never be a marriage."

"Can you not see—" Arwen gasped and winced again under his hands, as they severely tightened their grips on her shoulders to the point of pain, "—that the mention of Aragorn distresses me? Can you not see that I am far better than him, that you will one day come to love me?!"

Arwen jumped up in her chair, knocking it over, as she faced him with a fury to match his own. "I could never love you!" Her eyes blazed now as she defended her love for Aragorn like a mother protects her young from harm— strong and to the death.

Instead of reacting loudly to her objection, like Arwen expected him to do, he merely cracked a smile at her. "Never say never, Arwen Undomiel. We both know ever is a very long time." He paused for effect. Sarcastically, he continued, "Too bad your Aragorn had no idea of it."

She slapped him before he took another breath, but this time she had no regrets. "You arrogant, hideous, conceited, heartless beast!! You're nothing like Aragorn!! You are dust in his—" her voice cracked with emotion, "—would be dust in his eyes! As you are in mine! And you wonder why I could never love you?!! Can you not see that I want nothing to do with you?! That I hate you!?! That I wish in every fiber of my depressive being that you were dead! You are—"

Arwen was not able to finish and say what else Glir was, for the sudden blow from his right fist sent her sprawling on the hard floor. She waited for her tears to come, but they did not. Glir turned his head sharply towards the window as he thought he heard a muffled shout from outdoors. He soon dismissed it. Arwen merely closed her eyes, remaining silent upon the cold tile of her bedroom as Glir stood above her like a predator cornering his prey, his chest swelled with satisfaction.

He closed his eyes and smiled, loving the sense of fear he wrongly assumed she was feeling. "Let me tell you what you are, Arwen. You are a thoughtless, careless elf-maiden, who was once the greatest being to walk Middle-Earth, and now is just a disgrace to her family."

Arwen spoke slowly. "At last, you recognize the truth… now why don't you act like you do?" He remained silent. "I wonder." She paused, as a new truth dawned on her. "You know that you will never take Aragorn's place in my heart…but do you know that you will also never take his place in my father's heart?"

"You're father is no fool. He will forget your pathetic Aragorn in good time."

Arwen wanted to rip Glir to pieces. She braced her upper body up on one arm to look up at him in disgust, her other hand still holding the right side of her face. "Aragorn was my father's third son! He raised him since he was no more than a child! He loved him like his own! How dare you say he will forget him at all?!"

Glir knelt down on his hinges till he was eye level with Arwen. He drew a smug smile from his hard features. "Because his lovely daughter will be talking non stop about her wonderful husband. He will hear so many magnificent things about me from you, yourself Arwen, that he will not even be able to recall his former "third son's" name." He straightened himself, and smoothed out a place on his robe. "The ceremony is starting soon. Don't you dare be late, Arwen."

She waited till Glir had left her side, and then she waited till he had closed the door behind him, but it wasn't until she could not hear his footsteps anymore that Arwen let her crystal tears come. She cried rivers down her cheeks; her piercing sobs echoing across her room. She crawled on her hands and knees towards her bed, where she then grabbed the bedpost and lifted herself up. When she was standing to her full height once again, Arwen leaned her forehead against the wooden post, and the sobs continued.

She did not cry because Glir had struck her, nor did she cry because he was so cruel, so vicious. Arwen cried because she was all alone in her deep misery, because Aragorn wasn't there anymore to kiss her tears goodbye—wasn't there to tell her he loved her. Arwen cried so hard it hurt her stomach, so hard the front of her gown was damp.

That is, until a hand suddenly placed itself over her mouth, and her glassy eyes went wide.