Author's note: Big thanks to my Cairistiona for her help.
Middle-earth belongs to Tolkien, of course.
Middle-earth belongs to Tolkien, of course.
When I first saw her, I thought I had strayed into a dream. In front of my eyes, on a grassy carpet under the soaring crowns of the trees, in the golden sunset there walked Lúthien Tinúviel. She was cloaked with a blue mantle embroidered with silver. The last sun rays entwined with her long dark hair as it waved in the wind, and it glimmered like a net of tiny jewels. What else could she be but a dream? I was afraid to blink, in fear that the wondrous figure in front of me would simply disappear, and I would remain behind, alone.
Before I knew what I was doing, I called her by Lúthien's name and shyly greeted her. She then turned to me, and I joyfully realized that I wasn't dreaming. She greeted me in reply, and from her words, I found out this wasn't the first time someone called her by Lúthien's name. She smiled, leaving me breathless. I've never seen a fairer maiden, nor have I been illuminated by a more magical smile. Never have I seen more beautiful eyes, blue gray like the stormy sky, and as brilliant as stars.
Arwen Undómiel. I loved her from the first moment. And I knew I'd love her forever. No other could ever overshadow her image. She captured my heart and soul, I belonged only to her. I could talk to her for hours, and I'd never lack themes; I could look into her fathomless wise eyes forever, and I'd never tire of them; I could listen to hear singing in the woods for all time, and I'd love her every moment more and more.
Arwen Undómiel, daughter of Elrond. However honorable my ancestors were, her lineage was nobler than mine, and my youth was but a blink compared to the span of her years. Thus far in my life, I have treasured my youth, but now I regretted not being older and wiser. What would Elrond say if he knew about my feelings? Would he deem me unworthy of his daughter, in spite of my virtues? Most probably. What could I hope for? But no one can command a heart, nor can cold words change feelings. My love grew, I lived for my beloved.
I met her occasionally, when she was not with her family, and each new encounter filled my heart with greater joy. By night, I dreamed of her. Arwen Undómiel, mistress of my heart. My queen. By day, I became silent, intent on my thoughts. I could think of nothing else but her. My mother soon noticed I had changed and, moved by concern, asked me what troubled me. I finally confided in her, but she could not help me. My beloved was high above me, just as unreachable as Lúthien herself. By night, in those silent dark hours when the shadows are longest and courage wanes, I began to think that I'd be doomed to eternal wandering and solitude, far from her, for my deeds would never be worthy of her.
But the hope of a heart in love can not be quenched. After all, did not Beren, against all odds, win the heart and hand of his beloved? Their fate gave me both hope and strength. Couldn't I, by some miracle, achieve love just as Beren had? Could it happen that Arwen might love me too? Carried by that weak, but persistent flame of hope, I decided to reveal my heart to her.
The next day I caught sight of her and headed towards her, filled with fear and hope at the same time, my heart beating wildly inside my chest. But I froze in the place, paralyzed. She walked under the branches of a great mallorn, going towards a tall man clad in white and silver garment. He was cloaked by a grey mantle usually worn by our woodland people and he had a bright white gem on his brow. A Man? I blinked in utter surprise. Who is he and where did he come from? But even before I could consider those questions, I saw Arwen approach him. They fell into embrace; her head rested on his shoulder.
Distance is no obstacle for elven eyes; I clearly saw love and serenity on their faces. He held her in his arms, and she returned his embrace with joy. They whispered soft words and smiled, completely unaware of the world around them. And with every second, my world was breaking more and more. With every new beat, my heart bled more and more. I was too late. Or perhaps, that one day I delayed was not important after all; perhaps she loved him since long ago. I'll never know. I didn't know who her beloved was, either. All I knew was that I'd never know the happiness he had felt – the blessing of holding her in my arms.
I turned and melted into the woods, knowing from here until the end of Arda I would carry within me an empty heart.
So, have I fooled you? :D