STORY NOTE: ~*~*~*~*~*~*~ stands for a change in narration, from third person to first person. :-:-: Stands for the passing of days or months in the diary entries. Some entries were omitted due to length and the random/private nature of certain entries and because I was too lazy to write them.

Firith

Arwen sifted through the box she had found in one of her drawers. She had only settled in Minas Tirith for about a year, and she was already losing things.

Estel had inquired to the certain book he remembered from his childhood, and she had agreed to look for it. However, she had not intended to turn the room topsy-turvy trying to find it. She did, however, come up with a few things she had forgotten about.

A cold wind blew in from the window, seeping through her dress. She shivered. I’ll close it later, she told herself as she pushed aside trinket and other things. It has to be here…

The Queen of Gondor picked up a loosely-wrapped bundle. Something slid out from between the dusty folds and landed on her lap. Arwen looked down at the thick, medium-sized book.

One hand came down to stroke the soft, worn leather. It had been so long since she had last touched this book…

“I thought I told one of my maidens to dispose of this,” she said aloud, frowning. It was right after—

Arwen shook her head. She didn’t feel ready to think about that yet. Still…it wouldn’t hurt if she took a quick look at the book she held.

Quite forgetting her original reasons for digging in the drawer, she leaned against the wall, adjusting her dress so that she could sit comfortably, and began reading the first page, ink-splattered and faulty as it was.

Ethuil T.A. 246

Nana gave me this journal for my begetting day. She says it’s a way for me to write down my thoughts and secrets and anything else that I think about. Dan and Ro threatened to sneak into my room to read it so that they can find out what I’m writing and doing. Ada told them if they did that there would be conseqences. So for now it’s safe, I think. But I still am going to find a hiding place for you. Where should I put you? Under my bed is bad because the maids would find it. On a bookshelf? I know—I’ll find a book cover and disguise you as a textbook. I just hope Erestor won’t acidentelly open it and see read all my mistakes. I’’m sure I spelled a number of things wrong, anyway.

That’s my first entry. I don’t think I’ll write everyday, but I’ll write whenever I find time.

Goodnight.

My brothers can be very annoying when they want to be. Today Dan put a caterpiller caterpillar on my chair and I nearly sat on it. They both laughed at me. Nana told me it was harmless, but I don’t care. It was big and furry and it was crawling around. I don’t know why they like torturing me. I’ll have to find a way to get back. Maybe I should find a spiders and put those in their rooms. But I don’t think they’ll find it frightning.

I need to go now and finish my history lesson. Maybe Findel will tell more stories, though Erestor says he makes up some things to make himself more like a hero.

No lessons today. Me, Ada, Nana, Dan, Roh, went out today. I don’t know why we’re having a holiday, but I don’t care. It was nice outside today, and I think my brothers forgot about the spiders I put in their beds last week. Ada got mad when I did that, and after that I had to have extra lessons.

Anyway, we had a fun time outside. We came back at night, and now since I’m feeling tired I’m going to end this right now.

Iavas, T.A. 246

I know I didn’t write for some time, because we went to Lórien to see Daerada and Daernana for about a month and I forgot to bring you. Probably that all right because my brothers and his friends played a joke on me while we were there, and they might’ve found you.

I hate Haldir and Orophin. They’re both very annoying. Rúmil is all right at least. Haldir likes tugging on my hair and putting grass in it. Orophin likes teasing me and I never win when we argue over something. He also always puts things in my hair. Good thing they didn’t bugs in. Ada made sure of that. He always does. Dan and Roh say I’m Ada’s favourite. Nana always laughs when they say that. Ada only looks amused. I’t probably because I’m his only daughter.

Daernana told me that when I’m grown up, I can visit her anytime I want to. But grown up is a long time away…I think I want to live in Lórien when I’m old enough. That way I won’t have two annoying brothers always shadowing me.

The only bad thing that would mean is being away from Ada and Nana.

Maybe Dan and Ro should move to Lórien. Then I’ll have Ada and Nana to myself.

I spilled ink over some of the pages, and had to rip a few out. Erestor was upset. He said I wasted good paper. But I didn’t mean to! I was in a hurry and my stupid sleeve got caught (So Nana is not happy that I ruined my dress). I think there’s going to be a permenent on the carpet now, unless Nana has something to take it out.

Healing lessons are boring. Even if its Ada teaching it’s still tedious (I like this word. It’s better than boring). There’s too many thins to memorize, and it’s different from memorizing history. I thnk think I just might fall asleep one day.

Archery and sparring are probably the best out of all my lesson. Only Nana says I can stop learning in few years because it’s not necessary for me to learn. I wish I could fight. Like Dan and Ro do. It’s a lot more fun than sitting at home, sewing (Sewing isn’t boring, but I can’t stand doing it for hours and hours like Nana and the others do).

I need to go to my singing lesson.

Lindir can’t know that I think he thinks up ridiculous romance songs. The only thing that makes them good is Glorfindel’s voice.

Arwen smiled, flipping past a few pages, for without reading them, she could still remember what was in those pages. Those days of her youth had been happy, memorable ones. The first thirty-some pages were filled with long entries regarding life in Rivendell. If she closed her eyes…she could still picture them so clearly—

She paused, letting her fingers pass over the entry the book was now opened to.

Not all the memories were pleasant ones.

Laer, T.A. 255

Visiting Mirkwood at the moment. I don’t like the woods here; all dark and gloomy. How can elves stand to live in such a dismal place? Ada says it wasn’t always like this. He blames Dol Guldur for causing the beauty of Greenwood the Great to be taken away.

But the palace/cave (I don’t know what to call it) is very nice.

I asked Ada why he wasn’t considered a king, like Thranduil is. He simply laughed and asked me was I not content to be the daughter of a noble lord. I said yes, and he didn’t answer my question.

Is Daerada a king, then? I think he would make an excellent one. He’s somehow related to Thranduil, but I didn’t ask for details because Ada said that would be rude. Elladan says that if I wanted to be a princess, all I would have to do is marry Legolas. He and Elrohir were laughing so-very-hard at this.

WHO SAID I WANTED TO MARRY LEGOLAS??? And who said I wanted to be a princess? I’m happy the way my life is. I can’t think about marriage now.

Stupid older brothers. They think they can order me around.

Later

I suppose I shouldn’t speak so rudely about Legolas. He’s not a bad elf, anyway. He’s polite, and he doesn’t pull my hair like he used to when we first visited Mirkwood. Elladan and Elrohir like him, and I’m happy to say that he’s always able to beat my brother in archery. He offered to teach me some more, but I declined because I didn’t want to appear as if I liked him. Which I do not.

I don’t.

Well, maybe a little. He’s a nice person.

I have never been more embarrassed in my life.

Elladan and Elrohir will suffer for this humiliation.

It was supposed to be a normal mealtime. King Thranduil asked me what I wished to do when I grew up. Before I could say anything, Elrohir said that I wanted to marry Legolas and become a princess.

The table went silent after said this, though not all silent because my brothers were laughing.

I think I turned three different shades of red. So did Legolas. I began protesting and saying that such was not my idea, and that the notion was far-fetched.

Nana started laughing. I think she was trying to make me feel better by joking, but it didn’t help. Ada was also smiling. Ai Elbereth! At least Legolas didn’t join in with my brothers’ fun. I think he didn’t expect it, either.

Now I need to think up of some way to get back.

Legolas gave me this note:

“I have told your brothers that I have no interest in marrying you. They, however, did not listen. I don’t know what has gotten into them. However, if you like, I give you some ideas to make them pay this.”

This was unexpected. But I’m glad to get the help. We talked it over—secretly of course.

Elladan and Elrohir won’t stand a chance now!

The plan went very well. My wounded pride has been avenged.

Only Ada found out, and he’s not happy. He said that several things might have gone wrong, and someone could have been harmed (Even though no one wasn’t). He said I shouldn’t have done it.

I told him I wasn’t sorry (A mistake—I forgot he wouldn’t take to this at all) and that they deserved it. He doesn’t believe me, however. We…shouted a bit at each other. I’ll admit I said a few things that were wrong, but Ada was mean.

Now I must stay in my room for the rest our time here.

It’s unfair! Elladan and Elrohir didn’t get punished when they said those things about me! And I don’t think Legolas is getting punished, either. I’m the only one to get grounded like this.

It’s times like these when I wish I were old enough to be on my own. Me, with no one to trail after me and tell me what to do. Maybe I should marry Legolas in order to get away from Ada. Or I can forget about marriage, and live by myself. All I have to do is convince Glorfindel to teach me more sparring techniques. Or maybe I’ll move to Lórien.

I will have many years to go before my majority…

I am bored almost to the point of dying.

No visitors except family members. That means I don’t have a chance to yell at Legolas. I did yell at Elladan, and was scolded for that.

Writing doesn’t help. I want to go outside.

It’s not fair. And I don’t need anyone telling me life was never made to be fair.

Ada can be so mean. He tells me it’s part of growing up and learning, but I wish he were not so strict. I tried to tell Nana to make him lift my restrictions, but she says that once Ada has made a decision, he won’t back out of it.

Why couldn’t he be nicer? If he punished me less then I would be more obedient. He says he does it out of love, but that’s ridiculous. If what he does is love, then maybe I shouldn’t have children. Or maybe if I do have children I won’t punish them like he does.

Two weeks of being trapped in this room.

The Valar must hate me.

No, Ada must hate me. How can I be his favourite when he punishes me so? I don’t understand the logic of this at all. I think he must like Elladan and Elrohir better.

I’ve had enough of this.

I’m going to leave my room and find my way to Lothlórien. I’ll stay there until Ada relents and says he’s sorry for punishing me.

All I need are a few supplies and a horse. I think I’ll steal Elrohir’s bow because I didn’t bring mine, and because I don’t want to get too close to any spiders.

Going to pack now, and leave sometime during the night.

Note to self: Never travel Mirkwood during the night. It’s not worth getting spider silk in my hair, having a spider attempt to eat me, and breaking my arm. At least it was my left arm, so I can still write. But not too long since I have a painful headache.

I managed to leave with no one noticing—at least I thought. Legolas happened to be walking in the gardens and saw me leaving. He said he assumed my father had lifted my ban, but he wondered why I was running about at night. So he sought out my father.

I travelled a little while with no trouble. Then came the spiders. I don’t remember much, expect that I managed to kill one or two before I was bitten. I vaguely remember falling off my horse and shouting something, and seeing arrows flying in the air—

Then I fell unconscious, and awoke in a bed with my family standing over me.

I thought Ada would yell at me. But he didn’t. He just held me and asked if I was all right. And he looked grieved. Whenever he give me that look it makes me feel guilty.

And now I feel sorry and stupid about what I did. I really shouldn’t have done that. Nana told me the she and Ada were hurt by what I did. And my brother were actually being nice to me. Elladan say that he probably would not have waited as long as I did to run away. Elrohir says he probably would not have stayed in his room at all.

Nana says I have to rest now, even though it’s not yet dark.

I asked Ada today if he loved me. He look surprised, and asked me why would he not love me.

“Because I’m not always obedient,” I replied.

“And who is perfectly obedient?” he said, “No one. I was not the model child, and I do not expect you to be. Neither were your others. In fact, they were twice the handful you were. The “twin terrors of Rivendell,” they were called.”

The twin terrors of Rivendell—ha! So my brothers weren’t as good as I thought they were. Wait till I tell them that!

Anyway, we talked a long time—what else could I do?—and I think I understand Ada a little better. And maybe I understand love better, too.

Ada lifted my restrictions, but…somehow, I still feel I’m in the wrong.

Elladan says that in a few years we can all laugh about it. I hope this is so.

She let out her breath, shaking her head. Who knew she could have possibly been so headstrong at once time in her life? Thank Elbereth she grew out of it after a few years.

More flipping.

Her first offer of marriage…

Duties…

The trivial things of life…

Her innermost thoughts…

The bookmark fell away to page. Arwen realized she had not stuck in the back, but somewhere three-quarters of the way through.

She shuddered, turning away from the wrinkled, tear-stained page. Could she bear to read it now?

Yes

She bent her head to read.

Echuir, T.A. 2510

I fear I will never view the world as I once did.

Naneth—ai, Valar. She is leaving in less than month for Valinor. I wish I could go with her, but Ada needs me.

She says, eats, and does little. Never before have I seen Ada look so weary. And Elladan and Elrohir—they frighten me. I overheard them say that would kill every orc that harmed Nana—even if it took the rest of their immortal lives. How can they do such a thing? A vendetta? It is not as serious as the oath that Fëanor and his sons swore, but—

I do not usually cry. But I cannot help but weep at this tragedy that has befallen us.

We deserved none of this. Why, then, did the Powers see fit to throw this at us? I do not understand. Ilúvatar is supposed to be kind.

What good can come out of this?

She is gone.

Something inside tells me this is the last time I will ever see Nana again.

It cannot be! Someday I will sail and be reunited with her.

Yet why is my heart so troubled?

The house is very quiet. Elladan and Elrohir, I presume, are out hunting orcs again. Ada has locked himself in his study. Lindir plays no instruments as he usually does before everyone retires.

Can I find happiness again? Peace? Contentment?

My very home is filled with painful reminders. Everything, from the curtains to the clothes I am wearing—they serve to remind of what I have lost.

I look back on some of the entries of this diary—and I find myself turning away.

I curse those orcs that did this to us!

Can I live here any longer? The Rivendell that was once my home is no more.

I have decided to stay with Daernana for an indefinite amount of time. Ada does not dissuade me; in fact, he want to go with me to insure…the same thing dose not happen to me. Of course, my brothers are going.

Guarded closely…I find I do not mind it so much. Maybe it is for the better.

After only a few days in Lórien I feel somewhat better. The pain is still there, but I can bear it because there is nothing to remind me.

Haldir and Orophin have gone rather quiet. I hope they are not feeling sorry for me.

I realize how much I miss their banter. No, I miss…light heartedness more. Rivendell grieves. Lothlórien grieves. I would give anything to have Nana come back.

Or to have joy returned.

She could read no more of this.

Frenzied flipping.

A tear dripped down and she hastily wiped it away. Even after so many decades, she could still recall the pain.

“How long?” she murmured. “How long did I wallow in this grief and heartache?”

Too long. She realized that she had accomplished very little during those years.

At last, through skimming, she found the entries gradually became less sorrowful and more resigned. Taking a few breathes, she read on.

Iavas, T.A. 2925

Many of my friends have asked why I do not wed. It is not the lack of suitors, for many have asked for my hand. Rúmil, other Lothlórien elves, even Legolas. I almost accepted Legolas, but something held me back. I know not whether it is because I am not ready, or whether I sense that I must wait.

I do not know what to make of mf dreams. They are confusing…

Whenever I try to remember them and grasp them, they slip away.

The one word that I can recall is estel.

Estel…something or someone whispers.

Yet I do not fathom the meaning of this.

Is it giving me hope? Or telling me to be hopeful? Or to hope in something not come? Or mayhap is all of those?

I feel…as if I were searching and waiting for something…but I do not know what.

This is all quite bewildering, and Daernana does not say much, only to say that I will understand in time.

Arwen let out a sigh, rubbing the back of her neck. Indeed, she would understand in time. She now had a suspicion that her grandmother had known her fate, but had been unwilling to reveal any details to her granddaughter.

It seemed that elves never gave straight answers. What was that phrase that Frodo had once said?

“Go not to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes,” she repeated, a smile creeping onto her face. “How very true.”

She glanced at the book. Only a few pages more—perhaps twenty—and she really did not need to read them. Those last pages held perhaps one of her most bittersweet moments, and a few other things beside that.

Rhîw, T.A. 2980

He asked me.

I accepted.

What else can I say?

I love him.

He loves me.

I was allowed the choice, and I have chosen—to be counted with Men, to live and die like them. Is this how Lúthien felt when she was given the choice? Tremulous, yet expectant? Both joyous and sad?

Yet…I hope Ada will not be disappointed.

Ada is neither pleased nor disappointed. He simply said that he will not allow us to wed until my beloved is king. I feel no anger toward this decision, for Ada does not best, even after all these years.

But even this does not take away my fear. Much can happen in the Wilds, and I fear for my Estel.

The years are not easy on him. He is not the youthful man I first met. But it is his eyes that pierce me the most.

This, this heritage of his—he carries around like a burden. And like most men, he think if he can hide something so that other cannot it see it, all will be well.

I know it is not so. His eyes speak an entire story of hardship and battle-weariness.

My heart goes out to my beloved, and I pray that the kingship and the world’s freedom come soon.

She smiled to herself as she turned a few pages. Thoughts on her dear Estel filled most of them. The love had been strong, was still strong, and would forever be strong.

Arwen stopped at a certain entry, the words blurred quite badly and the page stained and wrinkled. She frowned. What was this? Bringing the book closer to make out the words, her eyes widened in recognition.

A stabbing in her heart.

She could not turn away…

Laer, T.A. 3020

Ada and I said our farewells.

This was harder to bearinkblotNana’s departure.

For so many years, Ada had been there. As a child, through every injury, misunderstanding, pains, begetting days, joyous days, he was there. Even when I was in Lothlórien, he regularly visited inkblot.

I was his Undómiel, his only daughter.

And now we are to be parted—forever.

Ada has known much heartache throughout his life. And yet he is still so strong.

Now he will be gone.

I—

She could read no more of this.

She pressed a hand to her eyes and wiped the tears away.

“I should be done with grief for the moment,” she whispered. “Nothing I do will bring him back. And yet—” She glanced down at the book. There were a few more entries, but she found she could no longer keep her mind on them.

Arwen flipped to the last page. It was empty, with no ink to grace its surface.

She stood to her feet to look for ink and a quill. It had been many years since she had last written in this old book, and now she held ready to finish it.

Taking a quill and dipping it in the ink, she held her sleeve out of the way with her left hand as she wrote.

When I was young, I was foolish. I did thing rashly, uncaringly. My parents were too strict, my brothers too teasing, my teach too demanding.

Then I learnt wisdom’s way, but still had far to go.

Life was never easy.

Life will never be easy.

But it is made bearable by the lovely things, the little moments of joy.

I have found happiness, peace, contentment throughout my life, despite the dark times and the tearful good-byes.

I cannot ask for more, or less.

She stuck the quill back in the stand and blew gently on the page, the ink drying quickly. She closed the book with care and held it tightly against her, closing her eyes for a moment.

Someone knocked on the door.

Startled, she stood up and nearly dropped her book. “Come in!” she called.

“Arwen? Are you in there?”

“Estel, I am here.”

“Did you find the book?” Aragorn asked, his voice slightly muffled by the door.

“I—” she stammered, “I’m afraid I forgot about it.”

“You forgot about it?” he sounded incredulous. “Then what have you been doing in here for the past hour?”

“Searching. Reading.”

“Reading?”

“I started out searching for your book,” Arwen interrupted, walking towards the door, “but was distracted when I uncovered something else.”

“Indeed,” he remarked dryly. “Now, will you help me open the door? I cannot do so at the moment.”

She turned the door handle, and saw that his arms were filled books and papers. He gave her a distracted smile, and a wicked thought occurred to her.

“Thank you,” he said, walking in. “Now—”

She kissed him. Not one of those light butterfly kisses on the cheek, but a full, intense kiss on the mouth.

He promptly forgot about what he was going to say and all but dropped the pile of things on the ground, shutting the door with his foot.

“I hope that makes up for the fact I did not find your book,” she said when they broke apart. “I will try harder tomorrow.”

Aragorn touched her lips, cupping her chin in his hand. “You have been crying,” he said, “What troubles you?”

“Nothing,” she replied, “You see—” she looked down at the book in her hands. “This was my diary, and I was…reading through it.”

“I see.” He still held her chin, his fingers warm against her skin. They were not smooth like those of an elf’s, but rougher. Yet they were gentle, oh-so-very gentle when they…

“Arwen?”

She blinked. “What?”

“You were far away for a moment.” His eyes were concerned. “Are you well?”

Are you well?

Those three simple words, words her father had often used, brought tears to her eyes. “Estel…” she half-sobbed the word. “I—please don’t leave me!”

And he was there, holding her tightly in his arms. “I’m here,” he said softly, kissing her, “and I love you.” He did not fully understand the reason behind her tears, only knowing that she needed him. “Your thoughts need not dwell on such.”

“I love you, too.” She tangled her fingers in his hair, breathing in his scent and enjoying his warmth.

Her diary had fallen to the ground, open, with its pages being carelessly blown by the late autumn winds. Arwen could see it, blurred though it was by her tears. The book had once been her solace, a record of her deepest secrets and desires. But that was when she was young. She now was older, more understanding.

I feel…as if I were searching for something…but I do not know what.

Arwen smiled as she rested her head on Aragorn’s shoulder. The day she had met him, she had found her fulfilment.

It was enough.

Translations:
Firith – late autumn
Ethuil – late spring
Nana – endearing form of “Naneth,” meaning “mother”
Ada – endearing form of “Adar,” meaning “father”
Iavas – early autumn
Daerada – grandfather
Daernana – grandmother
Laer – summer
Echuir – early spring
Estel – hope
Rhîw – winter