To The End Of Her Days - A Fanfiction Sequel to The Lord of the Rings

Chapter 12 - Forever Changed

The next evening, the Rohirrim arrived with the rest of Arwen's company. They were encouraged to be reunited, but they knew the battle was impending, so they did not have time to rejoice at their reunion. They prepared to fight at dusk the next night.

After the company had settled, Arwen asked them to meet in the throne room. When they arrived, Arwen stood before them and let down her hair. When they saw Arwen's hair, they were all stunned. Not even Rosie and Goldie had seen her hair down in a long time and they were surprised by her appearance along with everyone else. They were all silently worried as Arwen explained her reasons for joining the battle, but none could argue with her courageous resolve. Out of everyone in the company, Eldarion was the most astonished.

"Arwen, why didn't you tell me about your hair?" He asked after everyone else had left.

"I didn't want you to be worried. Besides, my actions were rash and I was...embarrassed."

"Why were you embarrassed?"

Arwen looked down at the floor before answering, "Because...I'm not...I don't feel..."

"You don't feel what, Arwen?"

"...pretty." She said quickly.

Eldarion knelt in front of her to look her in the eyes. "Arwen, do you seriously think your beauty is based on the length of your hair?"

Arwen didn't answer, still staring at the floor.

"Arwen, do you think you're ugly with short hair?"

Arwen gasped, looked straight up, and stared at Eldarion, shocked that he was able to see so deeply into the struggles of her heart. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Arwen, please answer me – do you think you're ugly?"

She nodded as a huge tear rolled down her cheek.

Eldarion was baffled. "What? Why would you think that?"

"I loved my long hair. Uncle Gimli said I had hair like Mama, so it reminded me of her. Now that my hair is short, I feel like there isn't anything beautiful about me. It was my only feature no one mocked."

"I still don't understand, Arwen."

"If you listen to enough people say 'she's cracked and she will never find a good husband,' it becomes more and more difficult to think that highly of yourself. If enough people say it, you start to believe it."

"Arwen, hear this now. It's not any of your features that define you: not your hair, not your face, not your feet, and not even your nationality. It is what's in your heart that makes you what you are, and your heart shines bright with love and compassion amid the darkness of this world. You are not ugly and you are not 'cracked.' You should not believe you are."

"Well, I'm afraid not even the purest of hearts can hide from such imminent danger."

"If danger is imminent, then why are you going into this battle, where the danger is the greatest? Why won't you stay in the palace where it's safe?"

"Eldarion, you know full well I cannot sit on my hands idly, let this city be attacked on my account, and do nothing about it! It would not be right! It is my honor to defend the White City and its people."

"But I fear for your safety, Arwen. I have this feeling, a feeling that won't go away; a feeling that something terrible is going to happen to you."

"Let me worry for myself, Eldarion. I know what I'm doing. I know how to handle myself on the battlefield."

Eldarion sighed and said, "I know you do, but I cannot shake this feeling, and I don't know what I'd do if I see any of those orcs lay a hand on you."

Eldarion tucked his hair behind his right ear to show Arwen a small scar on the highest part of his cheekbone, usually hidden by his hairline.