Estel of Rivendell - Chapter 3

The next morning was a beautiful morning in Rivendell. Aragorn sat with a blank sheet of paper before him, a quill in his hand, thinking of Arwen. Thinking of Arwen was like lighting a candle in the twilight... all those little happy thoughts that lurked in the shadows of his mind, like the dim shapes of furniture in a dark room, suddenly took on a luminous clarity. How could he describe what she did to him...well, to put it crudely, it somehow seemed to him that wherever she was, she seemed to make that place more beautiful...was it because she taught him to appreciate afresh what was already there, or was it because the power of her presence seemed to infuse her surroundings with peace and light?

Aragorn fell into a daydream, a blank sheet of paper before him, a quill in his hand. Arwen. He sighed contentedly. Arwen. She filled his mind with a pleasant, fatuous feeling of contentment. Arwen. All his worries drained out of his mind, leaving it clear as air, with little fluffy contented thoughts floating through it like white clouds in a clear blue sky.

Aragorn took up his quill and made artistic little blots of ink on his blank sheet of paper, crumpled it up, threw it away and placed another sheet of paper before him.
"Arwen," he thought, "you could have any elf lord you wanted, and yet you chose me... you tell me what it is that you see in me? I do not ask because I like to keep hearing people praise me... I ask because... well, sometimes I hate myself, but you seem to have a different point of view...

"Arwen, you deserve to have so much more than a miserable person like me. So I've decided. I've finally decided what to do. I've decided to say goodbye to you...I don't want to hold you back from that beautiful place beyond the sea...from elven home, from Eressea... We ought to do what's best for you and not what's best for me... but Arwen, when you finally sail into the west, will you sometimes, just occasionally, think of me..."

It was a beautiful morning in Rivendell. Aragorn sat with a blank sheet of paper in front of him, a quill in his hand, thinking of Arwen...

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