The Choice Is Yours Alone, Chapter1

by Aug 24, 2007Stories

This story was inspired by a story I read on,

My character Carren, not Karen, car ren, is a half elf living in Gondor during the time when most of her kindred are sailing across the sea. She is too young to grasp the concept of life and death, but quickly begins to learn. This is a Legolas romance if Carren truly grasps the concept of elven love. Arwen is said to have been the last once of her race to have been born, but for the sake of Carren, I changed that a bit. This is not a Mary Sue, Carren has no sort of specially abilities, she is merely a young naive, half elf trying to live, learn, and grow in a war battered land. Hope you enjoy!!!!

Chapter 1

The birds chirped loudly outside of Carren’s room amidst the House of Healing apartments. The young, half elf rose from her bed and stared out her window at the rising sun. The Battle of Pelennor Field had ended only three days before and the House of Healing held its doors open for the injured soldiers. Carren had been granted a peaceful nights rest, for which she was grateful to have received. The previous night had been sheer torture for Carren, she was forced to endure the screams and cries of those injured as they were being brought into the healers care.

Carren pulled her chestnut hair behind her and tide it off. They had lost a soldier named Gavin before the sun had even set. He had only been 23 when he passed. She had fled the House in grief over his young death.

A tear trickled down her check. Why had her father left her to face the world of men and watch them suffer and die?

Carren had been sent to her room to collect herself after she went into a fit from learning the soldier’s age. The House of Healing pained her often and she had thought of escaping the torment more than once. Yet, where was she to go? Her father had abandoned her when her mother passed and thoughts to cross to Valinor never surfaced in her mind. Why should they? She was after all, half mortal, why would the elves accept her?

A knock sounded at her door. She turned, startled by the sound. The elder nurse, Ioreth, emerged in Carren’s doorway. “The Lady Éowyn made it through the night; she is being placed in a private room over looking the gardens. You are her personal attendant. Her wounds have already been redressed, check on her from time to time. Remember, you are also to see to the perian. You will be called on later, should we need you. Now, get to your duties.”

Ioreth’s voice was rusty, she had shouted her commands for herbs for several days. She herself, had hardly been able to rest, her old form over saw the House of Healing and her exhaustion showed.

Carren nodded and quickly changed into pale, simple green dress and fled her room.


The young half elf made her way to the Lady Éowyn’s room. Carren gently opened the door, careful not to awaken the lady, yet Carren had no ability to do such a thing, the lady was already awake. Carren entered the room baring herbs and small goblet of water.

“Mistress Ioreth bade me to bring you these herbs. She wishes you in bed for the remainder of the day.”

Éowyn nodded coldly.

“My name is Carren. I am your attendant. Should you need anything, I can get it for you. Do you need anything, my Lady?” Carren’s soft grey eyes searched the lady’s face, trying to read it.

“You are not a nurse,” Éowyn stated rather than asked. Carren nodded. “And why not?”

“I fear I have never had a desire to concoct medicine,” she replied bitterly.

“You do not wish to heal the sickly?” asked the lady, her voice rising to a slightly higher pitch.

Carren began growing uncomfortable with Éowyn’s pointed questions and cold stares. “I cannot bare to watch the sickly die.”

“An elf afraid of death? How strange.”

Carren’s grey eyes shot wide open. “I am a half elf. I suppose that I do fear death. I hate to see such young souls pass.”

“All mortals die young to your kind. Why be so afraid of it?” she asked even more pointedly than before. “Everyday, I desire death and have yet to receive it. What is there to live for?”

In Carren’s short elven life of 44, she had never heard someone speak to her in such a manner, even if she were lowly. Yet, Éowyn spoke to her openly and with a sense of hostility which Carren had been bestowed with only a few times in her life..

“How old are you?” The lady inquired.

“Forty-four, my lady.”

Éowyn eyed her curiously. Her brow knotted tightly. “You look at if you just entered your sixteenth year of life. Your kind age so slowly.”

Carren brought forth the tray of herbs and set them upon a night stand next to the bed Éowyn was resting in. “In a few years I shan’t age at all, or so I am told.”

The lady attempted to rise yet, weakly fell against her soft pillows. “Why do you dwell in the land of mortals? Death is all around you. Why do you fear it?” Éowyn began to heave and swoon. Her face began to grow pale. Carren quickly readied the herbs and slipped them down the lady’s throat.

“My lady, you need to rest. Your strength hasn’t returned. I have others to tend to, but I shall return to see to your needs in due time.” Carren curtsied and left the room as quickly as she could. Éowyn’s questions and talk of death disturbed and frightened her. Why shouldn’t she fear death? Death destroyed her family.

As you can tell, I didn’t put forth a great deal of effort in writing this, but I hope you enjoyed. I also hope that no one gets too angry with me over Eowyn, she gets better. 🙂


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