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Discussing: Nuzgûl of the Month March 2012

Nuzgûl of the Month March 2012

The Nuzgûl of the Month March 2012, Death, can be found here.

Okay, we know that Arwen has become mortal. But what does she think about it? Does she discuss it with anyone?

Write a story where Arwen discusses the thought of dying with one other person. Anyone you like - it doesn't have to be Aragorn or Elrond.



Re: Nuzgûl of the Month March 2012

Here's my take. Apologies for any soppiness. Wink


And of course, when he eventually asks the question it is entirely too late.


 Arwen smiles, brushes an errant strand of hair from her son's forehead, tucks him into bed.

 "Yes, my love?"

 His forehead creases in the candlelight- he has obviously been thinking a lot- too much-  about this.

 "Why do people have to die?"

 The question hurts more than she had hoped it would, and though she racks her brains- oh, Father, where are you when I need you the most?- she has no answer.




Re: Nuzgûl of the Month March 2012

A bit soppy, yes *g* but an appropriate response.



Re: Nuzgûl of the Month March 2012

A bit late, but here's my contribution for the March Nuzgûl (it also satisfies several prompts for B2MEM *g*)


Excited, Arwen walked towards the rooms within the King's House where her brothers were staying. They had arrived the night before, and she had not yet seen them.

"It's been too long," Elladan said as he opened the door to her knock. "We've missed you."

"No need to ask whether you're happy," Elrohir added, "You look well, sister."

She smiled and without thinking moved one hand to her abdomen as she closed the small distance between her and her brothers to embrace them. Elrohir, noticing the movement, looked her over appraisingly and repeated with a smile, "You look well, sister."


Not long after, they were walking in a garden between the Citadel's wall and the King's House. It was early; the only sound came from the pebbled path softly crunching underfoot.

From somewhere in the city, Arwen smelled freshly baked bread. Somehow it brought to mind the time Bilbo had come to the kitchens in Imladris to investigate the smell of bread baking in the afternoon. When he found her and the other Yavannildi making lembas, he was most interested in all that she told him; he had undoubtedly dedicated a chapter in one of his books to the subject.  


"What is it?" Elladan asked when he realised she was lost in thought.

"I suddenly thought of Bilbo," she said. "I wonder if he still lives. He was old even when he sailed."

"If he does, he is probably pestering all our kin for details of the First Age as we speak," Elladan replied.

Arwen's reply was a wistful smile, evoking a sharp look from Elladan as he stopped to face her. She met his gaze without hesitation to answer his unspoken question. Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that she might be less certain when the debt finally came due.  


Now that she was with child, there was an immediacy, a reality, to the idea of her own death that there had never been before, not even after Choosing. She could never regret loving Estel, and she hoped that when death came to them, she would be able to face it without fear.  

Hard as it was to keep her glance steady, there was naught that she could say to her brothers on this. She had Chosen one path and they the other.

Finally, Elladan lowered his gaze and sighed.

"Have you named him yet?" he asked.

"Eldarion," she answered.



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