Bonus: A Human Heart (Part 1)

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[Author's Note: I try to write and it came out really angsty and dark. Sorry! There will be a continuation chapter to this. Please read at your own discretion because this chapter is like very angsty.  I was listening to Ghosts by James Vincent McMorrow, hence inspired the chapter. Feel free to play the song on loop! ]

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[LEANE'S POV]

These past two weeks, I felt so unstable.

Not unstable in a good way like the way my husband always managed to make me feel this past century.

Three things I learned as I lived long enough with the elves: One, gracefulness and elegance in one's conduct can be learned. Two, a hundred years for human was but a year for elves. Three, humans die eventually, and life goes on. We are but a flower in the fields; here today and gone tomorrow.

We?

Whose side was I on? Was I an elf? No, but I live just as long as they.

Was I a human? Yes, but I did not grow old; not a single grey hair could be found on my head, nor a wrinkle on my skin in my one hundred and thirty five years walking this world.

Yet despite how youthful I was on the outside, I felt sort of thin and stretched on the inside.

Having Aragorn and his family around in this realm used to be a great joy for me. But not anymore. 

Aragorn and Arwen did nothing wrong. Never. They were as lovely as they ever. Gracious. Just. Wise. Benevolent. Loyal. They were never a problem–I was.

A century. I learned to walk like an elf, spoke like an elf, acted like an elf; yet I failed to muster their inner coolness. That damn particular elvish perk must be reserved for elves only.Just like their superior hearing and sight.

"Damn elvish perks," I mumbled under my breath.

Arwen, still beautiful as ever, looked at me with such amusement in her eyes.

"What? I said nothing," I feigned innocence.

The queen of Gondor raised her delicate eyebrow. "Good to know that some of your personality haven't changed with time," she chuckled, "You still talk to yourself. What's on your mind?"

I don't know, Arwen. How do you keep looking so happy and bright knowing that your mortal husband doesn't have long and might be taken from you any time soon?

I sighed. "No. I just remembered something with Legolas earlier. One hundred years trying to learn shooting double arrows from the best archer Arda could offer, and I still can't figure out how I managed to almost kill my own husband in every. Single. Lesson," I lied expertly, my voice marred with frustration that came genuinely but not because of the lessons. Arwen let out a carefree, merry yet beautiful laughter at my complaint.

"Does it have to do with the fact that after a century married to each other, you and Legolas still can't keep your hands off of each other?" giggled Arwen. "I would assume that archery lessons with your husband would be too distracting."

I rolled my eyes. "Like you and Aragorn is any better than us," I shot back, smirking at her.

"I do not deny it, but don't say that out loud!" she replied in a hushed voice, giggling, her cheek heated up in embarrassment.

"Oh gosh. How I've missed your company Arwen," I sighed, smiling at our lovely, girly banter. 

"The feeling is mutual, my friend," beamed Arwen, squeezing my hand in her delicate one, "Promise me you will come visit Gondor next Spring."

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