The Forbidden Child

A Deadly Proposal

Arwen gazed out her window, looking for any sign of Estel, her forbidden lover. It had been many months since Arwen had seen him, and her heart ached for his company. She wished to hear her name in his clear voice, to feel his strong arms around her.

Love was a complicated thing. All races of Middle Earth had tales of war, entwined with complicated love affairs. These were the tales  most admired and best-known within ancient lore. Despite the adoration and romanticization of these stories, actual relationships of the same caliber were frowned upon and unacceptable. It was one of these relationships in which Estel and Arwen found themselves apart of. Estel and Arwen were the hero and heroine of the story of the century, or rather, scandal of the century, as Estel was barely a man, and Arwen, barely a woman. And Elrond did not favour the pairing.

Theirs was a childhood love story. Estel, named Aragorn at birth, had been taken in by Lord Elrond and fostered throughout his lifetime ever since his father had died when he was but two years of age. Arwen had lived in the same household as him throughout her lifetime. Her older brothers had been his playmates and mentors. She had been his friend.

Upon meeting, Estel and Arwen had an instant fondness for one another, though they quarreled as all children do. They played and grew up together. As they aged, Arwen became fairer and developed into an extremely beautiful woman. Aragorn became a man far before she was a woman, though he did not catch up to her in wits for quite some time. Arwen looked back at childhood memories of racing him and recalled complaining that he always won because he had the longer legs.

This was how most of their arguments went.

Everything had been perfect and dream-like throughout their teenage and childhood years.

Like every good story, it came to an end. It had all fallen apart when Estel had reached his twentieth birthday. He left a note and ran away.

Arwen,

I know I was quick to leave. I did not even say goodbye in person. I do not know what your feelings were for me. We were playmates as we grew up and closely acquainted but I still do not know what goes through your mind. I do know as I have grown and you have grown, I have fallen in love with you. Every night, grinning over the dinner  table at you and sparring with the twins relentlessly, I was just trying to catch your eye. I have always dreamt of courting you and, one day, asking your hand in marriage. Something happened, my past intervened and I cannot stay here and longer.

I am Aragorn II, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur and my birthright is the Gondorian throne. I am not simply Estel, foster child of Lord Elrond Halfelven. Your father raised me as he saw fit so I could eventually rise to be a ruler but I cannot and will not be king. It is with a heavy heart, my dear Arwen, that I leave. I do not regret my decision to run. I may regret my decision to leave my brothers Elrohir and Elladan, though I know they will understand. I may regret not staying in Imladris, the land I grew up in. I may regret angering and offending your father, the man who raised me. I do know one thing for certain. I know that I will most regret not saying I love you in person.

I love you Arwen.

Farewell.

That had been the beginning for them. Arwen recalled vividly their time together. She remembered how disappointed Estel had been when she left for Lorien, to stay with Galadriel. Back then, Arwen had thought he simply missed having someone to tease all of the time. She remembered best of all the late night when Aragorn had taken off. She remembered rushing to the stables, her older brothers stopping her, and then discovering the note Estel had left behind.

The heartache of that night never left her.

But this had all taken place a long time ago and many things had changed. That childhood and separation was just a ghost in a memory.  Things were much better, despite the distance between them and the feeble attempts to see one another. Even when Estel seemed to have aged a year each time Arwen saw him, this little pain, though it grieved her, did not wind her.