The Forgotten Princess

In Lothlorien Light

Lessien forgot everything about herself and she stood in the nothingness for what seemed like forever, for what seemed like for such a short time. She was nothing. She was so wonderfully significant and so wonderfully large and she would rule it all. Up was down and down was up. There was no up or down. There was nothing. Everything was nothing.

And then Lessien came upon the scene of Galadriel and Arwen, the trees of Lórien towering over them and casting their always shining starlight onto the two women's faces.

Arwen sat in front of a water basin, her hands clasped and her face impassive. Her raven hair fell about her shoulders, revealing her rather fair complexion that no longer seemed fair, rather gaunt and stressed. Her luscious lips were pushed into the thinnest line possible and she sat rigidly, her spine uncomfortably straight. Her blue eyes seemed to be staring at nothing.

Arwen wore an intricately sequined, greyish-purple dress, a ribbon tied around her waist that thickened with child and the sleeves of her dress tumbled down past her knees. A low neckline exposed her accentuated collar bones and a white sequined shawl was cast loosely about her shoulders. She looked incredibly beautiful but there was a sense of sadness about her and her blue eyes.

Galadriel stood behind her, as silent and unmoving as a statue. Her white dress seemed to have countless folds, parts of the dress taken in at some places, her blonde hair falling far past her waist. Her sleeves were long in the usual elvish fashion and her face was sorrowful. With every move, her dress glinted in the light, for it was sequined as well.

"She is the sixth descendant," Galadriel stated calmly, before continuing, "of Lúthien Tinúviel and direct descendant of the Númenoreans, now reunited by you and Elessar,"

"She is a child, and when she is born that is all she will be! I don't understand why you make prophesies when all she is is a wonderfully insignificant babe. My child, of my royal lineage," Arwen argued. She was in her earliest months of pregnancy and had sought out Galadriel for advice.

"Indyo, she is more than an insignificant child and if you attempt to hide that or ignore it, the consequences will be dire and not for just you and your unborn child!" Galadriel replied sternly.

"She may be of prophecy but not much is the matter. Her life will be lived out in Rivendell in safety. So what if she is special, legendary, even? Her life will be prosperous and joyful."

"I pity this child and anyone it knows, for her life is ridden with grief and destruction. No one who get's close to her will live long in happiness. Tears seem to be woven into her destiny for that is the way it must be. Lúthien and Beren, the old tale, has been fulfilled again and their age-old love has finally produced another child," Galadriel bore her legend.

Arwen was still in denial.

"Please, let me relate to you a prophecy. A song that was made far before she was even conceived, a song that was only passed down by words and never written. This song has fallen into the wrong hands and throughout the centuries has been twisted into story and legend no longer.

The child unwanted
The child forgotten
And undaunted
The child who was dropped
And picked up again,
Heart in hand
and hand on breast
She will lie but she will never rest

In the battle of blood and death
She will fall, blood on hand
Her name is unspoken
Her life unknown
She remains unbroken
Forever her name lies forbidden
Through her hand
All will fade
All will perish

By the end of the song, of the revelation, Arwen was dangerously close to tears. How could her child's life come to be this? How could such terrible fates be fulfilled by her hand? And why was she ever forgotten? How could she ever be forgotten?

"It cannot be that way, Estel and I, we never meant for this child to-" Arwen brought a hand to her mouth, the song was so full of grief. She had tried to plan out this baby's life so that she would not suffer the complications of the secret marriage, even though the child was not planned.

"She may be the destroyer of the Arda, or the savior. Nothing you can do now will change that," Galadriel finalized.

"I did not mean this to happen, I do not want this child if this is her fate!" Arwen left out the part that she did not want her entirely now. Not now. Not before her father knew.

"It was never for you to decide. This child will be a warrior, a queen, or a commoner. Whichever of these she becomes, no matter her position, I know not how, but this child must live." Galadriel paused. "I know you did not want this child, not now, but you must bear it with care, as it is the fate of Middle Earth and places beyond that."

"That is why. That is the only reason why,"Arwen replied bitterly. She wished this had never ever happened to her.

"No one should know of this child's birth. Yet, if it is a son, it must have a public christening. If a daughter, she must be kept a secret. For enemies' ears grow more in number and must not hear of this advantage, of this weapon, or they will take her and train her against us." The ancient elleth put a reassuring hand on her granddaughter's shoulder.

You would never guess they were related for nothing about them was similar. Galadriel's features were light and Arwen's dark but both were beautiful. And both had love for each other.

Slowly, the image of Galadriel counseling Arwen faded.

Darkness took Lessien again. Darkness and self-disgust, for all she was was a weapon to be used against evil or against good. Even before she was born she was being bargained and the only reason her mother had kept her, had loved her, was because Galadriel had told her to.

She had just been lucky enough to have her father send Lessien away himself.