So Far Away ✔

014

. . .

ARWEN

. . .

Arwen glanced at her father's face. Dís' words hurt him, she was sure of it. He had always been there for her family.

"She has fever," she said, touching Dís' clammy forehead. "She didn't mean it."

Arwen wondered if she would also have told him that if she had been oblivious to the fact that her friend was in love with her father.

"We don't know that," he answered quietly. "We don't know what's she's been through."

That was true. Elrohir had told her how Dís had panicked when they danced, not long after Thorin and she had arrived here.

Arwen studied her father's face. He looked worried, but she knew he was always concerned about others. She shouldn't try to make something of behavior he was showing for ages, but suddenly she hoped that her father loved Dís too. They both deserved a new love.

Arwen turned towards the door when it was opened.

"A room is made ready," Elrohir spoke.

Thanking her brother with a nod, she lifted Dís from the couch. Her gleaming face worried her. Was this really the result of being in love? It had happened the moment she'd seen her father. Was this what Dís had feared so much? Or was it all a coincidence?

Arwen didn't know. She had no idea how being in love felt, but she couldn't imagine it would be like this. Many songs told about love, in which it was described as a pleasant feeling which couldn't be compared to anything else.

"What happened?" her father asked, following her to the room. "Did you notice something odd? Were her injuries that bad?"

"Her injuries could be worse. Those were just scratches. She didn't hurt herself intentionally, but she tried to shave her legs. She feels ashamed of her body hair."

Arwen felt guilty for sharing Dís' shame with her father, for she knew she wouldn't agree with it, but she understood her father's need to know what was going on, and at least Dís didn't have to explain it herself now.

"I'm worried about her."

Arwen stepped over the threshold, entering the room that was made for Dís and putting her down on the white blankets. "You've never stopped worrying about her."

"That's true," he sighed. "I was afraid that she would feel unaccepted in our community and I feared that she would drown in a sea of sadness."

Not only in sadness, Arwen knew. She felt ashamed of herself and her feelings and she felt guilt towards her deceased husband.

"Do you think her mental state is the cause of this?" Arwen asked.

"I'm sure of it. She has gone through a lot, she speaks of it with no one and she has to care for two children. Her father is missing, her brother is looking for him and who knows what more is going through her head. I dare to state that she barely sleeps, that she's wondering if she's doing the right thing in everything she does and that she is running around like crazy just to avoid anyone's help." He stood next to her bed and his hand moved a little, as if he wanted to caress her forehead like he had done when she was sick. Just in time, he seemed to realize that she didn't want to be touched.

"You know her well." She was genuinely surprised. He summarized Dís' behavior better than she could have done.

Her father heaved a sigh. "Those are just observations. I never managed to have a deep conversation with her."