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> I Choose A Mortal Life
05/03/2005 3:30 PM
As the night rolled in upon stormy clouds, Arwen gazed outside her large window miserably. She heard the murmuring of voices below and the occasional tinkling of glass. A small feast was being held for her birthday, and yet she had no desire to dine nor to drink with company. Her heart and thoughts were astray these past days, wandering the broken and dark lands of Middle-Earth in search of Aragorn. Her heart swept across the plains, wedged itself into holes and submerged itself in water, hoping to find her lost loved one. It called out in pain and need; yet this last would not answer.
Her periwinkle dress swept across the floor as she seated herself with good grace, her sharp eyes closed in pain and bittersweet memory. She tilted her head to get a better view of the lands before her. The waters were deep and murky, particularly from this faraway view, for it was automn. Perched on the windowsill, she sighed. The leaves held magnificence within their radiant colors. It had been but a few days since the leaves had turned and the Elves were relishing the glories of Fall.
She lowered her torso down, so that she was laying on the sill. Her groping hands wished to grasp Aragorn's in mid-air. She soon fell into a sort of stupor, drunk with the smells of feasting and the crisp automn air. She fell into a visionary and shifty dream, her eyes moist with tears that wished to esape and trickle down her soft cheeks.
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