NOVEL WEB Chapter 7: Chapter 7: Father-Daughter Dispute (with a Touch of Elvish Tragedy for Good Measure)
The valley of Rivendell rested beneath a silver silence.
Not the kind of peaceful silence you savor with a cup of Elvish tea.
No. A thick, heavy silence, full of tension. Like the moment right before a thunderstorm breaks.
Beneath a white arbor woven with vines and ancient cloth, two figures stood facing each other.
Elrond. Arwen. Father and daughter.
Two immortal souls bound by blood… slowly drifting apart.
Telperion shone in the sky, its light falling on the scene like the spotlight of a tragedy.
Elrond clenched his jaw.
He wasn't just worried. He was on edge.
He had sensed for days that something was wrong. Arwen hadn't been the same since her return from Lothlórien. Her gaze had grown firmer. Her voice carried more confidence. She still smiled, of course, but it wasn't the same smile.
Not the smile of a young princess admiring the world.
The smile of a woman… who had made a choice.
And Elrond hated this kind of silence. Because he knew it always came before a storm.
For a fleeting moment, he wondered if it had to do with her mother, Celebrían.
The trauma of her injury. Her departure to the Undying Lands.
Arwen had been entrusted to Galadriel. He had never forgiven himself for not being able to make her stay.
And now…
Now he feared losing his daughter the same way.
He was gathering the courage to ask—but Arwen spoke first.
A murmur at first:
"Father… forgive me."
He frowned, heart already on alert.
She turned her head to the sky, took a breath, then locked her clear eyes with his.
"For over four hundred years, I believed my role was to blend into the wisdom of Lothlórien, to wait for the mirror to show me the path.
But the visions never made sense… until a stranger appeared. And then, I understood."
Her voice steadied.
"I understood I wasn't meant to wait. But to choose. To live.
And… I found my place in the Music of the Ainur."
Elrond stayed silent. He heard her words. He recognized every nuance, every echo.
And it terrified him.
Because the last time he'd heard that kind of declaration, it was from the lips of Lúthien. Or rather, in the tragic tales he'd read as a child.
He straightened slowly and knelt before her, placing a hand over hers.
"I'm listening, Arwen. Tell me… what your heart has decided."
She inhaled. One last hesitation. Then:
"My fate is that of Lúthien.
To love a mortal.
To give up my Elvish nature.
And to live beside him, in this world. Until the end."
Elrond went pale. He heard the words… but couldn't believe them.
Arwen continued, voice soft but unwavering:
"And I've found the one who will share this life with me."
"Who?" he asked, throat tight.
A pause.
"That ranger… Edward Highland."
An invisible crash. A world crumbling.
Elrond sprang to his feet, hands trembling.
"THAT blasted ranger?! A mortal stray, hunted by orcs? A nameless outsider, with no lineage, no legacy?!"
His voice cracked like a whip.
But Arwen stood firm.
---
Elsewhere in Rivendell…
In his room, Edward sneezed so hard his pillow floated momentarily before flopping back onto his head.
"Someone's talking about me… And not kindly."
He rubbed his nose, wary.
---
Back under the arbor
Elrond was pacing.
"You cannot choose this. You have no idea what you're giving up. If you take this path, you will never set foot in Aman.
You forsake immortality, your place among the Elves, your blood."
Arwen didn't flinch.
"I know what I'm giving up. But I also know what I'm gaining.
I gain a life. A real one. An end. And a love."
He stopped, eyes burning.
"And you're willing to die for that? For him?"
She replied without faltering:
"Yes."
It was like a dagger in Elrond's heart.
He saw Celebrían, their daughter's smile when she was still little. He saw the days spent telling her ancient stories, the valley's festivities, the winter nights by the fire.
And now… she was choosing to leave it all behind.
For a mortal.
"You don't have to follow Lúthien's path, Arwen.
There's still hope. You can change your mind."
But Arwen slowly shook her head.
"It's too late, Father. I love him. And I've made my choice."
He turned away. Silent.
For a long time, only the breeze disturbed the silence.
Then he slowly lifted his gaze.
"Very well. If he wants to take you as his wife… then he will have to earn it."
His voice was cold. Calm. Unyielding.
"Let him prove he is worthy of your love. Let him accomplish a deed worthy of the great legends. Let him enter the songs of the ages."
He turned away, footsteps heavy.
"If he wants my blessing… he must give me a reason to believe a mortal can deserve a star."
And without another word, he walked off.
Arwen remained alone, still, unmoving.
The stars shone above her. The wind gently brushed her hair.
But she did not cry.
She had made her choice.