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Sitting, watching, that is all I do now. I watch you, and wish you were mine. That is all I can do now. Once, I think, you did love me. But it did not last long… because that is when she came along. She caught your eye, and she kept it, as I could not, with her bewitching smile, her enchanting eyes…Every time you talked about her, a little part of me died inside. Sitting. Writing these words. Watching you from the corner of my eye. I can move, but I can’t live. You have a life, and Arwen has the life I wanted. She stole it from me, vicious, clawing, behind your back. Her eyes are knowing, cruel, because she knows what I feel for you. She knows, and she is proud to know, for se can use it over me. She can keep control and stop those words spilling from my lips, tumbling as a waterfall.
But I will not have it any longer, Aragorn. It hurts so much just to watch you, to be your friend. You have your heir now, your kingdom is happy. I am not, and – I do not know to… whether to… for sometimes I hope that you are not happy. Not unhappy, but not… happy. Some part of me does not want you to be living in a dream, in a perfection in this Golden Age of Man, because then there is no part of you that loves me, no little part of you that years for me at all, as I ache for you. I want you to be happy with me.
If I was not almost sure you would push me, hate me, never trust me again… then I would seize you this moment and pus my lips to yours… and then, oh then… I hate this imprisonment! My own feelings caught, and trapped, strangled before they even reach my throat.
Why as I picked to have these feelings? I despise them, for they can never be, yet I love them. I see you in the hallway and I can not help but smile, you touch me, you often do, casual touches that would mean nothing to most people, but to me they are a spark that sets my stomach and my heart aflame, until I want to cry out with the folly of it all.
You kissed me once. Do you remember it? You were drunk, so perhaps you do not. That was the best night of my life, that kiss, and then later, you fell asleep with your head on my lap. A rare moment of weakness, but how I treasured it. That image of you, eyes closed, so peaceful, so content in the warmth of my arms. I wanted that every night. I want that every night.
Yet it is never to be, is it?
I give you enough hints, you must know how I feel. Surely you do, surely? But if you do, why do you ignore it so staunchly, stoically. Do you know how every word of affection drives me on, wanting more every minute. You call me ‘mellon nin,’ but it tears me apart inside of having the desired effect, for you call Arwen ‘melda,’ ‘meleth,’ simply ‘my love’. But when mine is the name to slip from yours lips, in that smoke roughened light voice… I melt. Just a little. Not enough for you to see it, but I do.
This is killing me Aragorn, truly it is. If it… will it… were it… All I can do is watch you, and I wish I were someone else. I would fight for you, you must know that I would, but only if there was any chance of you appreciating it and I have to, in this moment, to myself concede that there probably is not. Which is why only the fire will take this letter and devour it. You will never read this. You will never know. And I will remain here, watching you. When the moment comes… if the moment comes… that you realise that you love me, or that there is something there, or that Arwen can not give you what you truly desire, for more than a son, really… Then I will be there. Until then, I will keep watch.
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