My first fic, so be kind, please.

Just a little one-shot of Arwen's thoughts. Set around 30 years before Aragorn was born.

Disclaimer—I don't own anything.

I have lived thousands of years in the reckoning of Men, but I am yet little more than a girl. I have watched countless scores of Men as they die. I have watched kingdoms of Men rise, seen the glory of Numenor undimmed. I have seen how their greed destroys them, as it did the Ringwraiths. I have seen the majesty of the Kings of Arnor snuffed out by Angmar. I have seen the Dunedain diminishing, sinking low to a seed of what they once were. Their wars seemed to me trivial, yet I observed them. For their grief is incomprehensible to me, though I have lived longer, much longer, than them. While they bloom, wither and die, I remain unchanged, tasting immortality. Bitterly, sometimes, I curse my father for choosing to be of the Eldar or wish, wistfully, that Elros had not chosen to depart from the Circles of the World. It is not pleasant to be alone.

Men, especially Heirs of Isildur have been transfixed by me, calling me Luthien, Tinuviel. Yet they never see me as Arwen Undomiel, Evenstar of the Eldar and, in the end, they wed their own kind, as they have done in Ages past.

For it is ever so with the things that Men begin: there is a frost in the Spring or a blight in the Summer and they fail of their promise. Yet seldom do they fail of their seed. And that will lie in the dust to rot and spring up again in times and places unlooked for.

And that is what I wish for. I watch and wait, hoping for the coming of one who will stir my heart. I will make the choice of Luthien if I must, for life alone is dark and gloomy. Maybe it is not to be, yet I wait, as Tinuviel. But, one day, there shall be one, of the kindred of Men, who shall call me as Beren once called to Luthien, but later use the name I have among the Eldar—Evenstar, Undomiel. And he will be my Hope.

The paragraph in italics is paraphrased from RotK.

If it sucks, I won't write again.