The Aftermath (4)

It's just interesting.

Arwen, the Queen of Alvheim, gazed at Volume 10 of The Chronicle of Xenon, which she held carefully in both hands. Her lower lip stuck out like that of a petulant young girl, plainly expressing the dissatisfaction she had been holding inside.

If the Council of Elders had seen her like this, they would have made some petty remark about how she needed to maintain her dignity as queen. But there was no one here now. Nor was there any risk of being overheard, since this was the audience chamber.

"Elves have to be noble," they had prattled on. "I hate how elves represent pride in the book," they had grumbled. "An elf-human romance is absurd," they had whined. What were they doing, acting like children?

With no one around to see her, Arwen harshly criticized the Council of Elders that had been pressuring her until just moments ago.

This quiet time during her workday, when no one was around, was like a timely rain during a drought for Arwen. It was the perfect opportunity to let out all the words she had kept bottled up.

Arwen was praised publicly as a benevolent and kind queen, but she possessed a thoroughly girlish side like this.

The Council of Elders constantly nagged her to maintain her dignity as queen, so she simply did not show that side in public. But she was only 150 years old.

If she had been human, someone might have objected that 150 was still a considerable age, but that was only by human standards. Even by elven standards, she was old enough to become a full member of society, yet she was still considered young.

And Arwen had ascended to the throne at the young age of fifty and ruled Alvheim ever since. For elves, reaching their fifties meant completing their education and preparing to enter society, but the position of queen was not something to be taken lightly...