It had now been two weeks since his mother, Queen Arwen Evenstar, had left him and his sisters, never to return. Eldarion had no idea where she had gone, doomed to wonder the old world of her people, who had left her, alone. He had tried to convince her to stay, but she would not. Ever since his father died, she had grown older in front of his very eyes. Even as she gave him one last sad grey glance, he could see the lines upon her face and the grey streaks in her raven hair. He openly wept for her, his father's crown feeling very heavy upon his head indeed. He remembered the cool wind that blew in his face, the sounds of his sisters' sobbing, and the last words Arwen spoke to him as she kissed him.

'Le melon, ion nin.'¹

They were words he had heard many times before, but never with such sadness and gravity. Eldarion wondered whether she had passed or not. He had no way of knowing.

He felt very much alone. He had not yet a queen of his own, and his father's oldest friends, Legolas and Gimli, had passed into the Undying Lands, before the old dwarf's own life had failed.

Eldarion felt very strange, sitting upon the throne his father sat on for many years. The empty throne beside him made Eldarion's heart break with the memories of his last days with his mother and how utterly devastated she was. He still wore her jewel around his neck, like he had done when she first saw him in her vision, long before he was born. Although Arwen had the life of a mortal, she still seemed very Elvish to him. Eldarion had somehow inherited the pointed tips of her ears, although it was barely noticeable.

The last time he had sat up here was when he was a boy on his father's knee. The abiding memory of Aragorn when Eldarion was small was that he smiled and laughed a lot. Eldarion bore a slight smile at the memory, but that was not enough to pull him out of his grief.

He suddenly stood up and left the room, not saying a word. Elfaroth, his best friend and counsellor, made to follow him, but he was stopped by the gentle hand of Aredhel, the oldest daughter of Elessar and Arwen and Eldarion's closest sibling.

'Let him go. He will be all right.'

Elfaroth nodded to the princess, but he did not look so sure.

~

Eldarion found himself in the Halls of the Kings almost before he knew it. His father lay at the end, entombed, looking as noble and mighty as he was in life. Lain either side of him were the bodies of the hobbits Meriadoc, Holdwine of the Mark, and Peregrin, Knight of Gondor, who had died some time before. This was done at the request of Queen Arwen, who knew the love and friendship of the three ran deep.

Eldarion knelt down, placed his hands on his father's hands would be, still clutching Andúril, and wept. All of his grief, his sadness and his anger was unleashed in his tears, crying properly for the first time since Aragorn died that spring.

'Ada,' he whispered. 'Ada, please help me. I cannot do this alone.'

He remembered his father's words at their last meeting, upon his deathbed. I have faith in you, my son. I know you will be a great king, surpassing me by a long way. Do not doubt yourself, Eldarion. Remember, you are not alone. I will always be with you.

Eldarion reached up and gently touched his father's crown, which he now bore. He smiled a little. He could feel his father with him and he knew that one day he would lie in the Halls with him, never far away. He felt comforted by that thought.

He kissed his hand and lay it upon his father's brow, and then took his leave. But as he did so, he felt the chain that held his mother's pendant break. Eldarion gasped and quickly fell to his knees and caught it, inches from the ground. He sighed in relief and opened his hand to look at it. He could not believe his eyes.

It was crumbling down into fine silver dust. Eldarion panicked and tried to stop it, but it just fell apart in his hands even faster. Soon, he was left with a pile of dust where the Evenstar had been.

Tears formed in his eyes as he realised why that had happened. Arwen Evenstar, the last Elf born on Middle-earth, had passed. She who had made the Choice of Lúthien was now sharing her fate. Arwen was dead.

Eldarion shed a tear, and then stood. He scattered the dust over the body of his father. At last, a part of his mother was lying with him as well. Eldarion closed his eyes and said a silent prayer, hoping that their souls would rest together forever.

He opened his eyes and saw a vision. A dark wood with fading trees. A small mound covered with wilted flowers, a figure cloaked in black lying on it. His mother. Bathed in light as her soul departed from her. The green grass covering her body.

But then, the wood started to lighten. Leaves grew back onto the trees, the flowers bloomed once again upon the mound, golden and white. The sun was shining and elf-song was in the trees. Arwen walked again once more, clad in white, looking as beautiful as Eldarion remembered her. Then suddenly a voice cried, 'Tinúviel! Tinúviel!'

A young man came running towards her, and she smiled at him. Eldarion realised that it was his father when he was young, as he had never seen him. Aragorn greeted her with a kiss, and she looked so happy, happier than Eldarion had ever seen her. They joined hands and walked away from their son, into the light of the rising sun, together forever beyond the Circles of the World.

'Eldarion?' Aredhel's voice brought him back to the present. 'Are you all right?'

He nodded. 'Yes, I am. Nana's with Ada now. They're happy together. They're at peace.'

Aredhel sighed and nodded. 'Like I hoped they would be. Come, my brother, let us now be at peace with the knowledge they're together.'

^š 'I love you, my son'