MOON LETTERS : CREATIVE WRITING
Undomiel - By LOTR_Nutcase
The day was overcast. A dark wall of clouds blocked the sun's light from the City. A chill wind blew, but no one noticed. It seemed the very weather mourned the passing of the King.
His friends had gone before him. Blessed with the long life of the Men of Numenor, Elessar Telcontar had long outlived most of those he knew best: his faithful steward, Faramir, his underling, Imrahil of Dol Amroth, his hobbit friends Meriadoc, Peregrin, and, though no one knew for sure, Frodo and Samwise. Once the elf Legolas had left for Valinor with his friend Gimli the dwarf, the only Child of Illuvatar left in Middle Earth who remembered the War of the Ring, and was known to the King, would be his wife, Arwen Evenstar.
She who had loved him most, grieved most at his death. Born an elf, she had little understanding of it, and thus hated it more, for it had separated her from her beloved. Forsaking the immortality that was her gift, she chose instead to stay in the Mortal Realm with Elessar, and die herself someday. She was not yet weary of the world, but her last tie to it had been severed.
Arwen stood at the door of Elessar's tomb, gazing unblinking at his likeness. She did not notice the slow passing of 12 days, nor those who came also to grieve. She merely wandered, in dreams, through the days of their lives, wondrous and all too short. Remembering their meeting, their declaration of love, their marriage, and their children. Thinking nothing of herself, but only of he who had not yet truly left her.
So she waited, not daring to think of what was to come, until the time came to seal the tomb. Arwen knew them that her time had come to leave the City. Taking nothing, she fled the memories it held and rode away.
She left her horse with the Rohirrim. From Edoras she walked, slowly and quietly until she reached the woods of Lothlorien. Speaking to no one, seeing nothing but bleak despair around her she faded to a mere shadow of the beauty that had once lit her face. Hair once shining like a midsummer night was now dull brown. Eyes that had driven a man to great things lost their shimmer and sparkle. Skin once pure and pale was sickly translucent. But she felt no physical pain, only her inner grief.
Arwen was dying.
And in the fairest woods in Middle-Earth, Arwen Undomiel at last came to Caras Galadhon, once the heart of Elvendome, now a mere clearing in a forest. Here pledged to her love, here she had once dreamed of the day they would be together, and here she would remain till death took her.
And so she did. Laying herself on the hill, she awaited her passing. At the very moment life fled her veins, a smile at last crossed her face. She could see the strong features of her love, waiting, holding out a hand for her. Reaching out her arms, she cried out: "Elessar! Estel, my love…" and was never more a part of the living realm.