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It Will Not Change
It will not change now
After so many years;
Life has not broken it
With parting or with tears;
Death will not alter it
It will live on
In all my songs for you
When I am gone.
—Sara Teasdale
Her face was dry as they buried him. He was lain to rest beside his noble fathers, buried in halls of stone. She could not visit this grave when her heart turned weary and sad. It was not a place where she belonged, trapped in mountain walls.
She had not cried as much as she had thought she would. Sorrow pierced her heart, and she grieved as though part of her soul had been ripped away. But her eyes remained dry, save for the initial tears as she clutched his cold, dead hand.
Their lives together had been long and happy. It was more than she could say of others; more than she had ever expected at the start. It was enough, so she thought when they both lived, to have him by her side for this moment, however fleeting his short life was compared to eternity.
She remembered their wedding day: so young and spry he had been as he leapt into her arms with a joyous smile. His flame burned bright to match her own. But time changed him. Age claimed him, ever so slowly.
She had watched him change: subtly at first, then all at once. His face had fallen, wrinkles appearing; his hair had turned silver; he had become slower and less capable. Near the end it was like watching a confused child try to find a place in the world. She had watched all this with grief in her heart. She had known, had always known, what immortality meant. She had just never expected it to be this painful.
While he aged, she stayed the same, unchanged forever. She had loved him unconditionally. They had been in love while they were young. It had not changed as time passed. It hurt to watch him wilt and fade as mortals must, but one thing had remained constant: his love. But in the end, love could not stop death.
She remembered holding his hand as he lay in bed, his hair grey and his face wrinkled. A small, sweet smile sat upon his lips as he whispered, "I love you."
She had cried then more than she did now. It was strange, she thought, staring into the pit of unfeeling stone as they lowered his body into his grave. In her fitful imaginations she had burst into tears at this moment, grief overwhelming her, but now that the time had arrived, she was calm and composed.
She remembered sobbing, clutching his hands, crying out for him in the moments after he had taken his last breath. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, he couldn't leave her, he just couldn't. But her children had been there to comfort her, and they brought her solace.
His death had been only a few days ago, but she had found her peace. It had come in the form of a note she had found after his death, lying neatly beneath his pillow, with her name written on in it in his scrawling handwriting.
my starlight, the note read,
I fear it is my time to leave you, though I do not wish it so. I love you, amrâlimê, I loved you when I first met you and throughout our courtship and through trials and despair. I loved you on our wedding day and through our marriage. I loved you when our children were born and as we raised them. I loved you as you watched me grow old and I watched you stay the same, I loved you as you loved me still, for all my weaknesses. I love you now, starlight, as I write this letter, and I will always love you, even when I am gone. That, I know, shall never change. Do not let your love for me be altered by death, for after all these years together, neither life nor death can break it. It will not change, meleth nîn, my love, my starlight. I love you now and then and forever.
your beloved husband.
She felt in her pocket for the note, read so many times over and over in since his passing. She would keep it by her forever, to help her remember.
She remembered his laugh, his smile, the way he whispered her name, the sparkle in his eyes. She would see him again, someday, in a long, long time. But the time would come. And until then, she would keep him in her heart. Her love would not fade. Nothing, not even death, could break the bond they had together.
She watched as his kin lifted stone over his body, entombing him in the mountain forever. Her last glimpse of his old, wrinkled face was that of a gentle smile. She closed her eyes as the stone thudded into place.
A dwarf rose and began to give a eulogy. As he spoke, a single tear trickled down her face. She missed him so deeply, so strongly. But she still felt his letter in her hand, and his love in her heart, and she knew that though he was gone, his love remained. This letter, the song of his heart, lived on. She loved him, she would until the end of time and even further.
And so, though her beloved husband was dead and buried, she smiled. It would not change. Their love would live on as she did. No tears could wash away her grief, but until she saw him again in the glorious morning after the end of days, she would keep her love alive.
"I love you still, Kíli," Tauriel whispered, and she knew that though he was gone, he could hear her.
—Why does it hurt so much?
—Because it was real.