Okay, one-shot, here. Written in first person POV, as one of the elleth who leaves Rivendell in TTT.
Journey to Light
The roar of waterfalls and bell-like tones of small creeks do not calm me as they so often used to. In the dark of evening, the waterfall roars and the creek laughs at my passage. The ever-Autumn landscape no longer seems warm and inviting, but rather, cold and oppressive.
The soft material of my cloak drapes across my shoulders and down to the ground, its gray folds shrouding my body. Even my head is covered by its hood. This is well, for it hides the solemn tear that drips, unheeded from my eye. I know there is no reason for tears, but as I turn one last time to peer at the pearlescent curves of my city, I feel desolate.
The lantern I hold lights the path in front of me, its intricate metal carvings distorting the flickering light. I feel leaves underfoot, but they are silent in my passage, our passage. We are as much a part of nature as they are, identical and quiet. The Elf to my left wears the same cloak as I, as does the Elf to my right, each holding an identical lantern. The solemnity of our passage moves me, almost to tears. I feel alone in my sorrow until I see the Elleth ahead of me stop and turn to look back. She is Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar, and I know her pain. She looks back to her father, the Lord Elrond, her eyes pleading with him, but his countenance is as stone, unmoving.
At her pained expression, I sigh inaudibly and continue forward. I am pained at the loss of Imladris, she is pained at the loss of her heart. In Valinor, she will be forever-parted from her love, Aragorn. We all know of her loss, for to love a mortal is to be remembered. In my heart, I know there will be songs written about her, just as they were of Beren and the Lady of Luthien. It fills me with sorrow to know that she will face such pain.
Startled, I realize that my feet have carried me to the bridge, where many have already crossed, their lanterns like a glowing beacon. The stone feel hard and unyielding under my soft steps, as if they sought to remind me that I should turn around and seek the comfort of the city. But Valinor waits, and I must not be left behind.
Soon, the peaceful solitude of Rivendell rests behind us like a memory with only the dark road to the West ahead. We are still silent, moving though the trees like the spirits of those departed. The soft glow we emit must be visible from afar off, so stealth is impossible. I pray to the Valar to hide us from Sauron's fiery stare. We must reach Valinor. We must, for we are the last of our kind. The time of the Elves has passed.
Most of the Elvish kind have sailed into the West already, but we hung on to our hopes of peace. Now, though, our soldiers and the soldiers of Lothlórien fight battles against the Dark Lord, for humans we do not even know. I pray to the Valar again, but this time, for them.
Suddenly, I know that praying is not enough. In the thick gloom of the forest, our solemnity and desolation will destroy us if we are not careful. Slowly, I begin to sing, the clear melodic sound of my voice breaking the desperate quiet. It is a melancholy song, of the Wood-Elves, but it serves our passing well.
A Bereth thar Ennui Aeair!
A Galad ven i reniar
hí 'aladhremmin ennorath.
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
i chin a thûl lîn i gelair
In its beauty, I realize that, though the way to Valinor may be painful and long, we will find ourselves, our souls, upon reaching it. Our song will light the way through the darkness to the light.
A Bereth that Ennui Aeair........
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