The final parting had come too soon. Too soon, he had lain himself down on that slab of rock. I was alone. It was as Father had predicted, those years ago. It seemed like yesterday Father told me that since I had made my choice, I had to accept the fate of Men.

I had reached a point where tears could no longer be shed, where there was nothing left for me, where I was doomed to linger, and then to fade slowly unto the final resting place of Men of which none know.

The journey to Caras Galadhon was slow, but I was not able to take any enjoyment in the singing of the birds or the beautiful sunlight. It was merely surroundings on my final journey, the last journey of the Queen of Men.

When I reached Lothlórien, I felt ill. It was not the same as the first time I had vomited, or the first time I had contracted a fever. It was an empty sickness. I felt like there was a carnivorous beast within me who was ripping and devouring me, scraping against my bones. Lothlórien was dead, and the elanor and the niphredil had not bloomed in the many long years of my dear husband's reign. The whole location felt abandoned, for what known Elves that remained in this cursed land resided in Rivendell, and even there, there were few left who had not taken a grey ship to the paradise that I had passed by.

The mallorn-leaves seemed to make a path for me; I knew to where they asked me to tread, but I still followed because I knew that it was my time, and that the curse upon Men had finally come upon me, and I was prepared for it, though...

What happened to Man when they passed on? No one had been able to provide me with an answer to that question. My worst fear was that Death separated the Dead and that after Death, we ceased to exist; and I could never see my beloved again.

The silence was unbearable. I had been so used to life, to vibrance, to radiance. There was nothing here, in this utter desolation, save for the trees. They seemed to bend and groan in agony at the departure of the People they knew and loved. I could almost hear the echoes of harmonious singing, but perhaps it was only a memory long forgotten.

I laid myself upon the hill at Cerin Amroth. There was no more laughter in Caras Galadhon. All were gone, and I was alone, for in the absence of life, there is death.