Disclaimer: Anything you notice is not mine =D. All rights belong to the genius J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I own nothing, and this is only written for fun.
Ever since I met that boy in red as I walked under the white birches in my father's house, my thoughts seem to dwell on him. I could not forget his face, upturned, awed, hopeful. I saw it all in his grey eyes. Was that love, too, that I saw in his eyes? Countless boys that my father had fostered had declared their affections to me. But what is the difference of this boy that touches my heart so? For alas, I could never return that feeling. For I am of the Eldar, and he of the Edain, and other than what the legends tell of Beren and Lüthien, of Tuor and Idril, of Earendil and Elwing, we do not intermingle. But why does some part of my heart stirs when I think of him? Yea, I will not sail, but it is not because of the boy. I will not sail because there are still so many things to see, so many things to do!
If the legends were true, then I will admit that some part of my heart yearns to know more. But I feel that it is true, for why does my adar's face darken slightly when I beg him to sing those legends to me? Soon after the boy left Rivendell, my father asks me to pack and I left for my grandmother's lands again. I stayed there for a long time, days blurring into years, nights blurring into days. The years passed before I knew how to grasp them. But the passing of years troubles no Eldar; they could live for hundreds of decades, and my dear grandmama was living proof. She saw the Golden Ages of the Valar, she saw the light of the Two Trees, and she saw her own brothers fall in battle. There are still so many things to see, to learn, and I will not sail, not before my time!
The years pass by as quickly as it had always did for me, but these few years, I don't know why I stumble through the days seemingly blind and unseeing. Maybe I do know why. He is returning soon, from his years in the Wild. How long was it? Two years? Twenty? But why do I care? I think as I flip through the calendars, and my fingers paused, resting softly over the page that marked our first meeting in my father's house. Why indeed? Why does my heart stir when I think of him? Ah, I finally know! I am not sure why, but the first time I saw him, my heart has already fallen for him. It is only my denial at the absurdity of such a feeling that blinded me to realisation.
He came to my grandmother's house a day ago. I chanced upon him clad in silver and rather like an Elf-lord, and we walked silently under the great mallorns of my grandmother's lands. I feel my heart finally relax when I knew that he was relatively unharmed in his thirty-year sojourn against the Dark Lord. We talked only briefly of his deeds, and then he graciously took his leave. None too soon, for I was left with many a thing to think upon. There were parties, balls, and events the next few days. I had eyes only for him as he courteously refused every dance, even as I refused any other dances except with my grandfather.
The days pass by even faster than I had ever thought it could be, a flurry of activities. We talked, we laughed, and I warmed up to his companionship. Soon, it was Midsummer, and time for his departure. He leads me to Amon Cerin, and there we sat quietly, watching the sun as it slipped downwards from the sky. It was there that we finally plight our troth. And it was there that I renounce both the Shadow and the Twilight. He gives to me the Ring of Barahir, the one that I would come to cherish in the darkened years that would come.
As swift as the eagle flies, he was gone again. There was a sinking feeling that I felt in my heart when I learn of the price that my father had set for my hand in marriage. I fear, that even as Elu Thingol had set his price for his daughter Lüthien, mine father did so too. The price is too high; Lüthien's was a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth. Mine was the Kingship of both Gondor and Arnor. Both were feats too high for a common mortal to achieve, and I fear that my Estel would not be able to come out the victor when battling against fate. Yet I will not sail, for I had already made my choice.
He is home again, my dear Estel. But even as I see him he is weary, both in mind and heart. Too many years spent battling the Dark Lord has taken its toll on him. I try my best to heal him with my love, but he is too distracted by every dark tidings brought to him that he could take little comfort. I know now that only when the Dark Lord is truly vanquished that he and I will have peace. But I will not sail, not while I still have him, my hope.
He has been gone for a while now, with the nine members of the Fellowship. He has gone on a quest that holds our fate in that one, tiny gold ring. But I have learnt a long time ago that appearances could deceive. The days are growing too short, and the nights too long. The Shadows lengthen and haunt us in our dreams. Our stars are clouded by an evil fume, devised by the Dark Lord himself. But when I think of his eyes, those eyes as bright as the stars of Varda's, I dare to hope again. Even if only for a little while, I dare to hope again. And that is why I will not sail, not now, not ever.
Our people are growing restless, some of them afraid. They are starting to talk about sailing into the West, flying from this evil, but I am adamant. I will wait, and I believe that all darkness will pass away in a blaze of light and fire. I know that my decision pains my father, but I do not believe, against all evidence set before me, that Middle-Earth will fall. What I believe is that my Estel will vanquish all evil and bring peace, against all odds. And so, I will not sail, not even when my father begs me to leave, not even when he shows me the future. But I refuse to look. I will not sail.
The fumes cloud out the sun and the moon and the stars. My father begs me for the last time to sail. My will wavers; I know not what to do. I don't even know if Estel is still alive. As if in a trance, I put on my silver cloak and mount Asfaloth. My heart cries out and begs me to stop; my mind clamours that my rightful place is with the Elves. It was too conflicting a thought!
I don't know how I came to the glade. A boy, with hair the same shade as my Estel's, suddenly runs in front of Asfaloth. Asfaloth didn't even shy away, as she always did when frightened. I glance around; no elf seems to acknowledge the boy's presence. I stop Asfaloth. The elf behind me glances at me briefly before resuming her pace. My eyes trail after the boy. He runs to my right, into an intricately carved gazebo. I wonder; what is a boy and a gazebo doing in the middle of a forest?"
I gasp when my eyes sought out a man, his hair similar to the boy's, standing with his back to the boy. The boy runs up the steps, and the man turns around, laughing and grasping the boy, twirling him in the air. All this time, I am straining to see his face. He finally let the boy sit on his arm, chuckling. I finally see his face, and I almost break down. My heart cries as I stare at that face.
It is Estel.
This is no dream. I would recognise Estel anywhere. This must be a vision, nothing else!
The boy regards me solemnly, his eyes questioning. My Evenstar pendant rests on his chest. I feel dizzy as I finally realise what I have always wanted: I am staying here. I'll stay even as my kin flees this land. I turn Asfaloth about and galloped back to Imladris. My people call after me, but still I will stay. No one will ever sway my will again. I will not sail.
My father shows me what is to come if Estel succeeds. He begs me for the last time to leave. But I answer him thus: The last ship into the West has sailed. There is no ship to bear me anymore. I have no choice but to stay. He nods sadly. I think he might have known about my choice a long time ago, wise as he was, is still. Now that I have made my choice, I will myself not to waver anymore. I will not sail, for the love of my Estel.
I refuse to stay idle even as the elves, my kin, flee this god-forsaken land. I watch him from afar; I pray for him; and it was in hope that I weave this standard for him. I had asked my grandmother for the finest mithril thread she had. She had given it to me gladly. I take out the diamond necklace my mother gave to me before she left. She meant for me to wear it on my wedding day, but this standard will be my marriage linen, in other words. I ask my father's craftsmen for a favor: to craft a gold and mithril crown for me. They did so, gladly. Finally, I took out the black velvet that I had saved, long ago, for future use. It is time.
Every stitch, every prick, they must be perfect. My embroidery is rich and fine, and in better days it was meant to be seen on gowns and tunics. But this standard will prove my faith in him, and I will use no lesser skills to weave it. After I embroidered it, I set the seven diamonds and the crown above the silver tree: a majestic standard, claiming his true heredity as the heir of Elendil.
I give it to Halbarad and his Dunedain to give to my Estel. But I know not if he will be there to receive it.
The couriers arrived a day ago, announcing his victory at the Black Gates and his success in claiming the Kingship. This is indeed a miracle! Although my faith in him was strong, my father's visions always tell that it will be otherwise. That faith has wavered for a few times until I saw my own vision. I want to weep with relief to know that he is still safe and alive. He has achieved what mere mortals cannot – but he is no mere mortal, is he? I smile.
They requested us to arrive at the White City in Midsummer. It was a good thing that I have had my wedding gown made years before, even though I had my own doubts about his victory. This is truly wonderful news for me. To think that I can finally live with my Estel! I feel like bursting with joy. It was a good thing that I had not sailed and had faith in my vision.
Yet that joy is tainted by the bitter knowledge that I would be sundered with my kind. I was well aware of that, but now that I am finally his betrothed, the pain became real, tangible. I went up into the hallowed hills with my father the day before he left and we talked long into the night. We knew that this was not the last bitter ending yet; and I hope that it will not come for years yet.
When my folk finally left for the Western Shores, though, I felt something break within me. But I knew that such a feeling would come, and I was prepared. If it was only a little.
The years pass by quickly. This time, however, I am able to grasp onto it, live it to its fullest. Everything it could offer to me I accepted gratefully. I never wasted a second, living life to its fullest like I never did before. My Estel and I had a beautiful son and six daughters, each and every one of them as precious as mithril gems, though I will never part with my children even if they give me every treasure in this world!
I feel so lucky, not just that I am the beloved Queen of both Gondor and Arnor, but the simple fact that I am Estel's wife, and we had healthy children. I don't know how I could live on without them.
The time has come. It seemed too fast for me, but try as I might, I could not bear to beg him to stay a little longer. We walk silently through the House of Kings, our daughters having paid him their last respects. Eldarion our son walked at my Estel's left side, and I on his right. Estel laid himself on his last bed and gave our son the crown and the sceptre, and bade him farewell.
I guess perhaps my son must have felt our need for privacy, so Eldarion left me kneeling beside my Estel, holding his hands. I begged him now, tears flowing freely from my eyes. He told me that it was my choice if I were to stay or leave. But I knew better; that choice was long over. My doom was sealed when we plighted our troth at Cerin Amroth.
My Estel smiled at me; but even as he took my hand and kissed it, he fell into a deep sleep, never to awaken again. I knew then the last bitter ending had come for me; and I will roam this world until Death comes to claim me.
I take leave of my son and daughters and flee into Lothlorien. I cannot bear to stay in the place which holds so many painful memories of me and Estel. And so I dwelt in Lorien, alone. My kin had long passed away with Lady Galadriel, my grandmother, and this place was but a dim shadow of its former glory.
The years pass by in a blur again. I cared not, for the faster my end comes, the happier I am. There is nothing in this harsh, cold world that I cared anymore.
These years were like harsh winter nights to me; no warmth, no love.
I walk to Cerin Amroth, Estel's cloak hugged tightly to my chest. I spread the brown cloth on the grass without the tiny golden flowers, dusted by golden mallorn leaves.
I look once again into the east, where the Shadow had been once. It was clear and bright. Then I look into the west, where all my kin had passed away. It was bathed in a golden hue. But it is truly with my Estel that I will be alive again.
I laid myself on his cloak and closed my eyes. My time had indeed come. And I embraced it fearlessly, knowing that I would see my dear Estel again.
An eagle cried once in the distance, and then everything was quiet.
A quiet calm settled over me. My end had indeed come.
I hear the wind whistling over my ears, the seagulls crying and wailing. I listen intently; I never knew that I could come to love those harsh sounds! I open my eyes and smile. I am on a ship, and silver spray splashes against my body. My raven hair whips around my face as the wind plays with it.
A mist clouds the horizon ahead. I could not see through it. I wonder what secrets it would hold.
The glass-like mist draws aside and I cry out softly as I glimpsed white shores, and beyond them, a far green country under a swift sunrise.
But that was not what caught my eyes, no. Before me, on the silvery shores, was a figure that I would know anywhere. He smiles. I smile back.
We've gathered, and we've parted. He came back to me once, against all odds, and left me again in his death, but this time it is I who came to him. And this time, there will be no parting between us.
I run down the lowered plank of the ship, picking up my skirts as not to wet them. I see him running to me too, and I run even faster, tears of laughter in my eyes.
I laughed as he gathered me in his arms. I bury my nose in his hair as he kissed me, savouring the familiar scents of rain and pine and dirt. His scents.
Tears streak down my face, and he wiped them away. There are no tears in this country, he tells me and I laugh, pure joy and bliss unfelt in a century-long wait.
There will be no parting again, sweet Estel. This is truly the end; but this is also the beginning.
The End.
A/N: This is the first time I tried my hand on such a thing, and this work is virtually unbetaed, so please forgive me for any spelling errors, wrong timelines, etc, etc. =) Thank you for taking the time to read this. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Please R&R!