A/N: Oh, I abhor these things. You should know I am not, nor will I ever be related to Tolkien or those that own the appropriate copyrights for the material that I am using as my template. Fear not, though- they are in careful hands and shall be returned unmarred. This is a short story, not really meant to be much of anything. I was writing in a romance, but found that I enjoyed reading it more as a simple observation of an elve's last days in Middle-earth. I hope you enjoy. Oh yes, as an addendum to this note- what you see here is not the whole story. There are four parts…to be posted as soon as their finishing touches are added.
In the autumn of my life the zeniths of summers past seemed faint memories too distant to be anything save bitter and comfortless. Nights, which once passed with the idle dreams of a youthful maiden, soon fell into the bitter watches of a toothless hound. I could no more hold my precious memories together than I could draw water and capture it in my open palms. Time, in my elder years, passed with the longing sigh of a winter too long in his stay. It had not been so in my youth- for then the days had passed as quickly as the fleeing tips of a daffodil that were caught upon the breath of an anxious lover. The tall, vibrant stalks of summer grain were green and broke between my fingers with a snap, sending a lifeblood of sticky water across my fingertips. Too harsh the light of the sun turned those fields into sweeping rows of burnt gold; these fields had never seen the harvest. They fell stalk after endless stalk in the deepest places of my heart- to rot upon the soil that had so carefully given them root at their conception. The wheat had been left to death at the hand of time and the heavy winds of impending autumn.
I remained close to the memories of my younger years, perhaps waiting for the warmth of those summers to once again roll across my face. It was after a time that I began to realize this coming winter was to be the final winter of my life, the last bridge for a soul too long wandering in the wilds of this land of mortality. I was alone in this world- I had been so for many years.
Many years ago, their exact number no longer counted in my mind, I had watched them leave- a lone sentry as all of my kindred, my dearest friends and nearest sisters, had passed from a land bound to the steady measure of time into the promise of immortal summers. Their days had been stretched as an endless sea upon which the sun is but cresting, bathing the depthless blue in shades of pale violet and pink. Yet had I stayed in this world- where the passionate crimsons and violets of a waning sunset were fading into eternal darkness. I remained in the land of my birth as a wandering child; helpless to stop the decay of time upon those things and places I had once loved.
I found that with the passing of my peoples into the West, the pleasures of my dreams soon became the nightly torture of Ulmo's beckoning. The pull of the tide would have sooner swept me away, had it not been for the memories of an ageless soul. So I had come to peace with the lulling roar of the ocean's call, and the pleading of Valinor fell upon deaf ears. I was satisfied with my choice. I was content to die at the hands of the supple boughs I had climbed when I was younger, to perish at the feet of the mighty oaks and maples that had been but seedlings when I was a child.
It was not difficult to say when the light veil of death had fallen gently about my shoulders. Upon waking that morning, now a fortnight ago, I simply felt a chill that would not take leave of my mind. It haunted my footsteps and found a fast purchase within my heart, sending dreams of a darker color than my mind could ever remember from years past. I knew what these deft whispers were speaking of, and with open eyes I accepted all of their culls and embraces. I did not desire to remain in this world that had given nothing but bitter respite for the most desperate wishes of my heart. Now, in the barren waste of death, I found what I thought to be my final comfort.
^
"What do you desire? On an evening such as this, a woman's heart can be refused naught…" Upon the open and gently sloping dell, in a place little traveled by the fleet footsteps of the elves, rested the crest of a hill which had broken free from the tight lace of the forest trees. It rose but slightly above their tops, straining for a better view of the celestial wonderment, coming to nearly a span above the cares of the world below. Alone, two figures now stood upon the wet grass, their faces turned towards the sky as their thoughts remained much closer to the earth.
"To have many nights just as this one. That Lindon's beauty shall not be spent by the blood of its soldiers nor marred by the fires of war." Amarthwen could feel an unusually cold breeze wrap its way around her body, separating her but momentarily from Herufuin, who could not hide the concern in his voice as he thought upon her words.
"War shall come to this earth, even those so great and powerful cannot stop the hatred of darkness. All that can be asked is for the mercy of the Valar and the end of all wars amongst the peoples of this land." She shuddered and drew closely into the niche between his neck and shoulder that had become her stronghold of late. The darkening watches of the night were drawing too close for her liking.
"May we retire and speak no more of this? My eyes grow weary and my heart heavy in this darkness."
"And you shudder so! Come and we shall find warmth and comfort from these unhappy thoughts; for they prey too easily on your mind, which should be at rest." He gently drew his open palm across the soft curve of her stomach and caressed the life that was growing within. Amarthwen smiled gently and placed her own hands upon the silky folds of her dress just below her breasts.
"He shall have the strength of his father."
"Yes, and the gentle heart of his mother. Perchance he shall be lucky enough to bear her eyes, for they are the brightest jewels barring even the Simirils of Feanor. The lights of Telperion and Laurelin were never so fair."
"Even the lights of the most wondrous creations of Kementári were brought to ruin. All things fair are meant to suffer…" Her voice faded into the whispering of a passing breeze as it rolled through the rustling boughs above.
^
Often my footsteps brought me unwillingly to the beautifully wrought gates of the Gray Havens. The arches would not fall for many ages to come; however, the creeping vines of passing years were already beginning to wind their way over the delicate stone carvings; tiny fronds now gripping tightly the sandaled feet of once great kings. Time had finally reached the once immortal realm of the elves. It should have heralded immeasurable sorrow; it provided only absolution. As though the presence of overgrown grasses and crawling ivy confirmed the passing years and gave me a small measure of comfort. The ever-incomplete book of days was open and the leaves were falling away steadily.
I had once wished that those nightmares beside which my mind would constantly lay might fall away with those passing years. They did not, and as I wandered the forest alone, my grief for times long past was comfortless.