I don't own it, Tolkien does, I just thought to expand a little on his works. Yes, I know this is AU, considering Arwen was supposedly alone when she died, but I do hope you like it. This is a semi prequel to Footsteps, and a slight sequel to 'I Shall Not Follow,' though you don't have to read either to get this, as it is a stand-alone.
The last days of Arwen Undomiel, with Glorfindel at her side.
As I Linger
She wondered, no longer caring what direction her feet carried her, only knowing that she was weary, and filled with despair. She dimly recognized the place she had come to, and a faint part of her heart was briefly glad. Once again she was within her grandmother's forest, once again she could feel the sweet mallorn around her, and it comforted her slightly, despite the loneliness that drifted through the air. But she felt something else within this forest, another presence, a presence that seemed but a distant memory to her.
She wondered towards it, though her heart did not believe it was real, for all her people had gone over the sea, and she was alone. She knew that well, but some small part wished that it was not so.
Singing filled her ears, in a voice that she could never forget. A voice that had comforted her when her Ada could not, a voice that scared the demons of her dreams away when she was young. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she began to walk faster towards that slowly fading voice, but she could not yet bring herself to call out to the other.
She began to run, for she could no longer hear that sweet tone, and loneliness had begun to crush upon her again. Suddenly she tripped, and sent herself crashing to the ground. Tears, not of pain from the fall, but from her heart, flooded her eyes, and she cried for she knew she had lost the last one that reminded her of home, even if she had only been chasing a fantasy.
A warm hand lay upon her shoulder, while another lay upon her back. Slowly she was turned over, and her head was laid within the crook of a familiar arm, while a hand moved to brush her hair from her face.
"Arwen, nin Undomiel," a sweet voice said softly, and she looked beyond her tears to the face that hovered just above her own.
Then her arms wrapped around his neck, and she buried her face in his worn shirt. He held her close, and let her cry, while he stroked her hair to comfort her.
"Oh, Glorfindel," Arwen whimpered.
"Shh, I am here, I am here," he murmured, rocking her aging body gently, nearly moved to tears himself.
"I thought you had left with my Adar, or at least with Elladan and Elrohir," she said at last, her voice tight when she spoke of her family.
"It does not matter why I have not left, only that I am here now," he said, continuing to stroke her hair.
She pulled her face from his shoulder, looked into his face, and saw something hiding in the depths of his eyes, in the thinness of his cheeks, in the paleness of his skin. But she did not speak of them, nor what she felt, for she only felt glad to see him, he who had been a second father to her.
"Yes, you are here," she whispered, and laid her head to his chest, to hear his Elven heart beat, and remind herself that she was not alone.
He gathered her close, and gently kissed the top of her head, the fingers of one of his hands brushing gently through her raven locks, now kissed with gray. He could see death hovering near her, and his heart clenched painfully. She had so little time, and he would be by her side for these few days she had left. He could not abandon the one he called a daughter, he would not.
"Estel is dead," she whimpered, her voice muffled by his shoulder.
He nodded, but said nothing, for what could be said when one lost their soul mate?
"And I am dying, I find that I am glad for it," she continued, and her voice grew slightly stronger.
"Do not speak of such things, Arwen," Glorfindel said softly, his heart breaking under her words.
"Why ever not?" her voice grew strong once more, and she lifted her head from his shoulder to meet his eyes, "I look upon death with mortal eyes now, Glorfindel, and I find I do not fear it."
"Nor should you," Glorfindel said softly, "Death is nothing to fear."
"You have only known Elven death, mortal death is different, yet you are right, neither death is to be feared," Arwen sighed, and leaned her head wearily back onto his shoulder.
He held her close once more, rocking her slightly as if she were again the young elfling he had once known, while his heart cried for what was to come.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The days passed somberly by, and each day he watched her grow weaker. She rarely ate, or drank, or slept, but only wondered the woods, he at her side, or behind her, following her as if he were her shadow. Just like he had when she was younger, except now, instead of watching her grow, he was watching her fade, and that thought hurt more with each passing day. He himself had long since given up food, rarely took water, and never slept, though she did not question why, though they both knew they were watching the other die, he an Elven death, she a mortal one, and together they would go. Teacher and pupil, father and daughter, friends as they had been for most of her life, were fading together.
Just as they watched the sunset together, night fell on his heart that day that he realized that she would not see the next dawn, and he held back his tears of despair. She had noticed the thin tears that escaped his hold, but said not a word. She only laid her head upon his shoulder, and his arm went around her, pulling her close. Wrapping her other frail arm around him, she buried her face in his chest, and listened to his heartbeat. She listened to his fea song, for that was of the few things that remained with her, even after she had given up her Elven grace. Then she cried silently, and began to speak.
"Here comes the night, and I remember I pledged myself to him, and turned my face from twilight, and here I still do not regret it, though I know my death is coming. I follow him as I promised, yet my heart grieves when it should rejoice," Arwen said softly, her voice strong despite her tears.
"It is natural to not wish to give up the life that one has spent," Glorfindel said.
"It is not that I do not wish to give my life up, dear Glorfindel, for I am weary of the world, and wish to follow my beloved," Arwen whispered, and raised her face to his, "But I fear that in my passing, I would bring another with me."
He sighed softly, and turned his face from her, for he knew what she meant. Turning his head back to her with one slender hand, she locked her still sharp eyes with his dull ones.
"You know of what I speak," she said.
"Yes, I do. But be comforted, for it is not you that draws me back to Mandos's halls," he said.
"Yet, I would not have you pass again there, for though you may not see it, my family still needs you, dear hir, as does your own. Your hope has passed from the world, but must you follow it?" she asked.
"I feel I must, as you follow yours," he sighed.
"Nay, you do not need to. For you have done without hope before. As for me," she smiled sadly at this, "I promised him, and I am bound by my love for him. You are not bound to Middle Earth as I am to him. Do not grieve for what fades, but rejoice in what awaits you in the far lands."
She lowered her head to his chest once more, and he held her tightly as silence fell once more over them. His breathing stilled the last of her fears of death, as her words gave him comfort.
"Glorfindel?" she asked softly in the fading night.
"Yes?" he said, running a fond hand through her hair.
"Promise me you will go to the Undying Lands after I die," she whispered, raising her head one final time to look him in the eye.
He held her gaze, his own near lifeless, but her plea reached his fading heart, and ignited a faint spark within. Cupping her delicate chin, he lay his forehead upon hers, and sighed, world weary.
"I promise, my dear one, I will go," he whispered.
Satisfied, she smiled, then brushed his cheek with a gentle kiss before laying her head upon his chest once more. No other words were spoken between them as the night drew on, and twilight fell upon them.
He felt her breaths grow shallower as her heart beat began to grow weaker, and through it all, he held her tight, and began to sing of Luthien, as her lover had sung long ago when they had first met, under the same leaves that she was dying under. As he began to finish the lay, he felt her breath stop, and her heart fade away. His tears falling silently, he lay her down, and kissing her brow, he rose to watch the sun rise.
"Namaarie, Arwen Undomiel, until the ending of the world," he whispered.
The last days of Arwen Undomiel, with Glorfindel at her side.
As I Linger
She wondered, no longer caring what direction her feet carried her, only knowing that she was weary, and filled with despair. She dimly recognized the place she had come to, and a faint part of her heart was briefly glad. Once again she was within her grandmother's forest, once again she could feel the sweet mallorn around her, and it comforted her slightly, despite the loneliness that drifted through the air. But she felt something else within this forest, another presence, a presence that seemed but a distant memory to her.
She wondered towards it, though her heart did not believe it was real, for all her people had gone over the sea, and she was alone. She knew that well, but some small part wished that it was not so.
Singing filled her ears, in a voice that she could never forget. A voice that had comforted her when her Ada could not, a voice that scared the demons of her dreams away when she was young. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she began to walk faster towards that slowly fading voice, but she could not yet bring herself to call out to the other.
She began to run, for she could no longer hear that sweet tone, and loneliness had begun to crush upon her again. Suddenly she tripped, and sent herself crashing to the ground. Tears, not of pain from the fall, but from her heart, flooded her eyes, and she cried for she knew she had lost the last one that reminded her of home, even if she had only been chasing a fantasy.
A warm hand lay upon her shoulder, while another lay upon her back. Slowly she was turned over, and her head was laid within the crook of a familiar arm, while a hand moved to brush her hair from her face.
"Arwen, nin Undomiel," a sweet voice said softly, and she looked beyond her tears to the face that hovered just above her own.
Then her arms wrapped around his neck, and she buried her face in his worn shirt. He held her close, and let her cry, while he stroked her hair to comfort her.
"Oh, Glorfindel," Arwen whimpered.
"Shh, I am here, I am here," he murmured, rocking her aging body gently, nearly moved to tears himself.
"I thought you had left with my Adar, or at least with Elladan and Elrohir," she said at last, her voice tight when she spoke of her family.
"It does not matter why I have not left, only that I am here now," he said, continuing to stroke her hair.
She pulled her face from his shoulder, looked into his face, and saw something hiding in the depths of his eyes, in the thinness of his cheeks, in the paleness of his skin. But she did not speak of them, nor what she felt, for she only felt glad to see him, he who had been a second father to her.
"Yes, you are here," she whispered, and laid her head to his chest, to hear his Elven heart beat, and remind herself that she was not alone.
He gathered her close, and gently kissed the top of her head, the fingers of one of his hands brushing gently through her raven locks, now kissed with gray. He could see death hovering near her, and his heart clenched painfully. She had so little time, and he would be by her side for these few days she had left. He could not abandon the one he called a daughter, he would not.
"Estel is dead," she whimpered, her voice muffled by his shoulder.
He nodded, but said nothing, for what could be said when one lost their soul mate?
"And I am dying, I find that I am glad for it," she continued, and her voice grew slightly stronger.
"Do not speak of such things, Arwen," Glorfindel said softly, his heart breaking under her words.
"Why ever not?" her voice grew strong once more, and she lifted her head from his shoulder to meet his eyes, "I look upon death with mortal eyes now, Glorfindel, and I find I do not fear it."
"Nor should you," Glorfindel said softly, "Death is nothing to fear."
"You have only known Elven death, mortal death is different, yet you are right, neither death is to be feared," Arwen sighed, and leaned her head wearily back onto his shoulder.
He held her close once more, rocking her slightly as if she were again the young elfling he had once known, while his heart cried for what was to come.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The days passed somberly by, and each day he watched her grow weaker. She rarely ate, or drank, or slept, but only wondered the woods, he at her side, or behind her, following her as if he were her shadow. Just like he had when she was younger, except now, instead of watching her grow, he was watching her fade, and that thought hurt more with each passing day. He himself had long since given up food, rarely took water, and never slept, though she did not question why, though they both knew they were watching the other die, he an Elven death, she a mortal one, and together they would go. Teacher and pupil, father and daughter, friends as they had been for most of her life, were fading together.
Just as they watched the sunset together, night fell on his heart that day that he realized that she would not see the next dawn, and he held back his tears of despair. She had noticed the thin tears that escaped his hold, but said not a word. She only laid her head upon his shoulder, and his arm went around her, pulling her close. Wrapping her other frail arm around him, she buried her face in his chest, and listened to his heartbeat. She listened to his fea song, for that was of the few things that remained with her, even after she had given up her Elven grace. Then she cried silently, and began to speak.
"Here comes the night, and I remember I pledged myself to him, and turned my face from twilight, and here I still do not regret it, though I know my death is coming. I follow him as I promised, yet my heart grieves when it should rejoice," Arwen said softly, her voice strong despite her tears.
"It is natural to not wish to give up the life that one has spent," Glorfindel said.
"It is not that I do not wish to give my life up, dear Glorfindel, for I am weary of the world, and wish to follow my beloved," Arwen whispered, and raised her face to his, "But I fear that in my passing, I would bring another with me."
He sighed softly, and turned his face from her, for he knew what she meant. Turning his head back to her with one slender hand, she locked her still sharp eyes with his dull ones.
"You know of what I speak," she said.
"Yes, I do. But be comforted, for it is not you that draws me back to Mandos's halls," he said.
"Yet, I would not have you pass again there, for though you may not see it, my family still needs you, dear hir, as does your own. Your hope has passed from the world, but must you follow it?" she asked.
"I feel I must, as you follow yours," he sighed.
"Nay, you do not need to. For you have done without hope before. As for me," she smiled sadly at this, "I promised him, and I am bound by my love for him. You are not bound to Middle Earth as I am to him. Do not grieve for what fades, but rejoice in what awaits you in the far lands."
She lowered her head to his chest once more, and he held her tightly as silence fell once more over them. His breathing stilled the last of her fears of death, as her words gave him comfort.
"Glorfindel?" she asked softly in the fading night.
"Yes?" he said, running a fond hand through her hair.
"Promise me you will go to the Undying Lands after I die," she whispered, raising her head one final time to look him in the eye.
He held her gaze, his own near lifeless, but her plea reached his fading heart, and ignited a faint spark within. Cupping her delicate chin, he lay his forehead upon hers, and sighed, world weary.
"I promise, my dear one, I will go," he whispered.
Satisfied, she smiled, then brushed his cheek with a gentle kiss before laying her head upon his chest once more. No other words were spoken between them as the night drew on, and twilight fell upon them.
He felt her breaths grow shallower as her heart beat began to grow weaker, and through it all, he held her tight, and began to sing of Luthien, as her lover had sung long ago when they had first met, under the same leaves that she was dying under. As he began to finish the lay, he felt her breath stop, and her heart fade away. His tears falling silently, he lay her down, and kissing her brow, he rose to watch the sun rise.
"Namaarie, Arwen Undomiel, until the ending of the world," he whispered.