The Evenstar has been extinguished. The Elelome, the Undómiel of her people is no more. She was declared the evening star, the final glory before the elves did fade from this world. And now they are gone. No creatures remain that do now remember them. Only the ageless trees with their roots delved deep are left to lament their passing. For only they can recall when Middle Earth was filled with the beauty, the happiness, and the sorrow of the elves. And only they live to remember a love that defied the realms of family and immortality.
The winds that rustle through the leaves of the towering trees blow whispers of the past, echoes of a rare, dark beauty and her brave and noble King. Murmurs in a now faded tongue sweep through the forest, spreading cries of love, "Nauthannen i ned ôl reniannen," and cries of death, "Law, hir nin, u-dollen i Riw". They blow whispers of a love story that surpasses all:
His heart had claimed her as its own the moment that his eyes fell upon her beauty. But his love was unrequited; his enchantress saw him only as a mortal, a life doomed to last only a blink in the eye of the eternal Undómiel. So enamored with the noble maiden was the young man that he left his elven refuge in search of himself and perchance a means to win her love. The next time he beheld the Lady Arwen, thirty seasons had come and gone. She had remained the same; her splendor unchanged. But the man she encountered amidst the forests of Imladris was not the same boy who had fallen in love with her half a lifetime ago. He had grown stronger and wiser and had acquired the nobility ensured to him by the blood that flowed through his veins. He was Aragorn, son of Arathorn; he was the heir to the throne of Gondor. And he was hers. Just as he had been taken with her the moment they crossed each others' paths, so was Arwen Undómiel captivated by Aragorn upon their second meeting. Countless days and nights slipped away, and a bond formed between the two that not even the fear of death could put asunder. On Midsummer's Eve, upon the hill of Cerin Amroth, they bound themselves to one another. But with this pledge came great sacrifice, for Arwen chose to remain with her love, forsaking the immortal life of her elven people. She chose to die. But their happiness was short lived, for a shadow that should have been defeated long ago crept back into the East; a shadow that called Aragorn to fulfill his destiny. The strength and courage he had developed on his quest for his Lady's love proved true. The Lord of the Rings was destroyed and the King of Gondor returned to power, with Arwen Undómiel at his side. After the myriad of years that had passed since he was first enraptured by the elven Evenstar, Aragorn Elessar wed Arwen as his Queen. It appeared as if the love shared between this beauteous Queen and her brave King could withstand all; all but the mortal grip of death. For although Arwen had once been immortal, her husband was not. The time she had feared since the moment she had met Aragorn had come. In his last moments, she begged him to live but he confessed to her that his time in this world had expired. He entertwined his aged fingers with her own as she wept silently, filled with more sorrow than has since ever been felt. He brought her hand up to meet his lips and as he kissed her skin, Aragorn closed his eyes and fell into the eternal sleep of death. And with him died the light that had once inhabited The Lady Undómiel.
The leaves that descend from the trees, bit by bit, one after the other, do not fall to the ground. The breath that still lingers on the wind carries them afar, through the now faded lands of Lórien, where once the great elven kingdom stood. And there they gather, mixing among a garden of the undying flowers of elanor, where once two lovers stood and pledged their eternal love and where one, the Elelome of her people, lay down to rest and forever pass away from the earth.
His heart had claimed her as its own the moment that his eyes fell upon her beauty. But his love was unrequited; his enchantress saw him only as a mortal, a life doomed to last only a blink in the eye of the eternal Undómiel. So enamored with the noble maiden was the young man that he left his elven refuge in search of himself and perchance a means to win her love. The next time he beheld the Lady Arwen, thirty seasons had come and gone. She had remained the same; her splendor unchanged. But the man she encountered amidst the forests of Imladris was not the same boy who had fallen in love with her half a lifetime ago. He had grown stronger and wiser and had acquired the nobility ensured to him by the blood that flowed through his veins. He was Aragorn, son of Arathorn; he was the heir to the throne of Gondor. And he was hers. Just as he had been taken with her the moment they crossed each others' paths, so was Arwen Undómiel captivated by Aragorn upon their second meeting. Countless days and nights slipped away, and a bond formed between the two that not even the fear of death could put asunder. On Midsummer's Eve, upon the hill of Cerin Amroth, they bound themselves to one another. But with this pledge came great sacrifice, for Arwen chose to remain with her love, forsaking the immortal life of her elven people. She chose to die. But their happiness was short lived, for a shadow that should have been defeated long ago crept back into the East; a shadow that called Aragorn to fulfill his destiny. The strength and courage he had developed on his quest for his Lady's love proved true. The Lord of the Rings was destroyed and the King of Gondor returned to power, with Arwen Undómiel at his side. After the myriad of years that had passed since he was first enraptured by the elven Evenstar, Aragorn Elessar wed Arwen as his Queen. It appeared as if the love shared between this beauteous Queen and her brave King could withstand all; all but the mortal grip of death. For although Arwen had once been immortal, her husband was not. The time she had feared since the moment she had met Aragorn had come. In his last moments, she begged him to live but he confessed to her that his time in this world had expired. He entertwined his aged fingers with her own as she wept silently, filled with more sorrow than has since ever been felt. He brought her hand up to meet his lips and as he kissed her skin, Aragorn closed his eyes and fell into the eternal sleep of death. And with him died the light that had once inhabited The Lady Undómiel.
The leaves that descend from the trees, bit by bit, one after the other, do not fall to the ground. The breath that still lingers on the wind carries them afar, through the now faded lands of Lórien, where once the great elven kingdom stood. And there they gather, mixing among a garden of the undying flowers of elanor, where once two lovers stood and pledged their eternal love and where one, the Elelome of her people, lay down to rest and forever pass away from the earth.