Based on "Breathe No More" by Evanescence (written by Amy Lee)
I've been looking in the mirror for so long
That I've come to believe my soul's on the other side
Eldarion watched his mother's burdened steps as she walked. They were not what they had once been. Arwen had always glided over the ground, a heavenly star captured still in its brightest beauty. But she was Mortal now, her steps lacking their Elven grace and heavy not just with bitter grief, but with acceptance as well. She had known of the price all along, and had still chosen the loving path.
Arwen paused at the mirror in the corridor, unaware of her son's troubled eyes. She inevitably stopped dead at her own reflection these days. It was always empty. She only saw herself. After seeing Aragorn's reflection beside her for six-score years, it still shocked her to see herself alone, without her forever king and lover. Estel was gone. Hope was gone. The Evenstar grieved, finally fading away in the presence of the dawn.
All the little pieces falling, shatter
Shards of me, too sharp to put back together
Too small to matter
But big enough to cut me into so many little pieces
If I try to touch her…
It was all wrong. Estel was missing. It was not supposed to be this way. Helpless, Arwen reached out her hand, hoping that her solitary image was a mere deception of the mirror. As she did, though, another form joined her, and it was not her son.
Young and graceful once more, Aragorn smiled at her the way he always had, mischievous yet wise, beckoning to his Evenstar. His voice and his words came to her ears once again. Tinúviel! If you are not she, then you walk in her likeness. Lady Undómiel, the hour is indeed hard, yet it was made even in that day when we met…When we forsook both the Shadow and the Twilight this doom we accepted…To repent and go to the Havens and bear away to the West the memory of our days together shall be evergreen, but no more than a memory… We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory1. But right as her fingers were just about to touch the mirror, he vanished.
Arwen cried out weakly. "No—" she whispered. "Estel, le melon… Come back, Estel! I love you..." But Aragorn was gone.
And I bleed,
I bleed,
And I breathe
I breathe no more
The tears slid down her cheeks, one by one. It tortured Eldarion beyond belief to see his mother so. Nearly all the fairness she had once possessed had left her, save for the glowing beauty in her face. Her shoulders shook and trembled. If only Estel had lived until his beloved tired of this life, and then perhaps her Mortal fate would taste sweeter. But Elessar's time had come all too soon, ripping Arwen's heart away as his valiant spirit finally passed into the Halls of Mandos.
Take a breath and I try to draw from my spirit's well
Yet again you refuse to drink like a stubborn child
Lie to me, convince me that I've been sick forever
And all this will make sense when I get better
But I know the difference
Between myself and my reflection
I just can't help but to wonder
Which of us do you love?
If only she could pass softly, Eldarion thought. There was nothing to be done to ease Arwen's suffering. A broken heart was as serious a wound as any, and far more difficult to heal than a gruesome battle injury. For an Elf, it was a long, slow, painful death, cold and unchanging. Why must she suffer so?
Their love was that strong, he realized, remembering his father's words to him many years ago. Adar would have willingly watched her sail away and let go of his heart, just so she would not die. But he loved her so much that he let her make her own choice.
"Ai, naneth…" Eldarion took his mother in his arms and held her to his chest as she shook. She was cold, a sign that she was already dying. But she did not weep. "Mórië utúlië." Darkness is coming. "Le melon, naneth."
"My son…" Finally, Arwen raised her head and gazed at her young King. "My time approaches even as we speak. Stars must face at daybreak; that mortal light will find me in Lórien. Behold, the final journey of Arwen Undómiel."
"No!" Eldarion refused to let his mother hurry towards death. The Evenstar should not be merely cast away into darkness. Arwen deserved to pass with the grace and dignity of so high an Elven Queen of Men. Surely she should spend her last days with those she loved, in peace and happiness, surrounded by the memories of the life she had spent with Aragorn. "No, naneth! You cannot go yet. You must smile at the sun and remember the joy in this world. The day cannot break without twilight."
Arwen smiled. She, too, wished to pass in grace. She wished to return to Lórien, the land of her mother's kin, and be close to her once more before she died. "I have done so, my son. It is time. I will part and fade in peace. Those I love should not suffer at my passing. The Valar keep you, my son. Le melon, Eldarion, namárië."
Arwen could not describe her sorrow to her son. She was tired of seeing the empty mirror, reminding her of what she had lost and what awaited her, never letting her simply accept her fate and remember Aragorn as he had been. Her reflection haunted her constantly as her light began to fade. The star grew colder with every passing day. She had not yet tired of life, but still her spirit was lessening.
And I bleed,
I bleed,
And I breathe
Breathe no more
And so she rode. For all her son's anguished pleading, Arwen parted her kingdom and began her final journey. Eldarion the King set his mother lovingly upon his own fine white horse, her shoulders draped with cloaks of shadow as stars glittered upon her face and brow, maiden of the twilight. He could not stay Arwen's suffering with his love, but he could free her gently to the doom she had chosen long ago. His eyes filled with tears as his mother spoke her final words to him and to his sisters. Then Arwen turned the stallion west and rode toward Lothlórien.
All the people of the city lined the streets and bowed, crying, as she rode by. It was silently understood what was happening. Beyond Minas Tirith, subjects of Gondor stopped in their tracks and wept and watched her pass like fading hope. Arwen was leaving one last time. For hours, no one moved. Her beauty had captivated them as she left, the last and faintest star of the night slipping toward the fiery horizon. The precious Evenstar would not be among them much longer. She had parted and was returning at last to the land of her people, never to be seen again.
And I bleed,
I bleed,
And I breathe
Breathe no more
Twilight fell as Arwen halted her son's white stallion. Far above her head, the stately treetops of Lothlórien swayed softly in the breeze as their leaves drifted softly to the ground. The forests of Caras Galadhon were empty now, Galadriel and Celeborn and all their folk long since passed into the West. Delicate white niphredil and elanor still blossomed in the grass, the way they had so long ago as she pledged herself to the Lord of the Dúnedain under the birch trees of Imladris. They seemed to welcome her to rest, a faint reminder of days long ago.
Silently, she found the very hill where she and Aragorn had made their choice. Arwen settled herself upon the shadowed grass. She had felt this way once before as the Shadow from the East began to smother her life, in the days when the struggle against evil had been most dear. All hope had depended on Isildur's heir, not just for the life of the Evenstar but for all of Middle-Earth, all that had once been and all that would one day come to pass. She had grown tired, her hands frightfully cold in her father's, as darkness began to fall. Darkness was falling now, taking with it the Evenstar, Arwen Undómiel.
A curious muzzle sniffed her, liquid dark eyes blinking down. Eldarion's stallion had not left his rider. He sensed that something was happening, something to forever change the world. He knew Arwen was dying.
"Go," she told him. "Return to the city and send my love and my memory back to my people. It is they who need it most. Celo, Lossenhir2! Go! For Estel!"
The white horse nuzzled her one last time, wheeled around snorting, and galloped off eastward toward the White City.
More of the mallorn leaves fell as the breeze swelled, brushing against her cheeks and making strands of dark hair dance in the twilight. "At last, it is my time," she said. "My heart is bound to him. I have accepted my fate. Adar, Naneth, my brothers, my children and my people, remember my love. Ai, Estel! I am coming." She closed her eyes one last time and fell asleep as the starless night settled over Lothlórien.
And I bleed,
I bleed,
And I breathe
Breathe no more
Not long after his mother had left, Eldarion watched his stallion pick his way back up to the Citadel and hurried out to meet the horse under the White Tree. Lossenhir held two flowers in his teeth, one elanor and one niphredil.
Eldarion took them in his hands. "Alas!" he murmured, weeping, "for these shall no longer bloom in this land." He knew that Arwen's time of passing had finally come. The two blossoms were preserved in the Halls of the King, where they remained in as full a flower as they had been in the forest of Lothlórien. But others of their kind were never seen to grow again. They, too, had passed with the Evenstar.
Bleed
I bleed
And I breathe
I breathe no more
The wind was cold. Arwen shivered, alone in the whipping snow. This must be the Hall of Mandos, the home of departed mortals and Elven souls that had endured the pain of death in battle. Perhaps Lúthien and Beren would be here somewhere, with Haldir of Lothlórien, killed at Helm's Deep, and the great kings Elendil and Gil-Galad of the Elder Days. But surely Aragorn had been taken to some grander place as the noble and valiant lord and king he was, a place for warriors and the greatest of the great. At least Arwen would not be alone.
A hand settled on her shoulder. Its touch was familiar, warm and strong and gentle. She shrugged away the beloved memory that came with it. The hand reminded her of Estel's, but she would not find him here.
The hand pulled her hair back away from her face. "Arwen, meleth nîn, look behind you," a voice whispered in her ear.
Arwen felt her breast flood with warmth and joy as she did so. It was him. "Estel…" she breathed.
Aragorn pulled her close to his chest. "Arwen… we are beyond the world, love. Do you remember what I have said? There is so much more here than memory."
"Yes," she sighed. "There is."
Return of the King: Appendix A, "V. The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen"(Tolkien 370-378)
Celo, Lossenhir! Sindarin, "Go, Snow River!" (Horse's name)