The power of Love

by llcyyxx

It is said that the Love of Beren and Lúthien was so great that their line would continue to the end of days. It was also said that the fate of Arda was intertwined with the Silmarils. Aphrodite was the last of the line of Lúthien, holding a Silmaril. Her fate was to do more than simply be mortal. (CaranthirxOC)

1. Silmaril

The world was slowing down again, the explosions from the buildings and the battling maiar and valar and beasts of darkness all a danger to Aphrodite, who held the Silmaril in her hands, clutched to her chest as she ran away from the agents of darkness. When they had found the first one, chaos had ensued, the second and third making their way back to Arda, the host of the valar and the Fëanorions returning to Arda. That was when she had lost her sister. It had only been yesterday that her parents had been blown apart, passing to her their weapons of old. They said that she was the descendant of Beren and Luthien, the line that would never die. But it was clear that she was going to die, on the streets of New York. The ring of Barahir on her finger almost glowed with recognition to the Elessar stone and Silmaril she held upon her person.

It was then that she ran into the seven sons of Fëanor, all fighting off a pack of orcs and Uruk-hai. They all wielded swords and were magestic, Fëanor not far off from them.

"Fëanor!" She shouted, dodging skilfully the blows from the twisted elves. He looked to her and she shouted again. "Silmaril!"

He ran over to her, but just as she was about to pass it to him, she was swept up into a pair of arms, completely confusing her.

"I thought that you had gone from the world my love, but Eonwë was wrong. You have returned to me, my goddess." The voice in her ear was one of the Fëanorions, one she recognised as Caranthir from the pictures on the news and in the history books. But it was never said who he married, nor that she had died.

But to play it safe, she simply brushed him off. "Please get off me. I know who you are, but I have never met you in person before, so I will have to request that you remove yourself from my person and let me give the Silmaril to your father."

He let go slowly, Aphrodite walking to Fëanor and passing him the Silmaril. But it resisted. It was as if it were two magnets repelling each other.

Then the shot went off. A searing pain ricocheted through her entire being as she collapsed to the ground, not attempting to resist her imminent death, as she knew she would be with her family again. Caranthir held her close to him as his brothers killed the offending being. Why he had recognised her as his love she did not know, but for now it was OK just to be held as she died. He sang softly in Quenya to her, soothing her as she fell into her deep sleep, the Silmaril emanating bright light from her chest.

Wherever her fëa ended up, she only hoped that it was more peaceful.