A/N: I don't own Arwen, Aragorn, Legolas, ect... but these words are my own. Arwen did die of a broken heart, but this is my take on it.
Soft music filtered from the stone city as a great funeral was held for the greatest king. Songs were sang, verses recited, and the beautiful queen of Gondor stepped up to the casket, her black dress and veil glimmering in the moonlight. Her words were spoken, a last kiss bestowed upon the king. She retreated and watched as they bore her love away. Her son and daughters wailed beside her. Silent tears trickled down her face, which was clouded by grief. Her fair features masked the true despair, buried deep down inside of her. As the final notes of the song faded, the elf-maiden turned and disappeared into the forests.
Months passed. Few saw Arwen, and even fewer heard her speak. Her son ruled with a firm hand, but under him, his mother faded. Her beauty, so often praised, seemed to change. Her eyes grew dull and vacant. Many began to whisper of a passing shadow, and a hanging grief. Clouds seemed to gather over the city of Minas Tirith.
Arwen hovered on the steps of the crypt, tears in her eyes, dark mourning gown blowing in the wind. Her fingers traced the stone memorial of her husband, his likeness carved by dwarves into the marble. Legolas came to stand beside her. He bent to kiss the statue's forehead, and then retreated into the dark forest. Gimli turned as well, leaving the queen to her sorrow. All those who watched felt a sadness that could not be cured.
More time passed. In three weeks time, it would be a year since the dear king had passed. The queen grew ever more distant, and her children worried. Their mother seemed to weaken with each passing day, until she no longer possessed the strength to rise from her bed. The gathering storm broke out as Arwen lay there, her friends gathered around her, yet she saw and heard nothing, for her heart was slowly breaking.
Darkness gathered for twenty days and twenty nights. The once lively queen wasted to a mere shadow of the woman that the people of Gondor knew and loved. On the twenty-first evening, the elf-maiden lifted her head.
"Aragorn," she whispered. And as day turned to night, her spirit rose to embrace her dead love.
Arwen Evenstar was alone no more.
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