Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the will to write.
25. Death of the Evenstar
Come dawn of the new day, the sun poke through the thick, dark clouds for the first time in a long while and shone down upon Gondor and its surroundings. Though it offered little warmth, it still offered some comfort and consolation to those in mourning after the recent battles.
At the peak of the White City, in the citadel that now stood without a steward and leader; the fellowship along with, Elladan, Elrohir and Éomer gathered to decide the problems which billowed upon the horizon. They'd gathered early in the morning to discuss how to help Frodo and Sam destroy the Ring of Power. Though the battle at Pelennor had been won, hardships yet lay ahead. Should the two hobbits not manage their quest, their whole world would topple and fall to ruin. Each hour Frodo and Sam spent in Mordor was another hour they risked being found out. Something had to be done to draw Sauron's attention away from his own volcanic lands.
Gandalf stood in the center of the grand throne room, addressing his eager crowd. Though Arwen saw the passion and determination with which the white wizard spoke, she could not make out a single word. His voice was distant to her elf ears, seemingly coming from the other end of a crowded hall. Arwen herself stood to the side, between Legolas and Éomer, who both listened intently to the wizard. Arwen knew it did not matter if she heard or contributed, she would be too weak to join in any final assault against the dark lord anyway.
Arwen could barely focus her gaze upon any of the men in the room. She felt weary with fatigue, drained and exhausted to the bone. She was well aware that her cold skin all but matched the paleness of the dress she wore. Aragorn had held her through the remaining night, and yet her mind could not settle nor her body find rest. His arms were safe, but no longer enough. Sauron's powers were too strong now for her to man the battlements of her soul. Sauron's desperation was plain in his attempts. It seemed he knew his enemies were fast approaching, and his doom close at hand.
Arwen let her eyes travel across the room to the other members of the fellowship there gathered.
Opposite from her in the large room stood Boromir alongside the two hobbits. As the eldest son of lord Denethor, Boromir would be granted the title of steward once everything settled. Arwen watched the white tree upon the fabric of his jerkin seemingly dance in and out of focus. She knew Boromir would be a most loyal servant to Aragorn, having already sworn allegiance to the king, and a most worthy steward.
Pippin, by the Gondorian's side, kept a close guard over Merry's health and never left his friend's side. Arwen knew that both hobbits had grown, both in spirit and height, after their long journey all the way from the Shire. They had seen much death and despair, and yet the little ones held more hope in their hearts than the grown Men that stood around them. Arwen remained inspired by their enthusiasm.
On the right hand side stood Gimli to himself, his intent eyes transfixed upon the talking wizard. The dwarf, too, had grown in spirit and Arwen held him in high respect. She knew a warm, lasting friendship had formed between Gimli and Legolas and hoped they would both survive 'til the end of this. If they did, Arwen was assured that they would never part sides.
Arwen turned to the left, and glanced at the tall steps that led up to the imposing throne beside her. Beneath the throne stood Aragorn, his arms crossed over his red shirt. His stern countenance nodded to whatever Gandalf had said. As if feeling her gaze, Aragorn let his eyes travel to meet hers across the abyss. He offered her a brief smile, despite it all. She returned the gesture and watched as he turned back to Gandalf, opening his mouth and adding something to the conversation that she still did not hear. His faint voice soon sank into the emptiness of forgetting.
As a wave of darkness swept over her, Arwen shut her eyes tight. She once more attempted to ground herself in the conversation, but now she heard nothing than the dull, irregular beats of her own heart. Her lips and throat were dry like a desert, but no beverage could dampen them. Her hunger could not be sated. Her eyes burned with a fever she did not feel. Her body remained cool to the touch, yet a fire burned internally. A shiver rocked her body as the heat and ice met in her belly.
Legolas saw the subtle shiver and silently glanced down at Arwen by his side. By now they all knew or had guessed of her predicament, and of her tenacity to withstand the shadow. Legolas knew Arwen had refused to be left out of this meeting, and the others had not questioned her choice. She was as much a part of this as they were. Still, as beads of sweat appeared upon her brow, Legolas saw the demons she battled in silence.
Faintly, Arwen became aware that Aragorn was talking of a diversion to buy their friends some time and to get the attention of Sauron. She opened her eyes once more and tried to understand how she knew this without hearing. The only conclusion she could reach was that her bond to Aragorn remained strong. While Sauron's hold over her was fleeting in comparison, her bond with Aragorn was everlasting.
Her vision once more faded into darkness. Arwen shook her head to dispel it from the evils that lurked within. She blinked rapidly and tried to focus on Aragorn's blurry figure ahead of her. Suddenly the throne room faded away, and in its place she saw a dark, vast landscape, filled with lose rocks upon a steep hillside. She smelled sulphur on the air and the rank smell lingered around her. Suddenly. from behind a rock, Frodo stumbled out before her, Sam close behind. Both hobbits were clad in strange, dark armors with black helms. Then, Frodo raised his head and his eyes met Arwen's across the gap of space and time that divided them. He stopped and tugged off his helmet. Frodo was pale as death, dark circles beneath his blue eyes, as his wide gaze beheld Arwen in disbelief. The Ring still hung around his neck, the chain having caused visible scars upon his neck and throat.
"Tolo dan nan galad," Arwen's voice echoed back to them through the corridor of time, all the way from their first meeting that now seemed so long ago. (Come back to the light)
Much like Frodo, Arwen felt wonderment upon seeing this strange vision. Their connection, she wondered, must have grown stronger this close to Mordor. Arwen drew another breath, and the image once more faded into nothingness. The deep black stretched out around her.
Arwen felt a tingling sensation at the base of her spine that crept up her body like a spider across a web. She closed her eyes and when she opened them, found that the darkness had gone and that she was once more in the throne room. Her relief was short lived, for before her she saw him.
Standing in the middle of the throne room, in between Aragorn and Gandalf's blurry shapes, was Sauron himself. He was at least two heads taller than any of them and wore the black, rough armor of his glory days, which made him a dominating presence in the room. Arwen felt panic rise inside her chest and she wanted to run, but her limbs would not listen to her pleas. No matter how much she willed it, she could not turn her gaze away from his imposing figure. It did not matter that she knew it was another vision for her eyes only, a manifestation meant to frighten her closer to death. Her fears would not diminish.
Sauron slowly turned his head to glance at Aragorn by the throne, before turning his attention back to Arwen. His heavy, armored feet took a long stride forward, and wherever he stepped darkness seemed to flow. In a dark, haunting growl, Sauron's whisper filtered through the black helmet, "Undomíel..."
Arwen recoiled and felt horror spread inside her. The sharp flinch of her body did not go unnoticed by Legolas and Aragorn, who quickly turned their eyes to her. The latter frowned as he tried to understand the terror that lingered in her wide, azure eyes. A storm was building up within her gaze. Aragorn gazed about in an attempt to see whatever Arwen's eyes were transfixed upon. There was nothing behind him, nothing for her to fear within these high walls. Worry spread through his own heart as Aragorn realized her vision was transfixed upon something within her mind. Aragorn's eyes connected with Legolas' pale ones and the elf nodded as he subtly moved another step closer to Arwen.
Arwen, meanwhile, had forgotten about the rest of the world, which had dimmed like waning flames around her. All that remained now was Sauron's imposing figure as he continued stalking towards her.
"Izg sringkshsa-ob lat, Burz-ulurag," Sauron's dark voice hissed in the black tongue as he strode forward. (I know who you are, Evenstar)
Arwen's breath caught in her throat. She wanted to call out for help but no sound seemed to escape past the fortress of her lips. She stood immobile as Sauron came closer and closer. The darkness expanded within her chest as her heart slowed by some force she could not control. Everything inside of her was now touched by bitter frost, but still she fought to withstand him.
"Lat kul kaalob ash paashnar hontum marr-ub uliima," Sauron continued as he came to a halt mere feet in front of Arwen. He towered over her and forced Arwen to gaze up at the helmet clad visage. "Koh kul skaat... Rad vrasubatlat." (You are the hope of one I cannot see take the throne. The time has come... Now you die.)
Fear attempted to claw its way out of Arwen's stomach as she saw the armor clad creature slowly raise a dark hand towards her. The shadow within balanced upon the brink of consuming her as the last of the elven life seemingly fled her body.
"Ash nazg durbatulûk..." (One Ring to rule them all)
With those words, the large, ironclad hand closed around Arwen's throat. At his painful touch, the whole world faded into darkness.
Legolas was the first to react as Arwen fell, and he swiftly turned in time to catch her. The discussion faltered as everyone turned to see Legolas kneeling on the ground with the unconscious Arwen in his arms.
"Arwen!" Aragorn cried as he rushed over and threw himself down beside the elves. It appeared to all that Arwen was still as dead, and it was not 'til Aragorn touched her cheek that she seemed to draw breath. Arwen's skin remained cold beneath Aragorn's touch, however, and she did not stir.
"What happened?" Aragorn asked and whipped his head towards Gandalf behind him. He silently pleaded with the wizard to be swift now, there was no time to lose.
Gandalf stood pensive for a second and said nothing as grim determination slowly crept into his features. He seemed to be able to see and understand something neither Aragorn nor the others could. Gandalf turned his weary gaze to Aragorn and breathed, "Get her to the Houses of Healing!"
Aragorn immediately hauled Arwen into his arms and adjusted her weight before he rose. Arwen's head rolled back as she hung limp in his strong arms and Aragorn held onto her with everything he was worth. He stumbled hurriedly from the room with his precious cargo, and the others followed close behind.
As he entered the Houses of Healing along with Elrohir and Elladan making a path, Aragorn was met with gasps from both patients and nurses that occupied the vast chamber. He ignored them all as he gazed about in search of a suitable bed for his beloved.
"My lord!" Éowyn cried out as she ran up to him with Faramir close behind. The shield maiden's gaze was wide in fright and one of her hands reached out for Arwen's head. "What has happened?"
"She is fading," Aragorn admitted and could not keep the pain from his voice. His gaze fell to Arwen's peaceful face and he felt utterly lost. He did not know what to think or how to help her now. As he saw her skin lose more of its shimmer, he felt all of his thoughts fade along with its light.
"She needs a bed. Quickly now," Gandalf ordered as he stepped in through the door behind them and quickly took charge of the situation.
"Please, take her to my chamber," Éowyn offered and swiftly led the way further into the Houses of Healing.
The fair maiden led them through narrow corridors and into an adjoining house made of the whitest marble. Aragorn carried Arwen with strict determination, never once faltering as he steadfastly followed Éowyn. Beside him, Aragorn was aware that Merry and Pippin helped clear a path for them. He saw their wide eyes stare up at Arwen every now and again, as tense fear hung around their little bodies like cloaks. He knew what was going through their minds, but knew no words to calm them.
Aragorn once more glanced down at Arwen and saw her breast lift and fall with uneven breaths. If he had not, he would have sworn she looked pale as dead.
Éowyn opened the door to her chamber and Aragorn stepped inside. He walked over to the large bed in the middle of the room and gently placed Arwen down upon the covers. With the faint sun making its way through the window, Arwen seemed even paler and closer to death than before.
Aragorn stumbled back as Gandalf knelt beside the bed to have a better look at the patient. Aragorn turned and saw that the room had flooded with friends and family. Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas, Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Éomer, Faramir and Éowyn had all spread out by the foot of the bed. No one spoke a word, all watching and waiting on baited breath.
Aragorn's lungs burned with the need to breathe as he took another step back. His gaze sought out Arwen's sickly face. On fatigued legs he sank onto his knees by the foot of the bed and reached out a trembling hand to touch Arwen's calf. He hoped she could sense his presence and that she could still draw strength from him even as she rushed towards death's embrace. He refused to allow her to leave him now.
"Please, Gandalf..." Aragorn managed with a far weaker voice than he'd himself expected. He had no strength left as Arwen's fate, along with his own, dangled above an endless, black gap.
Gandalf turned his grim attention to Aragorn.
"It is Sauron," the wizard verified and a dark shadow swept across his stern face. "I am afraid he is desperately using his strengths and tricks to bring you both down, Aragorn. What we have feared is now upon us. I ant e guil Arwen Undómiel firuva.... There is nothing neither you nor I can do for her." (I fear the grace of Arwen Evenstar will fade)
Aragorn shook his head in disbelief. He had healing hands, and yet could not help her. Gandalf, too, possessed much wisdom in the art of healing, and yet he was powerless against this foe. This Aragorn could not believe. There had to be a way. A thought struck him like lightning from the heavens above. With new determination, he rose from the floor and met Gandalf's gaze. "Yes, there is."
Before Gandalf or any of the others had a chance to react, Aragorn turned and rushed from the room. The sound of his swift feet down the hallway echoed through the corridors.
Pippin glanced between his friends in surprise. "Where is he going...?"
The pale light illuminated the white throne room as Aragorn opened the massive gates and stepped inside. There was no sign of their previous meeting, nor its unfortunate turn, upon the white stones as the former ranger determinedly strode further inside the empty hall. His heels echoed against the tiles as he stalked towards the throne itself. He lowered his gaze towards the Steward's humble seat and the Palantír that rested upon it. The orb had been secretly kept by Denethor, and though it had caused much pain, Aragorn knew he could use it for his own advantage now.
Aragorn removed the cloth which had covered the stone, and had thus prohibited Sauron from seeing anything. He paused as he gazed down at the blank surface of the round stone. For the first time since making the decision to follow this path, Aragorn hesitated.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He had to do this, for Arwen. This was the only way he could contact Sauron and hope to throw the dark lord off balance. He could still intimidate Sauron, and he'd do anything now to scare Sauron. He would do whatever it took to free his beloved from the dark forces which controlled her mind. Even if it meant to finally confront his eldest enemy whom had stalked his bloodline for many generations.
Slowly, Aragorn knelt in front of the Steward's chair and lifted the Palantír into his calloused hand with newfound determination. Within seconds he saw dark shapes take form within the orb and the Eye of Sauron revealed itself. The eye burned with flames, though the stone remained cool, as Sauron scrutinized Aragorn for the first time.
"Long have you hunted me," Aragorn began and his voice was laden with anger. He steeled his mind so that Sauron could not enter and read his thoughts. He would not show weakness like Isildur had before him. "Long have I eluded you. But no more. I will be King, like my ancestors before me and my children after I'm dead. I will prevail and prove that the strength that once was my bloodline has not faltered."
Aragorn drew Andúril from its sheath and held it up close to his face to ensure Sauron was forced to look upon it. He felt Sauron's anger and fear mingle in his grasp. "Behold, Andúril, the sword that slew you has been reforged. The mark of my people's power. The mark of my power. Anything you do to me, I will repay you tenfold so thread with caution."
The great eye narrowed and Aragorn sensed something shift within. He suddenly felt cold inside. The image in the orb faded and shadows danced across the Palantír. Aragorn squinted as he attempted to see what Sauron was showing him, but everything became painstakingly clear soon enough. The Palantír cleared to show the visage of Arwen.
Aragorn felt his breath catch in his throat as he glanced down at the image of the chamber he had just left. By Arwen's bedside, the orb showed a sobbing Éowyn with tears streaming down her fair face. The others stood around the bed, with their heads downcast. Aragorn's heart constricted inside his chest, for he well knew the meaning of this. The Palantír could not tell lies. Panic rose within him 'til he could no longer think straight.
Aragorn dropped the Palantír back onto the chair and threw the cloth over it once more. He stumbled back and, as he did, felt the Evenstar pendant slip from around his neck.
With wide, frantic eyes, Aragorn was forced to watch as the gleaming pendant plunged towards the cold stone floor.
Arwen inhaled sharply as she was yanked back from the dark wells. Her eyes shot open and she found herself within a white room she did not recognize. "Where am I?"
She heard several sharp gasps and the shuffle of feet around her. Éowyn was the first to appear in her line of sight. The fair maiden's smile dazzled the sun itself and a tear spilled from her eyes as she gazed down at Arwen.
"You are in the Houses of Healing, milady," Éowyn explained as she sat down on the covers next to Arwen. Arwen felt the bed dip slightly and felt confusion linger around her. "You are safe here. You will be taken care of."
"Safe?" Arwen asked in a frail voice and her unfocused gaze searched for Éowyn's. "I am not safe..."
"Milady?" Éowyn asked and her brow furrowed in confusion.
Elrohir and Elladan sank onto the bed on Arwen's other side. Arwen felt their concern as vividly as she felt her own, and turned towards them with a faint smile. She extended a shaking hand towards them and both of her brothers reached back across the divide and clutched hers tightly. Both her brothers smiled even as tears welled up in their eyes. She knew they kept their emotions at bay as to not cause her more concerns now at the twilight of her life.
"Do not cry for my passing. All will be well," Arwen whispered soothingly. "Tell father I was at peace at the end."
"Do not speak such words, baby sister," Elrohir whispered as a tear rolled from the corner of his eye. "You will be well."
"We are past lies, Elrohir. I cannot linger for long..." Arwen said. She turned and glanced over her brothers' shoulders. "Gandalf, my old friend, will you help me explain?"
Gandalf leaned on his white staff as he bowed his head. "Boe naid bain gwannathar. Boe cuil ban firitha... This is the end, I'm afraid." (All things must pass away. All life is doomed to fade.)
"No!" Merry cried as he turned his tear-filled eyes up at the wizard while Pippin sobbed beside him. Boromir placed hands of comfort on their little shoulders. Merry fervently continued, "This cannot be the end! We're so close to winning, she cannot die now! Please, stop this! Help her!"
"I wish I could, Meriadoc," Gandalf admitted in a low voice as tears filled his own pale eyes.
"Gandalf," Arwen managed past her pain. "I saw them... Frodo and Samwise, they are deep within Mordor now. They are near but running out of time..."
Gandalf inclined his head in understanding and offered her a brief smile. Arwen returned the gesture as she sank back onto the bed, her eyelids growing heavy.
"No, you must not leave!" Éowyn urged and took a firm hold of Arwen's hand. Éowyn seemed startled by the coldness of it but held back her concern. Instead, she squeezed it all the more tight within her own, as if attempting to pull Arwen back to the light. "Lord Aragorn is not here yet. You cannot leave him. At least stay and say farewell to him!"
"Estel..." Arwen breathed and a lone tear rolled down the side of her pale cheek. "I wish I could have seen him one last time..."
"There will be time, we'll find it! Aragorn left the room only a short while ago. I am certain we can bring him back here, and that he can help you overcome this! Somebody, fetch Aragorn!" Éowyn called out desperately.
Legolas immediately rushed out of the room and the others exchanged knowing glances as the elf disappeared down the corridor. Time was not something they had in abundance, and what little remained was not enough. Either way, time alone could not heal this particular illness. From the corner of the chamber, Gimli cleared his throat and exhaled deeply as he sank onto a chair. Arwen smiled at him, and he offered her the ghost of a saddened grin in return.
Arwen glanced at her friends in the chamber and her eyelids grew heavier with every second that passed. The darkness that embraced her was starting to feel like an old friend. She was not frightened. There was no turning back from this. All she had left to give was hope for the future. Hope Frodo destroyed the Ring, hope Aragorn would embrace his future, hope that all would be well.
Suddenly the bed dipped beside her feet and Arwen glanced down at the unfamiliar figure who'd sat himself down upon the covers. It was a young, handsome boy, no older than fifteen, with dark hair that reached his shoulders and sparkling blue eyes. He wore pale Gondorian clothes that made the colors in his eyes swim like that of the sea. He held her gaze across the abyss and smiled down at her.
"Who are you?" Arwen asked in a frail voice. She did not know this boy, and yet he felt confusingly familiar. There was something pleasing and warm about his presence, like the warmest of embraces. Something in his features that reminded her of someone.
"Eldarion I eneth nin," the young man answered. (My name is Eldarion.)
"Amin sinta lle...?" Arwen frowned. (Do I know you?)
Eldarion smiled back. It was an open, honest grin that lit up his entire face. "Lle naa lye naneth." (You are our mother.)
Arwen held her breath. She felt her eyes widen in awe as she beheld the child. She did not trust her ears, yet knew her eyes did not lie to her. This young boy had many of Aragorn's striking features, but her eyes and pointed ears. "Mani ume lle quena?" (What did you say?)
"Avo 'osto, nana," the boy said and his smile turned solemn. (Do not worry, mother.)
Then, the young man started to sing. His voice rang clear and fine, cutting through the darkness with light;
"With a sigh
You turn away
With a deepening heart
No more words to say
You will find
That the world has changed
Forever
And the trees are now
Turning from green to gold
And the sun is now fading
I wish I could hold you
Closer"
As his voice diminished into the corners of the room, Eldarion held Arwen's gaze. At length, he bowed his head and peacefully faded into nothingness. Arwen settled her head back upon the pillow as serenity at last overtook her mind.
She turned back to her brothers and once more squeezed their hands. Both Ellahan and Elrohir sniffled, and their emotions stopped words from passing their lips. Arwen let her eyes roam across the solemn faces around her in the room; friends and family she had met along the way, people who had become a large part of her life and whom she would not have survived without. She offered them all a calm smile. Then, Arwen closed her eyes.
"It is time..." Arwen whispered and drew her final breath.
And so it came to pass that the Evenstar of the Elves faded from Middle Earth and was no more.
To be continued...?
Note: Bear with me on the Black speech. I "google translated". I tried.