The Swan Song
Winter has come for me, can't carry on.
The Chains to my life are strong
but soon they'll be gone.
I'll spread my wings one more time.
Winter is coming to Lórien. By now the trees are almost bare, the golden leaves form a damp and thick carpet on the ground. Not even that enchanted land, now uninhabited, can resist the end of life. Everything is about to disappear, yet it does so with grace and beauty. Not even the golden leaves in the wind, so beautiful, seem dead.
And Arwen feels like those leaves. Every strength has already abandoned her. She is tired of living, of dragging on in an endless autumn. Winter has come for her; it makes no sense to postpone it.
It is time to leave this world behind. And she desires it.
She desires to see Aragorn once again.
She remembers everything - his face like those ancient statues that adorned Imladris, equally beautiful and proud. The first time they met, when the word Tinúviel sounded so harmonious and their first kiss, exchanged with enthusiasm. The long journey they made to get married, the birth of Eldarion and then...
And then that moment, when she looked at him and realized that he was no longer there, and pain began to creep into her, slow and silent, with a delicacy more painful than any violence.
She would like him to be there, she would like to feel his presence beside her, and feel alive for the last time.
Her heart seems to stop for a moment, and she realizes that now she is free to go.
Arwen lies down on the bed of golden leaves, so soft and welcoming. She smells of resin and peace. She lies down as if she were going to sleep, when she knows there will be no awakening.
And for a moment, she seems to see him, next to her, a smile on his face.
She spreads her wings and takes off, far away, towards the one she has lost and whom she can now find again.