"Mistress! Mistress, come quickly!"
Roused by her handmaiden's desperate cries, Arwen rose quickly from the bed, wrapping herself in a thick robe.
"What is it, Nora?"
"It is Lady Shimalya. She's missing. Her bed has not been slept in!"
"Have you checked everywhere?" Alarm grew within her. "The gardens? The stables?"
"Her cloak is in her room, and she is nowhere within the walls of the city. I have already checked. But a sentry- he said there was a pair of footprints in the snow when the sun rose. Small, like a woman's. Bare. He saw no one during the night, but someone left. Mistress-"
"Summon my husband, Nora."
"I already have. He's out even now, searching for her."
Legolas sat across from his father in the library where scrolls and scrolls of history sat on stone shelves cut out of the walls of the cave. Thranduil had remained silent during the telling of his tales, which carried them long into the night and into morning, which Legolas could sense, was just beginning. He had told everything, leaving out only Shimalya's molestation within the Fortress of Torrech.
"You speak very well of this woman, Shimalya," Thranduil said after a long silence. "I sense from your words you have strong feelings for her."
"I do, Father. I care very much for her."
"You love her, you mean. Do not mince words with me, Son. Speak plainly."
"I love her, Father. I wish to wed her, if she will consent." When his father sighed heavily, Legolas pushed through. "In all my years, I have met none like her. And I know I never will again."
"She's a mortal, Legolas. You are my son. You cannot wed her."
"I have four older brothers for you to pass your crown to." He was desperate. Though he was honored as a warrior throughout Middle Earth, only his father made him feel like a mere child. "Why does it matter who I wed?"
"Legolas, my son." Thranduil gazed sadly at his son. "It is not your blood that prevents it, but my love for you. Years pass more swiftly for us than they do for mortals. Your life with her will be over before you know it. But for her, it will be a lifetime, and in that lifetime, she will age. Her body will weaken, perhaps even her mind. And all the while, she will never forgive you that you remain young and unchanged. Her heart, however great it is, will come to loathe the sight of you, the reminder of what she once was and will never be again. And one day, she will die, as is the fate of her kind, and part of you will pass with her. I'm sorry. I cannot willingly allow you to cause yourself the pain this union will bring.
"Now, go son. Your travel was very long, and I have kept you up longer than I should have. Go and rest. I will see you again when you have slept."
Aragorn rode swiftly, following the tracks left behind in the early hours of morning. Shimalya's tracks were clear, left untouched in the night as they were made after the snow had subsided. Though the chill air was biting, it warmed as the sun rose. He pushed his mount harder, desperate to find the young woman before her tracks were lost in the melting snow.
Suddenly, he spotted her, stumbling along just inside the forest in nothing but her shift. Her arms were wrapped convulsively around her body, which was shivering noticeably as he rode up on her.
"Shimalya."
She did not answer. Did not even turn her head toward him. He could see the puffs of warm air about her mouth as she spoke to herself.
"I will not bring him back. I cannot allow him to come into this world again. Not while I have breath in my body." She stumbled, her arms too weak to catch herself, and fell to the ground.
Aragorn jumped from his mount, quickly whipping his cloak from his shoulders and wrapping it around the lady. Her skin was gray. Her hands, frozen. It was only at his touch that her eyes focused on him.
"Let me die, your majesty. I beg you, let me die."
"That, I cannot do, Shimalya. Legolas would never forgive me if I allowed it." She whimpered as he lifted her from the ground and sat her on his horse. Then, climbing up behind her, he pushed his mount hard, riding for the city.
"Father, do you truly believe I have not thought hard on this?" Legolas had roused himself only an hour before, and had continued his conversation with his father at the first chance he had found. A meal.
"If you believe you will marry her, then you have not."
"Do you not remember what you felt when you first fell in love?"
"Indeed, I do. But the match was much more suitable, Legolas. Do not compare this woman to your mother. It is not your love, which troubles me, but the short span you will have to share it. Unless this Shimalya suddenly wakes up one morning and finds herself an immortal, then you will not be allowed to wed her. Now please, can we talk of something other than this? You have been home for only a day, and I do not wish this to be the only thing we discuss."
Angered, Legolas rose from the table, but was stayed for a moment when Cranduil gripped his arm.
"Listen to him, Legolas. She may love you today for who you are, but she will despise you for the very same tomorrow. It is better to love her as she is now and never see again, than to invite that contempt into her heart."
Legolas pulled his arm roughly from his brother's grip and stalked from the room.
Arwen quietly left Shimalya's bedside and found her husband waiting for her in the hallway. He sat on the floor, his back to the wall, but quickly found his feet when he saw her.
"How is she?" he asked, the concern evident in his voice.
"I have done what I can," she answered, "But even my skills cannot return life where it is not desired. Shimalya does not wish to live, and I do not believe she shall."
"I don't understand," he told her. His eyes were tired as he looked on his wife. She had been by the lady's bed all day and night. "Why does she not wish to live? What has happened?"
Arwen took Aragorn's hand.
"What I will tell you, Legolas can never know." Aragorn stared at her, unsure whether this was a promise he could make. "It is her wish, my love. Whether she lives or no, he shall not know." When he nodded, she continued. "Last night, Shimalya learned she was with child. Not by our friend," she said when his face changed, "but by he who sought to possess what he had no right to. Even now, she feels it is an evil growing inside her, and she is willing to destroy herself in order to stop it."
"You're sure of this?"
"I suspected even before we learned the truth. Shimalya carries Karak's child."
Legolas sat by his father's side in the midst of the forest during negotiations with Celeborn concerning their kingdoms. Celeborn noticed the young man was distant throughout, quite changed from the elf he had seen only two years before. When he voiced his concern to Thranduil in private, the king only answered that he was love-stricken, and that it would soon pass. Galadriel only did not dismiss the young elf's demeanor so quickly. She watched him carefully in the days that followed, but said nothing until the business of the woods had been decided.
Arwen stayed always by Shimalya's side, watching as her body weakened and her breathing labored. Her face was hot to the touch, and the queen did all she could to make the young woman comfortable. Fluid had begun to fill her lungs, and deep coughs often erupted from the otherwise silent figure on the bed, for she no longer had the strength to speak. In a few days, she lapses into a deep sleep, from which, Arwen feared, she would never awaken.
Negotiations ceased. Legolas readied to return to Mirkwood with his father, though there was no joy in it. He had been forbidden to speak again of his desire to wed Shimalya, and it weighed heavily on his mind. Galadriel called to him as Thranduil made his goodbyes to Celeborn, and Legolas was all too happy to escape his father for a few moments.
"Legolas Greenleaf, you are unhappy here."
"I am, My Lady."
She looked deeply into his eyes, and he knew she was reading his thoughts as his mind filled with the image of Shimalya. But her eyes, he noticed, were sad.
"Go back to Gondor!" she said suddenly. Though her voice was hushed, Legolas noticed his father turn at the urgency of it. "Do not delay!"
"What is it, Galadriel?" Celeborn asked, turning toward her.
"Legolas must return to Gondor. He must leave this moment."
Without waiting for leave from his father, Legolas leapt onto the back of his horse and rode quickly from the forest.
"Love?" Celeborn said, taking Galadriel's hand. "What is it?"
"He is already too late."
At last, Shimalya's chest no longer rose and fell with breath. Arwen, wearied after several days at her side, stood and called to her handmaidens to wash her and ready her for burial. As soon as the order was given, she found Aragorn before her, his arms enveloping her, giving her support as she wept from both grief and exhaustion. Yet, she knew in her heart, as Aragorn led her back to heir own chambers, that the worst was yet to come.
Arwen felt no grief so deeply, except at her own husband's passing many years later, as she did when Legolas returned to Minas Tirith a mere two days later.
She had watched as Aragorn rode out to meet his Companion at the gate. Watched as Legolas jumped back onto his horse and rode swiftly into the city. Arwen followed him into the Hall where Shimalya's body was lying in wait for burial, lying as if she were sleeping and might soon wake. On seeing her, Legolas could step no further into the room. His eyes were wide with grief, but no tears fell. He was beyond tears, beyond prostrations and lamentations. His grief was beyond even breath, and it was only when his lungs burned that he drew air into them. All this Arwen saw, yet no words came to her to comfort him. What words would reach his ears when his Shimalya could no longer wrap her arms around him? The one woman who could comfort his grief no longer held life in her bones.
Slow, deliberate steps drew him nearer, and it was only when his fingers reached out to entwine themselves in her hair and to stroke her cold cheek, did Arwen hear the sobs. And it was when he bent to press his lips against her forehead that she saw his tears slide down his cheek to his chin, before falling to the woman's still face.
"Namar, Shimalya," he spoke softly, his voice shaking. "Hiro lle hidh ab 'wanath, a'maelamin."
At this, Arwen could bear no more. She withdrew, tears clinging to her own eyes as she sought comfort in her husband's arms, for now, she had none to share.
FIN