1420 was a golden year in the Shire. Silver birches and stately beeches
sprouted in areas where before there had been none. Soft, pale violets in
the amethyst hues of twilight colored the emerald grass. Never before had
the crops been so good. The fattest tomatoes, greenest peas, and biggest
potatoes that have ever been were harvested and eaten that year. To
everything spots of gold clung, like whispers of the elves that were fading
out of Middle-earth. A beauty that was ethereal and peaceful, the dying
beauty of the Elves was the fairest of all that was or ever would be. Sadly
it was passing away, never to return. In fair Lorien, once the realm of
light and beauty untainted, naught lingered now but a few mallorn leaves
clinging to the barren trees, their once beautiful shades of gold turning a
dusty brown.
And on the hill of Cerin Amroth, lying in a sodden heap, was an elven maiden. No words could describe her beauty. There was a light in her face and a glow in her eyes. Her dark hair, black as a raven's wing, lay tossed about her head in wild tangled curls. Arwen she was to some, and Undomiel was the name given her by her father. She was the Evenstar of her people; cast in the image of Luthien the immortal, and also a Queen of Gondor, ere her husband died.
But bright she was no longer, for with the death of Elessar, her grace had diminished. She was a fading star, the last glimpse of the fairest children ever to walk the Earth. And she was dying.
The eyes of this star were once a clear gray-blue. But now they were clouded with grief. Tears also stained her fair face as the only outward signs of her suffering. They showed outward signs of her suffering. Like Luthien before her, Arwen had chosen a mortal life. She had given up everything for the one she loved. As she lay there lingering in the last moments of her life, she knew it had all been worth it.
Truly, she could never have been happy in the land of Aman. Those blessed shores would be pale to her eyes, and colorless, without her love to light the way. Six score years she had spent with Aragorn as his queen, but that was as nothing. To some it was a long time, even as a lifetime of some men; But to the elves, who had been both blessed and cursed with immortality, it was like a torch that burned quickly and was gone. The happy moments the King and Queen had shared together were sweet, but now Arwen tasted the bitterness of her kindred.
He had been so peaceful when he died, an image of the splendour of the Kings of Men in glory undimmed before the breaking of the world. Before the breaking of her world. Arwen had savored her last kiss with him, knowing with her heart that it would be the last time she ever tasted his lips. She could barely stand the gaze of his silver eyes, so full of love and peaceful. But also there was sorrow, and pain cast a light shadow in them. The pain that he would have to leave her behind.
Arwen had relinquished all claims to her title as Queen after this tragedy. Giving her throne to her eldest son, who was the rightful heir, she took her leave of the White City. Cloaked in her black shrouds of mourning, Undomiel departed the place where she had experienced her greatest joy and deepest pain. She wandered across the mountains, and through forests as her bitterness consumed her. The light of her eyes was quenched, and all creatures fled before her, for they knew she was one who went seeking death. She traveled long, until at last she reached her ultimate resting place. Wandering among the dying trees of her grandmother's ancient realm, Arwen Evenstar laid herself down on the hill of Cerin Amroth. It was the same hill where so many years ago she had plighted her troth with Aragorn. That seemed like lifetimes to her, and she fondly recalled that day, before her tears of sadness closed off all thoughts of the past. Spotting a last blooming clump of golden elanor flowers, the half elf picked them and held them against her weakening heartbeats. One final gasp, and the last of elven kind passed out of the world forever. The clouds wept and soaked the earth with their tears, mourning the death of the Evenstar.
And on the hill of Cerin Amroth, lying in a sodden heap, was an elven maiden. No words could describe her beauty. There was a light in her face and a glow in her eyes. Her dark hair, black as a raven's wing, lay tossed about her head in wild tangled curls. Arwen she was to some, and Undomiel was the name given her by her father. She was the Evenstar of her people; cast in the image of Luthien the immortal, and also a Queen of Gondor, ere her husband died.
But bright she was no longer, for with the death of Elessar, her grace had diminished. She was a fading star, the last glimpse of the fairest children ever to walk the Earth. And she was dying.
The eyes of this star were once a clear gray-blue. But now they were clouded with grief. Tears also stained her fair face as the only outward signs of her suffering. They showed outward signs of her suffering. Like Luthien before her, Arwen had chosen a mortal life. She had given up everything for the one she loved. As she lay there lingering in the last moments of her life, she knew it had all been worth it.
Truly, she could never have been happy in the land of Aman. Those blessed shores would be pale to her eyes, and colorless, without her love to light the way. Six score years she had spent with Aragorn as his queen, but that was as nothing. To some it was a long time, even as a lifetime of some men; But to the elves, who had been both blessed and cursed with immortality, it was like a torch that burned quickly and was gone. The happy moments the King and Queen had shared together were sweet, but now Arwen tasted the bitterness of her kindred.
He had been so peaceful when he died, an image of the splendour of the Kings of Men in glory undimmed before the breaking of the world. Before the breaking of her world. Arwen had savored her last kiss with him, knowing with her heart that it would be the last time she ever tasted his lips. She could barely stand the gaze of his silver eyes, so full of love and peaceful. But also there was sorrow, and pain cast a light shadow in them. The pain that he would have to leave her behind.
Arwen had relinquished all claims to her title as Queen after this tragedy. Giving her throne to her eldest son, who was the rightful heir, she took her leave of the White City. Cloaked in her black shrouds of mourning, Undomiel departed the place where she had experienced her greatest joy and deepest pain. She wandered across the mountains, and through forests as her bitterness consumed her. The light of her eyes was quenched, and all creatures fled before her, for they knew she was one who went seeking death. She traveled long, until at last she reached her ultimate resting place. Wandering among the dying trees of her grandmother's ancient realm, Arwen Evenstar laid herself down on the hill of Cerin Amroth. It was the same hill where so many years ago she had plighted her troth with Aragorn. That seemed like lifetimes to her, and she fondly recalled that day, before her tears of sadness closed off all thoughts of the past. Spotting a last blooming clump of golden elanor flowers, the half elf picked them and held them against her weakening heartbeats. One final gasp, and the last of elven kind passed out of the world forever. The clouds wept and soaked the earth with their tears, mourning the death of the Evenstar.