Beyond Immortality

I feel old. So old, as I have never felt before. The lives of the Eldar are long beyond the measure of mortal men. They do not see the way the Elves do.

Men know that their lives are short. A burst of light amid the endless darkness.

I will never regret my decision. I bound myself to the Dunedain, utterly and completely. But even now, I can taste the bitterness of mortality.

Arwen's spirit had aged immeasurably. She was sad in a way that Elves could never be, her hopes and dreams bittersweet with mortality. And she is no longer counted among the waning Elves, fading into the darkness of long Ages past. She dwells in the ancient realm of Lorien, empty save for the weeping of the falling leaves. And there Undomiel shall remain, bound to her grief, until the wind ceases to carry her sad lingering song.

Then at last, when the mallorn leaves were falling, but spring had not yet come, she laid herself to rest upon Cerin Amroth and there is her green grave until the world is changed and all the days of her life are utterly forgotten by men that come after…

There is nothing now in Caras Galadhon; nothing but the silence, which echoes down the Ages to come.

For beyond immortality there is nothing but death…