Soundless as the decent of a flake of snow to the earth, Gilraen sat within the engrossing company of an old reminiscence. Before her subconscious danced dazzling, untamed fields of golden blades of summer grass. Sweet, intoxicating aromas of a world alive in splendor entranced her, drawing the fair lady further and further into her blissful revelry. As the rising sun over the vast Misty Mountains, he came to her, an irreplaceable grin gracing his worn features of worry and doubt. Neither could she see in his eyes as he placed himself beside her, brushing away a loose wisp of her hair behind her ear. No words fell between them, their two hearts speaking far beyond the grasp of words as they pulsed as one. He was the breath in her lungs, the very essence of her being.
So suddenly, the brilliant day was gone. The gold in the fields, the pungent scent of flowers, the marvelous jubilation that radiated from his smile all dissipated into a single marring memory, as if the sun itself fell from the sky, leaving only the empty darkness. All she could see, everything she could think of became the vision of his slain body being laid to rest within the cold earth; the chill of the winter's air nipping at her unfeeling fingertips as she knelt in utter silence beside the tomb that bore all her love, all her joy. Desolate land scattered itself beyond her feet, her heart barren like the earth itself in the winter's frost. He was no longer caressing away the drifty clouds from her once glorious days. In his absence, just as the diminished sun, there was only darkness.
Devoid of levity, her heart was cast asunder to the ceaseless void that ravished the once marvelous heavens into an endless night searching for the rebirth of day. About her descended the outstretched hands of lonely sorrow as her slender frame trembled with inescapable sobs.
"Do no weep, for the fate of Ennor hangs in the balance of despair and hope," the words of Lord Elrond echoed from far away memory. "Hope we have… And Arathorn would not have you live in the shadow of his passing…"
Though through her utter emptiness the words brought comfort, no comfort could ever replace the once whole feeling in her heart, which was no more. No one to rest her head upon, only the arms of hope and faith to cradle her as the saline droplets spilled down her immaculate cheeks - the same arms that carried her from her own sorrow to come to Imladris. Not for herself, but for the sake of all. Her purpose lay in that: the undying flame of hope that swelled within Aragorn. their son.
Trembling yet, she fought to dry her tears as she lifted herself from the earth beneath her. This was her task: to endure.