Returning to the Hall of Kings after explaining to the councilors Lómëmir's, which satisfied the wisest and exasperated those less wise, Aragorn waited upon his throne for Morion to be brought in again. To most, he looked as regal as ever, but to those who knew him or had a discerning eye, it was clear that he wished desperately that this task had not fallen to him.

By the time they all had reassembled in the Hall evening was hastening on and the mortals involved were all a little ill-tempered that they'd had to forego a meal. Aragorn wished he could have just excused them and dealt with this matter solely with the Elves who understood Lómëmir's request, but as it was, hungry councilors or no, the matter had to be settled immediately.

When Morion was brought before Aragorn, by now looking no longer like any manner of king, Aragorn dreaded what his choice would be. He had a feeling that Erestor and Gandalf were all too right about his pride. He had asked Faramir in advance to meet with him in his study if the Dark Elf indeed chose the ultimate penalty as they would have to sit with the prisoner and make clear arrangements for communication between Gondor and Taure-Forambalar, amongst other wearisome things, lest his people try to claim retaliation.

Aragorn told succinctly what had gone on within the closed chambers. He explained that there was great division among them as to whether Gondor's law on the crime of high treason should be upheld, which would result in Morion's death, or whether mercy should be extended, allowing Morion to live and return to his people, but not to return to Gondor. Aragorn said that in the face of such discord, he would not be the one to give verdict.

Morion then spoke quietly and calmly, in a tone as though he was already condemned and had come to acceptance, though there was a discernable tinge of desperation in his voice. "Uphold the laws of your people, O great Elessar. You serve them."

Aragorn nodded, and replied, "I also serve those who would see me grant mercy. Thus, i had spoken with the Lady Lómëmir, planning to leave your fate in her hands."

Morion looked importunately at Lómëmir, praying she had not deigned to gift him what seemed to be termed mercy. Such a gift from her would have only torn him apart in entirety.

"The Lady's decision," Aragorn continued, "was that i should allow you, Morion, to choose your own sentence. This choice i give to you, to leave here or to die here."

With Aragorn's words, Morion stood tall, again looking every bit the proud and composed King that he normally did. The Dark Elf faced Aragorn with such directness that an outside observer might wonder which of them was really Gondor's king. He needed not even a moment to deliberate. When he spoke, his voice was again smooth and slow and perfectly majestic. "I choose the latter, Lord Aragorn," was all that he said.

Aragorn could not help the disheartened sigh he breathed as he nodded, wordlessly accepting Morion's decision. He had wished desperately that it would not come to this. As it was, nothing could nor would be done to act on the self-pronounced sentence until at least dawn of the next day. Aragorn rose and left the Hall in heavy silence.

Later that day he would meet with Faramir and together they would go to Morion to accommodate his last wishes. Then he would return for his supper and then going with Lómëmir again to the cell in which Morion was being held, something they had agreed to in the eventuality that the Dark Elf choose as he had. At the moment though, every Man involved in the trial other than the King and Steward rushed for their supper immediately.

When he and Faramir met, Aragorn asked him if he had taken any sustenance. He had not and Faramir echoed Aragorn's sentiment when he said that he had forgone many meals in the past without complaint, and further, that such circumstances rather put him off eating much. Neither of them really understood the Gondorian councilors who, born and bred in the heart of Gondor, had never been without a meal for the sake of allowing their men to eat; who, never having fought in any battle, cared little for the fate of others; who, mostly sheltered from the rest of the world's races, did not comprehend the weight of what it meant for an Elf to choose death over life.

After drawing up a few initial things, they went to Minas Tirith's dungeons. There Morion composed his final decree to the people of Taure-Forambalar, explaining what had happened and what and why his choices were. For some while Aragorn and Faramir listened to the ordinarily tight-lipped monarch. They were even surprised to find themselves chuckling together a few times. When came the point that Morion stopped speaking freely, they knew it was time to go and so they did.

Aragorn decided to forego his supper as well, instructing the servant to feed someone more in need than himself. Instead, he went to Lómëmir and escorted her to the dungeon, where he left them to say what needed to be said between them that the air might be clear in the end.

For several minutes both Lómëmir and Morion sat in quiet. Finally Lómëmir broken the charged silence. "Why did you not accept Aragorn's mercy?" she asked softly, less out of confusion than unpretentious curiosity.

"I did, my lady," he stated simply from behind the black wrought-iron bars of the cell door. "I wanted to thank you for convincing him to allow me to make my own choice. You truly are compassionate. Vaneldur must know what a fine and noble lady he has the love of." Morion's voice grew softer and softer with every sentence he spoke until he was only whispering. The Elf's voice was shaky and strained when he spoke next. "What happened at Rhûn i take upon myself. No matter what you say of mercy, it was my fault that you were in harm's way. I deserve to take the penalty for what those orcs and Men did to you. To be sentenced to a life of eternally living with my guilt would be much worse than life in the Hall of Mandos. If you live long enough and have the strength to, go to Taure-Forambalar and lead my people to the rest of Middle-earth. Enlighten them to the ways of the new age so that no one ever again makes the mistakes i made."

Lómëmir bowed her head, thinking that it was not likely that she would be able to help Morion's people. "I wish that you did not feel as you do, but i accept your decision as yours and yours alone," she said, her voice not reaching any further in volume than his had. "I shall all that i can for the people of your land," she added, promising herself that she would find a way to help them somehow.

"I have no heirs, Lómëmir. I have left it to my people to decide who they should follow next," he said, begging her aid without the nuisance of truly humbling himself. He wondered why it mattered to him at this point.

"I can not lead them, Lord Morion," she said almost apologetically. "I know what title i bear, but i am no queen. Doriath is no more, and that is why i do not acknowledge my title as the heir to its leadership."

"I ask you to do nothing, híril nín. It is i who am in your service." For another moment there was silence again, and Lómëmir rose to leave, feeling she could do nothing to change Morion's mind. As she started to walk away, Morion called out to her. "Wait!" he said hastily, causing her to turn. Morion looked his last upon the beautiful elleth, she seemed even more beautiful now in these dismal surroundings, like a jewel yet to be wrought from the rock it is mined from; now that he knew she would be one of his last fair sights; even now that she glow had diminished somewhat, enhancing in beauty in a bittersweet way. Morion let his eyes close, memorizing every detail about her, before he whispered to her, "Im meleth le."

Lómëmir was silent, as Morion hoped she would be, leaving him with his last memory of her in tact. Her sadness pierced her, but she understood the beauty of bittersweetness well. After all, without pain, there could be no pleasure.

Morning in Gondor came quickly, a huge crowd gathered, which Aragorn severely wished would disappear. As he stood in the courtyard looking out over the long, narrow precipice that jutted out down through all of the city levels, a chill morning wind off the Anduin caused him to shiver. Knowing what method of death the Elf had chosen did not help the matter.

At the appointed time, two High Guards of the Citadel came forth, flanking the free-walking dark-haired Elf. Morion's long, regal cloak whipped in the wind and his hair waved behind him as the grey rainclouds that had been gathering since the night before began to release their burden. No one uttered a single sound as the guards left Morion to stand aside their King.

The Dark Elf bowed gracefully to Aragorn, then turned and walked quietly out along the cliff. He stopped just at the edge and turned to face those gathered on the seventh level. His eyes found Lómëmir and a tranquil, serene smile washed over Elf. His smile only widened as he lightly closed his eyes and fell backward, as though merely falling into bed after a long day.

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Im meleth le - I love you