When the two arrived in Dol Amroth many years seemed to have fallen away from Lómëmir as they drew nearer to the roaring sea. Immediately Lómëmir went down to the shore as Vaneldur secured arrangements for their mounts and was shown to their apartments overlooking the sea. He stood on the balcony smiling broadly, watching as his wife danced with the waves as only an Elf can.
A voice at his side gradually drew him from his bemusement. "I, Eärramar, greet you, my Lord Vaneldur," said the seneschal of the House of Dol Amroth. "I have for you a few items... a missive from his majesty, the Prince; several greetings; the cook requests to know what you and the Lady shall take for your supper...."
The man promptly lost Vaneldur's attention though as he could hear Lómëmir singing with the crashing waves. He had not held out hope that she could again be so lighthearted after what happened at Rhûn, but here she seemed more merry than when he first met her in the wood.
"My Lord? Are you quite well?" the man asked for the second time.
"What? Oh... of course, i am fine," Vaneldur responded, though mere "fine" did not accurately portray his feeling at that moment. "Everything is perfect, i am glad to be home." That word had a great impact on Vaneldur as he realized how long it had been since he had seen the sea.
"Weary from your travels i am sure," he said kindly. "Might that be my Lord's Lady yon?" Eärramar asked.
Vaneldur's smiled said it all. "Aye, the Lady Lómëmir... my Lady," he said softly.
And so it came that Lómëmir became endeared to the House of Amroth as Vaneldur grew to be greatly respected. After their fifteenth year anniversary Vaneldur had been promoted to a more scholarly position as Keeper of Records, which also meant more that he would have more time to dote upon his ladylove. It seemed a miracle to Vaneldur that his Lómëmir was so well, so like her true self. He wondered even if Elves had some wonderful ability to forget great tragedy. It seemed that a combination of her wonderful marriage and being at the sea cosseted Lómëmir's deeply scarred heart, and she grew again in luminosity and beauty, charming all who so much as looked upon her.
Yet it is said that the brightest flame is the one which burns out first. More years passed and though their happiness together never declined even in slight, Lómëmir again began to fade, imperceptibly to Vaneldur's adoring eyes at first, but soon the signs grew too present. It was in their 35th year together that Vaneldur woke in the night more often alone than not.
The first time it had happened the man flew into a panic until he saw his love standing on the beach in the light of a bright full moon. An hour at least he watched her, her light Elven gown billowing in the night wind off the sea, her hair whipping back wildly, but elsewise she might have been mistaken for a fair statue. He did not know how long she had stood there before he woke, nor after he fell asleep on the balcony (though he woke in the morning in bed, unknowing just how though).
Over the years this ritual became routine and Vaneldur nearly ceased to be concerned until one night he woke not alone this time, but to his wife screaming in terror. It was then that her night terrors began to take the place of her night travels.
In the next ten years her dreams did not get better, though she had ceased to scream out, now she would wake suddenly, trembling in a cold sweat after thrashing about, fighting her way to consciousness and out of the black nightmares that held her captive.
The terrors in the night never completely left her, but they did lessen considerably as Lómëmir learned to train her dreams. But as life detests a vacuum, a persistent weakness took the place of her nightmares. There were times when Lómëmir would turn down a much treasured walk in the surf with her belovéd, simply because she lacked the stamina to make the short walk just out of the house.
Having attained and surpassed the age of 80, Vaneldur was just beginning to show signs of his aging. Now and then he would notice a new wrinkle or a silvery hair. But Lómëmir was, as ever, the very image of youth. Now, though, seeing her looking so tired so often, Vaneldur thought that it was she who had shown more signs of age than he himself had. He began to fear, as he had so many years ago before they were wed, that their marriage and life together was costing her dearly for an Elf to refuse the call to sail for the sake of the love of a Mortal.
By their 64th year of marriage there were days when the Lady would not rise from their bed. Vaneldur came to be so concerned that he was in the process of composing a letter requesting his King's help again when Eärrama interrupted to inform him of two elderly guests asking after him and his Lady. He was surprised when he went out to greet these mystery visitors when he nearly walked right passed them. He greeted Merry and Pippin cheerfully, though he was sorry to inform them of Lómëmir's declining health, but he knew that she would be happy to see them, so often did she talk about how truly amazing she found Halflings to be.
Lómëmir was found by them sitting on the balcony, feeding seagulls from her hand. Though to their eyes, she seemed as fine as ever, if not a little tired, Vaneldur saw all too clearly how much effort even just her soft laughter with them was taking from her. Lómëmir seemed much cheered by their visit and all that they had to tell her of and for this Vaneldur would have bid them stay the rest of their days, but at day's end they told him that they would be going on to Minas Tirith with morning. It was then that Vaneldur pressed the letter he was intending to send Aragorn into Pippin's hand and said simply, "Guard of the Citadel, an urgent missive for the King."
A letter Vaneldur received back in Faramir's script only days before the King and Queen arrived in Dol Amroth. In greeting Aragorn, Vaneldur knelt (if not as swiftly as he had in years passed), and laid his lips to the Ring of Barahir before rising. "Always have you been at my aid, my liege," he said, clearly thankful.
Aragorn smiled and answered, "I do not turn away the plea of a friend, not when i know well how i might feel in such a situation myself," having lost not a bit of his compassion to age. Together they went to visit Lómëmir who had not yet found the will to so much as lift up her head. These days the Lady spoke almost exclusively Sindarin, Westron simply being too cumbersome for her breath scant to force. Aragorn needed take no more than one look at her to know that no skill of his could heal what ailed her and Arwen saw clearly that Lómëmir's fëa was being held to Middle-earth by nothing more than a spider's strand. Both chose not to impart these things to Vaneldur as he would have to face them all too soon as it was.
It was two days later when Dol Amroth's third, fourth, and fifth Elves arrived, having heard that the Lady was so quickly diminishing. Erestor and Glorfindel were staying in Minas Tirith for a short time when Aragorn had given them the news that Lómëmir was unwell, to put it mildly, and they had decided to wait until Legolas returned from a hunting trip so that they could all three depart for Dol Amroth together.
It could have been called throwing caution to the wind for the Prince of Mirkwood to come to the sea, but it was a risk Legolas was willing to take. The last time he had seen her had been the day of Aragorn's wedding; after that, the Wood-elf had purposely made himself scarce. Now to see her again in such condition was nothing short of heart-rending. Legolas had tried to talk to her, to tell her the secrets that he refused to acknowledge for the last six decades, but he found himself choking over every other word.
Lómëmir was filled with compassion, though, and reached weakly for his hand, which he wrapped around hers adoringly. "I know what you would say, Legolas nan Mirkwood. I have known for years, i am only sorry that i was not able to see you before you left Minas Tirith with the funeral march of Theoden. I have but one request of you," she whispered, though it took her some while to say so much at once.
"Ask me to bring you a Silmaril and i should see it done at once," Legolas said earnestly and, might it be said, somewhat tearfully.
A smile breezed over her wan features. "Such a thing you may wish i had asked before the end. It was my promise to Lord Morion before his death that i would find a way to aid the people of Taure-Forambalar and bring them to understand the new ways of the world, for he wished that none should ever again repeat the mistakes he made. I can not accomplish my promise, and nor do i lay this on you, but i must lay down my work unfinished. If you do not wish to, i ask that you find another who may."
Legolas had been detesting Morion's memory for years now, but all that disappeared in the face of Lómëmir's gentle request. "I give you my promise and my oath that i shall see your promise carried out in your name," Legolas said, no longer bothering to check his tears. "Híril-nín... im meleth le," he whispered, pressing a bittersweet kiss to her graceful hand and gazing at her for the last time before he hurriedly departed her chamber.
That night when Vaneldur came to take his rest at his fragile wife's side, she was looking so much weaker and yet, oddly peaceful. Vaneldur laid down and took her in his arms as gently as one would an intricately decorated hollow eggshell. He had barely brushed his lips with hers she spoke to him so softly he had to strain to hear her precious words, closing his eyes to ignore any distraction.
"Vaneldur... im meleth le, galad-nín... coi-nín. Mel amin... namárië, meleth." When Vaneldur opened his eyes in fear as her words trailed off to a last shaking intake of breath, her eyes were closed and no heartbeat could he feel beside him.
"Lómëmir?" he asked in vain. "My Lómëmir... my jewel at sunset... i love you more than all," he said, tears claiming him as they would for the remainder of the night until the man's eyes burnt as much as his throat did.
Every night thereafter was the same. Vaneldur called out to her as he looked at the stars above that she so loved, and the weakness of spending all his passion in his tears claimed him to sleep each night. No more did Vaneldur hear the roaring crashes of the sea without hearing Lómëmir's soft melodic song, no more did he look upon the hypnotic waves without seeing her graceful Elven dance, all just as it had been their first night in Dol Amroth together.
Finis.
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im meleth le - i love you
galad-nin - my light
coi-nin - my life
mel amin - my friend
namarie - fare well
And so i have come to another ending. My apologies if this one seems a little "rushed" or if there seem to be loose ends left somewhere (if there are, my point them out to me, i would be greatly appreciative!) I wanted to paint more a picture of a fading Elf in this chapter, and yet make it clear that Vaneldur's love had sustained her for much longer than anyone would have guessed. I was going to give a line stating just that to Arwen, but i hoped that it would make itself plain in the writing.
Love, as always, to my readers/reviewers. You shall see another story from me before too long, i promise. Look for something a little more light-hearted, perhaps.