The Star of Eärendil
Beneath a stone archway in the garden of the Houses of Healing, she stood gazing toward the east; her robes, luminous in rising moonlight, flowing softly around her form so slender and so stern, and her hair - gilded tresses tumbling over her shoulders and down her back: a wave of silver and gold in which he would gladly drown. A single lock fell across her cheek obscuring her eyes from him. He longed to touch that golden tress, to caress it back from her face.
He would have her turn toward him, to see him standing there in the evening shadows; watching her, watching over her, watching for a sign, that though he stood silent, she would hear his heart speaking to her, longing for her to come to him.
The feelings, which the sight of her ignited within him, were both a torment and a terrible joy. But underneath the wild tumult of emotions was the curious sense of gratitude, of a moment grace.
To whom should he be thankful? he wondered. Beneath his father's hand he had abandoned the gods of his ancestors. Myths they were to him, legends and fables, tales of heroic deeds to inspire and later, much later, to shame. In his youth, he'd longed for them to be real, he'd longed for another world - an escape from the harsh realities of his days.
But now, watching her, loving her, he was pulled back into life with a strange sadness, feeling the preciousness of a world which might soon be lost. And yet he was glad, overcome with wonder that she had come to him at the end of all things.
That this one small thing, this love that had come to him, amidst all the grand glory and might of men and elves was a sacred thing, a holy thing.
He was well aware that fate might extinguish what had been given him this day. For as they had done since Arda was born of a song in the deep recesses of time, the fearful powers would embrace in battle, driven by in the grand design of high history, driven by melodies yet unheard, driven into a future unknown - into darkness or light, he knew not.
And he was afraid for her, and for their love, fearful that the chaos unfolding around them would destroy them.
As he stood hidden in the darkness watching over her, he saw the glimmer of a bright star rising toward the west. Strong and pure, flashing silver and rising with a stately grace above the moon rise. He heard her gasp and saw her reach out as if to catch the falling starlight in her hands. As if in a dream, a trail of light came down from the heavens and embraced her, and she laughed. And a sound more beauteous he had never heard.
There is something beyond this darkness and struggle, he thought suddenly, and a strange joy overcame him. As a crested wave catches the light, he felt the soft song of the stars rise in him, around him, tossing him carelessly toward hope, toward light, toward her.
And that is the moment she turned toward him, smiling. As if she'd heard his body's song reach out to her, she held out her hand to him. And he came to her, and in her embrace spoke a prayer to his forgotten gods.
For this one, small, beautiful thing, this love was given to them, shinning in the dark like the Star of Eärendil, risen in the sky as a sign to give men hope in times of desperation.
And in her arms at last, he found his joy, his certitude that there was a world for them that would never end.
fin