In the days following Farothwen's death, Glorohtar was extremely distraught. He spent every spare moment at her graveside, telling her constantly how much he missed and loved her. He had not rested ever since the night before they left for Mirkwood. He did not come to eat with the others. He barely saw anyone, except perhaps Beleglor, who mainly sought solace with Faerien. Elrohir had been keeping an eye on him and he was extremely concerned. He spoke with his brother and sister.

'He's grieving for her, Elrohir,' Arwen said. 'Let him be for now. As time goes on, his pain will lessen. She was his wife and he loved her. You would act no differently if someone you loved were to die.'

'I know, but to see him in such pain…' Elrohir left his sentence unsaid, but Elladan and Arwen knew what he meant. He was worried that Glorohtar would grieve himself to death.

'He still has Beleglor and Faerien,' Elladan said. 'I do not think he will die.'

'I am not so sure. I remember what he said at their wedding.' Elrohir sighed. 'He said that he would follow her beyond the circles of the world. When she died, he too would die as a mortal soul. And I've never known him to not keep his word,' he said grimly.

'I know that we all are fond of Glorohtar, but it is his decision in the end,' Arwen said quietly. 'Should he choose to die to be with her, he will.'

'But he is an Elf, Arwen, we do not die!' Elladan cried.

'But he does not have our choice, to choose to be mortal or immortal. You also cannot choose with whom you fall in love. What if, one day, one of you fell in love with a mortal maiden? What choice would you make then?'

Even though they did not want to admit it, Elladan and Elrohir knew that Arwen was right. If Glorohtar chose to die away from the world, to follow her into eternity, then nothing could be done to stop him.

It was afternoon on the fifth day since Farothwen's death, and Glorohtar finally allowed himself to leave their room, where he had confined himself all that time. There was one last thing he had to do. He owed it to Beleglor, at least.

He took a deep breath, and found Beleglor across the path, walking with Lindir. Beleglor's face fell when he saw him. His blue eyes had lost all life and his skin was deathly pale. He had barely eaten or had any rest for days. Beleglor embraced him tightly as a father would his son. He too was deeply worried.

'I'm going away, Ada,' Glorohtar whispered.

'Where?'

'I do not know where my path will take me. My Straight Road is bent now.'

Beleglor's heart sank. 'Please don't leave me, Glorohtar.'

'I'm sorry, Ada, but I must. I cannot bear a minute more.'

'Will you not stay for me? For all who love you?'

'I promised her I would follow her wherever she went. I could not break my word to her now.'

Beleglor cried, but he understood. Even though he was dreading it in the light of Farothwen's death, he knew that Glorohtar would choose this. He drew back a kissed Glorohtar's brow, pushing a lock of hair out of his face.

'I love you, my son, but it is your choice. When you find her, never let her go again.'

'I could never endure her leaving me for a second time. I will find her. I will never leave her side.'

He embraced Beleglor again, allowing tears to fall.

'Goodbye, Ada. I love you.'

'Goodbye, my son.'

As Glorohtar left him, Beleglor wept again. He had already lost his daughter. Now he was losing his son.

After dinner, in the dim twilight, Elrohir went for a walk around the grounds. So much had been happening over the past few days that he did not know what was going on anymore. He did not want to walk past Farothwen's grave, but he felt that he must. He had not once in the days since she was buried.

As he came around the corner, he could make out an unfamiliar shape in the gloom, but could not see it terribly well. As he got closer, his eyes widened in horror as he realised what it was.

Glorohtar was lying beside Farothwen's grave, dressed in his wedding robes. In his heart Elrohir knew he was already dead, but he did not want to lose hope. He caught sight of Elrond on the pathways.

'Ada! Ada! Come here, quickly!'

'What is it?'

Elrond ran over to Elrohir and saw Glorohtar lying there. He was not surprised, but he was saddened nonetheless.

'Can we do anything to help him?' Elrohir asked.

'We are too late. His spirit has already left for the Halls, but where it will dwell, none can say, I can only hope it goes to the Halls of Men.'

'But surely we must bury him next to her.'

'There is no need.' Elrond pointed. 'Look.'

Grass vines were starting to wind their way around Glorohtar's hands and feet, and around his body.

'We were born of the earth, and the earth will always take care of her children when there is no one else. She will bury him for us, Elrohir. She will keep him safe.'

Elrond laid a hand on Glorohtar's cold brow and whispered a blessing.

'There is nothing more we can do, Elrohir.'

'What about Beleglor and Faerien? Surely they must know.'

Elrond looked grim. 'I'm sure they already do. Glorohtar would not have left without a farewell.'