A/N: The second transitioning chapter. Kind of an odd chapter, as it didn't turn out the way I had planned, but I just led my fingers lead me on, so I do like it. Reviews, especially those containing songs, are ALWAYS welcome! If you know of any that would fit the story, please tell me! I have all of Enya and Josh Groban's songs, if you think of those! Thanks! Review!!!
Thanks to all the reviewers! Keep on reading! It's almost over!
Chapter 21: Rise and Fall
Along with heralds announcing the news, Denethor had granted his daughter pemission to journey to Dol Amroth to visit for a fortnight. Her lifeless eyes and macabre complexion had worn upon him, for as harsh and aloof Denethor could be, he still loved his children. However, he had not allowed Boromir to go along with her, for as much as he trusted his elder son, he still held insecurities about Boromir's opinion on the upcoming marriage. He would not chance Boromir talking her out of it. Theodred had understood when she wished to journey alone, and said that he had plans and preparations to be made. He had sent messengers back to Edoras to prepare his people for his return with a Gondorian bride.
As her company rode through Ithilien, it both comforted and tormented her that Faramir was somewhere in these woods. Almost every part of her wanted to flee with Talcalina into the woods, to find him, to fly to him and feel his arms around her. To hear him tell her that everything was going to be fine, that it wasn't real, but she couldn't. She rode on.
Entering Dol Amroth, the fragrance of the groves and the salt of the sea set her heart more at ease than it had been in these past few months. Imrahil welcomed her and Araniel, looking a bit older, yet still naïve, playful and lively. Hearing the news, Imrahil looked at his young kinswoman sternly, and taking in her ashen face and lightless eyes, frowned.
"Welcome back to Amroth," he greeted, his face worried.
"It is good to be back," she replied, "I have missed it so much. I had almost forgotten how beautiful it is here."
"Yes," Imrahil said, "Yet Rohan will be even farther than Minas Tirith is from here."
She closed her eyes sorrowfully at this, and failed to stifle an audible sigh. At this, Imrahil nodded to himself, as her expression had confirmed what he suspected.
"Come, let us refresh ourselves and you shall tell me all about the recent events in Minas Tirith," Imrahil led her inside. Once they were seated, he broached the delicate subject, "What of Faramir?" for he had seen the love between them, though he had spent little time with them in Minas Tirith, and he had also noticed her eyes when she spoke of him, though sometimes with a guarded tone.
"He is Ithilien," she replied.
"Come now Elentari, you know of what I speak. What of Faramir?"
She sighed and said, "He tells me not directly what he feels towards the match, and yet it is obvious he does not condone it. Father sent him to Ithilien the day after the proposal, so that he may not convince me otherwise."
Imrahil scoffed, his smile a dry one, "So like Denethor."
There was a long pause and by her silent fiddling of her gloves and darting eyes, Imrahil could sense that she was uncomfortable and wished to speak no more of the matter.
"What do you wish to do this visit?"
"To bid farewell to all that is lovely here," she murmured resentfully, "To look upon the Sea, one last time."
Imrahil reassured her that as bride of the Prince of Rohan, she would be able to visit again, but somehow, Elentari knew that she would not return. Imrahil left her after refreshing, as she requested to visit the Sea alone, though promising Araniel they would talk later.
She walked barefoot on the sand, the rough grains smoothing her feet. Her eyes were transfixed on the lilting of the waves. She walked to the very edge of where the golden grains meet the white foam and sat down, enraveling herself in the coming of each wave. And so she sat, watching the long hair of Lady Uinen in the green waves, letting the spray wash over her, and soaking her long dress. She felt at peace, despite turbulent times, peace that she had felt only once before; when she had been submerged underwater here and had heard Lady Uinen's call to her. She did not know if it was real or not, but she remembered that voice.
Rise and fall. Come and go. The tides, the waves. They rose, came closer to her, and then fell, backing away. Such is life. People are born, rise to their prime, and fall, to disease, old age, cruel steel. Spring comes, all is renewed, leaves pass into summer, at the height of their magnificence, then transform their colors, into the dying beauty of autumn, the nostalgic reminscense of a better time, and finally, winter claims all to its icy splendor. If everything rises and falls, even things of the Quendi, then what of love? Does it too, rise and fall? She thought of her childhood, when all was simple and lovely, where the first seeds of her and Faramir's love were planted in Finduilas's garden. A smile creased her lips as the cool water splashed upon her and a gull landed near her. Swordplay, archery, the library; she thought of all their tickling fights, their songs, the way her skin tingled when his lips moved over her, his passionate kiss, the way his fingers felt through her hair, the way he left her just as she was wanting more. Did that fall also? Would she lose him? She knew that ultimately, she would lose him. Either to the plains of Rohan, to the call of the Sea, the cruel blade of an Orc, or the slow decay of time, they would be separated.
She could only hope that it was not too soon, but the way things were preceding; she would rarely ever see Faramir again. She could sit here forever, letting the waves wash over her, the golden sand beneath her feet, forgetting all pain and sorrow of her young life, and even when she thought of it, there was neither searing pain nor melancholy tears. She wanted to let the waves engulf her, to take her with them to the mysterious yet wonderful world below. Every part of her being wanted to throw herself into that wide expanse, and dwell forevermore in the company of Lady Uinen and hear Lord Ulmo's trumpets. Yet she held herself back, insisting that her part on this earth was not done yet, though she felt that it was all a lie.
Somehow, with the gulls crying their perilous call, Anar baking her wet skin, Isilmë felt herself drift away in peaceful slumber.
A grey ship lay in anchor in the harbor beyond the white towers, where none save the Firstborn could venture. The gulls were crying perilously, as if hastening those who were ready to board. Some were eager, some were not, yet all had tears in their eyes; tears of parting, tears of sorrow, tears of a love left behind, tears for an earth they must forsake.
As the ship pulled from the grey harbor, rain began to fall, as if all of Endor was mourning the loss of such a fair folk as will never be seen again. The Elves on dock waved farewell, tears streaming, though there was not a soul standing on the shore, save the bending trees, swaying in the wind, saluting sorrowfully the loss of their beloved friends. Soon, the Eastern shore faded from view, even from that of the keen archers.
They felt the wind streak through their light hair, sweeping it across their fair features, and their hearts grew lighter and lighter. The light, light that grew brighter and brighter with each passing moment, soon flashed, and then their eyes grew wide, both adjusting to the light, and admiring the transcendent beauty. All had turned to silver glass and the light on the water shone ever brightly, like Varda's stars and the Silmaril bound to Earendil's prow. They strained their eyes even further, and then they saw it, white shores and beyond: a far green country under a swift sunrise.
Elentari felt herself shaken. She jerked back to reality, just as she was about to leave the ship and discover the bliss of Valinor. She was nuzzled once more, and grunted, and peeked open one of her eyes to see Talcalina above her, thrusting her mane. She groaned, finding herself still in the water. As she mounted her horse, she thought to herself, "If I can feel so content in the Sea, what would I feel in Valinor?" Yet somehow, she felt that she would be more at peace beneath the waters of the Sea, than in the towers of the Blessed Realm.
As Talcalina started to trot, Isilmë looked back to the gulls flocking on the shore, and murmured, "Namarië maiwë. Namarië lisse airë, namarië."
Farewell gulls. Farewell sweet Sea. Farewell
A/N: I've always felt that the Elven departure from Middle-Earth would be both relieving and yet painful at the same time. I have no idea why I wrote that as a dream, which was not what I originally intended, but I've just always wanted to write one of those. Next chapter will have more action and less reflection!
Thanks to all the reviewers! Keep on reading! It's almost over!
Chapter 21: Rise and Fall
Along with heralds announcing the news, Denethor had granted his daughter pemission to journey to Dol Amroth to visit for a fortnight. Her lifeless eyes and macabre complexion had worn upon him, for as harsh and aloof Denethor could be, he still loved his children. However, he had not allowed Boromir to go along with her, for as much as he trusted his elder son, he still held insecurities about Boromir's opinion on the upcoming marriage. He would not chance Boromir talking her out of it. Theodred had understood when she wished to journey alone, and said that he had plans and preparations to be made. He had sent messengers back to Edoras to prepare his people for his return with a Gondorian bride.
As her company rode through Ithilien, it both comforted and tormented her that Faramir was somewhere in these woods. Almost every part of her wanted to flee with Talcalina into the woods, to find him, to fly to him and feel his arms around her. To hear him tell her that everything was going to be fine, that it wasn't real, but she couldn't. She rode on.
Entering Dol Amroth, the fragrance of the groves and the salt of the sea set her heart more at ease than it had been in these past few months. Imrahil welcomed her and Araniel, looking a bit older, yet still naïve, playful and lively. Hearing the news, Imrahil looked at his young kinswoman sternly, and taking in her ashen face and lightless eyes, frowned.
"Welcome back to Amroth," he greeted, his face worried.
"It is good to be back," she replied, "I have missed it so much. I had almost forgotten how beautiful it is here."
"Yes," Imrahil said, "Yet Rohan will be even farther than Minas Tirith is from here."
She closed her eyes sorrowfully at this, and failed to stifle an audible sigh. At this, Imrahil nodded to himself, as her expression had confirmed what he suspected.
"Come, let us refresh ourselves and you shall tell me all about the recent events in Minas Tirith," Imrahil led her inside. Once they were seated, he broached the delicate subject, "What of Faramir?" for he had seen the love between them, though he had spent little time with them in Minas Tirith, and he had also noticed her eyes when she spoke of him, though sometimes with a guarded tone.
"He is Ithilien," she replied.
"Come now Elentari, you know of what I speak. What of Faramir?"
She sighed and said, "He tells me not directly what he feels towards the match, and yet it is obvious he does not condone it. Father sent him to Ithilien the day after the proposal, so that he may not convince me otherwise."
Imrahil scoffed, his smile a dry one, "So like Denethor."
There was a long pause and by her silent fiddling of her gloves and darting eyes, Imrahil could sense that she was uncomfortable and wished to speak no more of the matter.
"What do you wish to do this visit?"
"To bid farewell to all that is lovely here," she murmured resentfully, "To look upon the Sea, one last time."
Imrahil reassured her that as bride of the Prince of Rohan, she would be able to visit again, but somehow, Elentari knew that she would not return. Imrahil left her after refreshing, as she requested to visit the Sea alone, though promising Araniel they would talk later.
She walked barefoot on the sand, the rough grains smoothing her feet. Her eyes were transfixed on the lilting of the waves. She walked to the very edge of where the golden grains meet the white foam and sat down, enraveling herself in the coming of each wave. And so she sat, watching the long hair of Lady Uinen in the green waves, letting the spray wash over her, and soaking her long dress. She felt at peace, despite turbulent times, peace that she had felt only once before; when she had been submerged underwater here and had heard Lady Uinen's call to her. She did not know if it was real or not, but she remembered that voice.
Rise and fall. Come and go. The tides, the waves. They rose, came closer to her, and then fell, backing away. Such is life. People are born, rise to their prime, and fall, to disease, old age, cruel steel. Spring comes, all is renewed, leaves pass into summer, at the height of their magnificence, then transform their colors, into the dying beauty of autumn, the nostalgic reminscense of a better time, and finally, winter claims all to its icy splendor. If everything rises and falls, even things of the Quendi, then what of love? Does it too, rise and fall? She thought of her childhood, when all was simple and lovely, where the first seeds of her and Faramir's love were planted in Finduilas's garden. A smile creased her lips as the cool water splashed upon her and a gull landed near her. Swordplay, archery, the library; she thought of all their tickling fights, their songs, the way her skin tingled when his lips moved over her, his passionate kiss, the way his fingers felt through her hair, the way he left her just as she was wanting more. Did that fall also? Would she lose him? She knew that ultimately, she would lose him. Either to the plains of Rohan, to the call of the Sea, the cruel blade of an Orc, or the slow decay of time, they would be separated.
She could only hope that it was not too soon, but the way things were preceding; she would rarely ever see Faramir again. She could sit here forever, letting the waves wash over her, the golden sand beneath her feet, forgetting all pain and sorrow of her young life, and even when she thought of it, there was neither searing pain nor melancholy tears. She wanted to let the waves engulf her, to take her with them to the mysterious yet wonderful world below. Every part of her being wanted to throw herself into that wide expanse, and dwell forevermore in the company of Lady Uinen and hear Lord Ulmo's trumpets. Yet she held herself back, insisting that her part on this earth was not done yet, though she felt that it was all a lie.
Somehow, with the gulls crying their perilous call, Anar baking her wet skin, Isilmë felt herself drift away in peaceful slumber.
A grey ship lay in anchor in the harbor beyond the white towers, where none save the Firstborn could venture. The gulls were crying perilously, as if hastening those who were ready to board. Some were eager, some were not, yet all had tears in their eyes; tears of parting, tears of sorrow, tears of a love left behind, tears for an earth they must forsake.
As the ship pulled from the grey harbor, rain began to fall, as if all of Endor was mourning the loss of such a fair folk as will never be seen again. The Elves on dock waved farewell, tears streaming, though there was not a soul standing on the shore, save the bending trees, swaying in the wind, saluting sorrowfully the loss of their beloved friends. Soon, the Eastern shore faded from view, even from that of the keen archers.
They felt the wind streak through their light hair, sweeping it across their fair features, and their hearts grew lighter and lighter. The light, light that grew brighter and brighter with each passing moment, soon flashed, and then their eyes grew wide, both adjusting to the light, and admiring the transcendent beauty. All had turned to silver glass and the light on the water shone ever brightly, like Varda's stars and the Silmaril bound to Earendil's prow. They strained their eyes even further, and then they saw it, white shores and beyond: a far green country under a swift sunrise.
Elentari felt herself shaken. She jerked back to reality, just as she was about to leave the ship and discover the bliss of Valinor. She was nuzzled once more, and grunted, and peeked open one of her eyes to see Talcalina above her, thrusting her mane. She groaned, finding herself still in the water. As she mounted her horse, she thought to herself, "If I can feel so content in the Sea, what would I feel in Valinor?" Yet somehow, she felt that she would be more at peace beneath the waters of the Sea, than in the towers of the Blessed Realm.
As Talcalina started to trot, Isilmë looked back to the gulls flocking on the shore, and murmured, "Namarië maiwë. Namarië lisse airë, namarië."
Farewell gulls. Farewell sweet Sea. Farewell
A/N: I've always felt that the Elven departure from Middle-Earth would be both relieving and yet painful at the same time. I have no idea why I wrote that as a dream, which was not what I originally intended, but I've just always wanted to write one of those. Next chapter will have more action and less reflection!