Part Seven

Ship of Death

"Build then the ship of death, for you must take
the longest journey, to oblivion.

And die the death, the long and painful death
that lies between the old self and the new.

Now launch the small ship, now as the body dies
and life departs, launch out, the fragile soul
in the fragile ship of courage, the ark of faith…"

From 'Ship of Death' by D.H. Lawrence

It was over, she was dead. This thought was a great millstone hanging round my slender neck, bearing me down, bending my back with its weight – choking me with my guilt.

Galadh stepped towards me, holding out her arms for the babe, which was in danger of falling out of my strengthless embrace, while trying to prevent the other one from pulling out my hair. "What has happened" Her voice seemed to take on a tone much beyond her few years; there was womanly anxiety in it that I had not heard before.

"She is dead – my friend, she died in childbirth. These two lovely infants are the cause of her death." I stared down at the child in my arms, as a wave of hatred swept through me, hatred for it, that it had stolen such a beautiful life, and for myself, that I could have such an aversion for something so innocent. It seemed to sense my feelings and immediately began wailing. I gazed at it, dumbstruck, at the pink, wriggling, bawling creature whose noise was disturbing the mourning house.

I gave Galadh a mute look of appeal as the other infant in her arms joined the deafening chorus.

"They're hungry" she said, "They need to be given milk."

"Riach," I exclaimed, she looked shocked, but I continued oblivious. "They'll need a wet nurse, where on earth are we going to find one of those?" She looked at me blankly as I dumped the baby, Estel, into her arms "I'll go and find one" and left, with some vague idea of finding the King, but utterly clueless beside.

I walked with my head down towards the staircase, only to bump into something soft that gave a grunt of annoyance. "Sorry" I exclaimed, looking up, cringing with embarrassment, in to the cool, annoyed gaze of the King. How foolish was I? I wished fervently that the earth would turn liquid and swallow me, but it remained stubbornly hard. Smiling nervously, I pointedly avoided his glance, resolved to grin and bear it, "Osellë," reproved, "I knew you were here, are you too lost in contemplation to be unable to see where you are going?" I looked at him, and he stepped back, obviously moved by the sheer misery of my expression – those bewitching eyes of mine game in useful sometimes. "She is gone then?" he enquired sadly. I nodded mutely, the lump in my throat constricting my speech. With difficulty I choked back my tears and croaked out, "Yes, she is dead. She died just now, your son is with her, but the babes are crying, they need a wet-nurse."

"Ah. I'm not sure we have one of those here."

"Well then, the babies will starve."

"No, wait a minute," he paused, furrowing his brow as if searching his mind, "I have it. There is Naerwen; wife of one of my guards, Arphenion, she has just lost her child, and will be pleased to have the care of them. Where are the children?"

"Coming quickly this way" He glanced up, obviously baffled. "They're coming this way? They're only a few hours old, surely they can't walk already?" I would have laughed at his bemused expression, but, he was the King, and I was to desolate for that anyway.

"No sire, Galadh is carrying her. She is a friend of mine, a young Elf-Maid of the people of Cirdan." Galadh came up and curtseyed awkwardly, with the children still in her arms.

"Mae govannen, Galadh" the King said benignly, as he sent of one of his attendants to fetch Naerwen. "The wet- nurse shall be here shortly and I will relieve you of your precious burden." I darted in just in time to catch Estel- I think, it was hard to tell, before he fell from her grasp. He immediately began wailing and the King winced. I was relieved when Naerwen, a young, bonny, but mournful creature, came up and took the babies, cooing them to silence. She curtseyed to the king and went back the way she had come, a baby cradled on each arm. I watched her go, and then turned to the king. "Sire, I am weary, have you somewhere for me to sleep, and for Galadh, for she is as tired as I." He nodded, pointing to a manservant behind him, who found us two adjacent chambers near the Prince's suite. Saying a quick goodbye to Galadh, I entered the room, and shutting the door behind me, throwing myself, fully clothed as I was, onto the bed, immediately falling asleep.

A gentle shaking woke me up, as I heard an unfamiliar voice calling my name. I groaned and sat up, staring straight into the averted gaze of the manservant who had shown me to my room. "Lady Osellë, I am sorry to have to wake you, but you are needed at council by the King. Funeral arrangements need to be discussed." I nodded, unwillingly, and shooed him out the room. With difficulty I pulled myself of the bed, and aching in every limb, moved to the chest where my bundle lay. Next to it there was a rich black velvet dress, embroidered with roses, and a slightly plainer one of a sombre hue. There was a note, which simply said, 'Mourning, for Osellë'. I put on quickly the plainer one of the two and glanced into a mirror. The black made my already pale face paler, my dark shadowed-eyes standing out starkly. I dragged a comb through my tangled hair and left, following the manservant as he led me to the Great Hall.

The long, high-ceilinged room was covered with black drapes, as was the table in the middle, around which the elders sat. The King's dais was similarly draped, the seats either side of him conspicuous in their emptiness. He signalled me to a chair on his left, and I gratefully sat down. "Osellë, daughter of Eldarestalo," he said, his voice cracked and weary beneath its dignity. "You are called here as a dear friend of the deceased. As my son is unwell, I ask you to decide the best way to send her to her fathers." I looked at him, blankly. How was I to know how she wanted to be buried? I had seen neither hide nor hair of her for ten years, why should I be given this task? "Well," I hazarded, "The mortal customs are burying or burning on a pyre, but I do not think that Prince Legolas will like the idea of his darling wife eaten by worms or consumed by flame," I said, unable to resist a hint of sarcasm. I sat and thought for a moment, the eyes of the Hall fixed upon me. Suddenly it came to me. "I've got it!" I shouted, and then cringed, lowering my voice to a more seemly tone, "We shall consign her to the river,"

"What?" the king demanded.

"You have heard tell of the passing of Boromir son of Denethor. How, after his courageous death, he was consigned in a boat to the bosom of the Anduin, letting the river take him where it will – that will be the best way for her." To my surprise my suggestion was met by unanimous approval. Suddenly a rather breathless guard burst in, and, scarcely waiting for the king's permission, blurted out. "Sire, your son has gone mad!" A stunned silence fell onto the gathering. Legolas mad! Oh Ilúvatur, he couldn't be, my darling prince, mad! I looked at King Thranduil's face, which showed the same expression of grieving disbelief that mine did. "Yes mad," the guard continued. "When we tried to recover the body, he barricaded the door, refusing to let anyone in. And when we tried to force it, he sent an arrow out, narrowly missing my companion's head. He swore that he would do the same to anyone who tried to gain entry."

Tharundil leapt up, but I placed a restraining hand gently on his arm. "No, sire, I will go. I will coax him into resigning the body, and if he kills me, no matter. I would die anyway, for I couldn't live, knowing that he was insane." Tharundil nodded and I stumbled to by feet; trembling with anxiety. Soon I reached his door, knocking gently, and then more firmly until I received a curt "Who goes there?"

A knife of pain shot through me at the utter misery of his beautiful voice, the tears came unbidden to my eyes and fell unchecked down my cheeks. "It's Osellë," I whispered, my cracked voice scarcely audible. Yet his keen Elven ears heard me, for the door I leant on opened unexpectedly, and I fell backwards over the threshold, and into his outstretched arms. He held me close for a moment, as a glimmer of love entered his blue-grey eyes; only to be drowned by the grief inside them – at least they showed no signs of insanity.

I sighed as he relinquished me, "I have come to take Vénea away; you cannot keep her here for ever."

"I know," he moaned

"Then why did you threaten to kill the guards who came to fulfil that task?"

"They were rough and ungentle. I couldn't sacrifice my dear wife to them. But I can to you. Come, take her for burial, you were her friend." He brushed his hand over his forehead, as if trying to banish these thoughts and then, going over to the bed on which the corpse lay, he kissed its cold lips and then pulled the sheet regretfully over the pallid face. "Now take her."

I stepped outside the room and signalled to the servants waiting outside. "You may take her," I said sadly, and they came in, bowing nervously to their prince, who stood erect, face averted, so that they would not see the desolation in his eyes. My heart wrenched, as he stood there so proud, so vulnerable. I couldn't resist touching him gently on the shoulder, to remind him that he wasn't alone. Lost in contemplation at the once laughing and vivacious, now cold corpse that the servants were shouldering; I became aware of their whispered conversation. "Well, this is a change of tune, eh?"

"What d' you mean?" another replied

"It takes a woman's touch doesn't it, to separate the distraught Prince from his wife. I wonder what she has promised him..."

"Or how soon there will be a new princess of Mirkwood to replace this defunct article." Legolas gave a jerk, as a flash of anger danced into his clear blue eyes. He drew himself up and gave them such a withering look of Princely ire that they froze to the spot, almost dropping their precious burden. "How dare you speak of your princess in such a manner?" He exclaimed imperiously, his voice full of such cool arrogance and authority that the unfortunate souls literally stood shaking in their boots. "Now go. You are not fit to even touch the sole of her dead foot, let alone carry her to her last resting place." His tone dropped to one of quiet and deliberate menace, even more terrifying then the obvious fury before. "Now, give me the body and leave. Stand before the King and proclaim at once your guilt or else quit Mirkwood, for you are banished from my sight."

With one accord, he and I leapt forward to grab the body, just as the petrified servants turned tail and ran. She was surprisingly heavy as he and I carried her out of the room, and along the corridor. The stairs were a bit of a problem, but we managed, and carrying her to the Great hall, we laid her on the table. With a glance from me, Legolas left, leaving me to prepare the body.

Suddenly the door opened and a she-elf that I had never seen before stood before me. She was tall, my height, with long, dark hair, a sharp chin and a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, marking her out for a trickster that even death could not subdue. "Osellë," she said brusquely, drawing near to stare at the deceased, "I am Aswen, friend of the late princess"

"And" I cut in coolly, taking an instant and unaccountable dislike to her, "What can I do for you?"

She drew herself up and smiled sardonically, but the sadness in her eyes was plain to see. I warmed to her somewhat at this evident love of the dead, until she opened her mouth. Her words quickly banished any slight sympathy I had for her. "I've heard that you are sticking our poor Vénea in a boat, instead of giving her a nice burial mound somewhere in the forest. Depriving the bereaved husband of a place to lay flowers, are you?"

"How does that concern you?" I retorted, increasing the cold loathing in my tone

"Seeing as she was my friendI wish to have some part in her sending off. Who is preparing the boat then?" Her tone, under its apparent politeness, had an edge of insolence that I found extremely irritating, but I kept my composure intact,

"So you wish to be given that task then?"

"In a word, yes."

"It is yours." she stepped back, staring at me as if she was unable to believe her ears.

"You mean you want me to arrange the boat?"

"Yes" I said curtly, "I cannot do everything myself, I was just about to ask for volunteers for that, but since you offered, it saves me a job. You may start now if you wish. I give you a free reign, but remember that her favourite colour was blue, and that she will be wearing her wedding dress which is green."

She gazed at me, obviously touched as she stammered, "Than...Thank you for your generous offer, it means so much to me," my aversion decreased as I saw that she really had a great affection for Vénea.

"Go then. Find someone who knows the location of the boat, and a team that will help you with sewing and anything else. You have a day." She turned and disappeared, muttering something under her breath that didn't sound very much like gratitude.

I sighed; I should have been less cold and arrogant with her. I had made, if not an enemy, than not an ally either. I was in no position to be arrogant. For all I knew she was of a higher status than I, married probably, so having the backing of a husband and some station here. Whereas I, I was a landless wanderer, enamoured of the prince maybe, but not likely to become his wife.

I gazed at the still body of Vénea; she seemed as if only sleeping, with a gentle smile on her face, she had been so vibrant, so alive. I would be but a mere shadow to her in any relationship – a beautiful one maybe, but neither as vital nor as mirthful as she.

Covering her face, I called the maidservants and friends to help me prepare the body – a grim task but a necessary one. Soon we had her clothed in her wedding dress, her hair braided, her lips rouged. She seemed again to be that seventeen year old that had stolen Legolas' heart. Death had effaced the troubles of ten years and all the pain of childbirth, leaving her young and fresh.

We women kept a vigil by the corpse; I sat by Galadh as gradually the others fell asleep. She soon dropped off and I was left alone, the silent watcher, with only my thoughts as companions. I too must have slumbered, for I dreamt that Vénea was standing beside me, leaning over my shoulder and telling me of her love. She took me by the hand and led me through the scenes of her married life until I burnt with envy. She then reminded me of my thoughts, as I was alone in Rivendell, of how I had, subconsciously maybe, desired her death, wishing that she had not existed so that I could have married my Prince. She caused me to writhe with guilt at my own wicked mind. I then remembered my midnight council with Legolas on the eve of their wedding. He had come to me with his dilemma, his dream that he would be the death of Vénea through marrying her, and I advised him to tie the knot anyway, knowing full well that she would die because of him – and of me. I was not fit to keep vigil over her corpse; I had no right to sit here when I had had some part, however small, in her death.

I opened my eyes; to see the first rays of dawn illuminate her countenance, catching a flash of green and gold around her neck that had not been there before. Round her white neck, nestled on her breast, was the emerald teardrop, heirloom of Mirkwood and given to the bride of the prince – she who had captured his heart. Arwen had given it to me and I had worn it proudly, but now she, she wore it. There was no hope for me; even in death she still held the heart of the prince. I was striving after a treasure that had already been seized. I leapt up and dashed to the door, determined to end this false existence, to lose my burden for good. Yet as I walked to the doorway I seemed to see her standing there, barring the way, preventing me from leaving. 'You shall not run away' she appeared to say, her voice as if from a distance, soft and remote as a gentle summer breeze. 'Remember my husband, look after him. You are not worthy, but no one is. He needs you as much as you need him'. I blinked, and turned back, regaining my seat to watch out the night.

I did not have long to wait, for soon the court assembled and the body was placed on a litter, As the weak winter sun rose over the stark skeletons of the leafless trees, our black procession rode away, the litter bearing the corpse slung between two horses. I rode beside Legolas, his knee brushing against mine, rousing a mix of emotions within my breast every time he touched me, and yet stirring no response in him.

Soon we arrived at the lake, where Thranduil read the words of the dead over her, and she was placed into the boat – rather tastefully decorated in sky-blue and emerald green. Her hair was arranged so that it fell in raven profusion, the red highlights creating a soft halo around her face, a circlet of gold nestling on her locks.

Legolas imprinted one last kiss on her lips and whispered something to her that not even my keen ears could catch. He untied the boat and pushed it gently off, the swirling torrent of the Anduin catching it, the fitful breeze filling the black sail. The multitude of mourners let out a long sad sigh, that seemed to rise frown them and follow the boat, filling the sail and speeding its course. There were so many mournful faces, so many tear-filled eyes; the whole of Mirkwood seemed to be at this funeral, she was indeed well loved.

I stood on the edge of the river, my feet wetted by the water, as I watched the widening gulf between us and Vénea, Vénea and life. I felt a presence beside me; Legolas was also standing, gazing at the brave boat bobbing on the eddying river, utterly oblivious of my presence. His lips were moving, he was whispering her name over and over, and his blue grey eyes seemed to look straight through the rushing river, focusing on something that was invisible to me, yet all too plain to him. Suddenly I felt song rise within me – the affect of water and sadness seems to have that influence on me. I opened my mouth and let the words pour over the river, over the silent crowd of bowed heads, and over the black sailed boat that was drawing gradually away.

Tears, wails and lamentations

Fill this place.

All is mourning, sadness, grief

For young life's blossom,

Untimely cut.

That withers and dies,

Before it has yet lived.

The swirling torrent of the river

From spring to sea

It grew from nothing

To nothing it returns

As does she.

Come river, hold her coffin boat

Bear it to the sea

Bear it as she bore her death

Carried safely in her womb,

To the lands of the unknown.

You fade into darkness

Daughter of light.

I let the words linger on the air, the clear melody soaring then ceasing, as did she. As the last notes died, the Elven band, of one accord continued my lament:

Ilfirin nairelma nauva i nauva
Ilfirin nairelma ar ullume nucuvalme
Nauva i nauva melme héri sina nairelma.

Undying our regret, what shall be shall be
Undying our regret and yet we will cast all away,
What shall be shall be, love for this lady our regret.

As we sang the vessel turned a bend in the river and was gone from sight.

Gradually we turned away from the river, not an eye was without a tear as we solemnly mounted our horses and went on our way. Legolas was the last to leave, standing alone as the gathering moved off to give him space. At last he turned and mounted his horse, giving one last, lingering look, to the river that was the grave of his wife.

We soon reached the eves of Mirkwood, but instead of the subdued silence we expected, the forest was full of noise and bustle, the sound of industrious voices jarring painfully on the silent melancholia of our mood. King Thranduil leaped of his horse and demanded, "What is this noise? Cease it at once," the noise instantly stopped. "This is no time for merrymaking. We are mourning our princess, what is the meaning of this bustle?"

The assembled crowd, mostly servants, stood guiltily, staring sidelong at each other, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, not daring to speak so as to sustain the king's wrath. "Well what is it?" he demanded. At last one of the multitude spoke up, his petrified voice scarcely audible as he bowed profusely, "Sire, King Elessar and Queen Arwen have just this minute arrived and we are trying to accommodate them"

"Very well" the king said, throwing his reigns to and attendant and walking quickly into the hall. Legolas and I followed his example as we spied a familiar figure, in which the dignity of kingship had not obscured the wild Ranger. He came up and embraced Legolas, and then me, and then turning to King Thranduil made a brief bow, saying mournfully, " I came as soon as I could after I heard the sad news, but I believe I am too late!"

Legolas nodded mutely, the utter misery of his handsome face saying it all.

"I see" Aragorn said simply, as his wife joined him at the doorway. "My dear, we are too late."

"Well, enter," invited the Elven king, leading the way into the hall, "We have but poor hospitality to give you, but you are welcome as our guests all the same."

I did not see Legolas for three days; he kept himself in his room, the one he had shared with Vénea. He refused all sustenance and admitted none but Aragorn, with whom he spent much time. I'd heard that I forbade anyone even to touch it. He considered it a monument to Vénea; he wished to keep it forever as it was, to let time age it as she herself might have aged had she not died. That suited me – I'd rather have nothing to do with the room that contained their marriage bed – it contained too many painful relics of what I might have had, had fate ruled otherwise.

I too kept myself to myself, seldom leaving the chamber except to wander in the forest. I could not abide company especially that of the women, whose assumed cheerfulness jarred on me. Even Galadh I avoided, leaving her to the company of Arwen, and of Aswen, whose worldly chatter seemed more suited to her than my bitter lamentations. I'm sure they grieved too, but my mourning was deepened by the intense guilt of my feelings for the dead woman's husband, and a sense of betraying our friendship while she lived.

On the third day, as I was roaming alone through the overhanging boughs, I heard footsteps behind me. Recognising them as Aragorn's I continued on, I didn't want to be drawn into conversation, by him or by anyone. However he soon caught up with me, easily falling into step beside me. I contemplated ignoring him, but decided against it, instead demanding rather rudely, "What do you want?" and then as an afterthought, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your Majesty"

"Osellë, Osellë," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, "No need to bite my head off, I only came to enquire of your well-being"

"I am sick and tired," I snapped, "Now go, and leave me to my misery."

"Osellë, Osellë," he repeated, shaking his head, despairingly, "Will you ever learn that others value you and appreciate you even if you don't?"

"Appreciate me, who appreciates me?" I questioned bitterly, "The one person that I crave to be valued by has decided that I am worthless. He is leaving me, to go to war with you, and to perhaps end his life. Do you wonder then that I consider myself unimportant?"

He gazed at me, dumbfounded at my words – then fell to his knees with mock veneration, making to kiss my feet. "O wise prophetess, look with favour on me in your might. For you can predict the future and divine the deepest intentions of a man's heart before he can voice them; and so flabbergast him with your knowledge!"

"Oh, get up off your knees, you silly man" I said with mock irritation, but really his jokes had lightened by a few shades my black mood. He rose from his knees and his expression became more serious. "Seriously, how do you know that I am going to fight and to take him with me, do you have the gift of prophecy, or has someone told you?"

"It's quite obvious" I retorted sharply, "The way you two have been closeted together, I knew you must have been cooking up something. Then I heard from Arwen of some trouble in the boarders of your kingdom. I put two and two together, and unsurprisingly hit the nail on the head. He needs something to distract him from his grief, so you are providing him with that distraction. He'll agree, of course, hoping to bury himself in activity and perhaps hoping to end his life in battle; he will get action, while I will be left here to rot and to bring up children that aren't even mine!"

He laughed a humorous, mocking laugh that quickly faded when he saw the expression of misery and complaint on my face.

"So, you are complaining because you have to look after children that are not yours, then?" he enquired sharply

"Not at all" I said desperately, and the words of suffering and misery poured out unchecked, after the floodgates of my icy reserve had been lifted. I stammered quickly, with the intention only to fix some of my feeling in his stubborn mind, "No, I will look after them without complaint – they are Vénea's and I owe her that much. Don't you see, I will devote my life to them and to her memory, there is noting left for me to devote my life to, none to offer me a shred of comfort in my hour of need? He does not love me – or rather he loves her memory more. He will leave me and I shall be left totally alone, I have made my bed of thorns and I will lie on it. Just think, I was one simple word away from having love and comfort for life. He came to me and begged me to be his wife but I said no – I was too attached to Legolas to think of doing anything else. I could have loved him, he loved me. But I refused and banished him, in so doing banished my only chance of happiness..."

"Banished who?" he demanded, "Who asked you to marry him?"

"Why, didn't you know?" I asked, trying to keep my voice plain and matter of fact, but failing miserably, "Didn't you know that your brother proposed to me twice, and both times I refused him, because I was blind to his suffering and thought only of mine. I didn't believe Elrohir..."

"Elrohir?" he interrupted, a look of sheer amazement on his face.

I nodded, and then continued, my voice rising to a sob as I struggled to convince him – convince him of what? My head was in a whirl, the tears streaming down my face, burning tears of anger, anguish, pain... "He loved me, and now it is too late. No one can love me; I am too cold, too distant, too unlovable. I should have gone to the Undying Lands when I had the chance – yet my stupid longings and regrets held me back... I now know that I am useless, unwanted, unnecessary to everyone here. I shall go again and never bother you – or him, I will do as I intended and bury my love and pain in the West."

I turned away, blinded by tears, the weight of grief too much to bear. I had thought that I had been abandoned, so was surprised when he exclaimed, "No, you shall not depart!"

"If you wish, sire," I replied resignedly, letting him catch up. As he did, a new wave of sobbing passed over me, and I muffled my face gratefully in his leather tunic.

"There, there," Aragorn muttered, seeming rather embarrassed to find me weeping on his shoulder. After a while I pulled myself together and wiped my tear-streaked face, "I apologise for my outburst, I hate it that you or anyone should see me like this"

"No, do not hate it," he replied, "I always thought that you were as a statue – beautiful but cold. Now I know you are flesh and blood, and I honestly think that he does love you."

"Him, how can that be?"

"He has told me often enough, he only has to realise it himself. Legolas is consumed with grief, of self hatred that he did not love Vénea as much as he thought... his heart was divided, you see. He feels that his lingering affection for you somehow quickened her demise, and so he is plagued with self-reproach. I am taking him away to give and outlet for that, to let him get over his grief so that he can realise that he is not all alone, that you love him truly and that he returns your affections. They say that 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' I believe that that will be the case for him."

I sighed and looked at him, he was sincere. I would remain, I would hope. "Only, look after him, and bring him safely back,"

"I will bring him back safe, his eyes opened and looking to the dawn."

I began to walk away slowly, but suddenly a thought hit me and I broke into a run. Where were the children? I had not seen them in three days! What if they were ill, what if they had been kidnapped?

I dashed madly through the gates and along the corridors, followed by a hail of angry retorts as people either side of me went flying as I careered along, but I ignored them and continued along, shouting periodically, "Where are the princes, where is Naerwen?" pausing only to hear directions from a slightly less affronted pageboy. At last I barged into her chamber, without even knocking at the door, only to cringe in embarrassment at my rude entry, my alarm unfounded. The princes, instead of being ill or abducted were each absorbed in milky heaven, one on each of Naerwen's breasts.

She looked at me wonderingly as I stood stock still, rooted to the spot by my own acute mortification, but I at last pulled myself together and smiled condescendingly at her. "How are the young princes?" I enquired gently – trying to keep the irritation at my unwonted panic out of my voice.

She looked up at me demurely through downcast eyes, stroking the children's' heads. She said softly, "They are well, my lady; adorable things," as the babes finished their feed and she unashamedly refastened her dress. I took the babies from her, as she bustled around the small room. Wiping their milky mouths, I rocked them backwards and forwards while they lay cooing softly, drifting to sleep. They smelt clean and fresh, their soft, downy hair tickling my arms. I felt a pang of jealousy inside me, I so wished that these infants were mine – but alas they were not.

Gradually the babies drifted off in my arms and I lay them gently into their cradle. I smiled at Naerwen, indicating the slumbering infants, and left, shutting the door gently behind me; making my way to the hall where I endeavoured to eat something and thence to bed.

I lay alone in my chamber; it was dark – the pale moonlight illuminating the ordinary furniture, giving it and almost ethereal quality.

Slowly I became aware of a soft tapping on the door, which must have woken me from my rest. "Come in," I called, thinking my nightly visitor to be Galadh, unable to sleep, or perhaps Naerwen.

The door opened slowly, and a figure slipped through the aperture. I almost jumped in amazement, my heart missing a beat as the tall, lithe figure of my love came towards me, his golden hair shimmering in the half-light, the glimmer of stars in his dancing eyes. "Vanimle sila tiri" Your beauty is like the stars. I whispered, overcome by awe – he looked almost godly in the starlight, as if one of the Valar had come to Middle earth and was gently sitting on the bed beside me...

I sighed deeply, an electric shiver running down my spine as he whispered my name – a smile of heart-rending sadness on his lovely lips.

His low, mirthless laugh broke the spell and; trust me to think of the propriety of him in my bedchamber even if he was the one I loved. "Why have you come into my chamber at such a late hour?" I enquired, defensively drawing my pillow between us.

He laughed again, "Osellë, Osellë. Shall I go away then? Do you not want me here?"

"Please... Please don't go," I entreated, I couldn't bear him to leave me, to abandon me now.

"But I have to leave," he said gently, "I'm going..."

I cut him off sharply, "I know you are. I know you are leaving me to fight, to bury grief in action and perchance seek death, leaving me to care for your children."

"How do you know?" he gasped, drawing back involuntarily.

"Aragorn – and anyway I guessed before – I know you too well. I know how much you loved her and how much you love combat."

Suddenly I felt a wave of anger spread through me, at him and at my cruel fate. "If this is my lot in life then," I demanded, my hands convulsively gripping the pillow, "To be nursemaid to your two sons, to wait here without comfort, without love, for your unlikely return; to be alone and cold while I so crave affection. I should have married Elrohir – at least he loved me!"

Before I knew what I was doing I had flung the pillow at him, bowling him backwards off the bed, while I stood erect, eyes flashing, consumed by rage and pain.

He pulled himself up gingerly, rubbing his back, the pillow clenched between figure and thumb like some poisonous snake that might bite him.

"Why did you do that?" he enquired.

"I thought you enjoyed pillow fights, you had plenty with your late lamented wife," I said, my voice sarcastic, using it as a shield to hide the utter desolation inside.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he muttered sardonically, massaging his rear deridingly.

"Go then if you scorn me," I groaned, burning tears flowing form my eyes and coursing down my cheeks. "Yet I will not be angry. I am your dog, I will follow you. I will lick the hand that beats me and will fawn on you who curse me. You do not have to love me, but please don't leave me so."

He sighed, the mockery fading out of his eyes to be replaced by intense compassion and, dare I say it, love. "No, you are not my dog; you are too proud and too beautiful to be beaten or mistreated. You are my watcher and my helpmate; you will be there for me. I knew before that you loved me, yet you loved me so unconditionally that you sacrificed yourself for my happiness. The least I can do is love you in return!" He leaned over, gently brushing a stray hair from my face, and then suddenly wrapped his arms around my waist, drawing me towards him, planting a long, impassioned kiss on my startled lips. I was going to say, 'remember Vénea', as I had done the last time he kissed me, but I realised that there was now no Vénea to prevent us expressing our love...

He rose to leave before the stars death, before the first rays of the early sun could penetrate into the room and banish the blessed dark. "You cannot go," I said as he stood, making quickly for the door. "But I must," he sighed, "I must go. You were right when I said that I needed to bury my grief, for I truly loved her, and love her still – although I know that is not quite compatible with the affection I have expressed to you. I want to fight, to find action. If I stayed I would be reproaching myself everyday for taking you to be my wife so soon, I would not be doing justice to my poor, poor wife's memory."

"Go then, if you will," I said, unwillingly removing my arms from around his neck, using them instead to push him away. "It is best that you should be off with the old before you are on with the new. I will care for your sons as if they are my own. But I will wait longingly every day for you, no matter whether you are one year or one thousand years away."

He kissed me again and I shut my eyes to imprint this moment forever on my memory. But it ended, alas too soon. He unentwined his arms from my waist and walked towards the door, leaving the half spoken promise, "When I return..." lingering in the air as he gently shut the door.