Sorry it took so long to get up, but i had real problems with this final chapter. i just want to say thanks to anyone who has reviwed this story along the way, it has been quite a literary adventure for me.

"Éstel, Éstel!" she cried, and with that even as he took her hand and kissed it, he fell in to sleep. Then a great beauty was revealed in him, so that all who after came there looked on him in wonder; for they saw that the grace of his youth, and the valour of his manhood, and the wisdom and majesty of his age were blended together. And long there he lay, an image of the splendour of the Kings of Men in glory undimmed before the breaking of the world.

But Arwen went forth from the house, and the light of her eyes was quenched, and it seemed to her people that she had become cold and grey as nightfall in winter that comes without a star. Then she said farewell to Eldarion, and to her daughters, and to all whom she had loved; and she went out from the city of Minas Tirith and passed away to the land of Lórien, and dwelt there alone under the fading trees until winter came. Galadriel had passed away and Celeborn also was gone, and the land was silent.

There at last when the mallorn-leaves were falling, but spring had not yet come, she laid herself to rest upon Cerin Amroth; and there is her green grave, until the world is changed, and all the days of her life are utterly forgotten by men that come after, and elanor and niphredil bloom no more east of the Sea.

Arwen Úndomiel wandered alone in the woods of Lothlórien, no longer fair and golden. Galadriel had departed many, many years ago, and Celeborn too had forsaken the land. All the Eldar had departed, save one, who wandered still alone in the land of her mother's people.

For Arwen had forsaken her immortality; forsaken the life of the Eldar for the man she loved. And in return he had made her a Queen of the Edain, and given her many beautiful children, but now he too was gone. Aragorn son of Arathorn, the King Elessar Telcontar of Gondor and Arnor, the ranger Strider of old, her Éstel, her hope, had at last passed beyond the circles of the world.

Thus Arwen tasted the bitterness of the mortality that she had taken upon herself, and every day she wandered in the once fair land reminded her of days long gone, and of her loss.

In her mind she relived the days they had spent in these woods in joy and bliss. Before the great Shadow had fallen upon Middle-Earth and taken her Éstel from her for great journeys that lasted many years. Always walking in danger, taking the full weight of the shadow upon himself, until the time came when the means of defeating the Enemy had been discovered, and Aragorn the Heir of Isildur had risen up out of obscurity to lead the Armies of the West against the dark hordes at the Black Gate, and in the joy of their victory had at last renewed the Kingship of Gondor.

But that was all so long ago now, nothing more than a memory. That was what Aragorn had told her would happen if she took he ship into the West, that their love would become nothing more than memory, and at last would fade away. That ship she had forsaken for his love, but still she found that all she clung to were mere memories; ashes and dust that must fade away when their time is done.

Arwen wanted to believe him that there was so much more than this, that beyond the circles of the world there is more than memory, but with each passing heartbeat her beloved Éstel became further and further away from her, until at last she doubted that he had even existed.

The leaves of the mallorn-tree fell silently and softly about Arwen, blowing gently with the wind; the mallorn-leaves fell though it was still winter, but Arwen did not notice. All Arwen knew was that it was time; her heart was broken, and could not be fixed; there was no more pain that she could endure. The Evenstar's last remaining hope were the words that Elessar had spoken to her upon his death-bed:

We are not bound for ever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory.

So Arwen Úndomiel lay herself down upon the hill of Cerin Amroth, where long ago she and Aragorn had pledged their love for one another, hoping against hope that there was truth rather than folly in her beloved's final words.

Thus Arwen closed her eyes on the world and waited for Death to take her. At last she felt her heart slow and her breathing lengthen and she could no longer feel the blood rushing through her veins. But when her heart finally ceased its beating, and her lungs drew no more breath, Arwen did not feel the darkness take her utterly.

She opened her eyes, and lo! she was still in the woods of Lórien, but the leaves still clung to the trees, and the woods were golden still. Arwen sat up perplexed, and her eyes fell upon a familiar smiling figure. Éstel!

But this was not the man that Arwen had left cold and still in the Silent Street; an old and majestic king, silver haired and wise. This man was much younger, and still had a full head of dark hair, barely troubled by grey flecks. This was the Éstel that she had known in Lórien so many years before, still youthful of face yet combined with the majesty of the Old King. Her heart burst with joy at seeing him again, though she could not convince herself entirely that he was real.

"Where am I?" asked Arwen uncertainly.

"In the place you have always longed to be in your heart," replied Éstel. His eyes were shining with mischief, though it was tempered with a wisdom that Arwen had known in him in their last days together. "You are home, my love."

"Is this place real? Are you real?" asked Arwen, still haunted by the pain of her life.

Éstel merely smiled and held out his hand to help her up.

"I am real enough, so why should the place not be?"

Arwen replied by flinging herself into her lover's arms, tears of joy rolling down her face; Éstel was indeed real, for there could be no mistaking the feel of his arms as he held his beloved Evenstar.

"Forgive me my love for doubting you; forgive me for despairing that I would ever see you again."

Aragorn took Arwen's chin in his hand and forced her look at him, with his other hand he wiped the tears from her cheek.

"You have endured the bitterness of the mortality that you took upon yourself and you have triumphed over despair. In sorrow we must go I said, but not in despair."

"Forgive me again my love, for I did indeed despair."

"Nay, for in the depths of your heart there always dwelled hope, and even the smallest amount of hope is a most precious thing." Arwen smiled, and Éstel could have sworn he heard her issue a girlish giggle too.

"Of course there was always Hope in my heart, for that is where I kept you always, and you are Hope."

Gently Aragorn kissed her, and Arwen was disappointed when he pulled away too soon. She pouted and gave and small, involuntary whimper. Éstel smiled.

"Patience my love, we have all eternity together for that."

"All eternity," echoed Arwen, uncertainly. "Éstel, eternity is a very long time."

"Aye, but it will always be too short when I am with you. Behold! this is the gift of The One to Men; indeed we are the true immortals."

Then Aragorn took the Evenstar's and led her away into the woods, their pasts, presents and future all entwined within the strange fate that befalls men after their death.

Eternity is a very long time, but for two people who loved each other as much as Éstel and Úndomiel did, eternity does not seem that long.

The End