Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings or The Silmarilion.
"But I say to you, King of the Númenorians, not till now have I understood the tale of your people and their fall. . .For if this is indeed, as the Eldar say, the gift of the One to Men, it is bitter to receive."
"So it seems. . .In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. Behold! we are not bound for ever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."
Arwen and Aragorn, The Return of the King, Appendix A.
The mallorn-leaves crunched beneath Arwen's feet as she made her way to Cerin Amroth. Her feet had once moved as lightly as a doe over these leaves. But now every inch of her body felt heavy, and she was almost dragging herself to the hill where she and Estel had first pledged their love. At last, she reached the double circle of trees where she and her husband had stood all those years ago. Arwen groaned and collapsed, not caring that the snow was cold against her cheek. "Estel," she whispered.
The wind blew through the mallorn trees- bringing the sound of long-gone seabirds. The Evenstar, beloved of elves and men, felt the pain leave her body and her heart as she drifted off to sleep.
The sun was warm on her body, and that seemed odd to Arwen since it was winter. The ground beneath her felt different too-coarse but soft instead of hard and icy. And was that salt she smelled? Arwen opened her eyes and saw a bright blue, treeless sky and seabirds flying around the sun.
She bolted to her feet and looked around. Sand fell from her long hair. She turned a saw a vast sea lapping against a white shore. A gentle breeze caressed her skin.
I am on a beach. Arwen realized. How can that be? I laid down to die in the forest. Her eyes spied a white ship bobbing in the ocean waters. She remembered her last conversation with Estel* and a sudden hope bloomed in her heart. Have the Valar decided to have mercy on me and take me to the Grey Havens after all?
A voice came to her on the wind. "Lady Arwen. Truly, your beauty exceeds even the tales your husband told me."
Arwen turned and saw a tall man approaching her. He was wearing sailor's clothes. As he came closer, Arwen saw that his long brown hair fluttered around a pair of pointed ears and an aristocratic-looking face.
Arwen's heart soared. "Ada!" she cried. She must be in the Gray Havens after all! She ran to embrace him with an agility she had not felt in years.
But the man held out his hands to stop her. He shook his head with a sad smile. "No, child. I'm afraid not your father."
"Then who are you? Is this a trick?" Arwen's joy was replaced by anger. Was it not enough that the Powers took my husband away from me? Must They now mock me by taking from my resting place and showing me a stranger who is the very image of my father?
"Your father knew me by the name 'Elros,'" said the stranger.
Elros. "My uncle! How can that be? He was lost long ago to our kin."
"I am not lost, dear lady. And neither are you. For we have accepted the gift of Ilúvatar."
"I am truly dead, then." Her heart plummeted as the hope that the Valar had changed their minds and allowed her to revoke her choice faded. Then the anger burned hot in her blood again. "Is this what lies awaits me beyond the circles of the world?" She cried. "A beach and an uncle whose choice of mortality brought doom to his descendants?" She spat into the wind. "Do you call grief and decay a gift, Uncle? Is it a reward to be sundered from the ones you love? My father. My husband. They are lost to me." She sank to her knees the grief hit her all over again. The sound of her weeping mingled with the roar of the ocean and the call of the gulls.
Soft footsteps on the sand. Elros was coming toward her. Out of the corner of her tear-filled eyes, Arwen saw him sit next to her on the beach. She felt him touch her hair. The gesture reminded Arwen of her childhood and how her father used to stroke her head when she was upset. She pulled away. "Go away! Leave me be!" She curled into a ball and hugged her knees to her chest.
Elros dropped his hand but did not move. "I expected you to be bitter. You are not the first to curse me for my choice, and you will not be the last. But lady, it pains me to see you weep as though your husband were gone forever when he Is here."
"Lies!" sobbed Arwen. "Cruel lies!"
Another voice came on the wind. "Arwen."
"Estel?" She sprang to her feet and whipped her head around, searching for the beloved face. But she only saw the sea and the white ship. She swallowed another sob. "I-I don't understand."
"It is the gift, Arwen. The true gift." Elros climbed to his feet and stood next to her, gazing with her at the horizon. "My brother, for all his wisdom, never understood. Although the First Born are blessed to live forever, they are bound to either the circles of a fading world or to Valinor. But once they have passed through the darkness of death, the Second Born are free to dwell with the One Himself. No grief or pain can touch them in His presence."
Arwen stood still-the tears drying upon her face, letting the sound of the waves and her uncle's words wash over her. Then, in the silence, Estel's voice came to her again from across the waters. "Arwen." This time she heard it not only in the wind but in the waves and the gulls' laughter. As the glorious truth sank in, Arwen found herself both weeping and laughing.
Elros knelt before her and clasped her hands in his. His eyes were warm and tender as he gazed into hers. "Arwen," he said, using her name without a title for the first time. "My ship awaits you. Please let me take you to your husband. I know I'm no replacement for your father, but my wish is that you would be as a daughter to me. I would care for you until all things are made new at the end of the world."
Arwen knelt and embraced him. He seemed startled but embraced her back, and his arms felt almost as good as her father's.
"Take me home, Uncle," Arwen whispered.
"Nothing could give me greater pleasure, my child."
They rose to their feet. Holding, they departed the beach for greater bliss and glory beyond the sea.
*In "The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen," Aragon suggests to Arwen that she "repent" of her choice and go to the Grey Havens. But of course, she can't.
AN: I really wanted Arwen and Elros to meet, and this was the way to do it! My own theory about the gift of Ilúvatar (suggested to me by TV Tropes) is that Men get to go to the Christian Heaven after they've died. The gift is that they get to live with their Creator and be free of sadness and death. I hope I've managed to convey some of the hope and beauty of my faith (and Tolkien's, though he was Catholic and I'm Protestant) in this fic.
I'm grateful to J.R.R. Tolkien for creating these characters and this concept. I'm also thankful to The One Wiki To Rule Them All and the gorgeous fanart by Szilvia Szarvas for helping me picture Arwen's death scene. wiki/Cerin_Amroth And I'm grateful to Jesus Christ for securing my place in Heaven.
Please read and review, and feel free to PM if you want to talk more about Jesus or The Lord of the Rings.