Chapter V: From Farewell We Are Defenceless
25 Girithron, 3019
"This is my last word to you," Adar said. I was standing in front of my handmaidens, watching the company. I had several, but Lambë was not only my handmaiden but also my confidant. The others were necessary for important occasions when a retinue was needed, or when one person was too few to assist me in preparations for a banquet or ceremony.
We had already suffered through a long speech by Adar; he was longwinded on important occasions. And now he was drawing near to the end. Aragorn and I had said our farewells earlier that morning.
When I woke up, he had been outside in the hall. For the sake of virtue, after I'd fallen asleep Aragorn had left the intimate chamber and slept outside the door. I had found him there, leaning against the wall, sleeping still.
"Estel…" I whispered, stroking his face.
He jumped awake, his hand moving to his hip where his sword would be in the wilderness.
"Don't you ever let your guard down?" I whispered, sitting down beside him.
"Can I afford to?" he replied, putting an arm around my shoulders to keep me warm.
"Here you are safe, Estel." I leaned my head against his chest. "No one can hurt you."
"Perhaps there is no one that can hurt me here. But farewell is a foe I have no defence from."
"I know," I kissed his neck. "I know. But someday we will have no more farewells."
"Except one."
"Years hence, Estel."
"This will be our last one until then, I promise, Arwen."
His lips met mine as I pulled him to a standing position. "You will be late, meleth-nin8."
He put his arms around me. "Then I will be late."
I pulled away. "You have a visit to make before you go, Estel."
I left Aragorn alone at his mother's grave; I retired to my chambers to change out of my thin night attire and into the lavender gown Lambë had left for me draped over a chair. Once I had changed, I returned to his side. He had cleaned the leaves and dust from the old statue of Gilraen—his mother— that stood guard over the grave, and now he stood looking at it, withdrawn in his own thoughts.
He spoke, sensing my presence. "I plan to have her grave moved to Gondor, if…"
"And you will place her in Rath Dínen?"
"Yes."
"She will love that."
"I hope so."
"Estel…" I began, tremulously. "I promise I will be waiting for you to return, forever."
"I know, meleth-nin."
"I love you." I held him close, savouring the few moments we had together.
"I love you, too." He kissed me hard in the mouth.
The memory of that conversation was burned into our minds, and it would never be forgotten. Even if—perish the thought—Aragorn fell into darkness and I was left alone in Imladris to die alone, we would never forget that moment.
We were watching each other, trying to burn the other's image on our minds, as Adar continued. "The Ringbearer's companions go with him as free companions—to help him on his way. You may tarry, or come back, or turn aside into other paths as chance allows. The further you go, the less easy it will be to withdraw; yet no oath or bond is laid upon you to go further than you will. For you do not yet know the strength of your own hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet with upon their road."
The Dwarf spoke up; I heard his words, but could not look away form Aragorn. "Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens."
Adar replied, "Maybe; but let him not vow to walk in the dark who has not yet seen the nightfall."
"Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking heart," the Dwarf insisted.
"Or break it," Adar coolly answered. "Look not too far ahead! But now go with good hearts. Farewell, and may the blessings of Elves and Men and all free folk go with you!"
Aragorn locked eyes with me again.
I love you, Arwen.
Come back to me. A tear fell silently down my cheek. No one was looking at us—they were looking at the others. I wanted to run into his arms; I wanted to scream; he was leaving; he was turning towards the gate… all around me were calling farewell in lilting Elven voices.
No! One more word—one more touch—one more kiss—one more second—one more moment—one more day—one more lifetime!
I found my voice at last. "The Valar be with you, Estel!"
He turned back for a moment. "And with you, Lady," he said softly. I could barely hear his voice amidst the sounds about me—the Elves, the wind moaning like a lonely child, the echoing of stones underfoot.
Yes! I could discern each step—the pitter-pattering of the Hobbits; the heavy clump of the Dwarf; the rustle that was the footstep of Legolas; the assured strides of Boromir; the measured and even steps of Gandalf and Aragorn.
My eyes followed him until there was only a moment left in which he might turn—now a second—half second… he turned when there was a quarter second—our gaze met for the merest eighth of a second… and he was gone. The Sundering Seas between us lay, and my only prayer was that we might someday find our way and meet once more, and pass away in the forest singing sorrowless.
8. Meleth-nin: my love; from the Sindarin