Oh, yeah. Before anyone gets confused, Boromir is present during the festivities mentioned in the last chapter, but as he doesn't really play a part, he isn't shown. Haldir was also there too, as he's still recovering from Helm's Deep.

Chapter Forty-Four

(everything is spoken in Elvish)

~ Tinúviel~
I hurried down the corridors, drawing my cloak around me for warmth. My mother had sent me to check on Haldir before I went to sleep, and to find Estel if I could. We were sure Estel was fine, though; the last we had seen her, she had been with Legolas and we knew he would keep her safe. It was Haldir we were mainly concerned about, for I had found his room empty and his gear gone.

Sure enough, the side door through the kitchens was open. I passed through them and went through the door just in time to see Haldir pull up his hood.

Leaning against the door and crossing my arms, I asked, "Leaving so soon?"

Haldir whirled around, and for a second I saw his hand go to his sword before he relaxed. "Tinúviel," he greeted.

I straightened and walked towards him. "Who else?"

I had taken over ensuring that Haldir's wounds healed correctly, for Aragorn and everyone else who specialized in healing were needed for the more serious victims. Through the ride back to Edoras, we had grown . . . I could say close. I wish I could say close.

In any case, I enjoyed his company.

He was polite, friendly, and intelligent, able to challenge my point of view as well as talk about things I had never heard of before. And he treated me like a real lady, something I appreciated; in that way, I was unlike my sister, Estel, who preferred to be treated like any normal Man, even though she disdained fighting. Of course, that could be because I had grown up being treated like a real lady, whereas my sister had been so young when everything had changed.

Or it could just be because my sister was stubborn, independent, and a rebel.

"Are you leaving now?"

"Yes." Haldir looked away. "I have lingered far too long here; now I must return to my own people."

"I know," I said quietly. "They will need you when they make the journey to the Grey Havens."

His eyes flickered back to me. "You know?"

"I've always known." I sighed. "There were no Elves where I grew up, remember?"

Haldir was silent for a while at my words. "I wish it hadn't been that way for you," he said softly. "You would have been cherished greatly among your own people had things turned out properly. And cherished by my own."

I uncrossed my arms. "Oh, well. No sense in dwelling the past." I turned to face him completely. "I wish you well in Valinor, Haldir."

He searched my eyes. "I will miss your company there."

"I am sure your friends can fill that."

He shook his head swiftly, stepping forward almost hesitantly. "No – you do not understand, Tinúviel."

"What do you mean?"

Haldir faltered. "I . . ."

I grinned at him. "What, have you lost your tongue?" I teased.

"That's not it," he murmured.

"Then what is?"

He didn't answer, seeming to retreat deep inside of himself and suddenly be as distant as he was on the day we had first met. Well, the second time we had met. The first time didn't really count, as he had thought I was Lúthien Tinúviel.

I sighed and reached up to put a hand on his shoulder. "I wish you luck on your way to the Undying Lands. Maybe one day, at the end of the world . . . the prophecy will come true, and our races will unite from the Halls of Mandos. But until then . . . farewell, Haldir. I and the rest of my house will never forget you."

I was just turning around to go back inside when his hand suddenly appeared on my shoulder.

"Wait."

And then he was pulling me around, and my hands came up against his chest, and he was – he was kissing me.

I didn't even manage to muster the faintest protest.

I melted into the kiss, finding in my first kiss everything the poets and the storytellers and the musicians had foretold about . . . about true love. It was like . . . like an explosion of fire and sparks that at once soothed you like water in a desert and burned in you with an everlasting flame. It was like everything in the entire universe had stopped – the moon, the sun, the stars, everything. And it was . . . perfect, like everything had been grey and dull before and was only now emerging in crystal clear, flawless, glorious colors.

When he drew back, I shut my eyes. I didn't want to wake up from this dream.

"Tinúviel?" he asked uncertainly.

"Don't talk. I don't want to wake up from this."

~ Haldir ~
The kiss was perfect.

She hadn't expecting it, and in truth, neither had I, but still . . .

If there had been anything to make me feel like I was Beren Barahirion and she Lúthien Tinúviel, this was it. Everything just felt so . . . perfect, so right. Like we were two halves who had been separated and were now just finding out how perfectly we were meant to be.

But when she shut her eyes, for a moment I feared that she hadn't wanted it – or was disgusted by it.

And then I realized the truth – she thought, she really actually thought, that she was dreaming.

I laughed and drew her closer. "Tinúviel, this isn't a dream, and you can open your eyes. I'm not going to disappear."

"How do I know?"

I brushed my fingers against her cheek. "Trust me."

Bit by bit, she opened her eyes and peeked at me. I smiled at her, and I saw her give a soft sigh of relief. Then she leaned against me, resting her head against my chest, and I tightened my embrace around her, never wanting to let her go.

"When?" she asked suddenly.

"When what?"

"When did you know?"

I hesitated. "I think . . . I think from perhaps the moment we met," I admitted honestly after a moment. "I felt . . . strange. And then . . . all this time afterwards . . . it just seemed to confirm what in my heart I guess I already had known."

She shook her head against my chest. "And all along I had convinced myself that you only saw me as a regular mortal."

I looked down at her, aghast. "How could I ever think of you as thus?" I demanded.

"Well . . . you're a full-blooded Elf . . . and I'm just a . . . a half-breed," she stuttered.

"Don't ever call yourself that."

"But – "

"Tinúviel." I took her face in my hands. "Tinúviel, listen to me. You will never be a half-breed to me or a regular mortal. Never."

I held her tightly. Much as I loved her, we still had a major dilemma. Namely, the fact that I was to set sail for the Undying Lands very soon – and that much as I would deny it, Tinúviel would not be able sail with me. The Valar would still consider her a mortal, and mortals weren't allowed. I doubt that they would make the same exception for her as they had made for Tuor of Gondolin, and I didn't want to risk her life trying to find out.

But I wasn't about to let her go. I couldn't.

Lúthien Tinúviel had bewitched Beren, yes, but she had set her hand in his, chaining her to his sad fate.

Now, maybe it is time for the circumstances to be switched.

Tinúviel had enchanted me this time, but there was no way she could set her hand in mine – not now. She could not choose to join herself to the immortal fate of the Eldar; she was not one of the Peredhel. It was a shame too. . .

"If you were one of the Peredhel, I would have begged you to choose to the fate of the Eldar and join us," I said without thinking.

Tinúviel raised her head to look at me. "I can't. And you must leave."

"Must?"

"The Eldar are already leaving the shores of Middle-earth; I know you know that. And you must leave with them. I cannot ask you remain behind and suffer."

"You can."

Her grey eyes flickered slightly, sadly. "If I do, then I fear you will suffer the same fate as Lúthien Tinúviel and Arwen Undómiel," she said miserably. "Only you cannot choose to join yourself to my fate. Always has it been that a daughter of the Eldar has enchanted a son of the Atani."

"History does not always have to repeat itself."

"No. But this it must."

She looked at me, her face calm, and I knew quite suddenly that she had already made her choice.

"Haldir . . . You know what my choice would be, if I could make it. But I cannot. I can't ask you to endure the fact of seeing me die."

Her voice broke at the end, and I saw how her grey eyes glistened with unshed tears. Of all times, she had never looked more fragile to me, even when I had judged her with a warrior's eye instead of that of a lover.

"Tinúviel . . ."

"Go, Haldir," she said softly.

Desperate, I reached for her, but she shied away as a mouse shies from a hunting hawk.

There was no enmity between us – just calm resignation. We hadn't lost each other; on the contrary, I doubted that we would ever forget each other. Ever.

How could I forget the only person who had ever won my heart – and a woman who embodied Lúthien Tinúviel herself, no less?

But while our races were both Children of Ilúvatar, so too did they stand apart.

We were star-crossed lovers, and without a miracle, that was all we would ever be. Our fate was perhaps even worse than that of all the others, for there was no hope of a change.

I would sail to the Undying Lands, heartbroken, weary, and filled with longing. My immortality would be measured in the tears I shed and etched into the pain of my heart. And Tinúviel – she would remain here, in Middle-earth and in darkness and in doubt, her heart gone and the light in her eyes forever quenched, as nightfall that comes without a star. And one day the long years of her life would be utterly spent and her youth would wither and she would then taste the bitterness of mortality, and when she died the last traces of the Eldar would leave, never to be found again and never to be remembered.

In other words, we would be the star-crossed lovers separated by more than class or race. We would be separated by death itself, our love but a faint reminder of the life we once had.

"Tinúviel . . ."

This time, when I said her name, probably for the last time, a tear broke loose, and the river flowed down her cheeks; but she made not a single sound. She knew how hard this was going to be and she was trying to hold on to her courage.

But how much courage can you have when you are saying farewell to the one you love . . . forever?

I reached for her, and this time she did not shy away but instead welcomed the embrace.

And then I kissed her one last time.

The kiss was bitter from the salty tears we both shed – but perhaps that was fitting, a fitting last parting to a bitter love whose fate rested in an utter sundering forever. But it was also sweet, a last vow of love that could not be said in this or any language in existence.

Bittersweet, then, the love of a mortal girl and an immortal Elf – and their parting.

I just had never expected that one day that word would describe my own parting from the one I loved.

So . . . yeah. I wasn't really subtle about this and I know I didn't spend a lot of time on it. But I intended their relationship to be pretty much exactly like that of Lúthien Tinúviel and Beren – one glance and bang! In love for life. After all, this story is mainly about Estel and what she chooses to do – not to dwell on her sister or brother. And the story was dragging on a bit anyways. So . . . my apologies if this seems a little rushed or anything.