 Love Immortal

“It is my time now, Arwen Undomiel my Evenstar, I must go. Eldarion our
son is ready for kingship,” said Aragorn, the Elfstone and King Elёssar of
Gondor, as he looked kindly at Arwen.

“Please don’t leave me,” she said through her many tears.

“Arwen, I will die, but my love will not.” He brushed a tear from her cheek and smiled. “Remember what we share, a love immortal.” With that, he shut his eyes and bore himself away to be with his fathers.

Arwen opened her eyes. Every night since her husband’s death and funeral, she dreamed of his death. Tears clung at her long brown lashes. “Arwen, there is nothing for you here, only death.” Her father’s words stung her memory. She blinked back her tears and sat up. She plucked an oak leaf from the grass and rubbed between her fingers. She cast it away as she thought of the picnics she’d had with Aragorn under that very tree.

In the distance to the South rose the white tower of Minas Tirith, far ahead to the West stood the looming gray Misty Mountains, and to the North the silver-gray bark of the Mallorn trees of Lothlorién. But Arwen saw none of this, only the grief of her loss. She stood up and the pits of grass and leaves fell from her long many-layered black dress. Black. It was the only color she wore since Aragorn’s passing. She leaned over and picked up her small but tidy pack. After rummaging through it a bit; she pulled out a skin of Gondor’s finer wine and a wafer of Lémbas bread. She ate less than half of the wafer and drank only a few sips of wine.

Arwen called her beautiful white horse in the Elven tongue. “Asfaloth, yúyo níra lende sí. We will go now.” Arwen told her. Asfaloth had always been with her; she hoped her horse would help relieve her pain. They went slowly, for there was no need to hurry, and stopped often. After six days of journey, they came to the thundering falls of Rauros. They could see the rocky, razor sharp labyrinth of Emyn Muil on the other side of the lake through the mist of the falls.

Arwen saw half of a decayed silver-gray boat hidden in the trees. She stumbled over an object jutting out of the earth. Picking it up, she realized it was the helm of an Uruk-hai. She remembered the battle Aragorn had told her about that had taken place there. She could almost see him as he leapt and stabbed, blocking the Uruk-hai so Frodo could get away. She envisioned the battle. There was Aragorn young, strong and handsome with his shoulder-length wavy brown hair and serious face. She could see Legolas with his bow that the Lady Galadriel had given to him, and Gimli with his axe. Then she saw Boromir as he died trying to save Merry and Pippin. Arwen bowed her head and said softly, “Ilye tier undulávë lumbulë, Ar sindanórello caita mornië í falmalinnar imbë met. All paths are drowned deep in shadow and out of a gray country darkness lies on the foaming waves between us.”

Again, she started off and followed the river for three more days. Then she entered the Golden Wood of Galadriel her grandmother. However, it was desolate. Not cheery as it once was, for all the elves, including Galadriel and Celeborn, had sailed to the Undying Lands. Arwen then came to the Nimrodel. She sat down and let her hand drop into the cool crisp water; it seemed to her as if her grief was flowing out of her fingertips and down the clear stream. But as soon as she removed her hand, the she felt the anguish reclaim her. She hung her head and began to sing in a quiet voice,

O Nimrodel, so fair and sweet
Where Aragorn and I again did meet
On the banks of your sparkling stream
It was as beautiful as a dream.

O Nimrodel so bright and clear
You washed away all my drear
But even now my grief I keep
For my one true love has gone to sleep.

Arwen turned away and made for Caras Galadhon. There she dwelt in sadness through the winter. Arwen’s horse trotted up, shook her head and neighed. “Asfaloth, my beautiful horse,” she said, “you have been my friend and served me well through our long lives, but now I need you no longer for winter has melted into spring, but the golden Mallorn leaves have not fallen and my pain has not lessened. Go now where ever you will, whether it be back to the White City, or to Rivendell, or to places you have not yet seen.” The horse neighed and slowly trotted away.

Arwen walked to the hill of Cerin Amroth. She shut her eyes.
“Arwen, you are immortal — I am not,” said Aragorn.
“Why are you saying this?”
“It was a dream Arwen, nothing more.”
“Aragorn, I would rather share one lifetime with you then face all the ages alone. I will not take the ship to Valinor.”
She opened her eyes. She cast herself down upon the green grass. Her hood fell off, allowing her long raven hair to spill out around her face. “Ni harya sanwё. I have remembered,” she whispered softly. The lids of Arwen’s eyes drifted shut as one last tear fell.