She sat on a bench, watching the sunlight dance through the trees as it faded into the West. Such irony, she thought. The sun fades into the same place as the Elves do. The thought made her all the more bitter. Such beautiful creatures and such a fate. It was amazing how Alatriel was 1132 years old, and yet she still had so little understanding of such matters. As the tears once again clouded her vision, she pressed her fisted hands against her eyes to try to stop the tears from escaping. She suddenly heard her husband’s almost inaudible footsteps approaching.
“U-chenion,” she said shakily. “Am man theled?” Erestor’s strong arms enfolded her, and finally she allowed the tears to escape. “Meleth nin,” he began cautiously, “Some things must just… happen. No one knows why, they just must.” He sighed, wondering at how many times they had sat on a bench just like this one, talking about anything and everything. He then thought to the future, and realized that they were far less numerous than he was willing to admit, even to himself. They had been together and in love for longer than he could remember, and Erestor couldn’t imagine life without Alatriel. His own eyes filled with tears, yet he knew that he could not let her see him hurting, see his weakness.
“Such a frightening notion, forever,” he said, almost absently. “No beginning and no end. It makes one wonder what he really wants from life.” Though he thought this comment would have no effect on her, he was surprised. She sat up and gazed searchingly into his emerald eyes.
“What do you want from life, Erestor?” she demanded. “Do you want a fulfilled life, with a wife that loves you more than-” her voice caught. “A wife who loved you more than she can say. Or do you want a heroic end in battle? To be sung about, and remembered for a hundred years, or so. What do you want?”
What could he say? What words could he use to make her understand his feelings, and torment?
“Do you think that this is what I want?” he asked finally. Do you think I want to leave you and all that I have and hold close and dear here?”
Alatriel was instantly contrite. “Oh, meleth nin, gohero nin! I just… I don’t see how you can sit there, so indifferent, with barely a week before you leave to a battle that Eru knows if you’ll return from!” She laughed through her tears, and playfully slapped his arm. “Show some emotion, or something!” His unshed tears shone as he laughed, and he held her tight.
“Oh, my Alatriel, meleth nin. I ask why every moment I draw breath. Yet I pledged my allegiance to Lord Elessar, and he requires my services.” Once again Alatriel’s tears flowed. “Daro!” she cried, “I know, and I will see you again. Let us be together for the last few days before your departure.” She gave him a smile, but it was only a shadow of her former glow. Erestor also ventured a smile.
“Yes, you are right. Let us cherish our time.” With a sigh, he looked up to the stars, and felt a deep sense of foreboding. He knew it would soon be the end.
****************
“Erestor, tolo si!” Hearing Alatriel calling him, Erestor walked to the doorway, where his beautiful wife stood with Nellas, the captain of Erestor’s legion.
“Let us leave, Erestor,” Nellas said. ” The armies are beginning to head out, and we have little time.” Erestor could hear the strained determination in the Elf’s voice. Nellas was leaving a wife and son that was barely fifteen, a young age among Elves.
Alatriel stood at the door, smiling and sobbing at the same time. Nellas took the hint and went to prepare the horses for the long journey ahead.
“Noro I roch lin, silo Anor bo men lin,” Alatriel said, as Erestor took her hands into his own and kissed them.
“Gerich veleth nin, hiril nin,” replied Erestor. They gazed deeply into each other’s eyes, and both knew that no words would express their emotions. They embraced and clung tightly to each other. Finally Alatriel pulled back and smiled.
“Goodbye, meleth nin. Na-den pedim ad.” With that, he walked out the door, looking back only once as he rode off to the Last Great Battle.
****************
“Charge!” Nellas’ battle cry resounded over the fields. Erestor flew forward, slaying orcs as he went. This is it, he thought. Once this battle is over, I can return to Alatriel, and together we will leave this place forever. With these thoughts he fought more fervently than ever. Soon it would all be over, and the peaceful sea would take them away.
“Erestor, look out!” Somehow Alatriel’s voice rang in his ears as he swerved to barely miss an arrow whizzing past his face. He returned the missile, and the offender fell with a thud. There is the biggest threat, he realized. The archers! They could shoot from any vantage point, and could hide quickly. They were the problem, and he would fix it.
Erestor dashed up the small hill to the ruins where the archers stood. Without a second thought, he snuck up behind the archers, and with one swift stroke severed every head from their bodies. With a satisfied grunt, Erestor swerved around to face… at least sixty orc archers coming toward him. He once again readied himself to fight, though with tears in his eyes. Oh, meleth nin, Alatriel, how I will miss you. With a piercing cry, Erestor threw himself at the orcs, sword flying.
****************
Alatriel stood on the shore at the Grey Havens. It had been six months since Nellas had returned with the remnant of the armies.
Aragorn had been defeated. The armies he had sent had come back either dead or terribly injured. Hundreds had died.
The last six months had been one continual pain for Alatriel. She had ridden to Gondor with a few other widows from the Battle. As if it could compensate for the loss of their husbands, the King took a few moments to personally speak with every one of them. As an unexpected surprise, Alatriel was able to meet her old childhood friend, Lady Arwen. Now Queen, Arwen’s every moment was filled, yet she still found time to spend a moment with Alatriel.
“My dear friend,” Arwen had said, “It will hurt even to breathe. Every night you will pray to die so you may be reunited with Erestor. You will hate everything and blame everyone. It will kill you to go back to Rivendell, and walk the paths you walked on together. Everything you see will remind you of him. But soon, the pain will dim. It will never fully leave, but it will fade until you can stand it. I promise.”
With these words in her ears and her heart, Alatriel laid a hand on her bulging stomach. The baby would probably be born at sea. If it was a boy, he would carry his father’s name.
“Navaer, Erestor. No I mela in nale.” With a smile full of love, yet touched with sorrow, Alatriel climbed aboard the ship, leaving Middle-Earth forever.