The death of Arwen - Another short story
The forest was sleeping, resting under the watchfull peace of the nights velvet shroud, and the wind went hither, lazily toying wiyh the falling winter leaves as they floated upon its gentle flight to its unknown destination.
In the distance the river ran, singing its ancient song of woe, and crying for Nimrodel, the obe who had lost her life and her love. The mallorns now stood, a shadow of their former glory, holding only memories of this land as it was, the Dreamflower, Lorien.
Did anyone that yet lived remember the golden mallorns, and how thw city of Caras Galadhon was placed among the most magnificent of thoes boughs. Did anyone that yet lived remember the Lor Celeborn, and Galadriel, the lady of Light?
As the forest watched qnd listened the footsteps of one who walks softly and alone fell upon the fallen leaves of this departed haven, and the sad song of the river was enhanced by the weeping of the maid who walked the paths that had not been walked since the elves had passed, in the autumn of their years.
A nightingale sang in a meloncholy lament for the one who walked through the trees, clad in a deep velvet cloke, the coloure of a roses blood. She stopped, and lifted her face, almost smileing, yet the tears were in her eyes still, and her hood fell off her face, revealing what the trees already knew: the evebnstar had returned at last.
Her long hair, as black as jet, fell like a silken fall of water down her back, and her skin, as clear as snow still held the remains of the youthfull hue that had once embraced her whole face, yet her eyes were still as blue as the deepest seas, and held the light of the stars. The song hushed, and she pulled her hood over her face again, tracing the hidden paths that led to Cerin Amroth, living in her memories, and weeping for her love, her life, her people.
And as she reached thsat mound she kneeled at its summet, her tears and her prayers forming an image of her unimaginable grief, growing weary of sorrorw, of mortality.
The stars still shone, and she looked at them, pleaded to them, but she could not reach them any longer. This day had waited for her, and through all the happy years had seemed so far away, so distant, and she could not avoid it any longer. Winter had come, at last.
And there she lay, no longer weeping as her beauty, like that of Lorien faded as there she lay, among the faded elanor as the wind carried the golden leaves of the mallorns onto her chest that did not rise with her breath, and as the dawn came and the stars faded there she lay, a memory, kissed by the cold kiss of the winter sun and the bitter frost of the dancing breeze.
Tell me, Queen, was your dream worth this?
*please forgive any typing or spelling errors, i cant move my right arm after getting hit by a sword at the weekend in a battle reenactment & cant type v well, lol, alison x!!!!!