Waiting – In Memory of King Elessar

by Feb 18, 2004Stories

…he left the hill of Cerin Amroth and came there never again as a living man.
–The Fellowship of the Ring: Book Two
I feel my life lifting away from my body, leaving my mortality and physical form behind. I see myself lying there, cold and still, but it is not me anymore. It is simply the container in which I was locked throughout my life.

I flit out of Rath Dinen, glad to be away from the solemn, dreary tombs. It has certainly earned its name, Silent Street, well.

Looking out over the White City, I feel pride that I helped restore and rebuild this magnificent tower. The stone is brightened by gardens in full bloom, filled with flowers and shrubs, sending on the breeze the sweet scent of roses. I see children running about, shouting delightedly, as their parents hold them up and laugh.

Ascending to the Citadel, I circle the Tower of Ecthelion, gazing at the White Tree, still growing strong. I then enter the House of Kings, gliding through the stone archway into the richly carpeted hallways of my home. Passing countless doors and paintings, I come to the one I am seeking.

Beyond the door, the front room is empty. Passing through the door to the nursery, I think of my four children. Some of the toys and books that had passed from the oldest to the youngest lay neatly on the shelves and in the cupboards, but most of them have passed on to my six grandchildren. I still swell with pride whenever I think of them, and of the looks on the faces of their parents as they looked on their offspring.

I circle the room once more, relieving the hours upon hours spent there, the settling of arguments, the changing of clothes, the laughs, the tears, and joy. I silently whisper each of their names and turning my back, going into the hallway.

I pause in front of the door across from the nursery, staring at the carvings on the heavy oak. Taking a breath, I step into our bedroom.

The large maple bed sits majestically as ever in the corner, with a matching wardrobe and chest of drawers opposite. The thick pile carpet stretches across the floor to the tiled bathroom and out to the balcony overlooking the King’s private gardens.

But more beautiful than the balcony, or the gardens, is the Elf sitting among the rosebushes. My queen, my Arwen. Her long dark hair drapes across her shoulders and back, her crystalline blue eyes staring into the distance. As I watch, a tear trickles down her pale face.

Now, I have the first misgivings about giving up my life and leaving the circles of the world. I long to take her into my arms and comfort her, wiping away her tears and kissing her softly.

But the choice is already made, and so I have to satisfy myself with simply looking at her, drinking her in and hoping that she would sense my presence. I brush my fingers against her cheek and drift slowly away.

I look back for one more glance at my Evenstar. She is looking back at me, her eyes piercing directly into mine.

“Dartho enni, meleth nín,” she whispers.

“I will,” I mouth back. Blowing her one last kiss, I call, “Amin mela le, Arwen.”
I catch a glimpse of her smile before I turn my back once more and leave the White City, never to come back.


Carried by the wind, I come to the Golden Wood in two days. Haldir’s words, long ago, when the Fellowship came to Lorien were certainly true. As beautiful as the woods were in winter, the woods in summer are indescribably more so.

Meandering through the forest of silver trees, delighting in the pale green leaves of the mallorn trees, the bubbling of the streams, the mournful sigh of the wind, I begin the climb up Cerin Amroth, and as my physical form is no more, no feet to weigh me down, I manage the climb in no time at all.

Entering the circle of trees, I think of our betrothal on this same place more than a century past, the binding of two people into one, the promise we made that day so long ago. The promise that we would wait for one another, and that we would be together always.

Know this, Arwen, I think. Know that even death cannot separate us, no force can ever break our love.

Laying down on the grass, I look into the roof of leaves, and farther beyond, the cloudy sky. It is cloudy now, but they will soon pass, leaving the blue sky clear for us.

Upright again, I sit in a tree branch and looking toward the darkening heavens, the the light of the Evenstar still shines.


During the next fortnight, I visit all the places I love, and all the places I have not beheld before. I re-live the beauty of Imladris, wandering in the fair valley I had so longed to see. I dip in the Brandywine River, feeling the refreshing coolness, then following the Water to Hobbiton, seeing for the first time the green hills of the Shire, the carefree children running about, laughing and playing, while the adults sat in their gardens enjoying afternoon tea.

I see the forests of Mirkwood, the splendour of Dale and the Lonely Mountain, the ancient city of Annúminas, the house of kings in Fornost, the snow-capped Misty Mountains, and finally the Grey Havens.

The gulls seem to beckon to me, their call repeating over and over, “Come, come, come…” The wind carries the warmth and saltiness of the sea, the song of the waves crashing against the shore, the promise of great things to come.

I turn back, and look back on Middle-earth. My home since my birth, and all the way to my death. I grew up here, married here, watched my children grow here, died here. Was I really ready to leave?

The wind nudges at my back, prompting me, urging me to take the final step and forsake Middle-earth and my life here.

I look forward, as far as I can, to the horizon, and I imagine I can see the mountain of Oilossë, the city of Alqualondë, the gardens of Lórien and the halls of Mandos, where I would dwell until the world’s end.

Looking back one last time, I square my shoulders, fix my eyes on the horizon, and step off the edge.

I am flying, I am swimming, I am soaring. I can see all and feel all. I love life, all the peoples and places of Arda.
I am everything. I love and feel all the good things in this world.
The waves of the sea swirl and dance, the gulls still call and far away, the Music of the Ainur drifts to my ears.


I pace up and down the length of the great entrance hall of Mandos, waiting.
I have been waiting for years now, but it is time no longer here. The hours pass like days, the days pass like hours. I cannot tell how long I have been here. It matters not.

But I cannot rest until I have my Evenstar at my side once more. I promised to wait for her, and I am.

I can feel that the time is near. That my wait has been worthwhile and I shall soon be whole.

And behold! The one I have been waiting for for so long appears in the silver archway, radiant in robes of white, her blue eyes shining and her lips turned up in a smile.

She runs across the hall to me, her feet barely making any sound on the floor. Not able to wait until she came to me, I run towards her —

And she is in my embrace, her arms encircling my neck and mine around her waist, her laughing eyes looking into mine.

“You waited for me,” she whispers, resting her forehead against mine.

“Of course,” I reply, tracing the outline of her face. “Of course.”

We twirl around joyfully, the sound of our laughter echoing around the wide room, dancing to our own music, and as our lips meet for a tender kiss, I feel complete once more.



Sindarin Translations:

Dartho enni, meleth nín — Wait for me, my love

Amin mela le — I love you

Silmarien’s Notes: Haha! I have finally written something with fluff! (Okay, so it’s angst-fluff. Big deal. ) Still a huge step for me! I’m sorry about the inaccuracies, since I didn’t bother to check up anything. Especially my description of Lothlorien, I know it’s supposed to be fading, but I needed it to be beautiful for my purposes.

Okay, I’ll stop wasting your life now. Thanks for reading!


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Found in Home 5 Reading Room 5 Stories 5 Waiting – In Memory of King Elessar

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