Writing FanFiction

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They lingered in the City, while things were done that necessity and custom
declared for the passing of great kings. There would be a new king
crowned, in the due passing of days, and all matters of governing would be
discussed at length, in chambers deep within the city. The Lady Arwen
would surely meet with ministers and counselors as well, as her son
prepared himself for the throne. Lords from all parts of the realm would
soon come to pledge anew their fealty and obedience, and ambassadors from
afar would bring tidings of their good will. Meanwhile banners were flown
and dirges played, and minstrels sang of the King's greatness. To Legolas
and Gimli, however, the songs almost spoke of a stranger, much removed from
the man they had known. For though he had been mighty in his rule and
terrible in battle, so too he had been their beloved friend.

"I wish I could stop looking," Gimli said.

"Looking for what?" Legolas asked, and then he caught himself on the
razored edge of his own silent reply. Just that morning he had paused at a
certain turn of the street, and stood several heartbeats until he realized
who it was he waited for.

All the city moved in one direction or another, in grieving and preparation
at once. Yet Gimli and Legolas found themselves standing with empty hands
and soon felt very much forgotten. Only they could not cast aside entirely
the old loyalties of their hearts, and so they waited until a servant found
them on the third day.

"The Lady awaits you," he said, and they followed.

He led them to the private halls of the family, and thence to chambers
where not even they had trod before. Here the servant tapped an oaken
door, then opened it, bid them to enter, and slipped away.

Within the chamber a bank of candles glowed, and a long curtain drifted
from an open window, spilling sunlight in a wavering pool upon the floor.
Near the window a slender figure sat, the rich fall of her dark hair washed
in soft light and shadow. Lady Arwen, wife of a great King, daughter of
Elrond Lord of Rivendell, and yet never had she seemed so small and alone.
They drew near on hushed feet, for she did not turn to greet them.

She was aware of their presence, however, and said softly, "Forgive me that
I have not turned my thoughts to you sooner."

"Nay, Lady," Legolas replied. "Your cares are many, and the hospitality of
your people has kept us well."

"Nonetheless, I have misused the blessing of your friendship." She turned,
then, and they were stilled by the fullness of her gaze upon them.
"Please, rest yourselves at ease."

They seated themselves on cushions at her bidding, but dared not speak, for
the Lady Arwen was much changed. Although her Elven beauty remained
untouched by the passing of time, where once the brilliance of stars had
shone in her eyes, there lay only lusterlessness, like water beneath ice
that never knows the Sun. Where once the silvered shimmer of twilight had
clung about her as a fragrant mist, now only shadows filled the sweet
curves of her face.

"I have news which may bring some small comfort for you," she said. "Two
of our most honored now rest beside the King. It was his wish that Merry
and Pippin, beloved among hobbits, should be moved to sleep there at his
side."

"That is indeed well," Gimli said. "An unsurpassed honor, and none more
deserving."

A moment passed, and they saw her hands move upon a smallish, cloth-wrapped
parcel in her lap. Fragile those fingers seemed, as if turned from finest
glass. She directed her gaze once more to the window, but her sight passed
far beyond them to some bleak, unfathomable distance.

"I took the cup of Lúthien knowing well, or so I thought, the draught I
would drink. But now I have come to the dregs at last, and they are bitter
upon my tongue." She sighed a frail breath that would have scarcely
disturbed goose-down. "I see neither Sun nor Moon, and all the stars have
gone out."

"Gondor and Arnor still remain," Gimli said, although the words came like
ill-fitting tools to his hands. "Your son and daughters as well, and all
who know you love you."

Her hands gently turned the wrapped thing she held. "Then let them love my
memory."

Now her fingers worked carefully in the silken folds, and light fell upon
the object cradled therein like sunlight ablaze in new leaves. A great
green gem was revealed, set in the embrace of a silver eagle, wings
outstretched, and for an instant they ceased breathing.

"Elessar," Legolas whispered, and so it was.

The great Elfstone itself, which Galadriel Queen of Elves had given to her
daughter, and which passed thence to Arwen, her granddaughter. Amid the
dark days of Sauron's threat, it had been Arwen's request that Galadriel
let the Elfstone pass to Aragorn, to light their hopes until all was
fulfilled, or all was ashes. None had seen it since except it was in
Aragorn's possession, ever a potent symbol of his birthright. Gimli found
himself with a hand pressed to his bearded mouth, to stifle the cry
pressing there.

"I know my beloved spoke to you," she said. "And his wishes are bound to
your heart."

Lightly her fingers traced the smooth, verdant face of the stone, a touch
as delicate as if upon a lover's lips. "Legolas Greenleaf, dear friend of
my Lord and myself, I now ask only one kindness."

"Speak it," he said.

Then her gaze turned to him, deep with sadness so keen he was stricken
dumb.

"Take this," she said. "Take it, and keep it with you." Swiftly she
touched the stone to her lips, then bent gently as a lily falling, and
placed the precious thing in Legolas's startled hands. "Bear it upon the
grey ship that will carry you into the West, and let it be our remembrance
there."

Gimli first found speech, saying, "Lady, it belongs to your children, your
daughters, even as it was your mother's before you."

"Nay, dear Gimli, it does not," she said, and the sadness of all the ages
lay upon her. "It belongs to a world that has passed."

Legolas held the Elfstone as one who thinks to be burned, and in her eyes
he saw at last the terrible distance yawning between them. For him there
remained the promise of all the Firstborn, the welcome of the Undying Lands
and a ship to carry him, when at last the world weighed too heavily upon
him. Yet for her, who had lived years equal to countless lives of men
before he was even born, there would be no ship. By her heart's choice she
was lost to her Elven people, lost beyond all hope of healing or reunion,
in this world or beyond. Though knowledge of her chosen doom had been with
him long, its fruition came now unlooked-for, and he felt as if he teetered
at the brink of a bottomless abyss.

Arwen arose in a silken whisper of skirts and slippers. She turned away
from the window, towards the candles glimmering across the room, and the
light cast her face as if it were carved in alabaster stone, beautiful, but
cold and without life left in it.

"Arwen Evenstar I have been, but now I must pass into Night. Perhaps it
shall be as my beloved said, that beyond the circles of the world is more
than memory. Blessed shall be the hour of my leaving."

"Leave?" Gimli sputtered. "Where are you going?"

"To Lothlorien," she said, and walked to gaze into the candles' glowing
hearts. "To Cerin Amroth, if I am permitted."

"But none live there now," Legolas protested, as both he and Gimli stood.
"Even Celeborn has passed on to Imladris, and the Golden Wood is silent
these many seasons."

Her head bowed in candlelight, briefly crowning her in softest gold.
"Nonetheless, hither I shall go."

"Very well," said Gimli. "When do we leave?"

"I go alone, dear Gimli."
"Alone!" Gimli's eyes nearly started from his head. "Lady, you cannot!
The season is still early, the road is long and treacherous, and a Queen
does not simply -."

"I can, and I shall." She turned swiftly, ere their further objections
found voice. "Contest me not in this, if you bear me any least love."

Then her manner softened and she drifted near, gazing upon them kindly.
The fingers of one hand she lightly touched upon Legolas's shoulder, and
she looked deeply into the eyes of her husband's friend, her kinsman, he
who would be last of all her people from whom she parted. In the Elven
tongue she spoke, and that as softly as the current lifting the curtains
nearby.

"Wilt thou remember us, Legolas Thranduilion, on the blessed shores of Tol
Eressëa?"

Cupping the precious token in his hands, Legolas found his reply, though it
came with great pain from the cracking of his heart.

"There I shall sing of thee, Lady Undómiel, and of Elessar who was King, so
that none shall forget so long as the world remains."

"Then I thank thee, and call thee blesséd."

For Gimli she had only the touch of her hand upon his bowed head, as it
were in benediction. Then she went from that room silently as frost flees
the sun, and passed thence forever from their sight.
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Yeah, I thought that writing would be really easy, and boy was I ever wrong....LOL. I'm not even sure if I like it yet, its so depressing, and the way they talk is like I tried too hard to make it sound Midieval. But whatever, one of these days I'm going to be as good as the Brooklyns(yeah right)