Day 17 - The Last Letter
Title: The Last Letter
Author: Grundy (jerseyfabulous)
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and Tolkien. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: All her long life, Arwen has written to her kin on the far side of the Sea.
Word Count: 1655
Arwen watched as her eldest son disappeared in the distance, her eyesight elven-keen even after nearly six score years of mortality. Her beloved had already returned to the King’s House, apologizing that he should leave her to watch alone, but his knees would not allow him to stand outside very long in the winter chill.
It was but confirmation of what he already knew in his heart, why they had taken counsel and dispatched Eldarion to Imladris.
She, who had once counted time in yeni, now measured it in weeks. For that was all the time left to her, why her son rides on one last errand for his parents, to bring his aunt and uncles to Minas Tirith to say farewell.
Arwen was certain that the summons was already looked for. When her husband had first spoken to her of his intent, the shock and pain had left her reaching instinctively for her big brothers, desperately needing their strength to cushion the blow. She had not told them what had caused her pain, but if the twins had not known, they could surely guess.
She had done her best not to let her distress seep through to Anariel, knowing her little sister had dreaded this day since she and Aragorn first plighted their troth. Indeed, Arwen was aware of the reason her sister had retreated to Imladris, unable to confront the loss of so many mortals dear to her. So far as Arwen knew, save for a brief visit to Erebor the previous winter, her sister had not stirred from the last remaining elven house East of the Sea these three years at least.
Her grandfather Arwen had dispatched to Ithilien, to bring Legolas and Gimli. While her sister had retreated to their father’s house, and their brothers with her, Celeborn had made Minas Tirith his home the past twenty years. It was rather remarkable for a Sinda who loved the trees and wild places of Arda, but he loved his family still more, and he had known that the end was drawing near, both for his eldest granddaughter as well as his time on the Hither Shores.
Only when her son had followed the curve of the road around behind the mountains and she could no longer follow him with her eyes did Arwen turn to go indoors. As she did, she passed the White Tree. The sapling her husband had planted at the outset of his reign had grown into a mighty tree, but it was the depths of winter and the tree was bare.
She would not see its next blooming. Had she realized, she would have treasured the one this past year all the more. She had never truly felt her mortality until this week.
She did not seek Estel - he may be Elessar to their people, to her he has ever been Estel. Though he was resolved upon his course, there was still much to do before he laid down his life, and their time ran short- only so long as it would take their son to reach her childhood home and return with her siblings, and a few sweet days with them once they arrived.
And then…
She too had things she must do, and one she would do alone.
There was a letter to be written.
All her long life, she has written to her kin beyond the Sea. The first letter had been the whim of a loving child, indulged by her older brothers. She had been amazed to learn years later that letter committed to the Sea with nothing more than a child’s belief had actually reached the Blessed Shores. Subsequent letters had been carried by those sailing West. Even since her choice, when she knew that she would never stand face to face with the grandparents she has never met, she continued to write.
This letter will be her last.
An hour later, she was still sitting at her writing desk, staring at the blank parchment before her, pen at the ready.
Twenty yeni of writing, yet now that she came to the end, she knew not how to begin. She wished she had asked Xander or Willow, before they rode off to war, what one said when one did not expect to say anything more. For all her years, she had no experience of this, no guidance on the graceful way to finish a life, how to put such a goodbye into words for those who would go on living.
She was startled by a quiet sound behind her, and turned to find Estel standing over her. She did not know how long he had been there, but from the look on his face, she was aware he had guessed what the empty page was meant to be.
“It is not too late, beloved,” he murmured softly, sounding old to her ears for the first time, ridiculous though the word still is to her when applied to one younger than her youngest sister. “You might yet take ship with your brothers and sister, and follow your parents into the West.”
She was not sure if she should laugh or cry at the idea. Even if it were possible - and she knew it was not, for both her father and her grandmother had warned her that should she try to sail she would not find the Straight Road, only the endless curve of the Bent World - if she followed, she would but trade one pain for another, losing her husband and children for all time.
Tears sprang to her eyes as a memory of her sisters in Lothlorien, not long after their return, when Anariel still answered only to Buffy and was just beginning to speak Sindarin, suddenly came to her.
“No ‘backsies’, my love,” she replied, certain that after a youth spent in Tindomiel’s company, he would know the word.
She suddenly felt every one of her years, and wondered if this was what all the Eldar would feel by the End.
“My choice was made when I answered you on Cerin Amroth,” she continued quietly. “I must abide by it, whether I will or no, for there is now no ship that could bear me hence.”
He put his arms around her then, tentatively, as though uncertain she would welcome the embrace, but she leaned into it, needing him now as much as ever, taking comfort and gathering strength for what lay ahead.
“I know not what to write,” she confessed. “Never have I lacked for words when writing to my family, not even in the darkest of times, but now at the last, words fail me.”
“Tell them that you have been happy,” he told her firmly. “This letter can never be more than bittersweet for them, for the closing this time is final, yet you can leave them with some small comfort. Tell them of our children. Perhaps speak to them of Anariel and your brothers.”
She nodded, for there was wisdom in that.
Anariel had written but thrice in all her time in Arda. One of those times had been due entirely to her sisters’ manipulation of her while she was severely injured. The second had been a letter sent with her sister and parents when they sailed, to reassure their kin that she would sail soon, just not yet. The third had gone with Samwise Gamgee when he sailed, and what she had written then, Arwen had no idea - Anariel’s main worry had been that Sam might not find his way West, and the letter and her blessing with it had been an attempt to ensure that he did.
Estel dragged a chair close to her, that he might sit by her while she wrote. With him at her side, the blank sheet no longer seemed so accusing.
Taking up her pen, she began to write. Her words were halting at first, but gradually they began to flow as once they had, filling the pages to the point that her husband had to fetch more for her.
She wrote first of her happiness and love with her adan and assured her relatives that though they might grieve at the loss, they must not believe that she regretted her choice. She wrote of their life together, their children and grandchildren- the names given them, and the lives she foresaw for them- her love, and pride, and joy.
She wrote of her brothers, of their constant work in these last years in Middle Earth, doing what they could to heal lands that had long suffered under the Shadow, knowing perfectly well the twins would likely not speak of it themselves unless asked. Finally she wrote of her sister- her strong, fragile little sister- and her great worry for her.
If I have known sorrow for my choice, it is in this - that it sunders me from my beloved parents, and my brothers and sisters. Father, Mother, and Tindomiel said their farewells knowing we would not meet again, but there are a few partings yet before me. It grieves me to know how hard this will be for my grandfather, brothers, and sister- but especially Anariel who has already had to bear such pain four times over. It is said there is no balm for such losses within the circles of the world, but I pray she will find what healing there is to be had with you. I know you will love her dearly, as I do. Please remind her, should she find it difficult to recall, how very much I love to see her smile.
I scarce know how to close, for this is a farewell I never thought to pen when first I wrote to you, yet my time draws to an end and so too must this letter.
With my love, and trusting that we will meet at last in the Second Music,
Arwen Undomiel
Author: Grundy (jerseyfabulous)
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and Tolkien. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: All her long life, Arwen has written to her kin on the far side of the Sea.
Word Count: 1655
Arwen watched as her eldest son disappeared in the distance, her eyesight elven-keen even after nearly six score years of mortality. Her beloved had already returned to the King’s House, apologizing that he should leave her to watch alone, but his knees would not allow him to stand outside very long in the winter chill.
It was but confirmation of what he already knew in his heart, why they had taken counsel and dispatched Eldarion to Imladris.
She, who had once counted time in yeni, now measured it in weeks. For that was all the time left to her, why her son rides on one last errand for his parents, to bring his aunt and uncles to Minas Tirith to say farewell.
Arwen was certain that the summons was already looked for. When her husband had first spoken to her of his intent, the shock and pain had left her reaching instinctively for her big brothers, desperately needing their strength to cushion the blow. She had not told them what had caused her pain, but if the twins had not known, they could surely guess.
She had done her best not to let her distress seep through to Anariel, knowing her little sister had dreaded this day since she and Aragorn first plighted their troth. Indeed, Arwen was aware of the reason her sister had retreated to Imladris, unable to confront the loss of so many mortals dear to her. So far as Arwen knew, save for a brief visit to Erebor the previous winter, her sister had not stirred from the last remaining elven house East of the Sea these three years at least.
Her grandfather Arwen had dispatched to Ithilien, to bring Legolas and Gimli. While her sister had retreated to their father’s house, and their brothers with her, Celeborn had made Minas Tirith his home the past twenty years. It was rather remarkable for a Sinda who loved the trees and wild places of Arda, but he loved his family still more, and he had known that the end was drawing near, both for his eldest granddaughter as well as his time on the Hither Shores.
Only when her son had followed the curve of the road around behind the mountains and she could no longer follow him with her eyes did Arwen turn to go indoors. As she did, she passed the White Tree. The sapling her husband had planted at the outset of his reign had grown into a mighty tree, but it was the depths of winter and the tree was bare.
She would not see its next blooming. Had she realized, she would have treasured the one this past year all the more. She had never truly felt her mortality until this week.
She did not seek Estel - he may be Elessar to their people, to her he has ever been Estel. Though he was resolved upon his course, there was still much to do before he laid down his life, and their time ran short- only so long as it would take their son to reach her childhood home and return with her siblings, and a few sweet days with them once they arrived.
And then…
She too had things she must do, and one she would do alone.
There was a letter to be written.
All her long life, she has written to her kin beyond the Sea. The first letter had been the whim of a loving child, indulged by her older brothers. She had been amazed to learn years later that letter committed to the Sea with nothing more than a child’s belief had actually reached the Blessed Shores. Subsequent letters had been carried by those sailing West. Even since her choice, when she knew that she would never stand face to face with the grandparents she has never met, she continued to write.
This letter will be her last.
An hour later, she was still sitting at her writing desk, staring at the blank parchment before her, pen at the ready.
Twenty yeni of writing, yet now that she came to the end, she knew not how to begin. She wished she had asked Xander or Willow, before they rode off to war, what one said when one did not expect to say anything more. For all her years, she had no experience of this, no guidance on the graceful way to finish a life, how to put such a goodbye into words for those who would go on living.
She was startled by a quiet sound behind her, and turned to find Estel standing over her. She did not know how long he had been there, but from the look on his face, she was aware he had guessed what the empty page was meant to be.
“It is not too late, beloved,” he murmured softly, sounding old to her ears for the first time, ridiculous though the word still is to her when applied to one younger than her youngest sister. “You might yet take ship with your brothers and sister, and follow your parents into the West.”
She was not sure if she should laugh or cry at the idea. Even if it were possible - and she knew it was not, for both her father and her grandmother had warned her that should she try to sail she would not find the Straight Road, only the endless curve of the Bent World - if she followed, she would but trade one pain for another, losing her husband and children for all time.
Tears sprang to her eyes as a memory of her sisters in Lothlorien, not long after their return, when Anariel still answered only to Buffy and was just beginning to speak Sindarin, suddenly came to her.
“No ‘backsies’, my love,” she replied, certain that after a youth spent in Tindomiel’s company, he would know the word.
She suddenly felt every one of her years, and wondered if this was what all the Eldar would feel by the End.
“My choice was made when I answered you on Cerin Amroth,” she continued quietly. “I must abide by it, whether I will or no, for there is now no ship that could bear me hence.”
He put his arms around her then, tentatively, as though uncertain she would welcome the embrace, but she leaned into it, needing him now as much as ever, taking comfort and gathering strength for what lay ahead.
“I know not what to write,” she confessed. “Never have I lacked for words when writing to my family, not even in the darkest of times, but now at the last, words fail me.”
“Tell them that you have been happy,” he told her firmly. “This letter can never be more than bittersweet for them, for the closing this time is final, yet you can leave them with some small comfort. Tell them of our children. Perhaps speak to them of Anariel and your brothers.”
She nodded, for there was wisdom in that.
Anariel had written but thrice in all her time in Arda. One of those times had been due entirely to her sisters’ manipulation of her while she was severely injured. The second had been a letter sent with her sister and parents when they sailed, to reassure their kin that she would sail soon, just not yet. The third had gone with Samwise Gamgee when he sailed, and what she had written then, Arwen had no idea - Anariel’s main worry had been that Sam might not find his way West, and the letter and her blessing with it had been an attempt to ensure that he did.
Estel dragged a chair close to her, that he might sit by her while she wrote. With him at her side, the blank sheet no longer seemed so accusing.
Taking up her pen, she began to write. Her words were halting at first, but gradually they began to flow as once they had, filling the pages to the point that her husband had to fetch more for her.
She wrote first of her happiness and love with her adan and assured her relatives that though they might grieve at the loss, they must not believe that she regretted her choice. She wrote of their life together, their children and grandchildren- the names given them, and the lives she foresaw for them- her love, and pride, and joy.
She wrote of her brothers, of their constant work in these last years in Middle Earth, doing what they could to heal lands that had long suffered under the Shadow, knowing perfectly well the twins would likely not speak of it themselves unless asked. Finally she wrote of her sister- her strong, fragile little sister- and her great worry for her.
If I have known sorrow for my choice, it is in this - that it sunders me from my beloved parents, and my brothers and sisters. Father, Mother, and Tindomiel said their farewells knowing we would not meet again, but there are a few partings yet before me. It grieves me to know how hard this will be for my grandfather, brothers, and sister- but especially Anariel who has already had to bear such pain four times over. It is said there is no balm for such losses within the circles of the world, but I pray she will find what healing there is to be had with you. I know you will love her dearly, as I do. Please remind her, should she find it difficult to recall, how very much I love to see her smile.
I scarce know how to close, for this is a farewell I never thought to pen when first I wrote to you, yet my time draws to an end and so too must this letter.
With my love, and trusting that we will meet at last in the Second Music,
Arwen Undomiel