Day 29 - As The Light Fades From The Sky
Title: As The Light Fades From The Sky
Author: Grundy (jerseyfabulous)
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and Tolkien. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: Arwen spends a few last hours with her siblings before Aragorn accepts the Gift of Men.
Word Count: 1185
Note: Posting early to make sure it's up. Crossing my fingers I have internet access tomorrow - writing time shouldn't be a problem with the long plane ride... :P
Anariel snuggled into her sister. She was storing up this memory, to treasure in years to come. While there was still the ordeal of Tar-Elessar’s farewell dinner to get through, the Queen and her brothers and sister had been left blessedly alone the entire day. Even Arwen’s children seemed to understand that they were not to be disturbed, for no matter what might pass in public later, this was their true leave-taking.
There had not been much talking. They had simply gone into the garden, and as if they had planned it, sprawled together on the grass, trading memories. Alassë’s wedding. Nolondil’s first steps - and how they had nearly ended in the water, saved only by his uncles’ vigilance.The time Tinu and Glorfindel’s daughters had shocked Lothiriel and Eowyn by bathing elven style in the small pool. How the twins had maneuvered Eomer King later that day into trying to peek at the girls - and Anariel had hit him in the face with a single excellently aimed water balloon.
But gradually, the memories began to range farther back - Anariel’s return to Arda. Her babyhood in Imladris. Eventually, the twins got around to Arwen’s own infant days.
That was when they had drawn closer, into a semi-permanent group hug. Arwen was holding Anariel, while the twins bracketed her on either side.
They have less than a day left. Estel meant to lay down his life that very night, after the dinner. He would hand over the scepter and crown to Eldarion, and rather than retire to his room, go to the bed prepared for him in the Rath Dinen.
None of the children of Elrond wish to think on that. Not even Arwen Undomiel.
For now that it comes to it at the last, Anariel could feel that her sister was nervous - frightened, even. The Doom of Men is not one she has ever truly understood. Even now it is a mystery to her. As, ultimately, it is to all of them.
Anariel herself has no idea what waits for mortals beyond the circles of the world, for she had not accepted mortal death, and the times she has died - she did reluctantly admit her brothers were quite likely correct that only sheer stubbornness had kept her on this side of the Sea after that rockslide - have not been more than moments.
She had guesses, but little she knew for certain, and that was from what Anya had mentioned over the years - that there are many dimensions, of the variety mortals would class as both Heaven and Hell, but how mortal souls find the appropriate one for them, she had not known.
“Anariel,” Arwen said quietly. “Do you suppose I will see Willow, Tara, Anya, and Xander again?”
The mood was not exactly cheerful before, but it was certainly sober now, in the morning after the celebration sense of the word.
Anariel heard a faint echo in her sister’s mind.
Lady Evenstar, we have gathered, and we have spent, and now the time of payment has come.
“I hope so,” Anariel answered softly. “Surely they should be granted a place among the mortal heroes of Arda. They died fighting Sauron.”
“Our uncle will certaintly be there,” Elladan added, offering his younger sister what comfort he could, for all three of them knew that while she would not willingly be parted from Aragorn, it has only now struck her that for him, this will be as a reunion, while for her it was mainly loss. “Just think, little one, you will be the only one of us to meet him.”
“I wonder if he feels Ada’s absence as Ada does his,” Elrohir murmured.
“Surely he must,” Arwen replied. “How could he not?”
“He chose mortality of his own will, nethig,” Elladan pointed out. “Perhaps he always felt more as a mortal than as an elf?”
Perhaps he did not have a bond with Ada as we do with each other.
“That is silly,” Arwen retorted. “He is Ada’s twin. Even were he not, how could he be born of an elf, live his life among the eldar, and not have felt as we do? It would not make sense.”
“The part that has never made sense to me was choosing mortality in the first place,” Elrohir replied sadly. “Without consulting with Ada. Though I am glad he did not - imagine if Ada had felt obliged to go with the Edain also.”
They could not imagine it. Elrond was so very elven they could not picture him mortal, even at the dawn of Numenor.
For Arwen, it was a comfort to know that their father awaits her brothers and sister across the Sea, and that all his wisdom and experience will be at their disposal to heal the pain of this parting as much as it can be healed.
“Do you suppose elves and mortals were really meant to live side by side?” Anariel asked quietly.
It was a question that had long troubled her. It was not only Arwen or the Scoobies that she thought of. It was Aegnor, barred forever from Andreth. It was Erestor, who doubted he would find his mother waiting for him on the far side of the Sea. It was her father, missing a piece of his fëa always, and her grandmother, who had waited in vain for her older son. It was Nimloth sundered from Dior, and Melian and Thingol mourning their only child.
Is this one more thing Morgoth marred? All this pain cannot have been what the One intended.
“I do not think so,” Arwen whispered. “I do not regret loving Estel, and yet…”
I had to choose, yet there was no good choice. Forever without my love, or forever without my family. I know it is not the same, but I begin to understand the Numenorians, however dimly, at the last. How could they not resent that they were doomed to die, to go into the darkness and the unknown, when they knew themselves kin to those who live as long as Arda itself? I can only pray my own children do not resent that they too have no choice but the Gift.
“There must be some way to put the broken pieces back together again,” Anariel murmured.
“For that, we must look to the Second Music, little ones,” Elladan said, sounding tired. “Look, my sisters - the Evenstar is rising.”
“Your time, Arwen,” Elrohir murmured, holding her tighter, as if he could prevent what they all knew must happen soon if he only did not let go.
My last time, came the silent reply. Oh, my brothers, how I shall miss you. And you, my sweet nethig.
“Let us go put on our glad rags, for we must eat, drink, and be merry,” Anariel said, though her heart was not in the last word and her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. “For tomorrow…”
“Is another day,” Elladan finished firmly. “Tonight the King and Queen of Gondor will feast their court and their elven kin in splendor, and the tale will be told by those who attend to their grandchildren.”
Author: Grundy (jerseyfabulous)
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and Tolkien. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: Arwen spends a few last hours with her siblings before Aragorn accepts the Gift of Men.
Word Count: 1185
Note: Posting early to make sure it's up. Crossing my fingers I have internet access tomorrow - writing time shouldn't be a problem with the long plane ride... :P
Anariel snuggled into her sister. She was storing up this memory, to treasure in years to come. While there was still the ordeal of Tar-Elessar’s farewell dinner to get through, the Queen and her brothers and sister had been left blessedly alone the entire day. Even Arwen’s children seemed to understand that they were not to be disturbed, for no matter what might pass in public later, this was their true leave-taking.
There had not been much talking. They had simply gone into the garden, and as if they had planned it, sprawled together on the grass, trading memories. Alassë’s wedding. Nolondil’s first steps - and how they had nearly ended in the water, saved only by his uncles’ vigilance.The time Tinu and Glorfindel’s daughters had shocked Lothiriel and Eowyn by bathing elven style in the small pool. How the twins had maneuvered Eomer King later that day into trying to peek at the girls - and Anariel had hit him in the face with a single excellently aimed water balloon.
But gradually, the memories began to range farther back - Anariel’s return to Arda. Her babyhood in Imladris. Eventually, the twins got around to Arwen’s own infant days.
That was when they had drawn closer, into a semi-permanent group hug. Arwen was holding Anariel, while the twins bracketed her on either side.
They have less than a day left. Estel meant to lay down his life that very night, after the dinner. He would hand over the scepter and crown to Eldarion, and rather than retire to his room, go to the bed prepared for him in the Rath Dinen.
None of the children of Elrond wish to think on that. Not even Arwen Undomiel.
For now that it comes to it at the last, Anariel could feel that her sister was nervous - frightened, even. The Doom of Men is not one she has ever truly understood. Even now it is a mystery to her. As, ultimately, it is to all of them.
Anariel herself has no idea what waits for mortals beyond the circles of the world, for she had not accepted mortal death, and the times she has died - she did reluctantly admit her brothers were quite likely correct that only sheer stubbornness had kept her on this side of the Sea after that rockslide - have not been more than moments.
She had guesses, but little she knew for certain, and that was from what Anya had mentioned over the years - that there are many dimensions, of the variety mortals would class as both Heaven and Hell, but how mortal souls find the appropriate one for them, she had not known.
“Anariel,” Arwen said quietly. “Do you suppose I will see Willow, Tara, Anya, and Xander again?”
The mood was not exactly cheerful before, but it was certainly sober now, in the morning after the celebration sense of the word.
Anariel heard a faint echo in her sister’s mind.
Lady Evenstar, we have gathered, and we have spent, and now the time of payment has come.
“I hope so,” Anariel answered softly. “Surely they should be granted a place among the mortal heroes of Arda. They died fighting Sauron.”
“Our uncle will certaintly be there,” Elladan added, offering his younger sister what comfort he could, for all three of them knew that while she would not willingly be parted from Aragorn, it has only now struck her that for him, this will be as a reunion, while for her it was mainly loss. “Just think, little one, you will be the only one of us to meet him.”
“I wonder if he feels Ada’s absence as Ada does his,” Elrohir murmured.
“Surely he must,” Arwen replied. “How could he not?”
“He chose mortality of his own will, nethig,” Elladan pointed out. “Perhaps he always felt more as a mortal than as an elf?”
Perhaps he did not have a bond with Ada as we do with each other.
“That is silly,” Arwen retorted. “He is Ada’s twin. Even were he not, how could he be born of an elf, live his life among the eldar, and not have felt as we do? It would not make sense.”
“The part that has never made sense to me was choosing mortality in the first place,” Elrohir replied sadly. “Without consulting with Ada. Though I am glad he did not - imagine if Ada had felt obliged to go with the Edain also.”
They could not imagine it. Elrond was so very elven they could not picture him mortal, even at the dawn of Numenor.
For Arwen, it was a comfort to know that their father awaits her brothers and sister across the Sea, and that all his wisdom and experience will be at their disposal to heal the pain of this parting as much as it can be healed.
“Do you suppose elves and mortals were really meant to live side by side?” Anariel asked quietly.
It was a question that had long troubled her. It was not only Arwen or the Scoobies that she thought of. It was Aegnor, barred forever from Andreth. It was Erestor, who doubted he would find his mother waiting for him on the far side of the Sea. It was her father, missing a piece of his fëa always, and her grandmother, who had waited in vain for her older son. It was Nimloth sundered from Dior, and Melian and Thingol mourning their only child.
Is this one more thing Morgoth marred? All this pain cannot have been what the One intended.
“I do not think so,” Arwen whispered. “I do not regret loving Estel, and yet…”
I had to choose, yet there was no good choice. Forever without my love, or forever without my family. I know it is not the same, but I begin to understand the Numenorians, however dimly, at the last. How could they not resent that they were doomed to die, to go into the darkness and the unknown, when they knew themselves kin to those who live as long as Arda itself? I can only pray my own children do not resent that they too have no choice but the Gift.
“There must be some way to put the broken pieces back together again,” Anariel murmured.
“For that, we must look to the Second Music, little ones,” Elladan said, sounding tired. “Look, my sisters - the Evenstar is rising.”
“Your time, Arwen,” Elrohir murmured, holding her tighter, as if he could prevent what they all knew must happen soon if he only did not let go.
My last time, came the silent reply. Oh, my brothers, how I shall miss you. And you, my sweet nethig.
“Let us go put on our glad rags, for we must eat, drink, and be merry,” Anariel said, though her heart was not in the last word and her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. “For tomorrow…”
“Is another day,” Elladan finished firmly. “Tonight the King and Queen of Gondor will feast their court and their elven kin in splendor, and the tale will be told by those who attend to their grandchildren.”