Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters; they are all the property of Master J.R.R. Tolkien. I lead a shallow life and thus amuse myself by paying tribute to the great professor by writing stories with his characters, which are so round (not in reference to hobbit-girth) and complex that I, in my scattered psyche, could never have created such an extraordinary work of art. Anyone who claims they can is dreaming. Here is a warning to all who do think about plagarising the Master of Fantasy: Do not do it. Do not even think about doing it. Touch these stories in any way, shape, or form and the Vala will weep for you. Stick to writing Fan fiction to experience the books; the adult version of dressing up as Bilbo Baggins and singing, "Attercrop! Attercrop! Old Tom naughty!" Whilst prancing about your back yard (which, I am sure, we are all guilty of doing in some form at one time or another...)

***

How will the funerol right be read? Here, I write it in my own hand. If not I, then who? It is my own. Tomorrow I die, and that is the end!
Where I begin does not matter, for it spans back as far as forever. The end, as well,matters not, for it is not yet come, and I cannot see it.
what happened in between matters, in this tale, for when I fly from this world to sleep in the blackness of Elbereth's wombe,  I will forget, for a time, all that has been or will be as I am cradled in her darkness. In the beginning, it is always dark.
Lo! that is how I shall begin my tale! In the beginning, on that summer night so long ago, in the dark...

                                                 ***

"Spirits of the Earth, come nigh to me." Their voices rose and fell on the wind, like the tide. I stood still as a temple pillar, receiving their every tingling vibration.

I was engulfed by the Spirit fire. I was theirs to move and behold, as I manifested their thought and will. Their warm light passed over me and then through me, as a wave rushes over the shore, sliding down my spine and licking my every sense like cool flame.
Emotions' un accounted for I felt; my body was swept up by their light. I was being swayed like the trees in the wind, nodding lilies, dancing creeks. My spirit soared with them on pinions of starlight.

The ghosts circled me, like the light that encompassed my body. We reeled in balance even as the cosmos, their hands linked to form a sacred circle. For them, by them, I was wind in the heather.
This grassy knoll was our great hall, and above in the glittering womb of Elbereth our audience reposed in her inky, indigo waters. Lost souls now found, they burned their crystalline delight with stone cold fire.
Once we had all slept within her Great belie, unaware of the world that we would live to grace...or destroy. We were but avatars of the thought of Illuvatar, as the spirits were avatars of moonlight.
Faery child. I was their child, fated to one day return to the heavens of her womb, no more or less than their beloved child like all that was or will be.

 Elves are as ancient as the Sea. Ancient as the Moon. We live as part of the Earth, fated to die only when it dies in some dim, unseen end. "I will not pass from this world for many, many years," I thought. The spirits stopped.
No longer did we dance or laugh. I perceived a still flash of unease pass through them, like lightning. Their once bright light became jade green. A corps light. The light that is born upon the funeral procession, showing the way to the silent mourners. They knew what it was I had been thinking, they knew my every thought and emotion through my aura. I fell to the ground. "What? What is it?" I cried out in thought to the throng that circled me. I already knew.

Ere I had proclaimed my immortal life to them, as it was my birth right given to my people, I could fell there was discord with their answer. "What do you see?" A sad horror began to creep through my veins.
Whenever I had tried to see my future, all that came to my minds eye was a dense fog. If it was the will of the Valar to keep my fate hidden, then I accepted it, and thought no more. Now the spirits had given me reason to fear.

I cried out into the night , sad as the lament the gulls sing as they mourn. Will I die?" The fire inside me faded. They faded into the web of night, as the stars fade from sight as morning rushes upon us. The silver moonlight left the glade with a shudder, wrapping us in icy darkness. 

A sudden wind passed over us, thrilling me, filling me with terror. It bore the fell scent of rain. I had danced with the winds attached to my palms, and now the West wind brought with it tattered, filmy clouds. The ground beneath me and the sky above pulsed with electrum.  

Like wind and rain their voices rose, the sound of whispering leaves fadeing from life. Everything about them said, "Luthien Tinuviel, we can see right through you...into your very soul".

I ran, following the yellow lightning home. I did not want to hear their answer, though to Elves, physical ears are not what we hear with. I could never run from my soul, to which they answered. The rusty rain and wind stirred my spirit, the spirits slowly watched me go. They dissapeared in the electric flashes. 

In their sorrowful understanding they called out to me, and the answer strummed my inner being and vibrated like harp strings, " Thou shalt exist for thousands and thousands of years . . . thousands and thousands of years...for thousands and thousands of years*." And they were gone.

*That part was taken from the Egyptian "Book of Coming forth by Day by Night" a.k.a "The Book of the Dead"

***

The Fire of dawn. It entangled itself in the branching hair of the trees, like the one I reclined under. I slid my palm along the ruff surface of the gnarled roots, desperate to feel something. Anything. Anything to let me know I still lived.

I let the crystal gold of morning wash over me, warm my frozen blood. I gazed down upon her, the lady born of this light. Galadriel, whose very blood flowed in mine own veins.

She was still and poised in a graceful arch like a cat, bowing with love and respect to the sun she worshipped. Golden sheets of silky sunbeams and moon’s breath tumbled from her head and trailed sorrowfully in the long grass of Lorien.

Strange, above many things, was the length of her tress, long as willow reeds. They carried the image of her wisdom, great and undimmed as it blazed with golden luster.

The sun was rising. Gently, gracefully, she rose with it, straightening her spine and unfolding her arms, palms upward, to receive the sun’s radiance, a lotus blossom called from under it's shadowy chamber below the foam. "Jevo…Jevo…Jevo…" this word alone did she lisp. It spilled o’er her lips like water o’er the rocks, and hung mistily in the air, the memory from a dream.

At last, she was erect as a collumn, wreathed in the blazing radiance of the sun. Proud and tall, yet supple and lithe as the wind. She reminded me of a tree; steady and strong, with deep roots, yet graceful and pliable. Not so grand they could not ride the wind like the seed from whence they were born.

"You see, Undomiel," she said to me, soaking in the light, "every dawn brings change. The whole world is made new, and all life with it. Creation repeats itself. That first day…" she turned to look at me.

With her steady, sure gait, she glided toward me and knelt beside on the grass. "That first day, is today. What has been has passed and will never be again. Tomorrow has not yet come to pass. All that is…" she placed her hand over my heart, "…is now. It is today. It is you. You are a part of all that is, of all the spirit that manifests all the earth. The day, time, eternity, it exists in you."

She gazed at me with pained love. Her glance was keen as the star fields of heaven, set within her milky skin that no temple of grand alabaster can match. All around her, summer followed. Stargazing, lazy evenings, rivers and waterfalls.

"How much longer do I have?" I sadly questioned. "It is tearing me apart…the unknowing." My eyes were glossed with sudden tears. "By the sword would be swift, easy, and soon…"my voice trailed off, sad as winters chills through the autumn leaves. " I fear that, in the end, it will be no less painful if…" I was lost for words, and could only lisp with windy, broken words, my thoughts that could not truly be manifest through speech.

She pulled me close to her. "Tell me, child." I took a shaky breath, fighting back the water that stung my eyes. "In the end…whatever end," I choked out, "will it then be no less gone? I can feel it, the winter, freezing me inside. There is no escape, for it exists within."

She smiled with the wisdom she had wintered into. "Yes, Undomiel, my child. Your time here on Arda will, at length, reach it’s winter. Everything dies, and when the world ends, will it matter who passed first and who still lives?" The dams behind my salty orbs broke, and a deluge of lost, ancient sea water rushed out, pouring down my cheeks in streaming rivers, dousing the fire under my skin. "And then?" I implored in my shattered voice. "What comes after the winter?" She smiled and stroked my raven hair. "Why, after winter," she cooed, "there is always spring."

***

Frozen. Cold. Stone. How else could I describe the heart of my pitiless father? In his cruel manner, he had surely sent my love on death's errand. Why? Maybe it was to protect me. Maybe he feared for me...or maybe it was his realm he feared for. Such an impossible task...had he truly believed? Nay, he knew Beren would surely die. And indeed, he would. To save me, he would be so heartless. For a moment--a brief, fleeting moment--I had seen it in his eyes. The longing for that light he had long ago lost. The light of Valinor. For that--and only that--would he give up his most treasured possession...me. Impossible.

I belong to no one. Slowly, I turned to face my father, who sat proud and sure as some god of old upon his throne. Sadly, I proceeded, and knelt before him and placed my hands on his lap. Strange, they were wet. I did not remember crying...yet I could remember near nothing of the past hour. My head spun, a lost snowstorm of the psyche.

He took them in his. Despite the raging fire I thought was surely consuming him from the inside, they were cold. The sudden fierceness I had laid on him melted, and I turned my eyes, until then averted, to meet his gaze.

He gazed back with a strange feeling, that of pained understanding. Long held pain must be within him, I thought. That which kills mortals. "Before you were born," he quietly explained, "there were stars with a brighter pallor than now."

*

Pondering my fathers strange message, I gazed o'er the land from my high perch. The wind gently swayed the branches of the birch tree, and I rode along with it. The sun blazed on his funeral pyre in the west, and a sudden thought struck me.

"Far down within the dim West, The Sun has gone unto His rest

In Varda’s womb he doth reposes, Like the dusty funeral roses

That lay withered on the vine, Drowning in the blood divine

The mourners, their measured footsteps falling, ,are all the world, their lament calling

We bow our heads; the procession passes, yet, then, pray, where are the ashes?

Tell me, all of you who gaze, upon the Sun’s last dying blaze

This holocaust that must be doused by night, where are the ashes, the ashes of Twilight?"

I heard a voice below me. "Tinuviel?"It was Daeron. "Tinuviel, why do you sorrow so?" I continued to stare onward. He sighed and tried again. "When will we laugh and dance again?" Silence. " Tinuviel, will you not sing for me?"

I smiled coldly. "No, Daeron. I’ll not sing for you. Not today."

"When will you sing again?" he cried.

"When my love returns," I said, sliding from my perch and onto the grass, "a conqueror!"

***

The time had now come. Surly by chance it seemed to them. Nay, rather it was fate. In any case, they had come. Elves, and Men, and Dwarves from all of Middel-Erthe,chosen by Illuvatar to decide it’s fate. Theses beastly dwarves and wicked men had come to my father for council, and were staying here, at the last homley house. Joy.

My mother had long since left, and so, as the daughter of Lord Elrond, it was my duty to represent her. Yes, for now, I was the lady of Imladris.

I truly detested the position, having to be dignified and proper for the title’s sake. It was a mere illusion. In truth, I would be running free o’er the fields, or dancing under the moon and star fields (it would suprise them to find I am mad as a wizard 'neath my docile appearance). Instead, I had to gracefully sit and look important at the many opulent feasts and meetings.

"Patience, Tinuviel." My father would always say. How could I be patient? I was like one of the many statues of Rivendell, fair to look upon, yet rigid as stone. My council indeed was wise, wiser than that of many who had come, yet some, especially the dwarves had thought a "woman’s" opinion was worthless. I wanted to smack each and every one of them. And would have, had Father not been there, though I will not admit I ever actually looked for a good time to do so when he was not...

These dwarves drove me mad. They had no respect for nature, or my father’s grand collection of books and artwork. They cared only to return to their caves as fast as they could manage and acquire their gleaming rocks. "They cannot see as we do," father said, "have pity on them." I did try, father, I did. Truley.

The Men that had come were no worse. Though better behaved than dwarves (who behaved like wild beasts), they took only a feigned interest in the grand knowledge that lay before them, within their very grasp, and wandered aimlessly. Men were so close, and still refused to open their many wonders.

They could not see past the physical form. When speaking to me, I could see the lust in their eyes. They did not see that I was wise or that I was the daughter of Elrond, only that I was fair to look upon. Nothing more. Some had gone so far as to entangle their fingers in my tresses as I passed, or brush my cheek as we spoke. They truly believed I felt the same as they.Poor, poor, ignorant Men. Why would they not just see? I had an urge to smack a great many of them, too. When father was not around, of course.

Estel never treated me as they. He was always kind and respectful, knowing I was the Lady of Imladris and as of yet still a pure, untouched maiden. Soon I would be his bride, but until that moment, I was still young and my father’s child. He was wise and fair as an Elf lord, and knew well not to touch me least I willed it.

My heart grew sick at the thought of being departed from him. On that somber morning in bleak December, we parted...for a time. I could see the many dangers ahead, yet I rejoiced at the thought of the sun after shadow.

Before he left, I told him that  my love was true. In his hands I placed a braid of my shorn hair to bring him luck, and told him to think of me. "I will, always, vanimelda.," he said ,"and when I return, it will be to you." With that, he kissed me softly and left. The Fellowship of the Ring, fleeing from great peril into greater peril. Without the dark, how can you pass into dawn?

As I contemplated this, I heard a familiar voice say, "Milady, what troubles thee?" I looked down to see my portly hobbit friend, Bilbo. The sun shone through his whispy white hair as he padded over to where I stood. "Would you like to hear of the time I fought the dreaded fyr draca*?" (A tale I had heard a number of times corresponding to how old Tom Bombadil is) I sighed. "Perhaps later, Bilbo."

"Excellent!" He exclaimed, beaming."I was sitting outside of my hole, smoking my pipe..."

***

As a child, I would be the first to announce spring was coming each January.

Alone in the woods of Doriath, I would oft run off alone. There hidden amidst the trees I had created a small alter atop the remains of a felled tree. I would steal away with candles tucked in my girdle and a few small talisman. After arranging them on my altar, I would feel at peace with nature, as though I had given something back. It was my own expression of adoration to Her. In those woods in my time of meditation, I felt I was part of the wind and trees and stars. I was all that was. The ancient words of wisdom came to me. "Nuk pu nuk. I am, I am."

As I thought back on this, I lay in the long grass beneath the canopy of leaves. The sunlight came streaming through and painted a confusing pattern on the green. Huan lay beside me, protectful and true. I could sense that all through his body, right down to his tale, he was still and perceptive, absorbing the unseen vibrations that may tell of danger only hounds can sense, hearing every infrasonic wave that passed my hearing range. It all came flooding back to me, the quest I was on. What was I doing here, ‘neath the trees? I was bound by my fate to go forth.

Beren had left, not wanting to drag me into further danger or peril. That was not his to decide.

I ran from out the serenity of the woods to where he stood, singing of the pain he bore at the thought of leaving me. I would not be parted! I would not be left behind! In desperation, I sang back.

"Sorrow naught, for still doth lie

Resignedly within the sky

The stars in Heaven’s fond embrace

In their frosty, lonesome grace

Untouchable, and burning clear

That hang above us all the year

Though darkness cries with voices fell

The stars above forever dwell."

So singing I ran to him, Huan following nimbly beside me. "Beren!" I cried, "Wouldst thou leave me now?

He sighed. I could see the pain in his eyes, the feeling of regret and sorrow. "I would die ‘ere I left thee forever. Nay, my love. I cannot take you with me. I cannot bring you to peril that hath no end."

I felt the fire of my sekhem rise within me. The foresight of my kindred washed before my other eyes, and I saw. The spirit warning flashed again, and the haunting feeling welled within my heart. "Death," I said with a wavering voice, "If that be what we are led to, is not the end of all things. Even if that be our fate, you could not stop it. I was doomed to die." I shook as I spoke these words, yet they were true. "I will follow you to the end. I will not be a lost soul, forever departed on a journey that will not rest. Our fate, Beren, it is written in the stars." And I then smiled. "You are bold indeed to believe you can re write that!"

I was no longer afraid, not even to die. At last I understood. Fate cannot be undone, and so I would meet mine knowing it is meant to come to pass. This world is not the true one, and departing from it is only the end of the beginning, and the beginning of the end.

***

How blessed is life. Eowyn, Lothiriel, and I. Three. The sacred number. We danced upon the hilltop in the dying light, our filmy garments loose to the wind. We were part of the earth and felt it at that time, the time when we disappeared as we did each year for a time, to weave our magick, and remember. We were sisters. Sisters of the moon.

The creation of life. Coming forth by day from night. Our clear laughter rang out o’er the hills as we danced. We seemed spirits of the elements, with flowers in our hair. In a world of sorrow, it was all we could do to remember that each one of us was sacred.

At length the dying life-blood of the sun washed over the sky, and the fire was softly put to rest by the waters of Elbereth. We lay in the long grass and looked above at Heaven’s vast expanses. Lothiriel sighed. "Can you feel it?" she asked. We looked over at her. "What, wine min?" Eowyn asked. "The whole of Arda feels as though it were tilting." Her eyes held her wonder as they gazed out with an ethereal countenance. Lothiriel’s eyes were strange to behold. They were deep grey, yet were shot with hazel in the center that fanned out like stars. She was beautiful and wise and full of mirth, yet she seemed as though she wanted nothing more than to spread her wings and fly away. She was right.

"Everything spins, out into eternity" Eowyn said. I pointed to the stars. "Like they who repose in bliss. Unknown universes, spinning on forever." A confused look came over the Shielding’s face. "I thought stars were the glimmering souls of those gone past." I smiled. "They are." "Wait," said Lothiriel, "I do not understand. How can they be both?"

"They are stars, yes," I explained, "yet they are also souls. They represent the spirit world and all it’s inhabitants on the other side, the world we cannot see.Everything in the Spirit world is mirrored in the Physical. As above, so below. In any case, are we not, in ourselves, small universes?" Lothiriel nodded. "The parallel universe," Eowyn sighed, "I know well of it’s tricks and pain, and of it’s beauty. It is as though…I cannot explain, it is like looking in a mirror, and putting yourself in the position of the reflection."

"Yet what of Earendil?" Lothiriel implored of me. "What of the star sailor?" Eowyn smiled, and her amber-grey eyes, like those of a wolf, shone in the starlight. She knew full well. "Yes, Aefensteorra, tell us of your grand father." I sighed. "Well, Scyldinga, leof min, this will I tell. What you see is not Earendil, nay, it is just the Evenstar, a distant planet in Varda’s keeping. Yet that is the light he carries.

"Earendil is a mariner, a lost soul on his way back to the undying lands. The ship is his funeral barge, like those others who have been sent to their end in such arrangements. He carries a light to guide others, a beacon for those who also make the journey. Yet his is not yet done. He sails the mirror side of the sky, trapped in the parallel world, the world of spirits."

"And how long will he be on this journey?" Lothiriel questioned. I smiled. "As long as time is."

"By the waters of Babylon, we sat down and wept when we remembered thee, oh Jerusalem..."

                 -Psalm: 137

No light, it seemed, was left in the world. The sun had sickened and turned black, the moon withdrew behind a veil of clouds, and there was darkness over the land. The wind whistled by, poisoning my heart with its cruel whispers of death and venom. I could not see what was inevitably coming. But I could feel it within my heart. “The quest is not ended…” nay, they meant their fate was not yet met. I could not have stopped them, had even I tried. They left, and I stood by the gaits of Menegroth and bid them, my father, Huan, Beleg, Mablung, and Beren farewell…and to some, forever, though I knew it not.

 Dusk fell, a red funeral pall. Soon I met with the mourners, passing slowly, their measured footsteps falling. What had been done? They bore aloft a ghostly corpse light, a beacon for the dead that shuddered with every dying light. They lay their companion, now rigid with death, under Hirilorn, and left me to my weeping.

 I wanted to draw him back from whatever shadowy otherworld his spirit now wandered. I wanted to tell him…I wanted to tell him, yet my voice seemed broken.

 In this last moment, I made a vow I have never broken. My love swore unto me that he would wait at whatever dim end. He would wait for me on the other side. My doom was appointed. There, with the westering sun, he died. In a way, so did I.

 *

 I had observed the process since childhood in the Moon, and now I saw the same effect on my own belly. Slowly, it became apparent I carried an unborn child. No one mentioned it, though. Perhaps they thought it would break my heart.

 One night, I wandered heedlessly in the woods of Doriath. Gwendolyn, my sister-friend, walked alongside, sharing my pain as though we shared a soul. She was a spirit from Lorien, and not dim was her sight.

I could feel a chasm of emotion well within me. I fell to the ground. The stars all burned brightly above, bidding farewell to the little soul that had previously left their keep to dwell within me. So bright, so bright. I was reminded of the night Gwendolyn and I were initiated in the spirit ways.

 So bright was the moon, her light seemed like water spilling over us. Now in a similar light, Gwen knelt beside me, her dragon-flame hair shown like burnished copper in the luminous light. The feelings raced with my heart. I was blessed and cursed, mirthful beyond all reason, and yet felt utterly alone. I was about to bear his child…and yet, he was dead. I could not fathom why. I looked up to the stars and cried out.

The spirits, my elders all stood beside me, only visible with my other sight. Dark spirits, too, circled round. The pain cut through me like lightning. Too young! I was too young to give birth! I was still a maiden, robbed of my innocence and life's grace. Mortal, I was mortal now. I shared his blood! And it would kill me, one day.

The feeling of life and death nearly broke me. Gwen, with her craft-art and love, deliverd my child. I held within my arms my son.

The night grew still. “Blessed be” Gwen sang up to the sky. “Oh, Tinuviel,” she softly said, “you are very blessed,” I smiled. “Thanks be, Gwen.” I knew it was not so.

 When Dior, as I so chose to call him, was three months old, I knew the Time had come. The house of my spirit was breaking, and I knew my time was near.

  Gwendolyn and I took Dior back to the woods where he was born.  We traced a pentacle in the grass and blessed the child, presenting him to the spirits and elders. I then gently handed him to Gwendolyn. “There is something I must do,” I told her, “and I need you to watch after Dior, my moon-sister.” She smiled sadly. “Long have I seen it.”

 Before dawn broke the following day, I left, and Gwen and Dior bid me farewell. Her amber eyes filled with tears as we carefully embraced,  she now holding my baby.

She would look after him, and he would become Thingol’s heir. I kissed her brow and that of my small son. With my spirit eyes I saw a thread of visions...Gwen fleeing to a forrest far away with my baby...kneeling with him in prayer...voices calling, "Why does your son call you by your name?"..."He is not my son by birth...""...What happened to his mother?..." I see Gwen in the starlight. "She died." 

 And so, I silently left the halls of my father, and rode away to an end unseen as of late, though I had long felt in my heart. 'Ere any awoke, and found that I had left, I was gone.

***

Flower petals rained down as we rode into Minas Tirith. The adoring people, who were enamored of the dignity and loveliness they had heard of the “fair folk” whispered and gazed in awe as we passed. Some were even a bit frightened. "I've heard the Folk can read our thoughts, and see our souls..." yes, yes, but these people were true in mind and soul!

The white flowers caught in my dark hair. I smiled. Our long waiting was now ending. I remembered when I had first seen him, so long ago, and now I was to be his bride.

The azure sky misted to indigo, after intering the sun in the sky's everlasting pool of sweet shadow. The stars  all blossomed above. I closed my eyes. Truly, I am happy now.

My father placed my hand in the hand of the king, as though giving me away. Though I was never yours to begin with. I belong to no one. Gandalf's eyes gave no inkling to his deeper thoughts. I wanted to kiss his noble face, my dear old friend, as I stood before him in his white druid robes. "I will not say, 'who giveith this maiden away in marriage?', for each self is simply there own, and does not belong to another. Not in wedlock, not by birth." I smiled proudly and said, "I willingly give myself away. Not to be posessed, but to be bound in troth and spirit," though the later had already been done. My father said, "I, as her father, approve of this union." 

I could…for a moment…see it in his eyes. My father's world broke for a moment. It came flooding back to me, the night I confessed I loved Aragorn, and pleaded with him not to be angry. He simply tilted back my head and gazed into my eyes from where I knelt before him on the cold stone before the hearth.

 With heartbroken acceptance he simply said, “Before you were born, there were stars with a brighter pallor than now.” I could—for a moment—see the stars fields appear behind him, lights flickering in and out of sight. Those words were already burned deep within my soul.

Oh Father! How long you saw what was unavoidably coming, and how you wanted to help me! You had always waited for this day, even without knowing it. Indeed, from the first hour of our meeting in this life, you knew this one--this one--would never see the light. This one...this one would die.

But wisdom stayed you. You could not alter my fate. And so, you let go of me, as though giving me away. But never shall we be parted in spirit! It is only in the physical world that we are parted! In spirit I am yours and you are mine forever anon! Do not be sad! We may meet again in another life... though in this one, ah! Nevermore.

 I stood before the altar, and my hands were bound to my love's, my life to his, my fate to his. Bound to my love, and yet severed from you, you thought.

Think it not so! I am forever your maiden-daughter, though my life should span that of Arda. Forever your little Nightingale.

I remember the stars, and my wedding night. Before my kin and soul-family, and the people of whom I would soon be queen, I kissed my love. No longer did I hide or deny my love, nay! Yet my father was pained with bittersweet wisdom.

*

So soon…so soon it seemed I kissed my love again beneath the tree, in Rath Dinian. Death and decay encompassing me like the night. The life-air we breathed was filled with death...and then he breathed no more.

“Estel, Estel!” I cried out to the empty void around me. I was already sealed within my sepulcher. “Remember, Estel, remember your promise to me…”

 I left; shaking like autumn leaves in the wind, and was met by my  children in the still respite hour before day break. I bade them all farewell; they looked at me in shock. I returned their glances and simply murmured clearly, "The light has gone out of my life."

Eldarion, my son, would come to be a wise king. I kissed his brow and bade him farewell. My daughters were knowing and fair. It was cruel to look upon them. I seemed seldom older than they, and yet my soul was quaking terribly within my body-temple to fly. How miserably bitter! How sickly wrong in itself.

  All so young and new, yet each would fade in time. Time fades everything. Everything dies! In one way or another. Only The One is imperishable.

I fled from their site, down hallway and narrow path to the stables. There, one horse was kept that was mine, misty white like a spirit."Bear me away," I implored him," to death and ruin and whatever end."

I sprang upon his back, and rode out...past wall and garden still asleep...out of the city, never to return. My crimson red robes trailed behind me in the wind, like dusk fleeing to an unknown end. For a moment, I could see them--shadows, dim  remembered memories haunted by the heart--the people of Minas Tirith, releasing flowers into the wind. They dissapear before they touch me.

 Before the cock crew and the solemn news was told, that the king had died and the queen lost, I was already gone. I rode out of the city, and did not look back.

Stay for me there! I will not fale to meet thee in that hollow vale.

--Henry King, Bishop of Chichester

So this is how it would end. I had never, truley, considered it before, and lo! it was far too late now. I stood upon the last dim shores of the west, against the tormented waves, to say farewell. To him. To life. I stepped out into the water. It's icy waves seized my body, freezing my blood. Softly, willingly, I lay me down in this frozen bed. I was dying, alone, and unafraid, and long had I seen it.

This is how it would end. It did not hurt, nay. I was not drownding in my life-blood, as some had. I could feel nothing, and had not for so, so long. Nothing but the terrible throbing of my stone cold heart against it's cradle of ice. Without pain. Without fear.

My fingers were gone.Then my legs, and arms. Slowly, my body was lost to the ice. I could not feel it. I was in no pain. I was --at last-- at peace. My head was under the icy paradox. I could hear nothing. Nothing but my heart beat, slow and steady. A thousand Samhain nights gone by. My cosmic fire, slowly fading.

Slow...so slow...it carried the pulse of the universe. Slow, slow, saying, whispering, "I am, I am, I am..." slower now, ever slower, breaking down, growing fainter, and fainter.

 The ice took me. A pleading sigh emmited from o'er my lips. A silenced scream. The last breath left my body. Frozen, dying. Still, my heart beat, throbbing in my cheast, my head, my being, the cosmos. It hurt. I wanted it to stop. The icy liquid burned as it poured into my lungs. Then...silence.

Dead and rigid beneath the ice of the waves, I was gone. Yet, clear as day, a voice spoke within me. "Raise yourself. You have not died. Your life force will dwell with you forever." *

The waves rushed up on the shore,and back.With them, like a babe from out her mother's womb, I was ripped from my body, and hung there, an avatar of moonlight. Free. No longer subject to the force of air or gravity. I was free.

She was so sad, this rigid, frozen corpse beneath me. The maiden I once was. Her dark hair fanned about her, like a horrific sea sirin. Her pallid skin was tinted blue. Her eyes, though, above all, were terrible to behold.

They were dead as stone, and shone with a pale corpse light, all their lovlyness now dimmed. Their likeness was that of a winter's night sky; completly absent of stars or moon. A veil of storm cloud.

I wondered how long it would be 'ere she was swept away, how long till the churning wavers and sand and salt of the sea dissolved her fragile body. How long till she shattered, broke like ashes, into light.

I wondered, for no longer did she look like me. She, the whole world, seemed so alien, distant as the fleeting images of a dream. I was fading, away away...I simply faded away.

*Egyptian "Book of coming forth by Day from Night"
                                    ***

This, at least, is certain: all shall fade. Everything-everything-will pass on. Minerals, plants, animals, the children of men…and eventually, the children of Illuvatar. Only He is truly immortal.

 It is the great cosmic wheel, and we can do nigh to hinder it. Maybe I would have died by the sword…in retrospect, that would have been less painful. Yet I chose mortality, to sicken, and grow old, and die. I would have died anyway, for such was my fate. In the end, would I truly be the less gone?

Life was seeping from my body as it does from the leaves at winter. I could feel it passing on pinions of haunted-yet clean-starlight.

The once great and silver pillars of trees shown ash grey. The trees had lived in a dream like state while Lorien was under Her keep…and now they were wilting, pouring forth bloody leaves from the delayed death within them. They flamed fourth with fierce pride, knowing they should not be taken…whoosh, shiver, they were dead.

Crimson, scarlet burnished copper and tarnished gold…the colours swirled around me like the serpentine dance of a sabbat fire. I was a phoenix. Flaming red, willingly laying down my life. I built my own pyre from sticks and bones.

Empty, life-less forms rattled with the icy wind, scolding me in harsh monotones. "You should not be here! Get thee hence!" within my heart I weakly replied, "Yes, I am leaving. Please, do not be angry, for I am the last." How pitiless and cruel. This place…this one final place…of fell laughter and misty memories of mirth, was slowly fading before my very eyes. My last haven, gone. I prayed only that I would die first.

I ran through the grey pillars, fleeing from my past, my life. Sharp thorns and branches slit open my skin, yet still I went on, leaving bloody footprints in the fine snow. Deathly pale and thin, I must have resembled a vampire. My dark tresses entwined with the wind, which brushed me gently and left. "You must stay behind."

I came to the hill where it began…and where it would end. My fragile body heaved with each shuddering breath I took, breaking down and failing. This is the end…the long awaited end. It has come, at last.

I lay me down on the flowers, so innocent and pure, glinting like the moon and sun. Long afterwards they would remain, growing in my hair. Long after my body would remain, undimmed until finally fading into the surrounding earth. I arranged my body as is custom to arrange the dead; crossing my arms over my breast and bringing my spine and legs into a rigid, elongated position.

I turned my face towards the sun. He was dying with me. Golden rays shot out from the fiery disk and kissed my form, offering me a hand out of this life. The sky burned, flames licked the sky, swirling mercilessly and flowing like warm blood. I forgot my rigid death-position for a moment as I reached out to try and touch the light. And where are the ashes? What is left of this holocaust? Suddenly, gently, they fell and brushed my cold skin. Innocent and pure, the virgin snow would be my funeral shroud.

I smiled with bitter insanity. The sickness--of living-- was leaving at last. Thank heaven! I sighed … releasing my former life...passing, at last. My soul fled. I was dead.

For a moment, I hovered over the maiden I had once been, staring into her unseeing eyes. They would never be closed. They would forever stare out, and see all the world change, untill the birds pecked them out...if there were any birds left in Lorien. Farewell, farewell, at last I saw. These ashes...my ashes...were the ashes of twilight.

My sight dimmed, turned to black--but the black became the fine threads of night. My funeral pall, the curtain of night. Varda cast her veil, her dark hair over my glassy, unseeing eyes. Their, their child. You need not see this world any longer. She had kissed my brow-- she had taken my final breath. I was gone.

Take this kiss upon thy brow

And, in parting from you now

This much let me avow

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream

For if time and hope have flown away

In a life, or in a day

In a vision, or in none

Is it therefore the less gone?

Everything we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream

--Edgar A. Poe

This tale is my last. Tomorrow I die, yet I shall return. Death is not the end, but a beginning. I will face the fire as I have always faced my pain, with pride and faith. This tale is my last, but only in this life. I will come to write many more. Sometimes I look back as far as forever, to where it all began. There have been many wise teachers in my existence. Some I have met again. Some I will not see until the end of days. I have been called by many names, and many more will come.

I remember the lament I sang, for my own tale is woven within…

Moonlight in my hair, and stars upon my brow
I whirled with what grace my spirit would allow
dancing to the music that welled up from the ground
in the trees, on the breeze, without making any sound
unmarred as the stars in their crystalline delight
with their light in my eyes, enthralled by the night
yet sadly my sorrow, like these waves, begins to ebb
as I was sadly tangled in fate's wicked web
and from out my heart this pain I doth pour
as I lay lifeless upon the sounding shore
my unseeing eyes into nothing doth stare
with death in their glass, and the light upon my hair
yet this is unreal, this maid's no longer me
she who lies in her demise in the tide of the sea
and now I lay drowned in my watery bed
so that any who found me would sure think me dead
no stars are bound on my pallid brow
yet released from life's bonds, I am happy now
and, though to many, sorrow it'd seem
I finally realize I'd been living a dream
and so from this earth I have seemingly past
I smile, for a while, life's conquered at last.

Burnished silver now is grey
as life and laughter fade away
scarlet leaves flame forth and fall
surrendering to winters call
and amid winters bleeding river
there I lie, and will forever
red as blood and fire, red as autumn dying
red as my bleeding heart as into the forest I went flying
red was the sky that fateful evening
as I laid me down and died
through the pain and sorrow
and the many tears I'd cried
for I had lost my reason
for remaining on this earth
‘twas at last the final day I'd awaited since my birth
so far from my memory, so sad my heart had grown
as the day died, I went with it,
so it would not die alone
like a phoenix amidst it's ashes
my eyes are glass beneath my lashes
as they doth gaze into the west
where the noble, fair, and best
have gone to their eternal rest.

More will be added when dawn rises.

I am not afraid, though. They cannot stop me, they cannot change who I am.

One day, I will return to the garden, and  I will say, "I have come forth in this day time in my true form as a living spirit. The place of my heart’s desire is among the living in this land…forever."* Until that moment, here I must remain, as long as time is.

 I wish all of you a blessed life of light and love.

Forever remember,

Flanna O’Shea

*If you guessed that that came from the "Book of coming forth by Day from Night", you are correct!

Well, that was an awfully strange tale told in a short period of time, no? Yes, well. Tinuviel, a girl who forsook her life for seemingly a sad cause. It intrigued me, for both Luthien and Arwen were called "Tinuviel" and suffered a similar fate. It made me wonder, and so I collected my ideas in this tale, and I have to thank those who helped.

First, I would like to acknowledge and thank master J.R.R Tolkien, who not only re-discovered Middle-Earth (which is what ancient Europe was called, spelled "Middel-Erthe"), but who has allowed us to embellish his stories that are set in that ancient world, continuing is tale. Therefore, all the characters mentioned in my story (Save Gwendolyn) ree-lee belong to Tolkien.

Second, I would like to thank those who helped me with my very—interesting—story. Thanks be, Gwen, for faithfully reviewing all my chapters (they weren’t that good, I presume, for seldom did anyone else review) and giving me the confidence to keep writing. You see, my story is filled with things you have to be sharp to pick up on. Though my writing style may seem like "Mary Cassat meets Edgar Allan Poe" It does serve a deeper purpose. I would also like to thank Gwen for letting me use some of the characters she made, and include them in my story. And I want to thank her for raising Dior and protecting him. 

And now, there comes the inevitable issue I must address. Yes, I am quite aware my story does not coincide exactly with Tolkin’s, but I have an explanation for that: "The Silmarillion" is supposedly a collection of stories Bilbo put together from books the Elves gave him, just as "The Hobbit" is his account of his own adventure. Since hobbits have a tendency to change and shift things ever so slightly (which you will know if you read the appendix) I thought that, perhaps, his account (after being translated, and certainly hobbits would not understand Elven metaphor) would be slightly different from the tale Tinuviel herself told. In the end, it really doesn’t change anything.

Yes, I was alluding to the fact that Arwen was Luthien reincarnated. I did this for several reasons: Elves, apparently, are reborn if they die, the Celts (of which Tolkien borrowed much of his work, and many ideas) believed strongly in reincarnation, and I thought it would be interesting. Strangely enough, if you apply this idea while reading "The Tale of Arwen and Aragorn" a lot of things make more sense. If you don't agree with me, fantastic. I respect your opinion.  

Initially, I got the idea from a dream I had where that was the case. I also took the part where Luthien is a young maiden and has her baby at night with spirits all around, and Arwen rides away clad in flaming red, and Thingol tells Luthien about the stars, (which is highly symbolic) from dreams. Scarily enough, I have reocurring dreams where Thingol is yelling at me. I thought I could incorperate it in my tale, since I could feel Lu's pain. This proves I also sleep and breath Tolkien.

By saying that Tinuviel was currently suffering another life as an Irish girl (which could easily be told by her name, "Flanna O’shea") I was hoping to suggest to all who read my tale that the tale itself was continuing, and it will be, until her task is done.

The reason I quote the Egyptians so often is because…*takes deep breath* …

Egyptians are descendants from Atlantis which Tolkien called "Numenor" and Tolkien himself believed to have some ancient roots in Atlantis so I decided to include it in my story because Elves and Numenoreans are so closely related that they’re like mortal Elves and I wouldn’t be surprised if Elves had the same dream Numenoreans had where they’re drowning and it’s a creepy dream and if you don’t believe me then read "The Silmarillion" and "The Return of the King-‘The Houses of Healing’" I also like the Egyptians and put them in my story 'cause I could and I enjoyed every minute of it mwa ha ha ha ha!!!

Thank you ever so if you bothered to read all of my story, and the highly boring epilog. Aa lasser n’le coia omenta gurtha! Namarie, Elda-mellon!