A/N: I felt like a change from my usual style so am just trying my hand at a drabble.

Disclaimer: LOTR belongs to the creative genius of JRR Tolkien, not me.

End of Days

Invisible fingers of a warm breeze combed gently through the leaves of faded green and dull gold, rustling them gently into a lazy dance and a softly sighed lament, so different to the joyous sounds of sweet voices raised in song and laughter that filled these woods in his youth.

The Elves dwelt here no more, and the melancholy song spoke of their loss. The song's meaning, if not the words, was not lost on one with the blood of Númenor still flowing in his veins.

Eldarion felt the sorrow, the loneliness and admitted his readiness to accept Ilúvatar’s gift.