Author: Mirrordance

Title: Journey's End

Summary: As Aragorn's passing away draws near, Legolas decides to 'kidnap' him to the Undying Lands and save him from his death, with the grudging help of Gimli the dwarf and the twin sons of Elrond.

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SOME IMPORTANT NOTES BEFORE YOU PROCEED

      The first chapter of my story is largely (but not entirely) composed of a paraphrase of an excerpt from Appendix A of "The Return of the King."  Needless to say, it contains spoilers that those who are eagerly awaiting the third and last installment of the movie may not want to see. 

      Though this event is generally known, I put it in my fic to set a mood that I hope will come across in the story, and to show a kind of continuity that would otherwise leave the beginning of the story misplaced.  I also initially thought of putting up the excerpt word per word, but decided on the paraphrase in safe accordance with rules as justly put by fanfiction.net.  I know that it is much to hope that the essence of the original text is captured even just slightly, but I really did want to stay faithful to that mood and I hope I didn't hinder it.  You may even want to read the last part of The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen in Appendix A of the book itself, to more accurately capture the feeling that none other than Tolkien's own words could possibly, justly contain.  Either way, hope you have fun! :)

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PROLOGUE: An Untold Story

      After the War of the Ring, and the heir to Gondor restored, much is said of the great deeds of Aragorn and the blinding glory by which he and his people thereafter lived.  A great leader was he, a King more than his name, more than his birthright; he burned with a fire that was inexplicably glowing and bright, one that seemed unlikely ever to dim…

      And yet the fate of all men he must also endure, and here lies the telling of the passing of Elessar, as it is told in the Red Book:

              When at last he felt the approach of old age, he knew that the span of his life was drawing to an end, blessed though he had been with its long days.

                        "At last, Lady Evenstar, fairest in this world and most beloved," Aragorn said to Arwen, "my world is waning.  We have gathered, and we have spent, and now the time of payment comes."

                        Arwen knew what he meant, and though long she had long foreseen it, she remained overcome by her grief.  "Would you leave your people before your time? They live by your word…"

                        "Not before my time," he told her, "If I will not go now, then I must soon go by force.  And Eldarion our son is most ready for this kingship."

                        Going to the House of Kings in the Silent Street, Aragorn settled himself upon the long bed that had been prepared for him.  There he said farewell to his son, and yielded to him the crown of Gondor and the scepter of Arnor.  Then all left him save Arwen. 

                        For all of her wisdom and lineage she could not plead with him to stay… she was not yet weary of her days, and thus was subject to the taste the of the bitter mortality that she had taken upon herself, that time she had sworn to love him.

                        "The hour is indeed hard," said Aragorn, "yet it was written in the stars that very day we met in the garden of Lord Elrond, and on the hill of Cerin Amroth when we forsook both Shadow and Twilight, accepting this doom.  Beloved, ask yourself whether you would truly desire to have me wait until I shrivel and decline from my high seat unmanned and witless.  I am the last of the Numenoreans and the latest King of the Elder Days; and I have been gifted not only with  a life-span thrice that of other men, but also the grace to go at my will, and gratefully return their gift.  Now, I will sleep.

                        "I know that my words offer you no comfort," he continued, "for in all the words in all the languages that there is, or in all the circles of the world, there is none to offer for such a pain as this.  But a choice remains before you: to go to the Havens and take to the West our memories that shall stay eternal and evergreen but never more than a distant though sweet recollection; or else to stand the Doom of Men."

                        "That choice is long over," she said, "There is now no ship that would bear me, and I must stand the Doom of Men.  But I say to you, King of the Numenoreans, only now have I understood why your people have risked their fall in their desire to seek the Deathless Lands.  I once found them nothing more than fools, but I now find my heart pitying them, for if this death is indeed, Iluvatar's gift to Men, it is most bitter to receive."

                        "Indeed it is," he said.  "But let it not completely overcome us.  In sorrow we must go, but not in hopelessness.  We are not bound eternally to the circles of the world, and beyond lies the promise of much, much more than a memory.  Farewell, Arwen."

                        "Estel…" she cried, and even as he took her hand and kissed it, he sank into a deep sleep.  In this cold stillness, a great beauty glowed from him, melding his youthful grace, the valor of his manhood, and the wisdom and majesty of his age.  Long there he lay, a splendid, undying image of a great King, his glory undimmed before the breaking of the world.

                        But in this Arwen found no comfort or rest, only loss and silence.  She went forth from the House, and the light of her eyes was dimmed and quieted; she had become cold and grey as a starless winter's night.  Then she bid farewell to her children, and to all whom she had loved.  Then she went out from the city of Minas Tirith towards Lorien.  There she dwelt there alone under the fading trees until winter came.  The land was silent now, no longer living in the splendor of Galadriel, who had long since left it.

                        There she laid herself to rest upon Cerin Amroth, and there is her grave until the world changed, and all of her life are utterly forgotten by men that come after.

                        Here ends this tale, as it has come to us.  With the passing of Evenstar no more is said in this book of the days of old.

      Indeed, no more of this is spoken of in the great Red Book, which was began by Bilbo Baggins, continued by Frodo Baggins, and thereafter further enriched by various writers and historians from all across Middle-Earth.  Filled as it already is with tales of valiant figures, world-changing ordeals and magical places, much, however, still remains to be told… 

      The continuation of the tale above, for instance, is but a small piece of the world, only a fraction of a moment in time.  But it is a story of a friendship to last the ages, and a trial of the soul-- the most telling field of all valor and spirit.

TO BE CONTINUED…