Part 3

To Lothlórien and to death I wonder alone. I take with me no horse, no maid and no supplies. Across countryside and mountains I walked, alone and unafraid.

I can still see the pained and disappointed expression upon my fathers face after I had revealed my choice. He was hurt beyond all measure: "You gave away your life's grace…I cannot protect you anymore" and he turned away, but never abandoned me, though I could see it in his eyes every time he looked at me he was disappointed.

The plains of Rohan slip beneath my feet as I wonder onwards never regretting my choice; I have spent a long blissful, loving life with the one I love and together we raised three beautiful children.

"I would rather spent one life with you then to spend a lifetime without" I can recall whispering to Aragorn in Rivendell, pressing the Evenstar into his hands. He looked fearfully at the jewel for a moment understanding the sacrifice I would make.

"You cannot commit this" he replied attempting to push the jewel back onto me.

"It is a gift – keep it"

I watched over him all the time he was aboard, withdrawing myself into silence watching and waiting for him to return to me.

I watched him battle through the war in Rohan battle throughout the night to help his neighbours defend against the threat of Saruman. I watched him and Thèoden become good friends, so close that when Sauron threatened Gondor Thèoden recruited the Rohirrim to his friends needs.

The time was right to help push Aragorn in the correct direction, though my father was unsure he would take that path. He did not share the same understanding of Aragorn as I did. I had to force my father to create it, to create a blade that would strike fear into Sauron's heart and cause the men of Gondor country to follow Aragorn the rightful King no matter where he would taken them, even into the depths of Mordor and to their deaths.

I only wish I was there to watch the transformation the sword made on him. He embraced his destiny and tested his courage and inner strength. To take the path through the mountains where The Dead dwelt was his test of his path. He could have turned back and followed the Rohirrim and risk losing the battle, but he choice to the more dangerous and frightening path of the mountains. The path itself was testing enough but to recruit the Dead was his ultimate test. To win them over would give his country the strongest chance of survival.

Through war and grief I watched him from afar willing him onwards, praying for him keep his courage and not to stray from his path.

After all had passed and the Ring finally destroyed our paths finally crossed again. When he left Rivendell he still called himself a Ranger of the North and denied any other title he was called, but there in Minas Tirith he had changed. He had shed the shadows he bore; cast away his past surrounded in mystery and openly embraced his role, this destiny, his throne.

I cannot put into words the love we had, as I write this to you my dear reader.

In the forest of Lothlórien I lay upon Cerin Amroth, under the fading Mallorn trees. The land is still, silent, cold and empty without its Lord or Lady who had passed over the Sea.

Here I lay upon my green grave until the world is changed and all the days of my life are utterly forgotten by men that come after, and elanor and niphredil bloom no more east of the Sea.

I whisper into the sky: "This was my decision, my life and have never regretted it"

End