I do not own the people, places or main events these stories are woven around. They all belong to the Master, JRR Tolkien. This is fanfic.
The Wind Lord himself brought the news to Imladris. Not that it was more than confirmation to me. Vilya had glowed faintly for a moment and then I felt it begin . . . the fading.
It is as we had foreseen . . . all now will fade. Imladris, Lothlorien, the Istari . . . my daughter.
“Arwen . . . child of my heart. Soon another golden band will be worn in Gondor. Your lover will not be replacing silver with gold . . .as I did with your mother all those years ago. For I would not allow you to betroth yourself to Estel. Your hand has been unbound for most of your love’s adult life but your heart has always been bound to him.
He would steal your life . . . rob you of your mother’s arms on the farther shore . . . this man who I cannot hate even now. For he grew up in my house and I loved him as a son. And he has fulfilled all the requirements I placed upon him for your hand. I can ask nothing more.”
She is filling her dower chest in the room below. I can hear her as she folds the fine fabrics of her wedding gown . . . the soft jingle of her crown. It will be strange to see those many strands of mithril against her raven hair; her mother’s hair was as bright as the sun on ripe corn. And yet Undomiel’s eyes shone like the sun when I brought it to her.
Soon her brothers will return to escort us to the White City and it will be another’s honour to protect and love her whom I have loved from before her first breath. And when I have placed her hand in his I will leave this land . . . for my heart would break indeed to hear her last.
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