Disclaimer: This is book Arwen, so Tolkien owns exclusive rights. A bit obscure for those who don't know much about Middle-earth. Not my fault.


My beloved has returned from his journey for the wizard and my brothers from their hunts in the Wilds, yet I am alone under the canopy. Upon the dias, Glorfindel and Mithrandir flank my father, pillars of white birch, slender and beautiful beside the towering oak that is Elrond Halfelven. Yet I feel like the evenstar they name me, alone in the stillness of the dusk. The Halfling who was hurt is up and about again, and that is the reason we feast tonight, but he does not sit close enough to talk.

There are those who would say that we should not be feasting with the Enemy practically staring at us. Yes, even I feel his eye, a shadow of dread that makes me wish again for my beloved. I say let us feast; let us dance in the moonlight and catch the stars that the Great Eye can only look upon. Let us love and live, and die singing. For we will all die, in time. Long or short, our lives end. Even mine.

My father sees too much of his brother in my beloved. Elros the hasty, Elros the unthinking. Elros the ages dead king of long drowned Numenor. Aragorn is not Elros, though he be the last of that fading line, the only son of an only son. My father would have me live, unfading, beyond the Seas, where the shadow cannot go. Where it is always evening, so the Evenstar will shine all the brighter. I must go when he leaves Middle-earth, or fade with the night.

Yet my beloved and I, we are morning, not evening. The start of a new age, not the last of the old. In us are Elros and Elrond reunited, the line or Earendil whole once more, human and elf-kind. I gaze into my grandmother's mirror and see the sunrise in Ithilien, and the white tree of Gondor in flower. Golden are the hours of eventide, but the morning will burn with a new heat.

Mornie utúlië (Darkness has come). And I have made my choice.