Arwen stood on the great platform in front of the doors to the Golden Hall, silent and still as a statue. It was hours since the company left, most of them never to return, and they had now disappeared beyond even the keen sight of the Eldar. But she did not care, for the heart needed no eyes. Perceiving her mood, the others had left her in peace.

“I should have gone with them. Spent a few more days in their company,” she whispered. But deep inside she knew that it would only have prolonged the inevitable. And it was better that way; they had taken their leave in peace and away from any questioning eyes. She hugged herself and tried to substitute her slender arms with the protective embrace of her father and failed. Already the feel of his touch had faded to a mere memory.

‘Do not leave me. Not yet,’ she had wanted to cry out even as she knew it to be foolish. Their paths had divided today, never to cross each other again until they had reached their journey’s end – until the world’s end.

‘Was it worth it?’ a little voice, so easily quenched when he was here, asked. And ‘of course,’ her heart answered and meant it. Had she not been to the sea, once, and felt nothing but yearning for the valley of her childhood? Had she not realised, generations of men ago, that her fate’s path did not lie to the west? So was it fate, then, that had made her fall in love with a mortal, or merely coincidence? And what was this love? Reason or trigger for this life-altering decision?

It must be the trigger, she decided, for that meant that no guilt could be placed. That did not mean that the decision was easily made, though, for fate was often cruel and to embrace it took courage. At last the heart had spoken the loudest and she had made that leap of faith. Now she stood here and all was said and done. Everything irreversibly changed. And today was the first day of the rest of her life, as the mortal saying went. And maybe she would begin to understand.

As if in answer to the unvoiced statement that she was mortal now, the wind picked up and blew her unbound hair into her face. It fluttered like a black banner in the storm. She would have to braid and pin it up as was the fashion of men. She was a maiden no longer, after all.

Arwen noticed a few children playing in the courtyard below and sighed. She could not remember when she had last seen children before she had entered mortal lands. Were they not the sign of hope and renewal, men’s own way of achieving immortality? She passed a hand over her belly thoughtfully and wondered if, no: when, it would be her own children that she watched playing. That yearning caught her with a fierceness that was almost overwhelming and she gasped. All this was no longer a far-off dream but realty!

‘Soon. Take heart. Your life is laid out for you; renew, create, heal. Only you can do it,’ another voice said. It was gentle and warming. “You have a people that look up to you. Your wisdom will be needed in the coming years. All will be well.’

Yes, it would be. The knowledge did not relieve the aching in her heart at that final parting, but it was a step towards peace.