Into the West (A Lord of the Rings Fan Fic)

Chapter Thirty Seven

It seemed too cruel for Aragorn to have gone through so much, to have survived so many battles, and then to be defeated by the unfeeling hand of Time as it mercilessly felled men, making no distinction between him, the man and great king who helped bring peace, and other people; as he stood looking upon what was once Aragorn's face - no longer did the light of his life shine in his eyes nor the flush dwell beneath his cheeks and show that a beating heart drummed beneath his skin and so Legolas found himself distancing this body from his friend of many years - he cursed Eru for not giving Aragorn more time, for not realising just how astounding he was and granting him the immortality of the elves. Now it fell down to his people to grant him the cold immortality of stone.

Legolas was roused from his thoughts by Arwen's weeping, her entire frame wracked by her cries as Amaruil tried to give what comfort she could; she was of little help though being likewise distraught, her consoling words lost amongst the heaving sobs which burst out of her every few seconds, each one accompanied by yet more tears. It terrified Legolas to see her this way and the thought that he was unable to alleviate her grief stabbed yet another knife of pain into his heart; when they had first heard the news Amaruil had frozen, her face pale and he had been shocked to see her so numb though he supposed that that had been her way of coping with it. Now though... now the cold, harsh reality was before them and they could do nothing but face the fact that their friend was dead. For the first time in years Legolas realised why some believe that mortality really was better; why the Men of Númenor had the best of life, the longevity and time to fulfil it but the chance to die when they wanted no more and why death was called 'the Gift of Men'. For the first time in his life he understood what it meant to be denied the chance to die and he wondered whether there was a final battle he could throw himself into in order to escape the never-ending torment of living without those he had loved for years. He supposed dryly that, had he not been pulled into the Fellowship, he would not have had this problem but then his life would have been far less worthwhile and colourful; as they had fought Sauron alongside each other he had soon come to understand why the stories of Eldar who had chosen to die existed where before he had found them fanciful.

As the men prepared to slide the lid of the sarcophagus into place, Gimli cried out, taking everyone by surprise and stopping them where they stood. Racing forwards, his axe in one hand, he knelt down in front of it and spoke hurriedly and quietly, his words lost to almost everyone except those nearest him and the elves. "Oh Aragorn my friend, I know that we had a few differences in the past but all of those are long gone. I know that, that time in Elrond's Council when I pledged my axe, I was pledging it to Frodo but really, once the Ring was destroyed, I pledged it to you and to your kingdom. I always knew that you would be King and that you would be a great king, one of the greatest in history but I only wish that you had lived a little longer because under your reign everything seemed golden. Now that you are dead I do not think I will need this anymore - and I doubt I will outlive you by long for I am old now and our primes are long past; the time when we fought with unquenchable courage and energy on the battlefield passed long ago and, much as I love your son, I do not wish to serve under him for he is young and I really am old so I leave this to you. It seems to me that there is no greater honour, for me or this axe, to rest forever alongside the greatest king and one of the greatest friends that this country has ever known." As he neared the end of his speech tears began to dribble into his beard and splash onto the floor where he knelt and, as everyone who was watching stood frozen, he stood up again slowly and hoisted his axe into the air, placing it beside Aragorn before kissing the cold marble and returning to Legolas' side. Looking around warily, as if ascertaining that no one else was about to run out and deposit something else in Aragorn's final resting place, the lid slid into place, sealing Aragorn in there for the rest of eternity.

As they left Rath Dínen Amaruil saw Legolas and Gimli pause by two sarcophagi which were smaller than the others which lined the streets, both resting one hand on the cool marble and bowing their heads. The tears exploded on the marble, bursting with the pain of their unsaid words and scattering on the polished stone. She suspected whose tombs they were before she had even approached but as Amaruil neared she recognised the likenesses carved into the lids and blinked back tears: Merry and Pippin. As she drew alongside them she ran her hand along the stone, thinking of the two vivacious hobbits who lay underneath, remembering the last time she had seen them, old but still very much alive and determined to leave their mark, and the horrible feeling of finality as the same lid which had just sealed Aragorn off from the world and condemned him to memory had slid over each of their bodies in turn. The three of them stood in wordless mourning, grieving not only for Merry and Pippin but also for the others they had known and loved and lost, for the way the world had used to be when all their friends had lived in perpetual youth and the future had stretched out before them speckled with golden happiness; now it stretched out as endlessly as before but instead they saw only grey clouds. Sparing a quick glance at Gimli she realised that it would not be long before he too was entombed in stone and Legolas became the only surviving person to have witnessed all that she had. As she stood over the two tiniest tombs, the humble hobbits, small as children, buried alongside the greatest kings of Men she was seized by an overpowering anger which was tempered with hopelessness - now, more than ever, she wished that her life was not tied to that of Arda, that she could die and be buried in the earth, unfeeling and unknowing of the pain which she carried in her heart.

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"Please Arwen," she begged desperately, "you cannot do this; think of Eldarion, of Laurëníssë and Elessië - they need you. I need you! I won't be able to go on without you, it's not natural for Eldar to die and I don't know how I will cope."

"They don't need me; Eldarion has Oreleth, Laurëníssë has Thalabend and Elessië will be well looked after by them though I think she will soon marry Fingaeron. You know as well as I that I am no longer an Eldar, not really. I gave up my immortality years ago and, in any case, I do not want to live without Aragorn," she replied sadly, her face covered by a thin black veil.

"I don't want to live without you," cried Amaruil. "Can't you live on and carry his memory with you, carry his love with you for always and keep him alive in your heart?"

Arwen sighed, her shoulder shaking as she did so, and shook her head infinitesimally. "You know I cannot do that; I will fade, as all things must, especially those which have no place in this world - for with the coming of the Fourth Age came the Dominion of Men and soon all will be forgotten. But do not fear, do not worry, for soon, soon we shall meet again and then that day will dawn brightest of all and when it does we will never be parted from one another."

"But Arwen," she objected, "I am immortal even if you are not. You know our lives are tied to that of Arda - it will be aeons before our bodies fade and we pass into the Halls of Mandos and I will be condemned to wait here all that time, watching the people I love grow, age and die over and over again; will be forced to bear witness to the fading of the Eldar and the rise of Men, the changing of the earth. I gave up so much to be with you and I always hoped that, when it came to this, we wouldn't have to part ways and yet you sit there before me and say that there is nothing I can do, that you will die and be forgotten and the only way you will live on is in memory and that I just have to live with that!"

"I know it is hard for you Amaruil; I know that we promised never to sail over the seas without the other and I know that this will leave me as another weight you must carry in your heart but can't you see that this is what will make me happy?" she pleaded passionately. "The last thing that I wish to do is to cause you pain but you must know that living a single day without Aragorn will cause me pain. What I want, what I wish for most of all, is that you don't miss out."

"I don't understand," she sobbed, her words catching in her throat.

"I want you to have a ship built and, when it is finished, to take Legolas and anyone else who wishes to travel with you, and sail the Straight Road and never stop until you reach Valinor and, when you are there, I want you to lead a long and full life until eventually we become Feär and meet once more. Most of all I want you to be happy."

"But I'm happy here. With you."

Arwen tried to smile as she put her hands on Amaruil's shoulders and said, "Not completely. You have felt the Sea-longing, I know you have. I want you, please, if only for me, to give in to the call and let yourself sail away from this world and all of the pain which is in it."

Amaruil felt her eyes tear up as she looked at the tortured expression on Arwen's face and she knew that, even had she been fully prepared to cause her friend that amount of pain, Arwen would never change her mind. "At least..." she cast about urgently for some way to keep Arwen with her, to hold back the inevitable, "at least wait... a year; just a year while the final affairs are sorted. We can have someone write your story so that it is never forgotten, perhaps Barahir will agree to do it when he is in Minas Tirith. There are many things to be done first and I- I want one more year with you," she stammered. "Just one, just one year more for me. Please," she wept. "And then I will do what you have asked of me."

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