2. Late November
Elrond for Arwen, after he sailed for the West
Once you walked among the flowers. Once in your walking you named them, and bade them thrive, and lived on their covenant. The primrose, the fritillary-- in the freshly come spring they lilted. Then summer followed you feet and thistles and vines bowed in the rufous heat. And wild anemones, in late November, flowed their petals into the loud-syllabled Bruinen, until snowdrops dotted all the banks in a new spring, and we counted our seasons by our flowers. So I remember you, walking in the valley, glad and warm in the flying light.
My daughter, I see you still. In the wide night among the immortal woods, when a memoried wind comes from the east. I find you seated, pensive in the glades, where blooms of elanor rock in the windfall light, and the wildgrass furrows under the undying breeze.
And then the pale stars will shiver in their high places, hesitating in the locks of your hair, and you stand, and you turn to me, and I remember that you came not to these lands.
In my heart I see the falls of Imladris shimmering in the ever-autumn as I remember it. Where do you walk now? For once you walked in the eaves of time, in the silvered lines of his eyes. For once you and he, both my children, walked and laughed with each other, in the fields of memory.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.