The Sorrows of Arwen Undomiel

A vision she was of a midsummer’s night, with the silvery moonlight entwining,
Her grace was entrancing, her song soft and bright, in her eyes were the elven stars shining,
Luthien Tinuviel’s likeness returning,
Born ere the Third Age had waned,
Raised in the light of Earendil’s hope burning,
Arwen Undomiel named.
For an age in her father’s domain did she dwell, in the Last Homely House, in the fair Rivendell,
Or would dance in the shade of the silver and gold, as the tales were once of Lothlorien told,
And uncounted the years of her bliss.

He came from his toil in a far away land, the young heir of Isildur abiding,
To Cerin Amroth where the mellyrn still stand, and where Arwen for a time was residing.
Aragorn, chief of the Rangers defending,
Captured the Evenstar’s heart,
Elessar, healer and king soon ascending,
Proffered his love for her part.
Her betrothal would joyous and sorrowful be, for her soul would be bound by the Sundering Sea,
And forever her father would lost to her be, and would never her mother in Valinor see,
But the shadow of death must embrace.

To Minas Tirith Arwen journeyed to wed, and the time of Imladris was ended,
Where stories and song, also quiet and bread, had been ever so perfectly blended.
Six score her summers in happiness living,
Queen of the men of the west,
Daughters and son to the King, Elfstone, giving,
Gondor and Arnor were blessed.
The White Tree in the Court of the Fountain would grow, as the setting sun haloed the White Tow’r with its glow,
And the blood of the line of the kings she renewed, and the ‘Tree and the Stars’ o’er the Citadel flew,
And beloved was their fair Evenstar.

But brief are the seasons that mortal men know, and too soon the King’s days were near ending,
And Arwen was not ready her time to forgo, but still cherished through Middle Earth wending.
“Stay yet a while with the people who love you,”
Pleaded the Queen in her need,
“Leave me not here on this cold shore without you,”
Aragorn, though, would not heed.
To his son and his heir he passed scepter and crown, and he went to Rath Dinen and lay himself down,
“Ah, Estel! My Estel!” Arwen desperately cried, and then Aragorn kissed her, and quietly died,
And the light faded out of her eyes.

Farewell she then bid to her daughters and son, and returned to Lothlorien, grieving,
But Nenya was gone, its protection undone; the Galadrim for long had been leaving.
Silent the wood, no more songs or fair voices,
Only the wind in the trees,
Whispers and sighs, and the streams in their courses,
And the faint rustling of leaves.
Then to Cerin Amroth Arwen came at the last, and she lingered alone, and she mourned for the past,
And the winter came on as had never been seen in the Lorien she knew, in the spring that had been,
And she suffered its bitter embrace.

No comforting arms, for Lord Elrond had past, and Galadriel’s journey was finished,
And bleak was the night, of a dull iron cast, wherein even the stars were diminished.
Arwen there laid her to rest, her hope failing,
Stillness upon winter’s leaves,
Lost is her grave, with the spring’s green’ry veiling,
Under the mallorn wood’s eaves.
Till the whole world has changed, she will stay where she lays, until utterly forgotten is the tale of her days,
But as Aragorn did on his deathbed propound, “Not forever to the circles of this world are we bound,
“And beyond there is more than mere memory.”