“I truly love you, Legolas. My love shall never die.”
“I know.”
The breeze of ocean wind awoke Varilerin from her deep slumber. Nostalgia washed over her as she opened her eyes for her dream was truly strange and intricate. As if her whole life had been replayed before her eyes, even to its simplest details. It reminded her of Middle Earth once more, the lands which she had lived throughout her life and left once her dearest friend had passed to Mandos. But Arwen had chosen well and died in peace, and she had chosen to leave rather than live in Middle Earth without purpose.
The door to her room was opened gently. She rose from her bunk and greeted her guest, a tall golden-haired ellon which had her eyes. “Mother,” her son said in a whisper. “Have you had enough rest?”
“Yes, Celethon,”
