This is possibly the best poem I’ve ever written.
We met at dusk in Imladris wood;
He called, “Tinúviel!”
As Beren called in years long past,
Far west of Rivendell.
In Lórien of singing gold
We met at length once more;
I plighted troth to Arathorn’s son
On Amroth’s hill of lore.
I turned away from Elven-home
And gave to him my love;
Immortal life I rejected then
And naught could my heart move.
Estel went far a-journeying
Till war inevitable came.
Through Eru’s grace Ring passed away,
The Shadow fell in shame.
In City of Kings our hands were joined
At midsummer of year;
And though he’d kingdom, wealth, and power,
‘Twas me he held most dear.
But at long last his years were spent;
He lay in Silent Street
As still and cold as hardest stone.
Our son took Estel’s seat.
I chose to bear the Doom of Men
That day so long ago;
I now must bear the Doom of Men,
Would I or would I no.
I’ll not be conquered at last test –
I who renounced the Foe.
There’s life past death, Eru’s gift to Men,
Relief from bitter load.
My mortal love, I grieve for you
Beneath these fading trees
Of what was once fair Lórien,
Forsaken for the seas.
I too now lay me down to sleep
Upon this hill of ours,
To lie, perchance, forevermore
In nature’s golden bower.
O Elbereth Gilthoniel,
Your daughter Arwen sleeps.
O Eru, take me to Your land
Beyond the Sundering Seas.