So have I chosen

          How nervous Undómiel had been at the news of their guests. Gandalf knew how to make an entrance it seemed. NEVER a dull moment when that Istari was involved. YET, when the company arrived, she saw only sorrow and determination mingled with the distrust in the eyes of their Dwarven leader. She knew the Eldar would take no offense at the obvious behavior, but Arwen would be wary. 

                             This was his home and it always would be in the end, and now that the White City had it’s rightful king things seemed better then they had in such a long time. The darknesses no longer loomed as they had, and there ( for the moment ) was peace. “ That is a question I am not sure I really have much of a response for just yet. “ he confessed as he offered her a polite and easy smile in that moment. “ Then again I don’t really see myself moving away from here and seeking anything beyond. This is home. Always has been. “

To think, it was after complete obliteration that Gorthaur could remember whom he’d been, who he was. As far back as the Valian Years when Arda had been precious and new and even he’d been without corruption. When Yavanna and Mahal had seen him like a son, had granted him powers to stabilize the rough darkness errant in him. The spirit lingers ever closer, for in her mortality was the light of the Eldar diminished and wan, even more so in one that had rejected her immortality and the light of the Evenstar. Like smoke and dust fallen from gray skies will he stay–for as long as he might be suffered. 

There would be no lies, no deception. Not anymore. “Ｉｍ　ａ　ｂｅｌｅｇ　ｆｏｅｇ　ｅｒ．” Not when such duplicity was useless with the loss of his power, one greater than the drowning of Westernesse. When he’d lost his Fana forever and the ability to take fair form, or physical at all. But this, even like this should the Half-elven know what he was, and if not, banish the mere sight of him. Like the Ringwraiths that had once hunted her friends, his form so similarly was; a cowardly cloak. But just as she should fear, Gorthaur should have never come at all. Even if she so closely resembled her fair ancestor that reminded him so of the past. A chill wind crossed, cutting and cold.

“Ｍｕｉ　ｅｓｔ－　ｃｉｎ　ｈｉ．”　

          There was little left in her life to be  T A K E N , for her heart already lie beyond the oceans in the Halls of Mandos. The spirit of Aragorn Elessar was all she awaited -- for the hope that their souls would be allowed together in the halls. It was all that kept her soul alive as her body withered to naught. “Nothing is evil in the beginning...” Memory of her father’s words whispered  from dry lips as she looked to the approaching shadow. “...Even Sauron was not so.” She did not fear this phantom -- this shadow of the Maia he used to be. Why was there reason for fear when the worse that could come to her was DEATH? What a mercy that would be, now.