No one will cry when it is my turn to die.
For I will die alone, in the dark places of my home, far removed from any who might see my last few moments of life. I love the world, and all that live in it, but they would not understand…
I am old, and they cannot fathom how truly old I am. It feels as if I have wandered the world since the beginning of time, though I was born a scant 473 years later…
My blood runs thick, and I see the faces of my friends and loved ones even now. They are all gone, whether to the sword or to the Grey Havens I do not know, for my mind is old and muddled with wishes and dreams unrealized.
I am an elf, but refusing to pass over the Sea has cost me much. I gave up all that I held dear, my immortality, my home in the forest, my friends, my loved ones, everything. And it has gotten me nothing but an unbreakable promise to remain, and die, in Middle-Earth.
And so, deep in the woods, standing among the crumbling remains of once mighty tree-homes, stepping carefully over the ruins of the place once known as Edhellon Ross, the Elven Rain, I look at the dull Ring on my finger and wish that such magic never faded.
Above me rises the last set of stairs that I shall ever walk. I, the last of the elves in Middle-Earth, will step no more.
In the small, but beautifully arranged turret, there is a lounge-bed. I have waited for the time which I could rest, and now, I lay my old body upon the soft contours of the fabric, feeling it against my still young looking elven form.
Outside, the mists surround the turret.
I see the barest form of trees through the mist. Knowing that all this beauty will soon fade into the fog that covers is all so completely, I begin to cry.
My tears continue to run down my cheeks as forms begin to appear through the blurriness in my eyes. I see my 'brother,' Thranduil, his son Legolas, Galadriel, Celeborn, Elrond, Arwen, Haldir, dear friends all.
Thranduil, the one who had played as a family for so long, the one that had given me a home when I knew nothing else. He was there, and his eyes were sad as he knelt beside me.
"Come home, Rhessani," He whispered, "You are released from your promise. Go to the East. There you will find the last of the Ship ready for you. Come home and we will rejoice together once again."
And here I was, ready to die.
"I am coming, my brother," I whisper, tears running down my face, reaching out for him, to reassure me of the things to come, "But I cannot survive alone. You must help ,me brother, please…"
My hand fell to my side as I weakly looked into the distance. I barely felt the gentle hands that slipped under my shoulders and knees, lifting me from my bed. I was laid on a carefully made bed of white, and my hands were folded carefully on my chest.
The rode to the Havens was quick. I saw the places of my youth pass by my eyes. The Shire, Mirkwood, Lothlórien, Imladris, Edhellon Ross, all drifting into the fog that surrounded us.
I soon saw the beautiful boat that would take me to my loved ones.
After that, I saw most nothing.
Until a gentle hand and a familiar face appeared above me.
"Thranduil."
I whispered, feeling the strength of youth begin to touch my eyes and aged body.
"Yes, dear sister, it is I," He had tears in his eyes, "It pains me to see you as this, for you have grown old as mortals do."
The Ring on my hand began to grow warm. I knew that my life, my youth, my beauty, was all being returned to me by my friends' powers. Elrond, Galadriel, they were all there, bidding my return…
"I am home, my brother."
I was truly home…
And so ends the time of the elves in Middle-Earth…