The dying of the days

Disclaimer: I do own not a single person, place, or name mentioned in this piece. It all belongs to Tolkien and his heirs, those lucky people. Thanks to Várië (you probably don't know why, don't you, V?)

The leaves are falling. The air gets cool, and I draw my grey cloak closer to my body. Yet it is not the chill of autumn that causes my body to tremble. It is the fear of the change, the uncertainty about the future, which haunts me. My footsteps are light, as it is the way of my people, but my heart is heavy. For today is the day when we are leaving.

It is not something I would not have known for a long time, but still, now that it comes to parting, I don't feel like I can take it. Too long have these realms been my home and prison. I cannot imagine not living here, shadowed by the mellyrn trees and comforted by their very presence. Soothed by the waters of the Nimrodel, and the voices of my people ringing through the misty air in the morning.

The Lord and Lady have long ago left this place, and the Lady Arwen now rests upon Cerin Amroth. When we are gone, there will be no one here, the Golden Wood will be deserted and silent when winter finally comes.
There is a new world that draws me closer now, I feel it like I have never felt it before. But this place still holds me and I feel how my inner self gets torn apart by this. If I go now, I will never be the same.

Suddenly aware, that I must end this now, I turn on my heels and head back into the direction I came from. I know I must not look back now, or I will never be able to go. I am sure, I would break down and lie beneath the mellyrn until I fade away and the snow covers my cold body. I change into a quicker step, almost running when I flee this place. Namári?...

My foot steps on something hard and I bend down to see what it is. A small object, round, shiny, innocent and young. An acorn. I softly laugh to myself as I pick it up and hold it in the palm of my hand. It is still clean, it must just have fallen from its branch, for no dirt covers the surface of the fruit. I can feel the life pulsing through the seed and suddenly, I know that even when we are no longer here and when winter comes, there will be a spring after that. And after that another. A comforting thought and I laugh, half aware of the tears still streaming down my pale cheeks.

I look up and see my brothers standing there, their faces showing their deep concern for me, but also the excitement they feel. A new world will unfold its wonders before us. My hand still feels the acorn in its palm, a last gift of this old world. I close my fist over it and put it in my pocket. Then I smile at them.