In the culmination of the days of Men within the realms of Middle-earth, the lineage of Tuor and Idril, begetters of Eärendil, unfurls its tale.
In the interwoven annals of fate’s tapestry, Tuor was bestowed with Ulmo's favor, for the lamentable fall of Gondolin moved even the depths of the Lord of Waters to compassion. Yet, despite Ulmo's entreaties, the heart of Manwë, the High King, remained unmoved. It was believed that a solitary advocate, a voice for both Elves and Men, might rouse his heart and unravel the curse that bound the Firstborn.
A malediction of banishment and unending existence afflicts the Elves, rendering life devoid of purpose. Conversely, a gift of brevity clouds the lives of Men, shrouding their eternal destiny in uncertainty. Their boon lies in faith, thus imbuing their mortal journey with meaning profound. Yet, the final strains of Eru Illuvitar’s grand symphony, reserved for Men alone, dwell shrouded in enigma, veiled even from the sight of Manwë and Ulmo, overseers of the symphonic fulfillment within Arda.
In the willingly embraced passage of Aragorn, unburdened by fear, and Arwen's embrace of mortality, both stemming from the line of Eärendil, the faith that coursed within their souls stirs Manwë's memories of Eärendil and Elwing. Yet, unlike Eärendil's progeny, Elrond and Elros, who each chose divergent destinies, one Elven, the other the fate of Men, the twain met again in Aragorn, heir of Elros, and Arwen, penitent daughter of Elrond, sealing a union that Eru had patiently awaited.
As for Tuor, his path entwined with that of the Elves, an eldritch transition was granted, not a blessing, but a passage to an alternative realm. Likewise, Elrond and Elros trod this path, the latter finding his bearing in mortality's embrace, while the former, with time, kindled his immortal life with faith and significance. Elrond, in repentance, to the hope of Men, Aragorn named Estel, bequeathed companionship, blade, and unwavering belief.
Unlike the saga of Beren and Lúthien, whose love overcame death, reshaping Eru's design, the ardor of Aragorn and Arwen matured in wisdom, learning from the amorous legacy of their forebears. Rather than contending against their ordained course, they embraced Eru's plan. And in profound sorrow, pity, and sacred honor, they partook of that bitter gift, aspiring to realms beyond mere memory.
Their fidelity converged in their offspring, the firstborn of true half-elven lineage, Eldarion, poised, perhaps, to conclude the tale Eärendil commenced.
Eldarion, akin to faith, comprehended that it was not death that hung in the balance. For death holds no dominion over The One. It was, instead, a lesson imparted, a trial of faith, equally meted out to Elf and Man. With the passing of his parents, this revelation took full root in the young king, and flowered into the denouement of Men.
In Valinor, a fresh sapling burgeoned, its radiance eclipsing the former, its light diffusing across Middle-earth. At this arboreal dawn, sun and moon waned, and King Eldarion, enshrouding himself in his armor, felt the summons of Ulmo and ventured seaward, guided, as his sire Tuor once was, towards the gates of Gondolin. Alone, Eldarion embarked upon the sea. Soon thereafter, just beyond the shore, his heart stirred by memory, he sought his departed mother, Arwen.
The Eldar of Valinor beheld the tree’s light and were moved to compassion, longing for the fellowship of men once more. Descending from the heavens, the Firstborn sailed their vessels just beyond Middle-earth’s shores. As Men's eyes glimpsed the incandescence of the Elven ships, fondness stirred, their yearning kindling to reunite with the Eldar.
Upon grounding his vessel, Eldarion observed as Men left their dwellings and dove into the sea to meet the Elves and voyage with them to the tree. Thus, they set sail, spurred on by Eärendil's plea, in defiance of the Westward Ban.
Yet Eldarion’s heart recoiled. Now alone upon the forsaken shore, he glimpsed his mother Arwen, a spirit of memory gilded like the light of the sun in twilight, wistful and sorrowful. In her gaze, she witnessed the reverence for death and Eru that mirrored Aragorn's. Turning to the departed ships, she shook her head, and then looked upon her son, recognizing the radiance of Eru's fire within him. "How can the brilliance that blazes within you be called a curse?" she mused. "My Estel, it outshines even the world's final light."
Eldarion, with the spirit of his mother ablaze in his heart, sailed westward across the waters. With the grandeur of Eärendil the mariner and the grace of Elwing’s flight, he hastened to the shores of Valinor. Ulmo had never before witnessed such mastery of the sea, his heart stirred the waves in confusion, wonder, and awe. Yet, as Eldarion’s ship approached, the torrents shed their amazement and obeyed, no longer at the behest of Ulmo alone, breaking Eldarion’s way forward like birds in migration home. Their fluttering natively trilled the ancient tunes of their creation, and rested Ulmo’s troubled heart.
Elves and Men journeyed to Valinor in plea. Upon Valinor's shore, the children of Illuvatar marched, beseeching Manwë, echoing Eärendil's precedent, imploring for Man's curse to be unshackled. Manwë's resolute heart quivered, his resolve tested. Gazing upon the tableau of the Third Age, he beheld the Firstborn's unwavering faith, from the descendants of Elendil to the valor of the Rohirrim and the halflings’ sacrifice. He discerned the yearning for intercession, akin to the days of Númenor. Remembering the fate of the glorying King Pharazon of old and his ambitious band, Manwë knew well the shadow and pride of men. Yet before him stood the Secondborn, in meekness led as babes by their elders, reminding Manwë rather of the nobility and humility of the Dúnedain. His heart resolved, and in place of a second great flood, seldom tears flowed freely down his visage and into his beard. Thus, the High King descended to guide them to the luminous tree, harbinger of immortality.
In swift stride, behind walked Eldarion, the fruit of Aragorn and Arwen's constancy, echoing his ancestors' tenacity. Eldarion, invoking Eru's name, stood as a guardian, his regal aura radiant, emblematic of Gondor's White Tree, an icon of the faith of Men. The host of Men and Elves led by Manwë, turned to heed Eldarion’s call. The towering mighty tree of immortality looming upon their near horizon. Bearing the coronary crown, bathed in the light of Valinor, Eldarion seemed to shine brightest of all. Sheathed at his side, he held his father’s sword firmly. Standing apt to give his life in defense of Eru’s design, the King of Men implored Manwë to remember the promise of Eru to the race of Men.
Manwë took a defiant step forward, and swift as the sunrise, Eldarion drew Andúril from its scabbard. The regal blade, catching the light within Eldarion, burst forth with flame. Arwen’s sorrowing spirit blazed amongst the flames, transformed into radiant joy. With Manwë's scornful glance came Eldarion's unyielding resolve, until, deep within the Valar's heart, a whisper of Eru's intent stirred.
In this audacious act of conviction, amidst the clash of death and life, fidelity to Eru's design transpired, and Manwë glimpsed the masterstroke of Eru's mind. Witnessing Arda's symphony converge, the harmonies of Eru and Valar soared across the heavens, enveloping all in their euphonic cadence. Before all, the history of Arda rang out. Elves and Men, witnessing the ineffable display, united in awe, sensed the flame of Eru within them, understanding that existence transcended life and death, immortality and mortality. It was the flame of faith, upon which all things were yearned for and brought to fruition. Where faith faltered, life descended into a darkness more profound than death. The essence of existence unfurled, illustrating that faith, not mere outcomes, lay at its core. Faith in the divine will and designs of Eru, The One.
Creatures, flora, stones—all yielded to Eru's fire, the blaze smoldering within His children's hearts. It cleansed, within and without, sweeping away anguish and suffering, melding past, present, and future into unity eternal. Darkness was vanquished, and Eru's light eclipsed the immortal tree, the sun, stars, moon, and even the Silmarils.
Eru, The One, returned to His offspring, drawn by their faith. With them He gathered, the culmination of a symphony composed by His boundless wisdom and adorned with the tapestry of their unwavering devotion.
In the interwoven annals of fate’s tapestry, Tuor was bestowed with Ulmo's favor, for the lamentable fall of Gondolin moved even the depths of the Lord of Waters to compassion. Yet, despite Ulmo's entreaties, the heart of Manwë, the High King, remained unmoved. It was believed that a solitary advocate, a voice for both Elves and Men, might rouse his heart and unravel the curse that bound the Firstborn.
A malediction of banishment and unending existence afflicts the Elves, rendering life devoid of purpose. Conversely, a gift of brevity clouds the lives of Men, shrouding their eternal destiny in uncertainty. Their boon lies in faith, thus imbuing their mortal journey with meaning profound. Yet, the final strains of Eru Illuvitar’s grand symphony, reserved for Men alone, dwell shrouded in enigma, veiled even from the sight of Manwë and Ulmo, overseers of the symphonic fulfillment within Arda.
In the willingly embraced passage of Aragorn, unburdened by fear, and Arwen's embrace of mortality, both stemming from the line of Eärendil, the faith that coursed within their souls stirs Manwë's memories of Eärendil and Elwing. Yet, unlike Eärendil's progeny, Elrond and Elros, who each chose divergent destinies, one Elven, the other the fate of Men, the twain met again in Aragorn, heir of Elros, and Arwen, penitent daughter of Elrond, sealing a union that Eru had patiently awaited.
As for Tuor, his path entwined with that of the Elves, an eldritch transition was granted, not a blessing, but a passage to an alternative realm. Likewise, Elrond and Elros trod this path, the latter finding his bearing in mortality's embrace, while the former, with time, kindled his immortal life with faith and significance. Elrond, in repentance, to the hope of Men, Aragorn named Estel, bequeathed companionship, blade, and unwavering belief.
Unlike the saga of Beren and Lúthien, whose love overcame death, reshaping Eru's design, the ardor of Aragorn and Arwen matured in wisdom, learning from the amorous legacy of their forebears. Rather than contending against their ordained course, they embraced Eru's plan. And in profound sorrow, pity, and sacred honor, they partook of that bitter gift, aspiring to realms beyond mere memory.
Their fidelity converged in their offspring, the firstborn of true half-elven lineage, Eldarion, poised, perhaps, to conclude the tale Eärendil commenced.
Eldarion, akin to faith, comprehended that it was not death that hung in the balance. For death holds no dominion over The One. It was, instead, a lesson imparted, a trial of faith, equally meted out to Elf and Man. With the passing of his parents, this revelation took full root in the young king, and flowered into the denouement of Men.
In Valinor, a fresh sapling burgeoned, its radiance eclipsing the former, its light diffusing across Middle-earth. At this arboreal dawn, sun and moon waned, and King Eldarion, enshrouding himself in his armor, felt the summons of Ulmo and ventured seaward, guided, as his sire Tuor once was, towards the gates of Gondolin. Alone, Eldarion embarked upon the sea. Soon thereafter, just beyond the shore, his heart stirred by memory, he sought his departed mother, Arwen.
The Eldar of Valinor beheld the tree’s light and were moved to compassion, longing for the fellowship of men once more. Descending from the heavens, the Firstborn sailed their vessels just beyond Middle-earth’s shores. As Men's eyes glimpsed the incandescence of the Elven ships, fondness stirred, their yearning kindling to reunite with the Eldar.
Upon grounding his vessel, Eldarion observed as Men left their dwellings and dove into the sea to meet the Elves and voyage with them to the tree. Thus, they set sail, spurred on by Eärendil's plea, in defiance of the Westward Ban.
Yet Eldarion’s heart recoiled. Now alone upon the forsaken shore, he glimpsed his mother Arwen, a spirit of memory gilded like the light of the sun in twilight, wistful and sorrowful. In her gaze, she witnessed the reverence for death and Eru that mirrored Aragorn's. Turning to the departed ships, she shook her head, and then looked upon her son, recognizing the radiance of Eru's fire within him. "How can the brilliance that blazes within you be called a curse?" she mused. "My Estel, it outshines even the world's final light."
Eldarion, with the spirit of his mother ablaze in his heart, sailed westward across the waters. With the grandeur of Eärendil the mariner and the grace of Elwing’s flight, he hastened to the shores of Valinor. Ulmo had never before witnessed such mastery of the sea, his heart stirred the waves in confusion, wonder, and awe. Yet, as Eldarion’s ship approached, the torrents shed their amazement and obeyed, no longer at the behest of Ulmo alone, breaking Eldarion’s way forward like birds in migration home. Their fluttering natively trilled the ancient tunes of their creation, and rested Ulmo’s troubled heart.
Elves and Men journeyed to Valinor in plea. Upon Valinor's shore, the children of Illuvatar marched, beseeching Manwë, echoing Eärendil's precedent, imploring for Man's curse to be unshackled. Manwë's resolute heart quivered, his resolve tested. Gazing upon the tableau of the Third Age, he beheld the Firstborn's unwavering faith, from the descendants of Elendil to the valor of the Rohirrim and the halflings’ sacrifice. He discerned the yearning for intercession, akin to the days of Númenor. Remembering the fate of the glorying King Pharazon of old and his ambitious band, Manwë knew well the shadow and pride of men. Yet before him stood the Secondborn, in meekness led as babes by their elders, reminding Manwë rather of the nobility and humility of the Dúnedain. His heart resolved, and in place of a second great flood, seldom tears flowed freely down his visage and into his beard. Thus, the High King descended to guide them to the luminous tree, harbinger of immortality.
In swift stride, behind walked Eldarion, the fruit of Aragorn and Arwen's constancy, echoing his ancestors' tenacity. Eldarion, invoking Eru's name, stood as a guardian, his regal aura radiant, emblematic of Gondor's White Tree, an icon of the faith of Men. The host of Men and Elves led by Manwë, turned to heed Eldarion’s call. The towering mighty tree of immortality looming upon their near horizon. Bearing the coronary crown, bathed in the light of Valinor, Eldarion seemed to shine brightest of all. Sheathed at his side, he held his father’s sword firmly. Standing apt to give his life in defense of Eru’s design, the King of Men implored Manwë to remember the promise of Eru to the race of Men.
Manwë took a defiant step forward, and swift as the sunrise, Eldarion drew Andúril from its scabbard. The regal blade, catching the light within Eldarion, burst forth with flame. Arwen’s sorrowing spirit blazed amongst the flames, transformed into radiant joy. With Manwë's scornful glance came Eldarion's unyielding resolve, until, deep within the Valar's heart, a whisper of Eru's intent stirred.
In this audacious act of conviction, amidst the clash of death and life, fidelity to Eru's design transpired, and Manwë glimpsed the masterstroke of Eru's mind. Witnessing Arda's symphony converge, the harmonies of Eru and Valar soared across the heavens, enveloping all in their euphonic cadence. Before all, the history of Arda rang out. Elves and Men, witnessing the ineffable display, united in awe, sensed the flame of Eru within them, understanding that existence transcended life and death, immortality and mortality. It was the flame of faith, upon which all things were yearned for and brought to fruition. Where faith faltered, life descended into a darkness more profound than death. The essence of existence unfurled, illustrating that faith, not mere outcomes, lay at its core. Faith in the divine will and designs of Eru, The One.
Creatures, flora, stones—all yielded to Eru's fire, the blaze smoldering within His children's hearts. It cleansed, within and without, sweeping away anguish and suffering, melding past, present, and future into unity eternal. Darkness was vanquished, and Eru's light eclipsed the immortal tree, the sun, stars, moon, and even the Silmarils.
Eru, The One, returned to His offspring, drawn by their faith. With them He gathered, the culmination of a symphony composed by His boundless wisdom and adorned with the tapestry of their unwavering devotion.
Every plot point, character, and reference to Tolkien’s mythos is my original work. Given this is a fan-fiction of Tolkien’s literary works, Chat GPT AI software was used to further match the tone of Tolkien’s literary voice, hoping to further harness descriptive vocabulary more naturally archaic than mine. Large revisions were made to the Chat GPT production to further tailor the work to my liking. AI software accounts for no less than an estimated fair 10% of the final literary product. To test originality claims, feel free to attempt reproduction of the writings from scratch on AI software. Or request from me the original draft, previous to the several AI submission editing and revision phases.
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