The chest – packed with dresses and jewels – had first come with her from Lórien when she wed Elrond. Then her bridal gown, laid among sweet-smelling petals and lavender, had been carefully stored away; only to make way in later years for pairs of tiny embroidered robes, white shawls and soft, warm blankets.
They had been replaced by toys, books and wooden swords, then by more baby clothes and pretty frocks.
But now the chest contained only the bitter remnants of her life. Listless, she watched as Arwen closed the lid and turned with a bright, brave smile.
“All packed, mother.”
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