In the silence of winter I felt your heart sing. The morning lit me with new hope, but you loved best the night.
We have loved against the wish of time. It hurries, catches us in our devotion, and we find our choosing to be too much for us.
To stay, to go? We cannot agree, but each would surrender to the other. We want delay, we want time, and that is exactly what we cannot have.
We made our choice at last by chance, a new-struck coin of Gondor flying silver into the air, and falling to show the crown, not the ship. Thus we looked at each other, the coin on the ground between us, and our hands reached out to hold.
“It is done then.” You whispered the words, but it was as though they came from my very being. Perhaps they did.
“We have chosen.” And you relaxed in my arms, trusting me as I trust you.
No, indeed, we have not chosen. Fate has chosen us, pricked us out for the race of men. And it is the right choice.
In silence I led you away from the fallen coin, and with the caresses of my hands, I gentled you into peaceful silence.