Parchment to Burn - 2

I have found my mind drifting Westward more often since I learned of Darnomirs fate. I have always yearned for that place. Not a day has gone by since I first placed my foot upon Arda that I did not think of home and wish to set my eyes upon its boundless beauty once more. Even on those occasions that my love rested his arms about my shoulders, a part of me still longed for home. It was unfair to him, perhaps, that my thoughts often wandered the hidden paths to reach that place. I know that my many portraits of the sea caused him some grief for all that he hid it well to spare my feelings. Even now I find it surprising that he could read me so well when all others, even my oldest and closest friends, could not. In truth, I wanted nothing more than to take him there with me. Had there been a way, had it not so long ago been forbidden by the Valar, I would have built a boat with my bear hands and ferried him across to the Undying Lands. I would have taken him back to the place of my birth, to my parents, to my home. I would have... But that was no more possible than it would have been for me to become mortal and die with him. I possess not the heritage needed for that choice, nor the voice and skills of Luthien to move Mandos to pity with my songs. I once promised Darnomir that I would not leave him behind. I promised that I would remain with him in Arda until after cruel fate had wrested him from my grasp. He is gone now and I desire to leave also. I wonder, though, what good it will do me. Will he be any less dead because I return home? Will I be any less devastated by his loss? Will my heart mend, my sorrow lift or my mind become less clouded by my heartbreak? I have heard the tales of our time within Mandos' care, of how we are soothed and healed in all ways, but that is not what I want. I had never felt love before and few of my people, I fear, have ever experienced true loss. Loss, yes, many have experienced that; loved ones returning West without them, valued objects and places being mislaid or ravaged by time. But from places we move on to build elsewhere, objects can be found or remade and when our loved ones go to Aman, we know that we will see them again in time. Too few have lost someone so completely as I now have. So much of me wishes to just let go of these feelings, shed myself of this life and flee to a better land. However, I feel that to lie down and give up, to let my spirit soar into the waiting arms of those who love us most would be a slight to the memory of he who awakened my heart. He taught me to feel, to know happiness and joy. If this, then, is the other side of that leaf as so many say, then is this not his last lesson to me? And if so, should I not face it and learn, rather than turn my back and run?