Arwen's bones hurted deep within the mortal confines of her body. Getting up from her bed was a larger task every day, one she feared before she even laid down in her bed the night before.

Midsummer was upon them.

Helen had left her behind a decade ago, the house they once shared now an aching emptiness she could never fill. Even the joy of a midsummer was not enough to lift the weariness in her heart.

She was old.

Ethel's ban had been lifted decades ago, well lifted, she was now allowed to visit the human realm at night. But every morning she had to return to the place she was born.

The veil could no longer hold her prisoner in her own world.

Now the prison was Arwen's own failing body. She wouldn't be able to keep up with the meetings for all eternity. Ethel's own body was still young, her mind of eternal spring.

Arwen's life was in the last days of winter, Ethel was still in the first days of spring.

It would all be over and gone within a few years, Ethel said decades. She still didn't truly understand how human lives worked, Arwen was already many years older than any other person she had ever heard of.

The last remains of the fae realm still clinging to her dying body, preventing it from going on that last journey.

The flower crown laying on her nightstand was a constant reminder that someone was waiting for her, but the happiness it had given her during her younger years had faded. There was only one way for this to end.

-

Midsummer was gone in a heartbeat. It was beautiful, of course it was, meeting Ethel always gave her happiness.

Sharing stories and memories, basking in each other's closeness. Making flower crowns for each other. It was exactly the same as each previous year, she told herself so, ignoring the weariness they both showed at every moment.

Arwen knew her own reasons, but became only privy to Ethel's when she woke up after the last eve.

Her flower crown had changed.

Ethel knew too, it was almost over.

-

The winter was cold, far colder than Arwen remembered it being before. Not only her bones, but every fibre of her body ached. There were weeks she couldn't leave her house, the only reason she stayed alive were the continual visits of Helen's daughter who looked after her.

It was only for a few more months, it would be midsummer soon.

Just a few more weeks and then she would see Ethel again.

Just a few more days. Then she could say goodbye.

-

Arwen's hand shook as she braided the flower crown for her Love to have.

Her legs had difficulty carrying her from her home to the fields where they met.

The first, the second, the third night.

Her body almost gave up when she stood up to arrive in the afternoon to say goodbye.

She had to, just one more day. She had to say goodbye.

-

Let me go.

The milkweed was no longer a reminder of her ending journey, but a reminder of new beginnings.

For Ethel to move forward from her visits to a human woman. To move forward and prosper, to find herself in the autumn and winter of her own life.

Arwen did not return for the last midsummer eve.

She didn't leave the house during the last days of summer, nor when the trees gained all the colours of the setting sun.

Arwen left when the autumn bid the world farewell, she wandered over the plains.

Her soul visiting the last resting place of Eowyn.

Seeing her parents' home that hadn't been theirs in decades.

The loch where she had played with Ethel.

The moors where she had flown in the wind.

The plains where she had flitted through the veil.

One last journey to the fae realm.

Her song danced with the wind, across the lands of Galloway. One last time it would be heard.

One midsummer's eve you swept me away,

with dark locks of hair, my fae.

A joy of summer youth, my heart so gay.

Seven promises in your hair.

we walked across the air,

My love for you, laid bare.

It was a dream,

Starting where we met by the stream.

Our affection and grief.

A dance under the moonlit sky, no matter how brief

Like a true crown, the flowers.

I placed them in your hair, played with them for hours.

My love for you could never compare.

My lonely world filled with your everlasting presence

My Maiden of Mist,

My Ethel de Nebula,

Like a dream, that midsummer eve.

You swept me away to a world filled with dreams.

A flower crown, my only payment.

A crown fit for a queen

Queen of mine

Please let me go,

It is my goodbye, though

I think of you,

Please think of me.