Disclaimer: I don’t own Middle-earth, however much I’d like to live there.
They watched as she approached the gates of Mandos, her loose night-dark hair cascading over her soft grey raiment. Her eyes had held naught but grief for so long, but now tentative hope flickered in their ageless depths, drawing her away from the gardens of Lórien.
Slowly, the gates opened, and an Elf emerged, striding confidently into the sunlight. His silver hair gleamed when he turned his head to survey this new world.
Rapture transformed his stern features when he saw who waited him; when Thingol and Melian embraced again at last, those watching cheered, and nightingales burst into song.