The Carriage held but just Ourselves by StarSpray

Lúthien

The Halls of Mandos were quiet, the only sound a susurration of whispers from the spirits of Men and Elves as they passed through or waited patiently (or impatiently) to leave again. The Men were easy to spot, often moving swiftly as the Elves lingered, going no one knew where. The Elves were both bright and dim, and their whispers were often mournful as they bade the younger Children farewell.

Lúthien and Beren passed through the ghostly throngs hand in hand. They did not linger, except to say a few final farewells—to her father, whose embrace was warm with love and grief and regret, and Felagund who shimmered in the twilight of Mandos like starlight on calm water, and others who they had known in life across the Sea.

Then they passed down a long corridor, with floor and walls of pearl that shimmered in the soft light, to an archway with no gates or doors to bar it. What lay beyond no one knew, but through it they glimpsed unfamiliar stars, and heard the faintest strains of music, sweet and solemn and more beautiful than any music they had heard in their lives.

Beren's spirit beside her flared with anticipation, brighter than the Silmaril had ever been. Lúthien laughed out loud, and together they sped down the corridor without looking back, and alone of all the Eldalië Lúthien Tinúviel passed through the archway, and out of the Circles of the World.