The elleth knocked at the door connecting their rooms and entered upon hearing a positive response from within. Quickly scanning the room and being disappointed, she found her husband outside on the balcony. There was a bottle of wine and two empty glasses on the table, though he currently stood with his hands on the railing. He was staring out over the city below them, surveying those who served him and whom he served.

Ilmariel stood next to her husband, placing her hand next to his on the soft wood of the railing, close but not touching. She followed his gaze out over the city. There were lanterns moving out in the streets and nearly every window was lit from within, but there was a heavy silence. The calming sound of the river, normally overcome by the noise of the adjacent city, was louder this night than she had ever heard it. The city is quiet tonight, she spoke to his mind, not wanting to break the quietude with her voice. He heaved a sigh next to her.

Just like the last time, he replied.

They are spending time with their loved ones, she continued. She did not need to share how it was the last night for many of them for a long time. And this time it was different. This was bigger. Everyone knew it, they could feel it, but no one spoke of it. Many tears were to fall.

The two elves looked at each other simultaneously. Ilmariel could see the shining tears held in her husband's eyes. She knew this was hard for him. So very hard. It was hard for her as well, and she did not have the same responsibility he did. She touched a hand to his cheek, rubbing a fallen tear away with her thumb. She stayed silent. He would speak when he needed to, she knew. He leaned into her hand, hunching his shoulder slightly.

I had hoped to be the one to bring them peace.

She knew of what he spoke. It broke her heart to think of it, though she knew that fighting the will of the Valar would come to naught. She could only offer him a partial truth in her reply, unable to lie to him. Telling him it would be all right would be an empty falsehood and he would see it. You may yet, my Love. No path is certain.

Some are. He wrenched her hand from his face and dropped it to her side. He turned away from her and sat down heavily on one of the chairs, his face dropping to his hands. She turned around to face the city again, giving him a moment to compose himself. She was not hurt by his outcry. He needed to say these things, she knew. He would prefer not to speak of them to his wife, but she also knew there was no one else he could turn to with complete assurance of understanding and discretion. His excellent father had long ago travelled to Mandos. His brother was hidden away in his mountain city, his cousins and friends were either also already dead or were having similar evenings elsewhere. Even Kings need confidantes, and showing weakness to those in his command would be unforgiveable.

I thought about telling you to stay here, he commented. She whipped around, her eyes widening at his presumption of ordering her about. Even after all these years, he could still surprise her with a joke at the worst times; the look of sad mirth on his face at her reaction was unmistakable. She forced a smile but she knew it didn't reach her eyes. Part of him, she didn't know how much, was serious.

What stopped you?

He stood up again and stepped in front of her. He traced the outline of her face with the tips of his index fingers. She suppressed a shudder as he touched her ears. His eyes, the great and piercing grey eyes that held the light of the Trees, were dark as they sought hers. She held his gaze for a moment before it moved on to study the rest of her face as if he had not seen it before. He seemed to be memorizing her in anticipation of a long absence; she felt a pang of sadness go through her heart.

What stopped me? Knowing you would follow me no matter what I did to make you stay, his mirth extended into a small rueful grin before his face grew serious again. And also knowing that I couldn't do it without you there with me. You give me such strength. He turned away again, his face pained, I'm sorry to be so selfish. I should not ask it of you.

She could feel the tug at her fëa that bespoke his fëa's utter misery. Her heart broke completely for him. How she wished she could belay that feeling of guilt he had! He had so many things to care about, so many others to worry for, he didn't need to worry about her as well.

"You do not need to ask me, my Love." She spoke to his hunched back. She took a step towards him and with gentle hands hugged his head and torso to her own. "I go willingly." She could hear the tremor in her own voice. She was being strong for him, but she was afraid as well. It was impossible not to be afraid of what was coming for them all.

She felt him begin to weep against her, his hands clutching at her robe. She stroked his hair and held him as quiet sobs wracked his body.

After a few minutes he quieted and sat down again. He straightened up, his noble face red and blotchy from tears. He put his hands on her shoulders and searched her eyes again. She could see this was not over yet.

Sometimes I wish I had never taken you away from Doriath.

This hurt her, but she tried not to let it show. Did he wish their life together, their love – their son, even – had never existed? She must have failed at hiding her shock entirely as he moaned and slumped into the chair again. He knew he had said something wrong and was now bitterly remorseful.

She sighed and kneeled in front of him, taking his hands in hers and kissing his knuckles. "You, my Love, did not take me anywhere. I came on my own." She grinned at him, this time the emotion did reach her eyes. "Even before we bonded, you could not be rid of me."

He removed a hand from hers and ran it through her moonlit silver hair. His fingers played idly with a few of the strands. "But Doriath is your home, Love."

She looked down and smiled at his knee, not able to voice her contradiction. It had been her home, surely, but when she took up with the Noldor, she had taken the Doom as well. She was aware of it, and she knew he was as well. It was a topic she and her husband never broached by some silent agreement. Truly, she had not realized its effects until a few weeks after they were bonded when she felt a weight settle on her fëa. The feeling was always there, a reminder of her choice. It had bothered her at first, but then she became accustomed to its presence. It had shifted slightly in the past few weeks and she understood the meaning. It could not be long now. For her, for both of them, the Doom was about to be fulfilled. Soon now, very soon. She rallied her thoughts for the sake of her husband. She put her hands on his cheeks and raised herself slightly to touch her forehead to his. "I was raised in Doriath, yes, but I knew almost from meeting you that my home is where you are… wherever you are. I can be content nowhere else."

He reached up and held her head against his, both had closed their eyes. She felt more tears fall onto her fingers.

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