Elrond quietly watched his daughter dancing, moving as gracefully as a leaf in the wind, regardless of what song the minstrels in the Hall of Fire played. He ran a hand over his brow, feeling a father's protective concern as he noticed Aragorn's eyes resting hungrily on Arwen's slim figure. So soon, now- when he would lose her. Oh, he might be able to convince her to take the ship with him- but her heart would stay with that accursed Ranger; even in Aman she would wither without him.
He could not imagine a day when he did not come out of his study, exhausted and tired, and not finding his little girl running to him, telling him all about what had happened, and how Estel had done this, or Elladan and Elrohir had done that... but lately, that had been happening less and less often.
She was so innocent.
Tomorrow was the Council; and Elrond could not fail. He must choose the members, gauge their strength; if there was a traitor, if one fell to the lure of the One, they would be weakened.
Perhaps too weakened.
Elrond stood up, wiping all thoughts of quests and Rings and betrayals from his mind, and caught Arwen's arm. She turned around, alight with something he did not want to recognize, and then his stomach twisted as her face fell.
He smiled at her, wishing that Estel had never met Arwen.
"May I have this dance?"
"Oh, Ada, of course."
He remembered the times when she was so young, all eyes and hair- and, he remembered with pride, the loveliest nis in Imladris, and how she cried for him for weeks after Celebrian left, and when she would show off her horse riding, and archery as she got older- and how she discovered males, and never seemed to have time for him after that-
Elrond drew her close to him for a moment, and then let go, silently leaving the Hall of Fire, and watching Elfstone and Evenstar join in the dance.