So, I have no excuse for the lateness of this final chapter. But being the craven cur that I am, I'll try to make one anyway. Lightning did not strike my computer, but I did happen to watch the movie Inception for the first time in between the posting of the previous chapter and this one. To say that I have been obsessed with it is to put things very VERY lightly, as my charming Beta sibling will gladly attest. Fact is, plot bunnies of the wrong fandom have been gnawing on my leg, preventing my from finishing my tale. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. I really am sorry though! I guess it was silly to think that I could actually post a whole story without being late once. (sigh). Anyhoo, I sincerely hope you all enjoy the last chapter of this little tale, and I hope to see you all again soon. Many Many MANY thanks to everyone for your wonderful reviews!

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Shadows rose in the East. The War of the Ring threatened everything that Elrond held dear. Again he could feel that hand tugging at the threads…slowly pulling the brightest and most beautiful away. The holes in the tapestry were growing as the life Elrond lived unraveled. No matter which way the tide turned, Elrond knew that his perception of forever was about to change once more.

Aragorn rose to the heights of his noble ancestry. His star burned bright and fiercely against the darkness of Sauron, and the Eye fell.

Elrond knew the instant the One Ring sank into the molten fire of Mt. Doom. Though Sauron had never touched the elven rings, his knowledge had aided the forging of them. They were still bound to the One, though not as tightly as the Nine. Elrond had used Vilya to protect Imladris, and had unwittingly poured a large part of himself into the most powerful of the three. When the One was destroyed, the hand ceased to tug at the threads and began to rip. Only this time, it was not a loved one whose thread was being pulled away, but a part of Elrond himself.

He had to leave. He had thought, when he first heard of Aragorn and Arwen's betrothal, that he would stay until she passed, so that he might at least keep her gleaming threads woven through his life as long as was possible. He could not. To stay, when so great a part of himself was missing would kill him. He had to seek the shores of Valinor.

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Elrond dully watched the thin line of brown land disappear into the gray of the sea. The elf lord laid his dark head down on the rail. The grief that had been weighing heavily upon him was suddenly too much. Too great. He had gone through many things in his long life. And he flattered himself, for the most part he had born them well; without cursing fate. Even in life's cruelest moments he had been able to find something to keep him from snapping under the strain of sorrow and grief.

Not anymore.

His mind was swamped with pain.

Arwen's face swam through his thoughts. The last time he had seen her she was trying to smile, but tears were flowing freely down her cheeks. She knew that it was goodbye.

Elrond had moved beyond tears. Clinging to the rail, he was engulfed in a well of misery that had no outlet. Why? Why this? Why him? Why his life?

He had always assumed that his journey to Valinor would be one of the happier times of his life. Of course, he had also assumed that his brother would be beside him...

He had assumed that Celebrian would stand with him forever…

He had assumed that his children would also sail…Arwen would not. She had chosen the mortal life. The twins, he did not know. Because he had been forced to sail or die, the Valar had extended the time for their decision to be made. He could see their faces in his mind's eye. Troubled, grieved. When he asked if they knew what choice they would make, neither had an answer. The only decision they had made so far was that they would wait for Arwen's life to have run its course.

Too many assumptions. Too many bitter disappointments.

Slowly, Elrond pushed himself upright. He was too tired. Too bone-weary of a life he would live forever. Forever! Oh how he hated that word!

In disgust, he turned from the boat's rail, only to nearly trip over the diminutive form that had approached him. Elrond drew back in surprise. He had not heard anything. No footsteps, no sound at all! He drew a hand over his face quickly, feeling his cheeks reddening. Perhaps he was not so far beyond caring that he could not still be embarrassed. "Bilbo. I did not hear you approach." He should have. Hobbits tread lightly, but his ears had always been able to detect their step before.

Yet another sign of how necessary this journey was. He was losing parts of himself bit by bit.

On the flip side, from the instant he stepped aboard the boat, Bilbo seemed to come back to himself. There was a spark in his brown eyes that had been hidden by his many naps for a very long time.

"Is there something troubling you, Master Elrond?" the old hobbit leaned upon a stick now, but there was a new perk in his soft steps as he moved to stand beside the elf lord. He tilted his head upwards; honest face concerned.

"I…" he could not honestly say no. Besides which, he had no doubt that Bilbo would see it for the lie that it was. "Yes," he said finally. "Yes, old friend, I am...troubled." Understatement of the century.

Bilbo's brown eyes traveled to Elrond's hand, where it clutched at the rail. The elf lord's grip was so tight that his knuckles had turned white. "I see." The elderly hobbit turned his face upwards to look Elrond in the eye. "I understand, Master Elrond."

The ridiculousness of that statement surprised the elf lord so greatly that a bark of laughter almost escaped from his lips. He bit it back at the last second, not wishing to offend the halfling. He was sure that Bilbo only intended to be sympathetic, but the idea that a cosseted hobbit had any idea what Elrond was experiencing at the moment was truly laughable.

Bilbo's eyes twinkled suddenly. "You do not believe me. But it is true."

"Really." The elf lord could not keep a note of cynicism from his tone.

"You're angry," the hobbit continued, as though he had not heard. "and wondering why. Why your life? What did you do to deserve the pain?"

Raven brows soared upwards. Bilbo's words so closely matched his thoughts he wondered if he had inadvertently spoken out loud for the hobbit to overhear. How on earth could he know...?

"I didn't always live on my own," Bilbo said quietly. "Did you never wonder why I had my parent's lovely hobbit hole to myself by the age of fifty? Rather young for one us little folk."

Yes. Yes it was. Hobbits were generally gifted with longer lives than men, and it was not unusual for members of a family to live together for the entirety of their lives. Suddenly, he realized that Bilbo's solitary existence was quite out of the ordinary.

"My mother was a Took," the elderly hobbit continued. "And she was very adventuresome (for a hobbit at least). She enjoyed taking her little pony for long rides by herself. One day, the poor beast returned without her." The brown eyes took on a distant look, gazing out over the gray waves. "We searched, and found her body. The pony must have been spooked by something. She had been thrown and had cracked her skull on a stone lying near the road. She was almost certainly killed instantly." Bilbo tapped his stick on the deck thoughtfully. "My father was crushed." A sad, wistful smile tugged at the hobbit's lips. "I know that most hobbits are credited with loving nothing so well as food, but my father was more attached to her than any comestible. I could tell, because after she was gone he lost interest in everything else. He faded into a shadow of himself."

Elrond looked down at the hobbit sharply. Those words brought vivid memories of Celebrian to his mind. The long horrible months after her rescue where she lived as a phantom, and then the pain of feeling her draw farther and farther away.

Bilbo did not catch the glance, his thoughts turned far away. "I was barely out of my tweens when my father joined my mother. And I was left all alone." he sighed softly. "I was very angry for a long time. Why me? What had I done? Why my parents?"

The elderly hobbit fell silent, and the air between them was filled with the sound of the waves and the creaking of the sails. "This was perhaps the only time when I was so angry for my own sorrow, but many other times I was similarly burdened." Bilbo closed his eyes, as though shutting out painful memories. "On my great adventure, at the very end. When Thorin and Fili and Kili lay dead. It was a long, long time before I could even smile again."

"Then there was Frodo. After his parents died, I traveled to Brandy Hall for the funeral." Bilbo suddenly scowled fiercely. (As fiercely as an aged, plump hobbit could) "There are hundreds of hobbits living in those tunnels, and the air was crackling with the wagging of their tongues. You see, there are some of the greatest fools of all times living amongst us halflings. Some nasty, idle gossipers with nothing better to do were discussing the possibility of Primula pushing her husband into the river, and him pulling her after him. Ridiculous, of course, and no one with a lick of sense paid it more than a second's notice, but they were talking about it in front of him.

"In the excitement and the potential scandal of their death, poor Frodo was rather neglected. When I arrived he was creeping around the corners of rooms and hiding in the shadows to avoid the notice of the tale bearers. They would pursue him and question him interminably. Like a pack of ravenous wolves after fresh meat." The brown eyes flashed angrily. "I couldn't stand it. Again I felt that anger. Why him? What had poor Frodo ever done to deserve this?" Bilbo tapped his stick thoughtfully. "I took him home with me. I could not bear for him to be left there amidst the prying busybodies while he was in such pain. Poor lad."

Elrond looked down at the hobbit with new eyes. By and large, hobbits were viewed almost on the level of children. Their perpetually cheery outlook led others to think of them as not being capable of deep emotion. Gandalf was right. They could be very surprising creatures when they chose.

Bilbo looked up at Elrond, and his lined face creased into a smile. "I am only a foolish hobbit. But I do believe that I found the answer for my question."

"Your question?" Elrond queried.

"Why. I believe I found the answer for the question why."

The elf lord's eyebrows drew together as he stared down at the halfling. The salty wind blew about him, whipping black strands of hair through the air. "And what is the answer, Bilbo?"

There was sadness in the brown eyes as Bilbo answered. "Why not me?"

Elrond stared at the hobbit. "I'm afraid that I am not following you."

"Why not me?" Bilbo repeated. "Why do others deserve grief and pain more than I? What have I done that should make me so special as to avoid sorrow throughout my life?" Bilbo crossed his arms over his round stomach. "But just because I have grief and pain in my life does not mean things have spiraled out of control. I look back on the pattern of my existence and see a plan knitting the events together. If my parents had not died, I should not have gone on my great adventure, and the Ring would not have been found, or it would have been found by someone much more unpleasant than myself." He shrugged. "If Frodo's parents had not died, he would not have come to live with me, and there would be no brave hobbit to carry the Ring into the fires of Mt. Doom. For I freely admit that it would have been a burden far too heavy for my shoulders to bear. Even when I first received the Ring, I doubt that I could have completed the task, and after having it for so long...I would have fallen to it's evil sway long before I set foot in Mordor.

"Would I have chosen the grief and pain that have come into my life?" The hobbit snorted inelegantly, causing Elrond to smile. "Most certainly not! However..." the elderly halfling placed a gentle hand on Elrond's arm and smiled up at him. "My choices would not have been the best. I would have chosen a life of luxury and ease. I would have cheated myself out of experiences that would lead to much greater depth of character (unpleasant as they may have been at the time). There was a plan for my life. A map. Parts of it are dreary and ugly, but parts are less than the whole. The sorrow offset the joy. And if I hadn't had the sorrow, how would I have known how sweet the joy could be?" Bilbo's eyes softened. "Not that I am minimizing your sorrow, hir nin. Elves have a greater propensity for grief, simply because their lives are so long."

"We also have vast capacity for joy, then, do we not?" Elrond asked quietly. And his life had also had joy. Great joy.

Bilbo patted the elf lord's arm and walked away, his stick tapping out an even rhythm against the wooden deck.

Long after the hobbit had left him, Elrond remained where he was, lost in thought.

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Days had passed. The smooth rolling motion of the ship was comforting to Elrond, as well as the smell of the salt. He stood at the prow of their small vessel, watching the approach of land. It had appeared slowly, a streak against the horizon.

Now he could see the green of the grass. The call of the sea birds filled his ears. Waves pounded the shoreline with the roar that was so familiar to him. The wind whipped around him, blowing back long strands of raven hair. He had discarded the long flowing robes that were his habitual garments and donned a tunic and trousers.

Over the days he had dwelt on the words Bilbo had spoken. A pattern. A plan. Darkness to emphasize the light.

His life; his tapestry was so mangled. Was it really as bleak and tattered as it seemed, or was he looking too closely?

For an instant, a vision unfolded before the elf lord's eyes.

Colors; vibrant and radiant and sparkling together in a glorious work of exquisite craftsmanship. An artisan's hand had crafted a woven masterpiece with nothing out of place. Running through the pattern, Elrond could see his own life. What he had thought of as torn was lovely. The threads meshed perfectly into the beauty, and there was no doubt that there was a design for every inch.

He gasped, and the horizon was before him once more. Closer now. Much closer.

There was a dock, and a number of elves clustered at the end of it to welcome the new arrivals.

One in particular stood out to Elrond's eyes.

A slender elf woman with silver blond hair.

Elrond's heart turned over in his chest. He had waited so long to see her. He had missed her so much. What would she be like? A moment's sick fear brought to mind the last time he had seen his wife.

Tears streaming down bloodless cheeks as she departed, never looking back. A shadow of her former self.

The ship drew up alongside the dock. Elrond threw out a line for eager hands to make fast and caught his wife's eyes. His heart jumped within his chest.

She was smiling. Her eyes were bright and sparkling. She stretched out her arms towards him, and without a second thought, the elf lord vaulted over the ship's rail to land upon the dock amidst the cheering of old friends. He would greet them later. After waiting literally centuries, he was not going to be distracted from his wife for one more instant.

Celebrian catapulted herself into his arms without a second's reserve. Happy tears soaked the shoulder of his tunic as her arms wound around his torso tightly. Elrond could only cling to her; words lost. He could feel his own tears sliding down his cheeks into her hair.

Tears for losing her.

Tears for their children.

Tears for having her beside him once more.

Celebrian pulled back for a moment and cupped his cheek with her hand. "I have missed you," she whispered, smiling through dewy lashes. "I have missed you so much."

"And I, you." his hands were stroking hair back from her face tenderly. He was shocked to discover that he had forgotten how silky it was. "We have much to talk about."

From the twinge of pain in Celebrian's eyes, he could see that she knew of Arwen. His wife nodded, biting her lip. They would grieve together, as was only right. And they would heal together.

Celebrian tilted her head up and Elrond kissed her, pulling her as close to himself as he could.

Their life stretched out before them, winding into the beautiful tapestry; never to be parted again.

This was the beginning of forever.

Finish

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Again, thank you all, you have been wonderful. :)