T.A. 2509

"We shouldn't rest in an area like this, Lady Arwen. We'll be arriving soon." Thondrar impatiently stopped his horse when Lord Elrond's daughter was suddenly gone from his side where she belonged. For the umpteenth time, something seemed to distract her that she demonstratively had to go inspect, prolonging the journey once again. As if it was his fault that he had to take her to Lórien against her will.

At least this time, she had an important reason, as he belatedly realized. Somebody was waiting by the edge of the Golden Wood who was not welcome in these realms. He obviously wanted to say good-bye to Arwen before she would go into hiding for a long time.

"Go. Just a few minutes though. This is not a place for sentimentality," he sighed when Arwen turned her pleading gaze to him, and motioned the other soldiers to keep an eye on the surroundings.

He had been on more pleasant quests before than taking the Evenstar of the elves so close to Dol Guldur. It would be a relief, finally delivering Arwen to her grandmother in Caras Galadhon where in addition to being safe from every possible threat, she would receive extensive battle training. Long overdue, as far as he was concerned. There wouldn't always be someone around to help Arwen. Not when what they all feared would come true.

And truthfully, no one was doubting that it would anymore. Not after what had happened.

"I wish you were at least a little bit like your father." Arwen tapped her heels on her mare's sides to approach the elf in the distance, ignoring whatever threats might be waiting nearby.

If she thought she could make him angry, she knew neither him nor his father half as well as she thought. A lenient smile was all Thondrar had to spare for the outburst.

Arwen needed to vent her pain about this thing with her mother on someone, that was all. Especially since her father was way too caught up in his grief to even notice her. No matter how vehemently she had protested against leaving her home, Elrond didn't even seem to have heard her. Sure, no one could have forced Arwen if she wouldn't have given in. But in the end, the terrifying unfeelingness the Lord radiated right now, had changed her mind. For the moment, they had to separately process what had happened. And Arwen would come back to Imladris, though that probably felt like an eternity away to her right now.

Until then, the valley's surroundings would hopefully be secured again, and no she-elf would have to be fear being assaulted from behind anymore.

"I missed you." Not just hugging Legolas fiercely to say hello had seldom been so hard.

There was a lot they should talk about, but to her friend, only one subject had been important in the last century. So important that they hadn't met even once. Arwen had been afraid of that silence damaging their relationship. Instead, when she was finally facing him again, when she spotted the traces of the past worries on Legolas' face, it felt like the distance had only strengthened the bonds of their friendship. It gave her hope that this further separation wouldn't change either, what had endured between them for so long.

"How is your father doing?"

"He's vocally complaining that I took my leave for a few days, so it can't be too bad." Legolas tried to show her a smile that wouldn't quite come. Even with Thranduil's condition no longer life-threatening, the shocking occurrences were far from being processed yet.

"It wasn't your fault." With a movement invisible for the warriors in the distance, Arwen quickly caressed the back of his hand. She felt powerless, helpless, as usual when she had to see what the shadow in Middle-earth had made of an elf whom on every of their trips, she had fought for the last cookie in the picnic basket when they had been elflings.

Legolas had never quite understood that, but this was the only reason why she hated it when he was riding out with his bow. It hurt when someone forgot how to laugh. She could just hope that she wouldn't fare similarly.

"You weren't there, starlet." When he had last called her that, she had been 15. For some reason, that scared her more than the worn out look on his face. Legolas seemed resigned, hopeless, as if the war that everyone was talking about had already begun and he was certain, they would never meet again. "I know I disappointed him."

"Everyone makes mistakes, Legolas. Doesn't it show how much he loves you, that he was ready to sacrifice himself for you?"

Arwen felt Thondrar's gaze in her back and desperately tried to ignore twilight.

"You try too hard to live up to all expectations. You're looking for perfection that you will never achieve. No one can. It's the gift of the Valar that we don't have to do everything right."

It was the same that her father kept telling her, but Arwen could feel that her words didn't reach Legolas' heart. That fear of endangering others by his failure would probably be haunting him henceforth. Maybe after all this time, he had found his greatest weakness … And maybe Arwen had a lot more to learn than she was aware of.

"Let's get this over with." She squeezed his shoulders for a long moment. "Promise me, you're going to take care of yourself. Even when I'm not around for a while to tell you."

"If you'll be telling me that in a few centuries still, I'll primarily have to watch my back to keep your husband from slaying me." Legolas was even too exhausted to be angry about her being overprotecive again.

Arwen grimaced. "I'll never get married. Am I supposed to spend my time stitching flags for my husband and raise his children while he is going to war and on having great adventures without me? I'm going to learn how to defend myself now, that's way more important."

"Someday, an elf will change your mind about that," Legolas mentioned confidently. "But don't you dare choose someone I don't like. Before he proposes to you, he has to call on me first, just so we're clear!"

"Get in line with my father and brothers," Arwen returned just as jokingly but then stepped back, with a heavy heart.

"I'll get in touch as soon as ada wants me around again. Don't forget about me, alright?"

"About the most important she-elf in my life? How could I?" The attempt to fight the pain of parting with humor failed miserably. If Legolas didn't happen to be allergic to some creature of Dol Guldur lurking nearby, he couldn't have too many reasons for wiping his eyes like that.

"The most important, am I? Just so you know, if you want me to introduce you to my future husband one day, I demand honesty as well." Arwen didn't even need to feign outrage.

"It's good to see your eyes shine so bright. It happens way too seldom," she added when Legolas lowered his head. At this point, he didn't want to talk about it, she had to accept that. "I hope, someday you can bring yourself to confide in me."

"Someday," he nodded.

Arwen somehow managed not to burst into tears before she was out of sight and earshot.

T.A. 2580

When Vandrin had been delivered letters on their journey so far, the contents had never affected Tarisilya or her brother. Therefore, Tarisilya didn't pay much notice when they stopped by at the Golden Mug tavern to spend the night, and the innkeeper handed her father a decade-old looking thick scroll, every bit as awestruck and fascinated as most Men in the presence of Firstborn were.

It was probably another of these periodic reports that Lady Galadriel kept on sending. She stubbornly tried to keep Vandrin posted about the events in Lórien. Occasionally, she asked him something urgent, too. Most of the time though, she was only trying to find out when he would be back. The adventure that Vandrin had taken Tegiend and Tarisilya on after that one summer in Imladris hadn't even lasted two hundred years yet, but people in Lórien already seemed to despair without the council of a very experienced elf like him.

Tarisilya sometimes wondered how things would be handled in the Golden Wood, should Vandrin ever decide to sail into the west. Not that she expected her father to, not after dwelling on this world for millennia, longer than many other elves. But from time to time, it was amusing to picture it.

The urge to laugh subsided quickly though when Vandrin motioned Tegiend and her to join him. Tarisilya rarely saw her father unhinged like that. He'd seen too much in his life for that. But even in the bad lighting of the smoky pub it was easy to see that he had turned a shade paler than usual.

"Lady Celebrían has left for Valinor." Without prelude or preparation, Vandrin stated what surprised the twins just as much as him. In those long years without contact to any other elves, they seemed to have missed one or two important things after all. "After being assaulted by orcs, she lost every faith in this world." Which explained why this development was so heavy on Vandrin. There weren't many elves who had suffered an attack on body and soul by these foul creatures and had lived to tell.

"I'm sure she didn't choose the easy way out lightly." Changing seats, Tarisilya sat down on the fragile wooden bench and sneaked under her father's arm. Actually she was too old to be held like that, but she felt he needed that right now. His loving, thankful glance proved her right. "She has always been very kind with us."

"She was a unique elf." Still looking riddled with grief, Vandrin put the scroll in his travel pouch. "I should have been there for her instead of letting her narrow-minded husband scare me off. It's too late for that now. Maybe we can make something else right though. The twins have become completely unapproachable right now, but Elrond sent his daughter to Lórien to be safe for a while. She's undergoing strict battle training. Apparently, the Lord fears, something could happen to her has well. Enough even to accept that Arwen can never be a healer now. Or that she'll have to manage the same balancing act as her brothers, of worrying more about an enemy's life than her own to keep on helping patients. I've decided against that needless double burden long ago, as you know. No one who knows the downsides of such a life better than me. Arwen needs help now."

"Do you want to go back?" Considering that Vandrin had nearly needed to force Tegiend to interrupt his marchwarden career for this journey, he sounded remarkably disappointed about its possible end. After all, they hadn't seen half of the things yet that Vandrin wanted to show them. And since Vandrin had just warned him that he wouldn't be of much use to his friends Elladan and Elrohir right now, stopping by in Imladris obviously wouldn't do much.

"I leave that to you." Vandrin looked mostly at Tarisilya. "She's your friend. If you rather want to be there for her … and join her on her path … She sure would like some familiar company. As long as you're mindful of what I told you about never taking a life …" The resigned displeasure in his words was hard to ignore.

Elrond of all people suddenly encouraging his daughter to learn how to use a sword, altered some traditions that had been a moot point in their family for centuries. It also meant tough, there was truth to the rumors about a growing danger in Middle-earth. That such measures might be necessary, no matter how many elves disapproved of them.

Vandrin had long stopped forcing Tarisilya to do anything. He probably wouldn't be in her way now if she decided to tag along with Arwen. To do what she had wished for so much in the past.

"No." But the answer, coming from her lips before Tarisilya had even thought about it, surprised no one more than her.

Yet it was the right one. The three of them just came from a long, isolated stay in the mountains. Only days ago they had entered this still quite new realm of the Rohirrim, a land so young and fascinating, where horses - Tarisilya's favorite animals - played a big part. For that reason alone she wanted to stay for a while, and then see much more of Middle-earth before she would be ready to go home. To sit around there, waiting for certain things to change, listening to visions of darkness that after the developments in Imladris suddenly seemed so much more real, training a little bit with a bow again, only with inanimate targets of course … There would be enough time for all of that then. In the meantime, her brother and father surely would train her if she asked them. Then Tarisilya would feel more at ease, residing in possibly orc-infested areas.

But she never wanted to allow herself any stagnancy again.

Arwen maybe could, because it was Elrond's wish, and apparently, because she had also found a new calling to keep her busy for centuries to come.

Tarisilya wouldn't fight for the same with might and main. It was only when her father gave up at least part of his stubbornness for the first time, that she finally realized that. Being able to shoot some arrows, that was alright. But she didn't want to hurt Vandrin with this when it wasn't absolutely necessary. Maybe some things had less to do with obedience than with respect.

Besides, she didn't want to give up the freedom yet that her father offered her with this journey. In Lórien, she always succumbed to routine way too quickly. "That can wait. We have so much to do left."

"As you wish." Vandrin obviously didn't quite get it, but he didn't ask. Definitely another improvement of his former behavior.

After moving into their respective rooms, the elves got back together at the restaurant's most secluded table for dinner, where the glances of the Men hardly reached them.

Vandrin seemed to feel that Tarisilya was still agitated by that story about Lady Celebrían. "Don't worry too much, Ilya. I have witnessed many visions of Lady Galadriel and feared some of them myself that then turned out to be inaccurate. The gift of foresight is not an infallible glimpse ahead. The future is always in motion."

"I heard that before," she replied slightly ironically, lost for a moment in memories of her last stay in Imladris, when the world there had still mostly been intact. When the most important thing for her hadn't been any kind of prophecy but an eccentric librarian.

If she'd known back then, that she had maybe seen Lady Celebrían for the last time ever, she would have personally have said good-bye to her. She would have thanked her for everything and especially have asked her a few more questions.

Now there was only one elf left who could give her the answers she craved. "Tell me about her."

"About Lord Elrond's wife?" After all these centuries, Vandrin sometimes could still not follow her wild mental leaps.

"No." Tarisilya took heart and then his hand. She didn't want the consideration for his pain keep her any longer. It had been Lady Celebrían who had made her see that. That at least should not have been for nothing. "About our mother."

T.A. 2999

I waited for you, my prince.

I wish we wouldn't be only meeting in my dreams.

Are you sure this is a dream?

Am I dead then?

Then I would have greeted you with a slap, not with a kiss.

I miss your insolence, moon-queen.

Not for much longer, my prince. Not for much longer.

"You are being missed." Elrond didn't care about disturbing his guest's meditation, not today. Without waiting for permission, he sat down next to Legolas, on that bench right under the palace' large celebration hall, where they could hear the other elves partying. For a few minutes, he joined the silence.

It was the smallest, and the only part of the garden that allowed an unhindered view east, that his guest had chosen, and it was utterly deserted. When there was an occasion to celebrate at least for a few hours, most people didn't want to be reminded of what enshrouded Middle-earth like a poisonous cloak, approaching faster than they liked.

But Legolas was one of the people most affected by what was happening in Mordor, and what wouldn't flourish in obscurity for much longer. It was only a blink in the eyes of a Firstborn since Sauron had been driven from Dol Guldur by the White Council – an event that Thranduil had not wanted his son to be part of. Despite of Legolas making an outstanding contribution towards defending his realm, when Thranduil had been knocked out by those bad injuries. Now the relationship between father and son was once more catastrophic.

Even if you didn't know any of that, you could tell by simply looking at the still so young Prince. His favorite color silver had been left in the cabinet tonight. A tight black robe covered his slender body. Hardly more than a few crystals on the fabric, reflecting the light, distinguished him from a herald of Sauron himself. His cheeks looked hollow, emphasizing the pale color of his skin.

"You should have tried talking to your father."

"I did, milord. We don't speak the same language anymore. I'm sick of arguing with him." Legolas took the glass that Elrond offered him without even looking at it, emptying it just as uncaring. There probably could be poison in it and he'd only realize when starting to feel sick.

"I know you are having more guests than usual tonight. I don't want to keep you from your duties."

"If you want to be alone, go to one of the streams." An edge of sharpness crept into Elrond's voice. The Lord of Imladris wasn't to be sent away like a servant.

"You're the ambassador of the first realm threatened by Sauron's shadow again. The elves in there would appreciate the chance to talk to you to ease their minds. Many have given up hope as you know. Ships are leaving for Valinor continuously. Positive news are seldom these days. So either act like a grown-up or retreat."

"Very well, milord." Unfazed, on the outside, from the blunt speech, Legolas finally turned his gaze away from the east.

There really wasn't anything calling Legolas back to the celebration hall. For him, this event didn't offer any kind of comfort.

And yet the elves had made such an effort to make the upcoming millennium of darkness forgotten at least for one night. It showed from a distance already. All windows were veiled with white fabric reflecting both star- and moonlight. Instead of torches, stalactites in all colors lit the room that with Thranduil's permission, Legolas had brought with him. Dying rock, sure, cut from its roots, but bright enough still for a few hours. A few very talented Lórien elves had brought their instruments and provided distraction with shallow songs that could even be heard through closed windows, a tact for those indulging in the tradition of dancing in the middle of the room.

A pleasant atmosphere for sure if one managed to relax, but Legolas was still relieved when Lord Elrond chose the long way back to the palace, a narrow pebble path leading to the side entrance. It granted him at least a few more minutes of silence.

Yet any attempt at serenity vanished immediately when they passed two persons sitting under one of the tall trees. At first, the couple didn't even seem to notice that they were being watched.

When they realized, they let go of each other and got to their feet suspiciously quickly, as if that could now brighten Elrond's somber expression.

Arwen was standing next to a being you wouldn't exactly suspect to find in these realms – a Man. The missing space between them, the much too personal embrace left no doubt about what was going on here.

"My foster son Estel." Elrond shoved Legolas on with one hand firmly on his shoulder, to stop him from staring at the couple in bewilderment.

"But … Arwen … I mean … a Man?" Dumbfounded, Legolas tried to read Elrond's hardened features, to find out how he could allow this, in his own valley no less. Of course no elf had a right to tell another grown up elf what to do, but encouraging this abomination in his own home, something that was all the way inappropriate and that obviously, Elrond wasn't comfortable with either …

"There's only one partner in a lifetime for all of us, Legolas. We may not always understand the choices of fate, but that won't change anyone's feelings. You of all people should know that." For the first time since they had come together to meet Vandrin's twins in this valley centuries ago, Elrond revealed that he at least suspected how close Legolas really had come to Tarisilya.

"Arwen has long outgrown childhood. She's not only our Evenstar but has also become a warrior, though it wasn't easy for her, rejecting a possible healer career. She found her very own strength inside of her and knows exactly what she wants. But she also knows that her love has to stand the test before I can approve. I had to suffer this pain already when my brother chose a mortal life. I won't let my child do the same on a whim. The future is uncertain for all of us, even more so for him. We're facing difficult times, and Arwen turned to someone with one of the most important roles in them. That's not a time for such irretrievable decisions."

Some of the discontent left Elrond's eyes when he looked back at his foster son. An expression of fondness replaced it. In spite of that unbelievable burden of maybe losing his daughter to her love for a Secondborn, Legolas sensed nothing of that hostile coldness towards Men anymore, that he remembered from that conflict with those orcs back then. Elrond as well had grown some in the last centuries. Apparently, it was never too late for that.

Maybe that should give Legolas some hope about his father's behavior.

Estel seemed to feel that he was being watched and turned his head to look at him. Keen grey eyes rested on Legolas for a moment before the Man respectfully bowed to him.

"It is far from me to question your decisions, milord."

Legolas decided that he needed something to drink. Maybe enough wine would help getting the image of Arwen lying in the arms of this untidy looking Man off his mind.

At least she could have told him seeing as the Lord didn't even seem to have considered it. Just like when she had chosen a warrior life, she had probably already known what he would have to say about it.

It had taken Tarisilya nearly a millennia to place more importance on things like decency and etiquette than her brother. By elven standards, it hadn't been long since Tegiend had last admonished her to sit straight at the breakfast table and to not drill Lady Galadriel with questions. Now it was Tarisilya nearly losing her head when Tegiend's marchwarden duties were more important to him than every law of politeness. Thanks to that, they were late for the most important celebration of the last years. Did such indifference towards the most important manners come from watching the borders of Lórien? Knowing Haldir, it wouldn't surprise her.

"Wonderful. Everyone's already here," she growled irritatedly, when they finally passed the city gate of Imladris and approached the brightly lit palace in a fast trot. "Why did you have to take that last shift? Don't you realize how badly the Lord will think of Lórien and us now?"

"Probably not any worse than when Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn didn't personally accept his invitation," Tegiend answered dryly. "Get over yourself, sis. It's only the Man's turn of the year. It's probably only thanks to that Dúnadan whom Lord Elrond allows to live here, that there even is a celebration. Most elves will already be too drunk to even realize that we arrived."

"You spend too much time with your captain." On the road to the stables, Tarisilya reluctantly slowed Manyala down. There was no way now to sneak into the celebration hall, unseen, anyway. It wasn't becoming, racing through town in a donkey trot. Tegiend still had a talent for spoiling the most beautiful evenings.

There was only one reason why she had accepted Galadriel's request to officially fill in for her here so eagerly, a reason she hopefully would meet in the palace in the foreseeable future. That was what she wanted to think about now, not the pessimism poisoning Lórien for half an eternity.

Tegiend abruptly got Matis to stop and dismounted, then helped Tarisilya to jump to the ground so she wouldn't ruin her brandnew dress. To save time, she had already got changed during a break on the last stretch of the road. "Wait for me at the entrance."

"Of course, what did you think?" Tarisilya would rather have taken care of Manyala herself. She usually never let anyone do that for her. But the impatience to get to that party was stronger. She couldn't risk the one she hoped to see there, possibly already departing before her arrival.

Approaching the palace, she immediately deeply regretted her decision to precede Tegiend though. She was indeed expected by someone on the stairs leading to the doorway. But it wasn't the elf she couldn't stop thinking about.

In an unconscious gesture, Tarisilya wrapped the shawl of her dress tightly around her elbows, doing her best to not lower her head. It had been a while since someone had last thrown her off balance. After more than five hundred years, Erestor piercing glance still managed that . "Are you our official welcoming committee?"

"Ilya." On the last steps he came towards her, with hasty movements, a stark contrast to his stiff posture earlier. A posture with a lot more tension than Tarisilya remembered, with an aura she knew well enough from Tegiend to recognize it at once. Erestor had already oozed determination when they had first met, but now he seemed to be doing some battle training on top. Probably on his own, if Glorfindel's attitude towards that subject had not changed a lot.

As soon as he was being close to her though, all of that body control left him, as if not a day had gone by since they had hid behind a library shelf together. Had she not made it clear that it was over? That he had kept on writing to her had meant more than expected then. Her lack of answers apparently didn't bother him.

Tarisilya instinctively flinched when he reached for her so he only brushed the back of her hand.

Fortunately, he retreated on his own accord then and formally bowed to her. "You look amazing."

"Thank you." Were people conspiring to corrupt this evening for her? She really had no time for this.

Well, Tegiend would find her inside the building as well. Lifting the skirt of her dress Tarisilya kept moving, after regarding Erestor with a polite smile. That had to do.

"Have you forgotten everything, Ilya?" His sad tone, discreetly whispered words when she was right next to him … Erestor still knew how to use certain weapons. "I didn't."

"That is in the past." And in the past, she probably would have stopped once more. Today, she managed to keep on climbing the stairs, though every step felt as if it weighed tons. "Please accept that."

Erestor leaned back against the marble stair-rail as if these few sentences had drained him of all strength. "Did you read none of my messages? I'm still hoping, Ilya."

"In vain, I wish you would understand that." It hurt. Though things had gone so wrong between them, it wasn't easy to see Erestor suffering that much. If he really had hoped for so long, waiting for this one meeting – Tarisilya could only imagine how cruel it had to be, being rejected then. Since learning that she would spend the turn of the year of Men here, she was having nightmares. Part of her was afraid of what would happen if a delegation of Mirkwood indeed had arrived here as well. Maybe she wouldn't fare any better than Erestor then.

Even more stomachache, just what she needed. This evening got better and better. She had to get out of here.

"Is it? There seems to be missing a wedding ring on your hand." This tactic wasn't new either. When you couldn't beat a rival, obviously you tried to denounce him.

"I'm pretty sure that is none of your business." Tegiend of all people saved Tarisilya from the unpleasant situation. For the first time ever, she was relieved when he put a potential admirer of hers to flight with a scathing glance and one motion of the head.

"I only don't want to be even more late," he claimed when Tarisilya gratefully squeezed his hand.

"Besides, that guy has finally lost his mind now," he murmured when she just grinned at him. "We didn't come here for that kind of trouble."

"Definitely not."

Taking a deep breath, Tarisilya linked arms with her brother and forced her prettiest smile on her lips. In vain, she tried to calm down her heart. It beat even faster when they got closer to the celebration hall. Suddenly there was no doubt. She felt him nearby. Unlike her brother, Tarisilya only had their mother's ability to see others in her mind when it was someone she had feelings for. That had crystallized out in the last centuries more and more. Someone like Legolas.

It slowly started to dawn on her that the endless waiting had indeed not been futile. She was exactly where she was supposed to be.

Hopefully, one day Erestor would understand that too.