A/N: Hi everyone! I guess I finished proofreading and editing this chapter faster than I thought. Two chapters in one day have never happened to me since I started writing on this site. Only two more chapters and we are done (seriously, we're done after those two).
One more thing I would like to address: I did some research, and I couldn't find anything that said the Avari weren't in Doriath during the First Age. That being the case, I have decided to add a bit of the Avari to the story just to make Dimethor's struggle to leave a little bit harder for him. And also, I assume that since the Sindar and Silvan ruled Doriath and lived there, they were probably a bit more accepting of the Avari than the Noldor. Either way, I hope you like this chapter and enjoy it. I'll try and have the last few finished either today or Saturday. We'll see!
Until later, please read, review, and enjoy!
Three days after their quiet moment together, Arwen and Elrond again said farewell. Only this time, it would not be for long. They both knew they would see each other again. Elrond and Thranduil, along with their warriors and the healers Elrond had brought along and the Dúnedain were leaving Lothlórien. It was time for them to go home.
Galadriel and Celeborn came to say farewell then, while Arwen looked on. She had already said her farewells earlier.
Thranduil was the first to speak, "My lord, my lady, thank you for your hospitality these last weeks. It was greatly appreciated."
"You are welcome, your majesty," Celeborn said with a bow of his head, "Feel free to come again. We will miss your company while you are away."
Thranduil nodded, "I will do my best, but the Greenwood should not be left to its own devices for as long as it has been. It may be a while before I can leave once more."
"All the same, please come again," Galadriel said, "Your company is always a joy to have."
Thranduil bowed his head before going to his elk-mount and mounting, waiting patiently for Elrond to finish his farewells.
Elrond smiled slightly at his in-laws before bowing his head and saying, "Thank you for your hospitality and company. It has been a rather relaxing stay in the Golden Wood. I hope to come again in the near future."
"We eagerly await that next visit," Galadriel said while Celeborn nodded, "In the meantime, may your journey home be swift and without incident."
"Thank you, my lady," Elrond said, "We will send word when we have reached home safely."
Celeborn nodded again, while Galadriel leaned closer to him and murmured quietly, "Do not be afraid to let others in, child. There is no shame in asking for help," resting a hand on Elrond's cheek for a brief moment and looking deeply into his eyes.
Elrond nodded but said nothing. He then went to his daughter and embraced her for a long moment before drawing away and wiping a tear off her cheek. He smiled gently at her before walking to Veryafion and mounting, the mare eager to be away. She was ready for home and familiar pastures.
Elrond and Thranduil both bowed over their saddles to the assembled elves of Lothlórien who had come to see them away before turning their mounts and departing. Glorfindel, who lingered behind for a moment, only nodded at Galadriel and Celeborn, letting them know he would protect Elrond Half-elven to his dying breath if need be.
He left as well after that, and the Golden Wood seemed quieter and calmer almost immediately.
And it would stay that way for many years until a young man would come and change the future of Middle-Earth forever. But that was in the far future, and until then the Golden Wood would retreat into itself for a while to mourn their dead and those they had lost.
Once they left the borders of Lothlórien behind them, Elrond and Thranduil traveled side-by-side silently for many miles before Elrond said, "This journey will certainly be interesting."
Thranduil glanced sideways at him before nodding, "I seem to remember making such a journey, on the same road, many years ago. Much has changed, and yet much is still the same."
Elrond nodded, eyes distant, "And much has still to be realized. The future has many paths set before us. Which one we take may not be the one we desire to, but it will be what it must."
Thranduil sighed, "All we can do is be ready for whatever may come our way. And hope our preparations are enough to weather the storm that will eventually come. I hope the rest of Middle-Earth is ready as well."
Elrond nodded again before lapsing into silence. Thranduil did the same, but it was a companionable silence as they rode steadily north towards home.
As they rode home, Eafled and Tordag had settled back into their routines in their village. There had been a celebration to welcome them home, but things had calmed. Now, they went about their lives, glad to be free of the hunters and the fear they had brought with them.
And yet, they were also sad. Both knew, by instinct or some other sense, that they would never see the elves again. At least, not for many long years.
But they would never forget their time with the elves and what they had learned from them, or the friends they had made. Even if long years passed, they would never forget the adventures they had shared with the elves and the powerful friendships they had forged.
And that, in the end, was all they needed to be content.
That, and their family and horses and friends. All they needed they had, and it was a good feeling.
They were finally home.
Cirion, after many days of work, was finally able to settle down in his study and relax. It had been a trying few days, but it was finally done. The hunters and mercenaries had all been tried and were being punished in accordance with Gondorian law, and the survivors and victims were back home with their families.
All in all, Cirion should have been happy that it was finally over, but instead, he wasn't. And it wasn't because of the punishment for the mercenaries and hunters. It was because of Reineth and her mother. Both were still sad and grieving over the loss of their father and husband, and there was nothing Cirion could do about it.
He couldn't raise the dead after all.
Watching them go about their lives once more, without Cendar, was hard. Especially when he knew that Hithaer was pregnant and would raise another child without their father. All he could really do was offer his support and help raise the child like he was doing with Reineth. But it wouldn't be the same, and they all knew it.
They all missed Cendar, and there was no way to make the pain go away. They would all have to learn to live with it, even when Cendar's name and his face became nothing more than a memory and a story to those that didn't know him.
'Not to everyone though,' Cirion remembered suddenly, 'Lord Elrond remembers him and remembers what Cendar did for him. Elven memory is absolute, he will never be forgotten or become nothing more than a myth. I guess that is something. But it doesn't help Hithaer and Reineth.'
Thinking over everything that had happened, Cirion was saddened to realize that there was nothing that could be done to help Reineth and Hithaer. Hithaer had made friends with Mariam and Conner and was helping them adjust to the city. Conner had shown an interest in becoming a Ranger, and they were trying him out to see if he had what it took. Mariam had taken such a liking to Hithaer that she was helping the younger woman try to understand her grief.
Mariam had lost a husband because of the hunters as well, she had a perspective that was unique and might even help Hithaer.
In the end, the hunters were defeated and Gondor was safe, as was Rohan and any other realm and place that had been at risk because of them. And yet Cirion was aware that the price had been high, and there was nothing else to do but try and continue as they had before. Mordor still needed to be watched, the orcs fought and defeated at every turn and the shadow kept at bay. It was all they could do now, and all any would expect of them.
They would fight this shadow and they would win. It may not be in his lifetime, but it would happen. And when it did, they would all rest and rejoice that things were as they should be, as the king would have returned and the strength of Gondor would be back. The shadow would be defeated and the lands would be prosperous.
They will win and they will succeed.
Cirion nodded to himself, staring out the window of his study at the bustling city below him. The king would soon return to Minas Tirith, and whether he was alive or not made no difference to him. He would rest easy when that became true, and the kingdom of Gondor would be safe once more.
That was all he needed to know that the deaths of Cendar and so many others were not in vain. They had all fought for the purpose of ridding the world of evil, and they had done so. Their sacrifice would never be forgotten, and that was all he needed to keep moving forward to a brighter tomorrow.
Gondor was still standing, and it would keep standing long after he was gone. This he knew and this he was glad for. Gondor would never fall to the shadow of Mordor, this he knew with every fiber of his being.
Staring out the window, Cirion smiled.
It was a new day and a new time. He needed to make the most of it as much as he could and be ready for anything that may happen in the future.
Gondor would be ready; for war or for a new king, whichever came first.
The elves of the Gray Havens, accompanied by Avorneth and Dimethor, had finally arrived home the day Elrond and Thranduil departed Lothlórien. Their journey had been uneventful and safe, no orc would dare threaten a group that strong without a powerful incentive, and there was none. And all orcs feared Círdan the Shipwright, immediately avoiding any group he was with and knowing in the depths of their black hearts he was someone to be hated and feared. The return home was met with muted joy and some sadness.
Those that welcomed them knew immediately that some of their own had fallen at the keep, and they would soon honor their dead.
And they did. The day after the group arrived home, many gathered at the beach to honor the fallen. There their ashes were given to the Sea, where Ulmo would watch over and care for them for all time.
Avorneth and Dimethor were among the crowd, silently honoring the fallen alongside those gathered. Círdan led the ceremony honoring the fallen, but after the ashes were given to the Sea the assembled fell silent until they all slowly left one-by-one and in small groups until only Avorneth remained on the beach.
She stayed there all night, just listening to the quiet calm of the Sea and the peaceful lapping of the waves upon the shore. And she heard, just under those sounds, a strange call that beckoned to her. A call that would lead her home.
She wondered if Dimethor heard the call as well and what he thought of it.
The ship that would bring them to Aman still needed to be prepared, which would take a few more days. Avorneth spent those days wandering the Havens, tending Nightwind and her deer, and keeping Dimethor company. He was even more lost than she was, and she tried her best to make sure he wasn't alone, but every time she saw him she knew he had been crying a few moments before and didn't want anyone to see. He was trying to be strong, as he always had been, but he just didn't have the strength anymore.
Finally, almost a week after they arrived in the Gray Havens, Avorneth was summoned to Círdan's house. In comparison to the homes of other lords and ladies, his was rather small and modest, but it fit his personality very well. It had been built on a high hill, allowing Círdan to see all of his Havens. There were many windows and balconies so that he could see the Sea on one side and what lay to the East on the other.
Entering his home, Avorneth saw that while the accommodations were simple, they were comfortable and carved and crafted with regard to the Sea-elves' love of Ulmo and his waters. The kitchen was to one side when someone entered the house, fully stocked and well-used, but also clean and tidy. Across from the kitchen, there was a combined dining and living area. A fireplace was set into the far wall before a hallway, and in front of that were several chairs and couches. The dining area itself was out on a balcony: a long table with plenty of chairs ready for the next gathering of people at the Shipwright's house. Walking across to the hallway Avorneth entered slowly, admiring the paintings on either side. Some were small, like the one of a young elven lad Avorneth guessed was either Gil-galad or Lord Elrond. She knew that both had been raised by the Shipwright in some way.
She wondered then, just for a moment, if Círdan missed the Noldor king. She hoped they would see each other again, in time.
Going down the hallway some more revealed larger paintings of seascapes and the cliffs surrounding the Havens, but also paintings of battles from long ago. Avorneth recognized the painting depicting the fall of Gil-galad, but there were others that were strange to her.
Perhaps she was too young to recognize them. Círdan was so much older and wiser than her.
Finally, Avorneth came to the door that led to Círdan's study, hesitating only a moment before knocking. The sea-elf that had brought her here had told her which door led to the study before he left her at the front door of Círdan's home, clearly considering his work done and not wanting to intrude. Círdan was so old and almost an entity in and of himself, and even the sea-elves that were his people were slightly wary of him. They would not intrude on his privacy and desire to be alone unless asked to by himself or one of his close friends, of which few remained.
"Come in," Círdan's quiet voice called from the other side, and Avorneth hesitated only a moment before entering and looking around. She was surprised at what she saw.
Círdan's study was massive. There was simply no other word for it. His study was easily three times the size of Lord Celeborn's and Lady Galadriel's studies combined. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined two walls, overflowing with books and scrolls. One wall was nothing more than a balcony, and looking out onto it Avorneth could see many chairs and settees so people could enjoy a book and the stars and sea at the same time. The last wall was covered with tapestries and paintings, with even more images of the Sea and past battles.
The only interruption in the bookshelves was a large fireplace, with chairs and a couch gathered around it. Círdan's desk was tucked into a corner, neatly organized and everything was where it was supposed to be. But what truly confused Avorneth was that there was a large open space in the study, with everything there organized in such a way to have as much space as possible. Why was that space there?
"We design ships here," a voice said near the fireplace, "We prefer to draw out the designs on large pieces of parchment so that we can see all the details."
"I see," Avorneth said as she walked over to where Círdan was sitting, sitting down in the chair across from him at his invitation. They sat in silence, staring at the flames for several moments before Círdan said, "Your ship is ready, young one. It will be loaded with supplies, as well as your horses and deer, tomorrow morning. It will be ready to sail by noon."
Avorneth nodded, lost in thought for a moment before saying, "Thank you, for everything you have done. I'm sorry for all of your people that died in that place. I wish things could have been different."
Círdan smiled slightly at her words, still staring at the fire, "I take comfort in the fact they are now at peace, and I hope Námo is taking good care of them. When they are released from his Halls, they will go to their kin at Alqualondë and be content near Ulmo's waters again," he turned to look at her then, "Just as I know Faelher will be released and find his way to you. You just need to be ready and wait a bit for him. Námo doesn't keep lovers apart for long. He will free Faelher sooner then you might think. It still may take centuries, though," he warned at Avorneth's barely-veiled hope that Faelher would be waiting for her when she arrived at Aman.
Avorneth was able to quash that hope, barely, but said, "As long as he comes back to me, I can wait an eternity."
"Let us hope it isn't that long," Círdan muttered, then said more loudly, "Will you regret leaving?" she looked at him quizzically, and Círdan raised his hands in placation, "I mean no offense. I won't sail until there are no more elves in Middle-Earth, and so I wonder sometimes if some regret their choice at times. I meant no offense."
Avorneth smiled slightly, "I understand my lord. I don't regret leaving, even if there are things I will miss here in Middle-Earth. But if nothing else, going to Aman will be another place to explore and learn about while I wait for Faelher. I don't think I will miss Middle-Earth, especially when Edhelvain and Idhrenor come and join us there. Also, my parents are already in Aman, as are the rest of Dimethor's family, so I won't be alone. If not even my sister could keep me here, then nothing else can. I am ready."
Círdan nodded slowly, "Very well," he hesitated a moment before drawing forth a thick letter from his robes. He held it a moment before giving it to Avorneth. She took it, but her confusion disappeared at his next words: "I have no right to ask this, you have already been through enough, but could you deliver this to Gil-galad, if he has been reborn? I can't do it myself, and I miss him. If he hasn't been reborn, just burn it. I send them along with a traveling elf every so often, but I have no way to know if Ereinion is getting them."
"Of course, my lord," Avorneth said, immediately putting the letter in one of the pockets of her dress, still somewhat confused by his actions. He answered her unspoken question a moment later: "Fingon, Ereinion's father, sent him to me for safekeeping before Nargothrond fell. Once it did, Gil-galad had no family or kin left aside from Turgon. It was too dangerous to make that journey, and I didn't fully know where Gondolin was. In the end, Gil-galad remained with me until he was grown, and for many years after. Whether I wanted it or not, he and I grew to love each other like father and son, even if I have never had children of my own. When he fell at Mordor, it almost broke me. Now, all I can do is hope he will be released from Námo's care soon, if he hasn't already been. My letters may never be opened, but it is all I can think to do. It will be a very long time before I can sail, and even then I will not know the peace of Aman. I will rest soon after I reach those Shores."
Avorneth looked at him in alarm, and he smiled softly at her fear. There were many that couldn't imagine life without Círdan, as he was one of the few things in Middle-Earth that was constant and unchanging after so many centuries, but he didn't take back what he said. Instead, he said, "I awoke at Cuiviénen, child, and was one of the first to awaken. My spirit consumes me now, hence why I no longer look young, and the wounds and harm done to me need healing only the Sea could provide. I will heal when I eventually sail, but it will take a long time. You may have great-great-grandchildren before my healing is complete. Don't fear though, none of this will happen for a very long time."
Avorneth nodded slowly before rising, "I should go, my lord, and get some rest. Tomorrow will be a very busy day."
Círdan nodded and Avorneth left. She stole one more glance at him before she shut the door, marveling at how strong he was, to survive for so long, but also aware of all that he had lost. He truly was a force all his own.
As for Círdan, he only stared at the flames long into the night, wondering about Gil-galad and wondering if he hoped for too much. He had never been to Aman; what was it like there? Could Gil-galad have been reborn already?
Those questions, and many others, floated around in his head until dawn.
The next day, after breakfast, Avorneth went down to the docks to help in case Nightwind or her doe needed help. Or the other horses. Dimethor's stallion, and Faelher's stallion, were coming as well. Both had looked sad and depressed for a long while, but now, down at the docks amongst the commotion, they were curious about what was happening around them.
Nightwind and the deer stayed close to each other, but while the stallions were only curious about the situation, Nightwind was trembling with excitement. She didn't really understand what was happening, but she was ready for another adventure. Her new friends made every day a new adventure.
Avorneth smiled at her eagerness, stroking the mare's neck as the stallions were led up the ramp and into the shelter at the back of the ship that had been constructed for the horses. Once the stallions were secure a sea-elf aboard the boat nodded at Avorneth and she took a deep breath before leading Nightwind onto the ramp, hoping the mare wouldn't spook. It would be disastrous if she did.
She needn't have worried.
Nightwind, having watched the two stallions climb the ramp before her, knew it was nothing to be scared of and climbed it like she had climbed it a thousand times before. Climbing down the next ramp onto the deck of the ship was no challenge either, and soon she was securely tied next to the stallions and eating hay.
Glad it was over, Avorneth went to help her doe climb the ramp. This took some help, as the doe was uncertain about the ramp and wasn't sure what to make of it. Even seeing Nightwind climb it hadn't given her a lot of confidence, and she needed to be gently coaxed up every step of the way. In the end, only her determination never to leave her friend kept her going up the ramp; her friend right beside her and supporting her every step of the way.
She was glad to be on the deck of the ship and needed no convincing to join the horses under the shelter. It would probably be for the best if she didn't get underfoot. Once the horses and doe were ready, the ship's captain asked Avorneth, "Are all here and ready to depart?"
Avorneth looked around before asking, "Have you seen Captain Dimethor? He was going to journey with me."
The ship captain shook his head, and Avorneth became instantly alarmed, "I need to go find him and see he is doing what he wants. You don't mind waiting a bit longer, do you?" she worriedly asked the captain.
He smiled gently, putting her fears at ease, "We are not on a schedule. No one is expecting us at our destination, and there is no rush to leave today. We can leave later today, there is no rush. Go help the captain, we will wait as long as necessary."
Avorneth nodded, "Thank you, I will return soon," before running down the gangplank and racing towards the beach, knowing instinctively that was where Dimethor would be. It had been where she had found him many times in the past.
Sure enough, Dimethor was there, gazing at the waters that ebbed and flowed on the beach. He didn't turn when she came to him, and only said, "The ship is ready."
It wasn't a question.
Avorneth nodded, "Yes, it is. Everything is ready and the horses and my doe are aboard. All our things are on board as well. No one had seen you, so I came to find you," she looked at him closely, seeing the tear tracks down his face and the grief he could not hide, "Are you thinking of staying? Do you truly want to leave?"
At first, Dimethor didn't answer, thoughts lost on the dancing waves and different times, but then he shook his head, "No, I have decided to sail, and so I will. I promised myself, and Faelher, that I would look after you if something happened to him, and so I will," he turned to her then, "But leaving is not so easy for one as old as I. You are young, and have not seen as much of Middle-Earth as I have. I was born in the First Age, survived the War of Wrath, the Last Alliance, and many other battles and skirmishes. I have known this land a long time, and even though I have decided to leave and I will, it is still hard to say farewell. There is nothing keeping me here anymore, but it is difficult for someone who is half Avari to leave their home."
Avorneth was surprised, to say the least, "I didn't know you were Avari. Faelher never mentioned it," now that she thought about and looked at Dimethor, she could understand it. He was closely connected to the forest and lived on the outskirts of Lothlórien, preferring the silence of the woods over the constant chatter of elves and others. He never spent much time with large groups of people, and would often leave as soon as possible.
Dimethor smiled, "My mother was Avari. Back then some Avari lived in the forests of Doriath under the protection of Melian, and so my parents met. They, and my brother, died when Menegroth was sacked by the Fëanorians, but I was able to escape with Oropher and all those he had gathered to his chambers and the tunnel he had constructed with his sons. He and his sons saved many lives that day," he turned to her then, "My parentage is not well-known, and the secrets my mother taught me are lost to the depths of time and a bad memory. Many don't know I am Avari, and I prefer to keep it that way. Some do not accept us, still, even if there are so few of us remaining. My wife and children knew, but there was never a need to tell anyone else about it. Only the Lord and Lady knew beyond my family."
Avorneth nodded, "Your secret is safe with me, I swear."
Dimethor smiled slightly before turning again to the ocean. After a few minutes of silence he finally sighed and murmured something in a language Avorneth didn't understand before saying something she did, "We had best go. Ossë will have a fit when we leave and we will be needed to keep the animals calm. Are you ready?" he asked as he turned to Avorneth.
She nodded, "I am."
He returned the nod with one of his own, "Then let's go."
They walked to the docks in silence, reflecting on all they had loved and lost in Middle-Earth, and when they arrived they boarded the ship together. The captain nodded when he saw them, but just before they would have left Círdan appeared. He only said, "May your journey bring you peace, and may you find the healing you seek, as many before you have done. I hope we meet again."
The two elves of Lothlórien bowed their heads in response to his blessing, and he left the ship. It was a flurry of activity then, but soon the gangplank had been drawn away and the ropes untied from the dock and thrown aboard. The masts were unfurled and the wind caught them almost at once. They sailed swiftly out of the harbor, the ship cutting through the waves so smoothly it was hardly felt by those aboard the ship.
Ossë did indeed raise a fuss for a few minutes, and Avorneth's doe came to her for comfort, uncomfortable about the tossing waves, but Uinen must have been nearby and calmed him down. Thunder rumbled overhead like Ossë was grumbling to himself, but he gave them no more trouble after that.
Aside from Dimethor and Avorneth, there were a few others from different realms that were sailing to the peace of Aman as well. There was a wood-elf from the Greenwood, two from Rivendell, and an elf from the Gray Havens that had been tortured so badly by orcs he needed healing from Estë in the Gardens of Lórien. That elf lay still under blankets and bandages, completely unaware of everything that was happening. There was a bandage wrapped around his eyes, and Avorneth didn't think she wanted to know what was under there.
Hopefully, he would find the healing he needed in the Undying Lands.
Hopefully, they all would, she thought as she watched the lands of Middle-Earth get smaller and smaller until they disappeared altogether. She turned then, her doe still next to her, and watched the horizon, almost eager for her first look at Valinor.
Her broken and destroyed home was behind her, but a new one was waiting for her.
She suddenly felt something that almost could have been excitement at what was in store for her and Dimethor, glancing at the captain. He was still staring behind them, but she decided not to disturb him. He needed to make his peace about leaving on his own.
She took a deep breath of the sea air, wondering what was in store for her now.
She could only wait and see now.
A week after Avorneth and Dimethor left Middle-Earth saw the elves and Dúnedain about to part ways. The elves of Rivendell and the Dúnedain were about to part from the elves of the Greenwood and cross the mountains to return home.
The last night they shared a camp, Elrond and Thranduil, along with Arahad, met together in Thranduil's tent. Glorfindel was there as well, mostly because they couldn't force him to leave.
The golden-haired elf could be annoying in that way, and eventually, they gave up.
It was a waste of time if nothing else.
The four gathered together in the tent, silent for a few minutes before Glorfindel said, "So...tomorrow is it. Tomorrow is when we part ways."
"Yes, it is," Elrond said, turning to Thranduil then, "It seems time for us to part ways once again. Hopefully, it will not be for too long."
"Hopefully," Thranduil agreed, then asked, "I cannot convince you to come by my halls for a time and rest?"
The others all shook their heads, then Elrond said, "We have been away from Rivendell for too long, and the council is likely missing us and our leadership. Our warriors would like to return home as well, to mourn our dead. We have been away long enough."
"And the Dúnedain should return to our homes as well," Arahad added, "Not only to mourn our dead but to keep up the defense of the North. It is time for us to go home as well. My people need their chieftain."
Thranduil nodded, "Then it is decided then. I thought I would extend the invitation all the same. Perhaps another time?"
Elrond nodded, "Perhaps, when things have settled and we have had time to process everything that has happened."
Silence came again after that, broken eventually by Glorfindel standing and saying, "I should make sure our warriors are settled for the night. If you will excuse me?"
"Of course," Elrond said while the others nodded. Glorfindel bowed and left, the tent flap closing quietly behind him.
Arahad stood as well, "I should do the same. Buioron wanted to speak to me about something; I should find out what it is."
"Have a peaceful night, my lord," Thranduil said, while Elrond added, "Let us know if you need anything."
"I will," Arahad promised before he also bowed and left without another word.
Now alone Elrond smiled slightly, "It will be interesting, not having so many in the Valley when we return home. I might find myself even missing the commotion."
"But not for long," Thranduil predicted, "Eventually, you will appreciate the quiet and calm, and be glad for it."
Elrond nodded thoughtfully, "Perhaps, and perhaps it will be another calm before the storm. Who can know?"
"No one," Thranduil said firmly, "So don't go looking for trouble just yet. Your people need to mourn those that fell recently and make peace with it. Let them mourn for now."
"I understand, you have my word," Elrond said quietly, "I know what my people need right now, and it isn't more conflict. That is for another time."
Thranduil nodded, then asked a question he had been wanting to know the answer to for some time, "How much longer, Elrond?" when Elrond only looked at him in confusion he clarified, "How much longer will you stay in Middle-Earth? You have been through a lot, how much longer can you stay?"
Elrond thought a moment before saying, "I will sail when my brother's heir takes his place on the throne of Minas Tirith. That will mean Sauron has been truly defeated and the greatest evil in the world is no more. When that will be I cannot say, but that is when I will sail."
Thranduil nodded, and Elrond added, "It won't be for a long time, Thranduil. Not for centuries. There are still many chess pieces that aren't even on the board yet. Once the board is set, then things will continue as they will. And I will be there, to help where I can."
"As will I," Thranduil promised, "As I promised my father so long ago."
"And as I promised Gil-galad, when he lay dying before the Black Gates," Elrond whispered, eyes distant as he recalled one of the most painful days of his life, "And I will hold to that promise with everything I have."
Thranduil nodded, and silence descended again. It was a comfortable silence though, broken only by the muffled sounds of the camp outside. Finally, though, Elrond stood and said, "I should return to my camp and get some rest. There are many long days of travel ahead for both of us."
"Agreed," Thranduil said, standing as well and walking with Elrond to the tent entrance, "I will see you in the morning."
Elrond bowed his head and left, leaving Thranduil alone for the night. Something he found himself not minding as he settled into his chair again. The peace and quiet were rather welcome now, and he could understand Elrond's desire for solitude now. There was something to be said for a quiet moment to think and a chance to let the mind wander for a time.
It allowed him a chance to get his thoughts in order and figure out what his next steps would be. Once that was settled his mind moved onto other matters, and he found himself thinking of sadder times that had nearly broken him. The disappearance of his mother and brothers, and his wife and son, left gnawing stabs of pain in his chest, and he forced his mind away from that. Thinking of them never ended well for him and decided to get some rest then, hoping there would be no nightmares tonight. He didn't think he would be able to take it if they returned full force.
With those unhappy thoughts plaguing his mind, Thranduil settled down to sleep, knowing tomorrow would be a very busy day.
He had best be ready.
Morning dawned bright and clear over a camp already in the process of being packed up. It truly was time for those there to part ways for a time, but many there would see each other again. This was not a permanent farewell for many, especially Thranduil and Elrond. Once all was packed and stowed away the two lords met one last time to say farewell, before distance and the Misty Mountains separated them.
Elrond mounted on Veryafion with Glorfindel and Arahad close by, said, "May your journey be swift and without incident, and may you arrive home safely. Until we meet again, namarië."
"Namarië," Thranduil said as well, reaching out to grasp Elrond's forearm in a warrior's grip that Elrond returned, "May the Hithaeglir give you no troubles, and may we meet again in the coming years."
"I sincerely hope so, my lord," Elrond replied with a touch of a smile, "I hope to see you again soon."
"And I you," Thranduil said, "Until we meet again," turning his elk mount in the direction of his home and forest.
"Until we meet again," Elrond repeated, bowing his head in respect as the last Elvenking of Arda and his warriors disappeared into the forest of their home, not even a hoof print marking where they had been. Soon the forest had swallowed all but one rider, who turned back at the last moment and urged his stallion back to where Elrond was.
It was Legolas, and he said quickly, "I will look out for the twins and help them, should they ever come near my father's halls."
"Thank you, young prince," Elrond said, "And should you desire to visit Rivendell, our doors will always be open to you."
Legolas bowed his head, a fist to his heart, before turning his mount and racing after his people into the forest. When the sound of hoofbeats had faded away completely Elrond turned to Glorfindel and Arahad and said, "Now it is time for us to go home."
The two lords nodded, and after a few minutes of confusion, the elves began the journey over the Misty Mountains, accompanied by the Dúnedain and alert at all times for danger.
They would not be caught by surprise by orcs or goblins.
Merilinel, alongside her friends and Maeassil and Quildolorë, was waiting impatiently in the main courtyard of Rivendell a few days later. And waiting with them was what looked like the entire population of Rivendell. They were all waiting for the same thing: their lords and warriors to return home safely. Messages between the troop and realms had been few and far between over the last few months, but that was about to change.
The border guards had just reported that Lord Elrond's party was sighted at the borders, and the news had spread quickly throughout the valley.
Merilinel was glad they were finally returning. No matter how many times it happened, she never was able to get used to her husband leaving to fight in another battle. It had been this way during the War of Wrath and the Last Alliance, and she doubted it would ever change.
Next to her Quildolorë shifted impatiently before sighing in frustration and saying, "How long does it take to get from the borders to the courtyard? We've been waiting for hours!"
Maeassil laughed slightly, "It has only been half an hour. Calm yourself, Quildolorë. They will be here soon enough."
Quildolorë stared at her a moment before sighing and looking down at the stone under her feet, "I know, I just can't stand it when Mistaro leaves. It is hard to not know whether he will return or not. I think that is one scar from the First Age time will not heal so easily. Even when he leaves of his own will I still worry."
Merilinel and Maeassil smiled sympathetically at her, knowing that she and Mistaro had been separated for almost a century after Gondolin fell. Mistaro had been captured by the Fëanorians during the journey to the coast; the Fëanorians so desperate for a healer they would sink that low, and Quildolorë still remembered all those years apart from him. The anxiety of being separated from him nearly killed her every time he left without her.
It was not an experience she wanted to repeat ever again.
A murmuring suddenly arose from the crowd, and the three she-elves immediately knew what it meant. They pushed through the crowd as much as they could and were able to see the returning elves and Dúnedain as they rode into the courtyard.
First came Lord Elrond, riding tall and proud on Veryafion, Lord Glorfindel and Lord Arahad close behind. Warriors followed behind, looking none the worse for wear. Grooms were nearby and ready for the horses, but they needed to wait until the courtyard was calm again.
There were reunions happening everywhere.
Looking around, Elrond smiled as he saw Merilinel practically pull Belegon from his mount, one of their sons who had come along to the fortress coming to greet his mother after reuniting with his wife and young children.
Quildolorë's reunion with Mistaro was one of joy and relief, and he shared in her joy at the sight of them together again. All around him reunions were happening between husbands and wives, sons and parents, and close friends.
Somehow, seeing the reunions around him always brought joy to Elrond's heart.
But there was grief beside the joy, and it was never more clear when there was a wail of pain from nearby. Turning, Elrond watched as a mother received the sword and ashes of her dead son, and across the courtyard, a wife was given her husband's ashes and long knives. She was crying but trying to be brave, one of her daughters trying to comfort her while she tried to keep her own tears at bay.
Elrond sighed; this was one task he always regretted doing, always, but he would never ask someone else to do it. He left Glorfindel and Arahad standing there, and neither stopped him as he went to give what comfort he could to the families and friends of the fallen. As he did so Erestor approached.
Erestor looked around at all there for a moment before turning to Glorfindel and Arahad and asking, "I take it you were successful?" at Glorfindel's nod he asked, "What about Bregoleth?"
Glorfindel's eyes and face darkened, "She killed herself, rather than face the consequences of her actions."
Erestor nodded thoughtfully, then asked softly, "How many were lost?"
Glorfindel sighed, "Six from our realm, four from the Woodland Realm, three from the Havens, and five from the Golden Wood," his monotone voice belying the anguish he felt at all those dead.
Arahad continued the count, "Two of my people were slain, along with four Riders of Rohan, and six Gondorians," he sighed, "All in all, we didn't lose many, but the ones we lost weigh heavily on me. If you will excuse me?" without waiting for an answer he left, needing to tend to his men.
Erestor turned to Glorfindel then, confused about the chieftain's actions, and Glorfindel said, "Cendar was one of the slain, Erestor," Erestor stared at him in shock and Glorfindel continued, "He was killed by a traitor, Magron, during the battle. Elrond took a group into the keep to search for Avorneth and Bregoleth. Cendar went with them and was killed. He was able to kill Magron though before he died."
Erestor was silent for a few minutes, trying to understand, before asking, "What about Avorneth? Was she found?"
Glorfindel hesitated a moment before nodding slowly, "She was, but...Erestor..." at his look Glorfindel continued, "Faelher went with Lord Elrond and Cendar and their group to search for Bregoleth and Avorneth. The group split up to cover more ground. Elrond led one, Elrohir the other. As they were searching the dungeons, Elrohir's group had to fight their way through some mercenaries. Faelher had been able to slip through to the other side and took off to find Avorneth. Cendar was able to follow, but by the time he caught up to Faelher it was too late."
Glorfindel stopped speaking, unable to continue, and the dread that had been building up inside Erestor went up another few notches. He grabbed his friend's arm, making him look at him. Glorfindel did, and Erestor asked, "What are you saying, Glorfindel? What happened?"
Glorfindel took a deep breath before saying quietly, "I'm saying Faelher is dead. He was killed by Magron in those dungeons."
"By the Valar," Erestor breathed, and Glorfindel continued, "Despite both being mortally wounded, Cendar and Faelher were able to kill Magron before he could hurt Avorneth. Erestor," the councilor looked at him and Glorfindel had to fight to keep the tears under control, "Dimethor was there in that cell, with his son, in the end. He and Avorneth could do nothing when Faelher died."
Erestor shook his head, almost unable to believe it, but then he asked a question he already knew the answer to: "So they have gone to the Undying Lands?"
Glorfindel nodded, "Faelher was the last of Dimethor's family in Arda; his wife and daughters have already sailed. And Avorneth couldn't bear to stay. They went with Lord Círdan when he left Lothlórien for the Gray Havens. He will take care of them."
Erestor nodded, and all the sounds of the courtyard seemed to come back into focus. During Glorfindel's story, it had felt like they were alone in the courtyard, the noise fading completely into the background, and now it all came rushing back.
Looking around, Erestor found Elrond. He was still trying to comfort the families and friends of the fallen, and Erestor decided to leave him be. It wasn't his place to interrupt, and his presence would not be welcome. He turned back to Glorfindel, "I know no one likely can right now, but there are some blessings to be had here," at Glorfindel's outraged look he continued, "But now is not the time for the that. Take care of your warriors, Glorfindel, I can handle running Rivendell for a few more days."
Glorfindel smiled as best as he could, "Thank you, Erestor. Emotions are high right now, and tempers are flaring. I don't mean to get angry at you."
Elrond smiled ever so slightly, "I know you don't. But I am your friend, and as much as you try to prove my sanity couldn't survive such an experience, I do care about you Glorfindel. I know where your anger is directed, and it isn't at me."
Glorfindel smiled slightly at that before walking away. He stopped after a few steps and turned back partway to ask, "So I should be even more annoying? That's easy enough!" before resuming his walking, quickly moving out of earshot before Erestor could say anything.
Erestor shook his head; one of these days, he was going to kill that annoying Vanya. Why Elrond insisted on keeping him around was beyond him. He would be doing them all a favor, he was certain of it.
But he would never do it, he thought as he walked towards the House. He truly did care about Glorfindel, even when he was completely insufferable. Him being unbearably annoying was something he had learned to live with over the last few thousand years.
If he couldn't last one more day, what did it say about him?
'Nothing good,' Erestor thought as he climbed the stairs, knowing Elrond would find him once things had settled down a bit, 'And he knows it, the annoying Vanya.'
Behind him, Elrond stayed down in the courtyard, not leaving until he had spoken to all the families of the fallen. Only once he was finished would he leave, and not before.
He would stay and give what comfort he could. What else could he do? What else should he do?
Two days after their return home, a feast was held in the Great Hall of Imladris. Elrond hosted the feast, and it was a somber night. This wasn't a feast to celebrate a victory.
This was a feast to honor the fallen.
Elrond led the ceremony of the fallen by opening with a prayer to Eru Ilúvatar and Námo, asking them to watch over the fallen elves and keep them safe in the Halls of Awaiting. Every fallen elf from every realm was named and honored that night, and all the Men that had fallen as well.
After raising a glass in salute to all those that had fallen and their families Elrond seated himself and the feast began.
As all ate their fill Arahad, who was seated at the High Table at Elrond's invitation, turned to him and said, "Thank you for this, my lord. I am grateful."
Elrond smiled slightly, "You are leaving soon, aren't you?" at Arahad's surprised look Elrond's smile widened more, "I fostered you here, remember? Whenever you had news you thought I wouldn't like, you prefaced it with a compliment."
Arahad chuckled slightly, "Glad to know I haven't changed all that much," he became somber quickly though, "Yes, I am leaving, as are my people. No disrespect to your hospitality my lord, but we wish to leave as soon as possible. Your people need to grieve your fallen, and mine need to know all that has happened. Also, I would like to make sure my son hasn't caused permanent damage," that last bit was said with a smile.
Elrond smiled as well, "He is an able leader, respected by his warriors and his people. You have taught him well. I am sure the Dúnedain are in no safer hands."
"Thank you, my lord," Arahad replied, "In truth, my making him stay behind was a test to see if he could lead while I was away. Soon I will not come back at all, and he will need to lead on his own. I wanted to make sure he was ready."
"He is," Elrond said with certainty, "He will be a great leader of your people when the time comes. Never fear."
Arahad nodded, "Thank you, my lord. Your words are greatly appreciated. But it is still time for us to return to our camps and continue the defense of the North. It is time to go home."
"I will arrange for some provisions to be packed for you," Elrond said, "They will be ready when you are."
"Thank you, my lord," Arahad replied, "For everything," hoping the half-elf understood the hidden meaning.
"You are welcome, for everything," Elrond said, a knowing gleam in his eyes.
Arahad nodded and smiled, and they turned back to their meals and ate in companionable silence, broken now and then by Erestor asking questions and Glorfindel answering them incorrectly and in a way he knew would irritate Erestor and amuse Elrond.
Some things never changed, especially between old friends.
A few days later the Dúnedain left to continue their silent watch of the North, waiting until the right time to come forth so that Isildur's Heir could reclaim the throne of Gondor and drive all evil from the Kingdom of Gondor.
But until then they would stay in the North, protecting all that lived there and keeping evil at bay, just as they had always done and would always do.
Such was their oath and their fate.
Thranduil and Legolas' arrival home was met with joy and grief, as most homecomings from a battle were. The warriors who had fallen were honored in the ways of the wood-elves that night: with feasting, music, and dancing in honor of their lives beneath the Greenwood trees, not their deaths so far away.
After several days of feasting things had calmed, and Thranduil and Legolas were able to get to work attending to things that had been left unfinished in their absence. The Regent of the Greenwood and Thranduil's trusted friend, Tirron, had done his best, but some things needed to be handled by the king and prince.
But finally, that was done, and while Legolas headed out on patrol with Tauriel to relax and become familiar with the changes in the forest that had happened recently, Thranduil retreated to the queen's garden for some solitude. He needed a few minutes alone to think.
He was relieved that it was finally finished and such a threat was gone from Middle-Earth, but there was still something troubling him.
Elrond, before they parted ways, had told him that someone had hired Bregoleth to kill him. Who that person was he didn't know, but he had warned Thranduil to be wary. Thranduil had agreed, knowing that Elrond was worried about what should happen if the Woodland Realm collapsed. Legolas was an able leader, but if he was unprepared and not ready, then the Enemy could easily destroy the Woodland Realm.
Thranduil shook his head; that would not happen while he still had anything to say about it. The same could be said about Legolas. Neither of them would let their realm fall without a fight.
Which didn't help Thranduil right now. Those that had done this hadn't been orcs or even the Nazgûl. They had been Men, something Thranduil wasn't expecting. How could he defend his people against that?
The only thing that came to mind was close off his realm completely, and he dismissed that idea almost immediately. The Woodland Realm relied on trade with Dale for many goods, and to act as a buffer between the elves and Dwarves of Erebor.
And Thranduil remembered what had happened when Gondolin had closed itself off from the world. It hadn't ended well for them, and even though much had changed since then, Thranduil didn't want to take such a chance with his people.
In the end, Thranduil decided his only option was to heighten the watch at his borders, roads, and rivers. Wood-elves had difficulty trusting by nature; they could use that wariness to look for any danger that may be hidden by a human or dwarven face. Thranduil, even if he hadn't been born when the dwarves attacked Menegroth, still remembered the stories his father and brothers had told of the treachery of dwarves. He would not be so quick to trust a dwarf.
Thranduil took a deep breath, hoping he had made the right decision for his people and for Middle-Earth. He was no coward, but the safety of his people would always be his first priority. He stood and left the garden, looking for Galion. He would ask his oldest friend for advice and then implement his plan.
It was time to heighten the guard, and hope it was enough to protect his people.
In time, that wariness would eventually lead to the Wood-elves becoming less wise to the world and more dangerous to outsiders, but for now that wariness would stand them in good stead as they worked to keep their corner of Middle-Earth safe from an advancing evil.
An evil that may not be showing itself yet but was there all the same. They needed to be ready for when it came, and so they would be.
Thranduil would make sure his people were safe, even if it cost him every drop of blood in his veins.
And that was how it should be, for any king or leader. He would not fall without a fight, of this he was certain.
The battle to put an end to the hunters was over, now it was time to prepare for whatever came next in the fight for Middle-Earth.
The next day, in Rivendell, Elrond was in his study, working through the piles of papers left on his desk.
He honestly didn't know what to make of it.
How could being gone for a few months cause all this work to accumulate? It wasn't as though Erestor didn't have the final say in things. He did, which meant he shouldn't have this much work to do.
And yet he did.
'I will have to talk to Erestor about this,' Elrond thought grumpily, massaging his forehead to try and make his headache go away, 'There needs to be a clear understanding of what he can do as a Lord of Rivendell in mine and Glorfindel's absence. This is ridiculous!'
'And likely done on purpose to annoy me,' Elrond thought a moment later, glaring at the stacks of papers before standing up and walking to the couch, deciding he needed a break.
'And this is the best kind of break,' he thought with a smile at the sight before him as he sat on the floor instead of the couch.
Lavaneth's kittens had grown in their absence into strong, beautiful cats. One of the tortoiseshell kittens had bonded with Maeassil and stayed with her all the time, and the brindle kitten had taken a liking to Edhelvain and now lived with her.
At the thought of Edhelvain Elrond's smile faded a bit. Edhelvain was still sad about her sister, but relieved as well she was safely on her way to the Undying Lands. Círdan had sent word that arrived a few days before, and Edhelvain had been somewhat relieved. But she was still grieving, and Elrond knew it would take some time to heal from everything that had happened. She was fortunate to have Idhrenor, who had much more patience than Elrond would have given him credit for. Things would work out for them, eventually.
They had each other and that was all that mattered now.
At the thought of the two elves, Elrond's smile faded altogether.
Celebrían.
It hadn't been all that long since she had been taken from him, and now that he finally had a moment's peace, the pain he had been pushing aside came forth. Like a tidal wave it hit him, and he was helpless to stop it.
Tears streamed from his eyes, and Lavaneth stopped playing with her kittens when she heard his hitching breath. She walked over and climbed into his lap, purring softly as she stood on her hind legs and placed her front paws on his shoulder, resting her head under his chin. She still purred, rubbing her head gently on his chin, and Elrond wrapped his arms around her. It wasn't like hugging Celebrían, but the gesture and caring from Lavaneth was all he needed.
She had always known how to comfort him, and today was no exception.
Outside in the hall, Glorfindel stood silent watch, not allowing any into his lord's study. Elrond needed this more than he thought he did.
Inside, in the study, Elrond's tears finally slowed and stopped, and he was able to wipe them away as Lavaneth settled onto all four paws. She didn't leave his lap though, staying there as her kittens and Levenil continued to play together. Elrond petted her gently, watching the kittens before turning his attention to the open balcony doors nearby.
He could hear the rush of the water and the dancing wind moving amongst the trees, and the sounds of the Valley as people went about their days. He could smell the water and trees, and fresh bread from the kitchen. The air was clear and the sun bright.
Yes, he had lost much, more so than most Glorfindel would argue. But that would never take away all that he was and all he would become.
Bregoleth had tried to break him, and her employer still wanted him dead most likely, but neither had succeeded.
And they wouldn't.
Time might finally break him, or an agony so complete he wouldn't be able to bear it, but that wouldn't be for a long while. He was here in Middle-Earth, and here he would stay until the Sea called him home. Rivendell was his to cherish and protect, feeling the gentle pulse of Vilya on his finger, and he would do so for however long he had to.
He smiled slightly when he heard the sound of some children laughing nearby. Rivendell was slowly going back to normal, but it was a new normal.
Celebrían was gone and so were his children, for now, but Elrond knew they would eventually return. And he would be here when they did, for anything they might need.
He was finally home, and safe, and it was a good feeling.
This adventure was over, and now it was time for the next one, whatever it might be.
He was ready and so were his people.
Translations:
Alqualondë – the chief city of the Falmari Elves on the shores of Aman
Namarië – Farewell
Hithaeglir – the Misty Mountains