T.A. 3017

Until the very last moment, a small, stupid part of Tegiend had hoped.

The ride to the Celebrant, a route that he knew like the back of his hand, had never felt so long. Never had silence between his father, his sister and him hurt so much.

And he had never been so unrestrainedly angry with Tarisilya.

She must be able to hear his thoughts in her mind, considering how badly he was shielding himself from her, but she didn't look at him even once. As pale and absent-minded as she'd been for years – safe for the few times she had left to meet someone outside the woods who still didn't dare to enter –, she stood next to Manyala and waited for the farewell to be over. Only when her father took her in his arms, her listless eyes came to life for a moment. She returned his embrace, crying endless tears, clinging to Vandrin until Tegiend quietly reminded her that it was time.

"I know." For a second, she radiated uncertainty as if she was failing to stand by her decision. As if she was contemplating asking Vandrin to leave tomorrow, taking her with him after all.

Instead, she lowered her arms and stepped back, after a last deep, tearful breath. "Forgive me, ada. I know, I am causing you great grief."

"Pain passes, Ilya. Even the pain about losing your mother or the one about turning my back on everything so important to me for thousands of years. The freedom of choice is not always a blessing, I know that. And like she once asked me to not make my decision about where I want to live dependent on her fate, your heart shall be free of me too."

Vandrin kissed her almost snow-white cheek. "Do not hesitate. Who knows, maybe she's already waiting for me. As long as it takes, we then will together be waiting for the ship that will bring you to me one day, with the reassurance in my heart that not one but two elves whom you love are looking out for you, for my little girl."

"I'm not little anymore." It could have sounded amused if Tarisilya's voice hadn't lost such nuances some time ago. The way she said, it was nothing but a fact. The depressing certainty that she was no longer her father's daughter but first and foremost an elf responsible for her own decisions. An elf torn apart by the guilt of denying her brother the journey into the west.

"You really are not." As valiantly as Vandrin had accepted Tarisilya's decision, even a thousands of years old elf could sway for a moment, when he was being robbed of what he loved most. It looked like he wanted to hug Tarisilya again, only to never let her go.

But then he turned to Tegiend who was staring past them as if none of this was his business. "So I am leaving you with this big burden, at your own request. And I will not fret, in spite of all the darkness choking this realm. I couldn't think of anyone better to take care of Ilya until fate will decide her path."

"Thank you, ada." It was all Tegiend managed to say. He was afraid, he would start to yell at Tarisilya if he lost another word about the situation.

He didn't need to say anything. Vandrin knew exactly how much Tegiend envied him. They had rode out together so often in the last years, while Tarisilya hadn't been able to motivate herself to do anything anymore. For hours and hours, they had circled the areas surrounding Lórien. After a quick glance east, to reassure themselves that not leaving Middle-earth was foolish for every elf, they had always rode to the Anduin. Often enough, Vandrin had held his son in his arms when Tegiend had broken down at the screams of the gulls, comforting him with the reminder that his time would come. That it wouldn't be long before they would spot the white sails of their ship in the distance, and then everything would become unimportant …

Now Vandrin would be walking down this road alone. Centuries, millennia maybe would pass until this rift between his kids could heal.

"Keep your eyes on the horizon, ion nín." For a last time, Vandrin hugged Tegiend tightly to his chest, then he let go of him as well.

Without another word that wouldn't have made things better anyway but would only have opened more wounds, Vandrin turned his back to Lórien. Not too long afterwards, he left Middle-earth behind as well.

Except for rare nightly trips with Manyala, it had been the last time for Tarisilya to leave her talan or raise her voice to speak … until that one black evening when Legolas would enter Lórien for the first time in his life, with Estel and the Ring-bearer by his side.

T.A. 3018

"Anything else?" Legolas was busy simultaneously packing and preparing his horse for departure; he hardly looked up when his father entered the stables. "Are you back to not trusting me again? I know what I have to do. It's not the first time you're sending me to Imladris with a message."

On another day, so much disrespect would without a doubt have made Thranduil angry. Today he seemed to comprehend Legolas' agitation. It had been hard on him as well that the elves of Mirkwood had so miserably failed the very first assignment given to them in this war. One that might decide all their fates no less. All that was left to do now was informing Mithrandir and Estel about their failure as quickly as possible, and hoping that Gollum wouldn't be found by the wrong people, now that he was back on the loose.

"And it was never before so crucial that you're riding like the wind. But that's not why I'm here."

"Then why?" Thranduil usually never beat around the bush like that. Why start now when there was really not a second to lose?

"Will you finally stand still?" Legolas only realized how unrestrainedly he had snarled at his horse when it bolted, startled.

Rubbing his forehead, he tried in vain to wipe away his unrest. "It was a difficult day. I'll have enough time on the way to get myself back together."

"And that is exactly what I'm doubting." They had never talked about what had happened in Legolas' chambers back then, about what was making the King of the Woodland Realm's heart sink. But now some of that war fatigue came back, especially the wish to protect his son from the upcoming storm.

"When you're out there, Legolas, remember there's no going back once you raised your weapon for the first time. I can't order you to stay out of the schemes being formed while we talk; you're too old for that. Just remember that whatever happens in Middle-earth, Mirkwood needs your courage and your bow too."

"You should have thought of that when you left for Dol Guldur," Legolas answered bitterly. "You didn't want my help back then. Why should the fate of the woods now depend on one weapon?"

"You weren't ready back then, I stand by that. Being able to kill is not enough to achieve the rank of a true warrior. You have to go to battle with an open heart. Ride to Imladris with this last and most important lecture. Don't let anyone send you to the front line before you even know what's happening. Ask yourself if you are ready to die for this world. Or if your fear of not coming back to the she-elf you love will cloud your mind."

Legolas had heard all of this before, so his attention during this speech soon started to drift. He was more focused on a dull-edged arrow head than on monotonous teachings that he long knew by heart.

Thranduil's last sentence though made him startle violently whereupon the tip left a cut on his palm as if it wanted to prove how useful it still was. "What … did you just say?" Impatience and irritation in his voice had been replaced by a caution, as if he didn't want to hear the answer. Thranduil had misspoken, sure. He couldn't know anything about Legolas' engagement ...

"How blind do you think I am?" With a bitter laugh, his father turned away to go back to his duties, to defend his home from whatever would be threatening his people very soon.

"Go now. You need to hurry."

"Ada …" It was absurd to lose his head now of all times. Legolas blinked, then blinked again, but the tears clouding his eyes didn't want to go away. The year of fate had started, and he was leaving his father behind with the biggest disappointment of all. Maybe it would be Legolas coming back to Mirkwood someday – if that would ever happen –, just to stand before the ruins of this palace or even before his father's grave. And then he would have to live with knowing they had been in conflict at their last farewell.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you with a heavy heart. I was selfish and a coward. I will …"

"Silence!" Thranduil snapped at him as if he was still 15 years old and had not learned yet that sometimes talking back to his parents was a bad idea.

"What delusions do your fears give to you, Legolas? If you had listened to me for a change, you'd know that I didn't ask you to give up your love with even one word. On the contrary. I warned you not to risk your life, if you don't want to lose it again after all this waiting. If there's even the smallest doubt about that in your heart, go back as soon as you brought tidings to Lord Elrond. Someone who is not ready to die for his duty, has no place in battle. I hope I could teach you that at least, ion nín."

"You have." Legolas wiped his bleeding hand on his rope, hardly feeling the pain. He had never felt so lost before in his life. For the first time since Gollum's escape, he couldn't say for what kind of personal purpose he was riding to Imladris.

There was only the comfort that he wouldn't be alone with this decision. Estel's unwavering wisdom and strength that had saved Legolas' soul before - long before his friend had even revealed to him who he really was, and the kind of destiny he was carrying on his shoulders - would show him the way.

But one thing he needed to know before he left. If Thranduil suspected that there was an elf by his side, and even who it was … "Ada, does that mean …?"

"We are at war, Legolas." They looked into each other's eyes for a last time, trying in vain to cross the distance between them. "Don't ask questions that became irrelevant when Sauron's spirit gained power over Dol Guldur. At war, there is no time for change. If we all are to see this world renewed … Then maybe a few things will be different. But so far, the two of us have done nothing to kindle this hope."

Legolas stowed his last arrow in his quiver and shouldered his bow. "Then it's about time we start."