Chapter 49 - The Penultimate Farewells

3rd September, 3021

When Elanor woke, Glorfindel had already left their bed. She stretched her hand across to feel the sheets where he had lain. Cold.

It must still be pretty early…

She rolled over laboriously until she could see the pale light which flowed in from the windows. The sun would just have risen in the highlands above the Last Homely House, and only the faintest of light filtered down into the silent land of Elrond Peredhel.

The weather still held the sublime warmth of summer. Elanor slipped gladly from the bedsheets and padded across the floor, her nightgown trailing behind her. She moved to the glass panes and pressed her forehead against its coolness.

She's leaving today.

I know.

You're going to miss her wedding.

…I know.

Elanor sighed loudly, causing the glass to fog up beneath her breath.

Georgia's wedding, scheduled for the depths of winter, was in some three months' time. Today was the date ordained for her departure to Rohan—and Elanor would not go with her. The thought stirred regret, frustration and bitterness in the latter's heart. It was as if fate conspired to make life as difficult as possible.

You could not really go, came a surprisingly-soothing comment from her narcissist. You've got a four-month-old baby, and in less than two months Elrond and the other Elves will depart from Imladris for the Havens. You have to be there for that, Elanor. It's destiny—it's your foster-father's farewell. Time to be with Georgia after the wedding.

She returned to the bed, falling face first upon the mattress with an almighty whop.

Yeah…

It was all a rather horrible predicament, and with it came a renewed heaviness. Georgia would wed Éomer, tying herself to another mortal and living a joyous—albeit regular—span upon the plains of the Riddermark. For brief moments, Elanor envied her sister and the unruffled happiness which spread before her. Elanor did, admittedly, have Glorfindel; the one she loved unreservedly, who had given her the small daughter they both doted on. He was her delight.

Nevertheless, as she was well aware, their love presented a whole array of problems. Chief amongst these was the Elves' departure from Middle-earth. Had Elanor not been present, she was almost certain that Glorfindel would have returned to Valinor with Elrond, or waited and made the same journey in the company of Elladan and Elrohir. They had chosen the life of the Elves in honour of their ada.

But Glorfindel will stay—because of you.

…should he?

"All I know is that I cannot give you up. I will not. Nor shall I ever abandon this child, for the lands of the Valar or otherwise. Dispel such thoughts from your mind, my Elanor!"

Lovely words, yet they filled Elanor with as much pain as joy. Glorfindel would not leave—he would stay, and she knew there was no hope of convincing him otherwise. Little Merileth was merely another reason to tie him to Middle-earth. As they were not of the line of Eärendil and Elwing, Glorfindel and Elanor's offspring would not be offered the choice of heritage. Elrond had explained as much to them after Merileth's birth. She would live an extended span—at least twice what Elanor could expect—but would still be mortal. Thus, Glorfindel would be forced to part with not only his wife, but his child if he were to make the journey to Valinor.

Eru—must everything be this hard?

Elanor rolled over on the bed. There was no point in dwelling on Elrond or her husband—today was Georgia's day of farewell, or, rather, au revoir. Elanor was certain it would not be long before she and Glorfindel made another journey south.

Sitting up, she clambered to her feet. It took all of her willpower to detach herself from the future and place her worries into a sealed mental compartment. There was no point worrying prematurely about their fates. What would be, would be. Elrond was wise, and powerful; he would manage something. Till then—she would distract herself.

Elanor moved briskly to the wardrobe. It had not been long after Merileth's birth that she found herself slipping into one of her old gowns. She had not returned precisely to her old size or level of fitness, but after four months of brisk exercise and good air, she had no trouble in lacing herself into the gowns. Brushing through her options, Elanor settled on a dress of sea-foam green of Gondorian cut.

I haven't worn this since… well, since Minas Tirith!

She had just finished the fastenings when she heard the creak of the bedroom door. Closing the wardrobe, she turned hurriedly to see a tall figure entering.

"Glorfindel," she smiled, brushing her hair out of her face. "I saw you had spirited our daughter away!"

The Elf returned her greeting. He was already dressed and readied for the day, having chosen a surcoat of blue which matched his eyes. In his arms rested a bright-eyed baby.

Merileth had grown extensively in her months of exploring Arda. To Elanor's disappointment, she had not developed her father's blue eyes, but rather had the grey-green of her mother. She had a tiny nose, pointed chin, and the promise of blonde hair. She was fair and chubby, much to the delight of her parents and assorted family members.

"Good morning my pretty," crooned Elanor, switching out of Sindarin to the Common Tongue. She had become so comfortable speaking Elvish that it tended to be their preferred language, unless she was with Georgia.

Glorfindel held out little Merry for her mother to take. Elanor grasped her gently. Thus followed a blissful half hour, in which Glorfindel wrapped his arms around both his wife and child and there was a great deal of baby-talk and cooing.

"Have you eaten?" Glorfindel inquired, after a time.

"No," came a rather absent reply. The Elf leaned down so that his lips pressed against Elanor's temple. His breath was warm on her face and he planted a kiss upon her cheek before reluctantly disentangling himself. Half a minute later, Elanor heard the bell tinkle and her husband issue a quiet request.

She turned and relinquished their gurgling daughter to his arms.

"When must we be ready, love?" she inquired, smiling as Glorfindel teased his daughter with a slender finger.

"The tenth hour."

This time, Elanor moved to his side and wrapped her fingers around his taught upper arm.

Four hours.

Yes. And until then, I will be with my husband and daughter.

Elanor sighed rather impatiently as she transferred Merileth to Glorfindel's arms.

"Why must she fuss so?" she huffed, staring almost resentfully at the small baby which squirmed and squalled. To add insult to injury, Merileth quietened immediately as her father took her in his deft hands. Faster than a ray of light, her countenance became unwrinkled and broke into beatific smiles.

Glorfindel twinkled down at her and said, "Perhaps she looks upon her ada with favour," to which his wife responded by rolling her eyes. It irked Elanor considerably that her husband was better at coaxing smiles and happy moods out of their daughter.

Reading her face, Glorfindel cradled Merileth with one arm and slipped his free hand into Elanor's.

"I spoke in jest, meleth."

Elanor gave a hard laugh. "Oh, I know, and I am not angry. Just tired, and frustrated—and frustrated because I'm frustrated!" She felt her husband squeeze her fingers.

"You must sleep more; and you shall, after noon. Come, now—the others have begun to gather."

Elanor nodded and allowed herself to be led across the courtyard in which they stood. Various individuals and small groups were milling about there, talking amongst themselves and filling the air with the ring of Elvish laughter. Elanor and Glorfindel, wrestling with a disgruntled Merileth, had retired to one side. Now, as some unobserved signal issued from the opposite end of the courtyard, the fragments of people had begun to congregate in the centre.

"Glorfindel! Elanor!" came a clear cry. Both turned to see a cheery-faced Erestor striding to meet them.

"Well met, friend," Glorfindel replied. Elanor relinquished her grip on his hand and he reached out to clasp Erestor's.

"And small Lady Merileth," beamed Erestor, to which the baby responded with a cheeky smile and a gurgle. "Your daughter is full of spirit, Elanor."

The lady addressed smiled ruefully. "I believe she gets that from her father."

Both of the Elves laughed at this. Further remarks were cut short as another knot of people emerged from the house and descended the stairs to the courtyard. Elrond strode at the head of the party, with Georgia at his left side. Behind them were a group of half a dozen Elves. They were characteristically Noldorin, with sable hair and clear grey eyes. Each face was distinguishable, and yet there was something uniform in the clear-cut jaws, high cheekbones and forthright gazes they all shared. It was something which carried beyond that small contingent to the Elves which surrounded Elanor; even Indilwen and the other female Elves carried the same nobility.

And soon, they will all depart over the sea…

Fortunately, Elanor's train of thought was derailed as Elrond, Georgia and their retinue reached the main body. Someone had produced nine proud Elvish horses, and one powerful bay who was an exemplar of the Rohirric steeds. Elrond turned to the retinue, issuing them some instructions which Elanor did not wait to hear. Brushing Glorfindel's sleeve with her fingers, she hastened forward to where her sister stood.

Georgia was sensibly clad in a long, calf-length tunic, warm undershirt, boots and breeches. As Elanor approached, she was busy checking her girth and readjusting part of her pack. Elanor reached out and laid a gentle hand upon the straight back.

Georgia turned and smiled. It was a watery smile, a smile which bespoke the knowledge of bittersweet partings. She pulled Elanor into a tight embrace.

"I'm going to miss you," Georgia whispered.

"Same here."

The pair released one another, before the younger of the two sisters reached out to grip Elanor's shoulders.

"Promise me a couple of things, ok?" Georgia began, hazel eyes serious.

"Of course."

"Come visit soon. Whenever you can."

Elanor rolled her eyes to disguise the moisture there. "Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

"Now this second thing is going to seem a bit weird," continued the other, squeezing Elanor's shoulders tighter. "But Elanor Ingrid Ravenscroft—I mean, Goldflower, or whatever—I need to say this, because… well, because I just feel like I need to. I know it's been hard on you, with Glorfindel and all. You do such a good job of hiding it, but I can tell. It's easy for me, going back to Rohan. But don't think that I don't know what you're going through, because I can read it on your face when you get lost in thought."

How could I have been so… blind to Georgia? Missed her big heart, her unselfishness, her thoughtfulness—why did we waste so much time?

"G—"

"Don't say anything, please," said Georgia, her voice softer. "It's been a big up and down journey between the two of us, but I love you, and I know you love me. That's really all that matters, isn't it? So promise me—promise me that you will grab hold of the days with both hands. Promise me that you'll savour what we've got, because we're both so lucky, and that you will enjoy it. Love's enough, El. It's different to home, and it's different to what you might've expected… but back in our old lives, and here as well—we have love." Two large tears rolled down Georgia's brown cheeks. "Please don't forget it, and get lost in wondering what might have been, or even what could be."

How did she know…

After a minute Georgia shrugged and roughly brushed away tears. "Sorry for being so soppy—it's really only a brief goodbye for us, because I know you'll be back to see me."

Elanor nodded slowly, for in her heart she was well aware of that fact. This goodbye was raw and heartfelt and poignant, but she would hold her sister in her arms again. The grey-green eyes strayed across to where Elrond stood in conversation with Lindir.

That is the true goodbye.

"I'll try, G," Elanor whispered, after a pause. "It's hard, not to get lost in wishing and hoping, though, when I have so many memories."

Georgia smiled, and through her eyes shone the clear light of one who is at peace. "That's what makes it beautiful—the memories."

For a moment, they merely looked at one another. Tears were spent, wishes wished and love proclaimed; only understanding remained, and the hope of a joyous reunion.

"I'll be delighted to come down and see your new home, Georgie," Elanor said, then, gripping with all her courage to the unforeseen wisdom of her younger sister. "I look forward to being reunited with King Éomer."

"And I believe he looks forward to seeing you again, Elanor, if you can believe it," Georgia teased.

"I dare anyone to bemoan a second meeting with my lady-wife," came a teasing voice, and Glorfindel's figure materialised between the sisters.

"You will find none guilty of such a thing here," came Georgia's swift reply. "Come now, Glorfindel—I'll see you again soon," and she reached out for a hug. "You're my brother, you've got no excuse to stay away."

"Nor shall I."

"And I am simply desperate to see my little niece again soon! Where is she?"

Glorfindel's slim hand pointed to where Elrond cradled the tiny baby. Lindir was still speaking, but it was questionable as to how much the Master of Rivendell absorbed. His clean-cut face was split by a smile as he rocked Merileth back and forth in careful arms.

"I won't tear her away," laughed Georgia. "I'll see you soon."

Then, before Elanor could quite register what was occurring, the gathering parted like the Red Sea to allow the riders to mount. Georgia sprang onto the back of her horse, whilst her Elvish escort followed suit. The pack horses who accompanied them followed obediently without rein or lead, and in less than ten minutes—they were gone.

Elanor took Merileth from her foster-father with a weak smile and followed her husband back to their quarters.

Another goodbye, albeit an uneventful one.

And another to come, far more painful than the last.

Elanor sighed as she laid Merileth in her crib for her morning nap.

Eru help us.

29th September, 3021

The cool breeze whisked past the collection of riders and palfreys. It was a cheerful, light-footed zephyr which mitigated the heat of the early-autumn sun, tousling hair, cooling faces and whisking cloaks.

Elanor swept a strand of hair from her face which the breeze had coaxed there. It was beautiful weather for riding, and the horses moved at an easy pace. No one desired to rush on this final leg of the journey, Elanor least of all. She sat tall and comfortable on Fundanár's back, an unusually bulky figure with Merileth strapped to her chest. The five-month-old was wide awake and alert, secure to her mother's torso by an elaborate cloth wrapping. Her fair head rested just beneath Elanor's chin, and the sea-green eyes were bright as she surveyed the new land before her.

Elanor was glad for the tiny figure pressed close to her as the horses ambled along the broad road. Merileth's sweet laughter when Fundanár began to trot was sufficient distraction from the swift-approaching conclusion of their journey. The baby had been surprisingly content on the road westward. She had alternated between both parents in the cloth baby-carrier, and spent several days riding in a covered palfrey with either Elanor or Erestor. Today, Elanor was determined she would remain on horseback; she did not feel equal to keeping company on the last few hours.

As if to reinforce that thought, the gentle wind gusted more wildly, bringing with it a renewed tang of salty air.

So close now, one voice in her head whispered. So close.

Almost three years here, three years of Middle-earth's beauty and majesty; three years of being amongst these people—and now we come to it. Now, we come to this final, horrid farewell that has been hanging over me almost since I first arrived.

What a cheerful individual you are.

Elanor ground her teeth to prevent any tears from escaping, and focused on the road ahead. Merileth squirmed eagerly, apparently enamoured with the fresh sea air. The company was moving up a rise now, green grass on either side. The temperate coastal weather left the land as unblemished as an emerald pool-table. Elanor could not help but admire the land which swept down to Mithlond, the Grey Havens.

"How do you fare, Elanor?" called Glorfindel, breaking Elanor from her determined reverie. She turned to face her husband, who approached at a gentle lope on his huge grey horse. Fundanár nickered in greeting as his stable-mate approached.

"I'm fine," she replied, unable to inject her voice with much enthusiasm.

Glorfindel reined in his horse level with Elanor, and looked down at her with concern.

"I meant to refer to your carrying Merileth, my vána; I did not expect you to fare well in any other aspect. We should reach Mithlond in less than an hour."

Elanor nodded mutely, her eyes locked with his.

The final weeks in Rivendell had been both syrup and poison. Georgia's departure was but the beginning of those agonising weeks which far surpassed any other Elanor had had to endure. Even her time waiting in Minas Tirith for the outcome of the War had not filled her with such a persistent dread, for in that time, there had been hope. Now—there was only jaded resignation.

She had known that the time would eventually come for many to depart Middle-earth. It was inevitable that the Elves should go—but always Elanor had hoped for an alternative, always she had dreamt of something different. Today, she knew it could not be so, and the certainty filled her chest with a dull ache she could not dispel. The night before, she had walked alone with Elrond while Glorfindel dandled Merileth upon his knee. Elanor's foster-father had been uncharacteristically silent and heart-wrenchingly tender. So much had remained unspoken as they walked in starlight and shadow.

"I shall miss you," she had said, marvelling as she spoke at the inadequacy of those four words. They fell abysmally short of the feelings which raged within her.

"And I you," Elrond replied, low and heartfelt.

He had looked at her then, a look of paternal tenderness and pity. There was sorrow there for herself, Elanor knew, but beneath it a deeper current of pain which many trials had etched into Elrond's fathomless grey eyes. It was oft hidden by merriment and scholarly enthusiasm, yet she knew that it ran far below anything she could perceive. The loss of Arwen rankled with him particularly in that moment, Elanor knew. The young human woman was calmly certain that she was no substitute for the Evenstar; nevertheless, even the parting with his foster-daughter reignited the hurt that was in him at his parting with Arwen.

Elanor then slipped her hand into his. The parting was like a gaping void in her own heart, tempered by a burning empathy for the Elf who had taken her in. As unpleasant as this was for her, there was a fierce part of her soul which flared up in his defence; it longed to comfort him, to ease the bitter detachment. It was all that kept her emotions in check.

She would be brave—for her Father.

Elanor shook herself to dispel the memory. Elrond was in pain. As much as she had longed for an alternative to this parting, for hope of a forever-future with Glorfindel and her foster-family, there was naught she could do to amend the situation. Any protest, any word—she would not make things harder for Elrond, who was returning to his Celebrián's side… and leaving Arwen behind.

Glorfindel seemed to read Elanor's pensive thoughts, and did not press her. He merely continued to ride stirrup-to-stirrup with her, his blue eyes flicking between the road ahead and her furrowed brow.

The last hour of the ride passed with harrowing slowness. At length, they topped the rise and descended toward the Grey Havens, in the long firth of Lune. The Gulf was fed by a river from the north, expanding from a narrow point to a broad bay and thence to the sea. The headlands drew near to one another at the far entrance to the gulf, though they were lost in a salty haze as Elanor and the company halted in Círdan's domain.

Wordlessly, the wagons stopped. Glorfindel sprang from his mount and moved to help Elanor dismount with Merileth. Sheer moments later, they were gathered in a proud cluster near the gate's of Mithlond.

In other circumstances, Elanor would have found the Grey Havens beautiful. Situated right by the water's edge, it was filled with sweet ocean air. The buildings were of light stonework, and the grounds cobbled in rock of a similar hue. From a large house emerged a tall Elf with silver hair. Even having lived among the Elves for nigh on three years, Elanor still started at the sight of Círdan the Shipwright.

Unlike any other Elf she had seen, Círdan possessed a silver beard which fell below his collarbones. It was sleek and well-groomed, unlike Gandalf's iron-grey mane, and despite its rarity, suited the noble Teleri very well. He bowed to Elrond, who stood at the front of the company.

"All is now ready," the grey Elf said.

Elanor used those moments to grasp her composure with both hands and look at those around her. The travellers about her shimmered with the peculiar light of the Eldar. Gildor Inglorion was there, along with many other fair Elven folk. Elrond was enough to stir wonder in any heart, with his mantle of grey and a star upon his forehead, and a silver harp in his hand. Even from a distance Elanor could see a ring of gold with a great blue stone—Vilya, mightiest of the Three. Galadriel was near him, upon a lowered palfrey and robed all in glimmering white, like clouds about the Moon; for she herself seemed to shine with a soft light. On her finger was Nenya, the ring wrought of mithril, that bore a single white stone flickering like a frosty star. Nearby, just dismounted from his small grey pony was Bilbo Baggins, flanked on both sides by the young hobbits; Sam, stout and steadfast, and Merry and Pippin, tall and lordly for hobbits clad in tunics and fine chainmail. Other Elves comprised the remainder of the company, scarcely less lordly and noble than their leaders. Celeborn was absent, but there were others of Lórien.

Some weeks before, the Elven company had departed Imladris for the journey west. It had been surreal to pass through countryside which the Fellowship had travelled in the early days, seeing Weathertop and the Shire. Elanor's first sight of the Brandywine, of Hobbiton and Bywater, had been marred by a cloud of despair. Still, it was difficult to remain wholly gloomy in the company of the hobbits, and with the beautiful Shire all about her. Those days had been surprisingly merry, as they collected young Samwise and the other halflings on their journey west. They had livened the company considerably.

Odd to think that Frodo is not here, her inner voice mused. This was his story, and now he is gone—and it will be Sam who goes over the sea, eventually.

She was brought back from her observations as Círdan led them toward the harbour's edge.

It's finally happening…

Then Círdan led them to the Havens, and there was a white ship lying, and upon the quay beside a great grey horse stood a figure robed all in white awaiting them. As he turned and came towards them, Elanor saw that Gandalf now openly wore on his hand the Third Ring, Narya the Great, and the stone upon it was red as fire. Then those who were to go were to go were glad, for they knew that Gandalf also would take ship with them. But Elanor was even more sorrowful at heart, and it seemed to her that if the parting would be bitter, more grievous still would be the long road home—alone.

She watched as Gandalf turned to the cluster of hobbits, who had moved toward him with uplifted faces.

"It is not Sam, though, that has given it away this time, but you, Gandalf!" Pippin was saying, almost indignantly.

"Yes," said Gandalf; "for it will be better for several to ride back together than, one alone. Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil."

Then Elanor saw that Gandalf farewelled each of the hobbits in turn, whilst the company of Elves waited patiently. To her surprise, he also bid Sam a safe journey back to the Shire.

"Do not tarry upon the road, Master Samwise, for your family awaits," Gandalf said, his voice kindly. "Yet I shall see you once more, and when you are ready there shall be a ship which shall bear you westward over the sea, to join the other Ringbearers who have already travelled thence."

It seemed to Elanor, then, that Sam grew teary, and stammered something incoherent toward his hairy feet. Gandalf smiled then, planted a friendly hand on the hobbit's shoulder, and moved towards Elanor and Glorfindel. Aside from the hobbits, they were the only ones who were to leave the Havens and travel back eastward.

"Lord Glorfindel; Lady Elanor," he said, smiling with his clear blue eyes.

Glorfindel returned the wizard's greeting, whilst Elanor attempted a watery smile.

"Days of farewell are oft full of grief; it gladdens me to see you in company with one another, that you might find comfort."

"Yes," Elanor murmured, whilst her husband merely swallowed hard.

Gandalf's eyes were kinder than Elanor had ever seen before in that moment, as he looked between the two, Eldar and Edain. Few beyond her foster-family and Georgia truly understood how both she and Glorfindel felt in these moments of sorrow; somehow, however, she knew Gandalf's eyes pierced her soul at that moment. The wizard's eyes were brimming with empathy. He gripped Glorfindel's hand firmly, planted a whiskery kiss on Elanor's forehead, and completed his farewells by tracing Merileth's cheek with his thumb.

"I wish you all health and happiness," he said—and was gone.

Elanor looked fiercely down at Merileth's pink face, desperate to quell the tears which welled up in her eyes. When she managed to look upwards, Elrond stood before them, Galadriel on his arm. Neither spoke.

Elanor could scarcely bear Elrond's grey gaze, let alone Galadriel's fathomless blue eyes. She looked back down at her baby, willing the moment to pass yet longing to hold it tightly to herself.

"Might I hold your child, Elanor of Lands Afar?"

The one addressed looked up sharply to see the Lady Galadriel, her hands extended. Gulping, Elanor nodded and released Merileth rather reluctantly. The merry baby gurgled and smiled up at the ageless Elf-woman who leaned over her. As Galadriel held the child, Glorfindel reached for Elanor's fingers and gripped them tightly. She clung to him with equal desperation, though the tears were no longer held in check.

For what felt like an hour, Galadriel held the small baby and stared into her face, her eyes lowered so her lashes lay like inky feathers upon her cheeks. Then, she spoke.

"There is much which is not within my power to grant, Glorfindel son of Idhrenor, and Elanor daughter of Elrond," she intoned, her musical voice haunting in its loveliness. "Much which I desire is beyond my grasp. Yet there is one thing I shall do for thy happiness, though it not be what you might wish, Lady of the Edain." She looked up then, her gaze falling like an x-ray upon Elanor. "You shall remain in Middle-earth, and dwell wherever you desire, for the length of your span. Thus shall you live, and thus shall you pass. Nevertheless, this shall not be the fate of thy child, the Rose of Imladris. She, and all of your offspring, shall be granted passage to Valinor with Glorfindel of the Noldor, and live within Tirion among their father's kin. This I declare, and it shall be done."

Elanor felt Glorfindel's grip on her hand tighten until her fingers throbbed. Her head swam.

Does she mean…?

Yep. That's it.

Glorfindel—her shan't lose Merileth. At least he shall have that.

…but it's not enough.

She wanted to cry. Her lungs screamed at the effort of holding it in. She wanted to shout at Galadriel—it's not good enough! Do better! Why can't I go too? I'm going to lose him!

The Elf woman, Elanor knew, perceived this. Her gaze drank it in, and she nodded, before passing Merileth to Elrond. Through her unfathomable age and wisdom, Elanor sensed Galadriel's understanding and a quiet lack of apology. She had done what she could. Merileth would go to Valinor.

Elanor would die in Middle-earth.

Then Elrond was speaking a blessing in Quenya over the baby which Elanor understood through intention rather than words, and two diamond tears glistened on Glorfindel's cheeks. Merileth was returned to them. Elrond kissed her forehead, and the company went aboard; the sails were drawn up, and the wind blew, and slowly the ship slipped away down the long grey firth. The ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West, until at last on a night of rain Elrond smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. It seemed to him that the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores, and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise—the home of his forebears, and the dwelling of his beloved. Still, as he disembarked the ship and was reunited with those who he knew, his thoughts dwelt upon the slim golden-haired woman who he had left behind with his daughter—who would never join them.

To Elanor, the evening only deepened to darkness as she stood at the Haven with Glorfindel; as she looked at the grey sea she saw only a shadow on the waters that was soon lost in the West. There still she stood far into the night, hearing only the sigh and murmur of the waves on the shores of Middle-earth, and the sound of them sank deep into her heart.

At last the small group of companions turned away—Elanor and Glorfindel, Merry, Sam and Pippin, and a small baby who had been given a wondrous gift too great for her to conceive. And, never looking back, they rode slowly homewards; they spoke no word to one another until they came to the Shire, but each had great comfort in their companions on the long grey road. The hobbits departed then, each for his own home, and the remaining threesome—Elf, Human, and blessed peredhel—continued together.

I guess that's it, then.

Woahhhh...

So this (given away by the "penultimate" title) is our second-last instalment in the Elanor fic. *cries uncontrollably*

Now you know the fate of this family, and all that awaits is our final, [heartwrenching] chapter.

I realise I'm going to cop a lot of criticism over this, but part of my desire for Elanor not to be a Mary-Sue is that the realistic will happen. I don't think it's crazy that Elanor and Glorfindel's kids would get granted a spot on a boat to Valinor, but it IS ridiculous that Elanor would. It's heartbreaking yes, but this story is not supposed to be an ideal fairytale. There is a message here - a message of love, a message of sacrifice, and Elanor's journey of learning to appreciate and embrace things in a way she couldn't before.

I anticipate your reviews, whether you disagree with Elanor remaining behind or not, and I will hopefully give you her last chapter soon. It is a bittersweet finish, but I am satisfied with it.

For the second-last time, Finwe signing off. x