Disclaimer: I don't own this stuff! Leave me alone.

Ian: She's grumpy today. I'd leave her alone if I were you.

A/N: Take his advice. I have writer's block. But you know what? Nothing kills writer's block like an essay due first period tomorrow that I haven't started yet and I really want to procrastinate on.



2

"Odd. Very, very odd."

He watched, or rather, looked in the direction, of the elf mounting the horse. Living in Rivendell was a waking dream; he found that he could think for hours, forget what was going on around him. But he did recognize what was happening right now, in the courtyard below his balcony, because he knew it was relevant. His thoughts, however, were far off. On the simplest of things, strangely enough.

"Hello. Goodbye. Today is the ninth of October." He shook his head, hummed a little bit, trying to concentrate. He tried again.

"Moses supposes his toeses are roses, but Moses supposes erroneously. Sally sells seashells down by the seashore." Nope. "I can't do it." Even the words sounded silly to hear them, mostly because they sounded so… normal.

Ryan Dean could not remember how do speak with an American accent.

He had to laugh, even thinking about it. Living around elves, and only elves, for the past nine years had really affected him. He recognized that he didn't speak quite like the other elves, but he definitely didn't speak like a Coloradan anymore.

He spoke fluent elvish, both Sindarin and Quenyan, though it had taken him quite a while. He didn't really use English or Westron anymore; there was no need. But Ryan had a secret fear that he would begin to forget his first language, so he often recited lines from old plays, sang, and wrote in English. Narindrel discouraged this, but Ryan kept at it. She said it made him stand out. Ryan would only smile, kiss his wife on the cheek, and continue.

Of course, thinking about anything from his former life inevitably reminded him of his sister.

"Sarah…" Ryan thought out loud, as the elf below took hold of the horse and confidently sped off. "Today is October ninth. Come on, Sarah. Please…"

She had to make it- she had to get to Rivendell by the twenty-fifth. The Council of Elrond, she had to know about it! She wouldn't stay away from something so important just because of… would she?

He blinked, the only sign of surfacing bitterness. She was so stubborn- so demanding- so- so- SARAH! He remembered the last time he saw his sister, nine years ago. Like it were yesterday.

***

"No."

"Yes."



And that was it. After eight years of living in Bree, Ryan had finally consented to Narin's begging. He would go to Rivendell and marry the elf.

There, in the tiny room they had called home while in Bree, Ryan finally told her. The fire had been blazing brightly, illuminating her weathered face. Many things had happened over the past years, but they had always been together. Now, Sarah's voice was so pained, so pitiful, so foreboding. It almost broke Ryan's heart to hear her speak that way, but it wasn't enough.

Ryan told her he loved Narindrel. Sarah already knew that, but she never realized how much he loved the elf. They were older now, romantic fancies had given way to realistic hopes. Ryan wanted to marry his love, live in Rivendell with the elves, and make the best of their time before the War of the Ring was upon them.

Sarah disagreed.

Ryan though she was being irrational, emotional, flying off the handle. Jumping to conclusions, to stubborn to admit she might be wrong. Sarah said that Narin was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

He told her that Narin was the most important thing in life to him. He told her that he loved Narin more than life itself, and that she was the most important thing to him in the world. But the worst thing he said, the thing that bore into his mind and forced ever-renewing guilt, was the thing to push her over the edge.

"You are just like our mother."

Sarah turned white. The look on her face was enough to make steel melt. She hated their mother with more passion than Ryan had ever known anyone to hate. Now, he realized, she knew how serious he was. She knew it was over- their companionship. It was all over.

"No."

"Yes."

Loaded words. No, you're not leaving. No, you can't be choosing her over me. No, you can't be going to Rivendell. No, I am nothing like our mother. No, I am not going with you.

Yes, I am leaving. Yes, I choose my love over my sister. Yes, you are like our mother. But, no, you are not going with me.

They both knew Sarah would never settle in Rivendell. She might have, true, if not for Narin. The two had grown to dislike, then hate each other as the years went by. Sarah was always suspicious of the elf, after the warning she'd gotten from her future self the night of Bilbo's eleventy- first birthday. And Narin always though Sarah was too controlling, too close to her brother. Narin wanted Ryan all to herself.

And with Ryan kicking and screaming for Sarah to let go, she finally did.

And he hadn't seen her since.

***

"Well, I really hope you make it back here," Ryan said in elvish. He tried to say it in English, but it was too hard. His eyes misted, and he wondered for nary the first time whether he'd made the right decision.

"It wasn't true, idiot. Why did you tell her that?" Narin was his love, but only a love. She was not the most important thing in life to him. And Sarah wasn't like his mother at all- not selfish, not cunning, not deceitful.

She was noble, and loyal, and independent, and bold, and brave, and amazing.

"Ryaden." He heard a voice from beyond the balcony, and Narin came to him. She called him by the special name she had given him, his pet name. She was the only one who addressed him this way.

He turned and clasped her hand in his. "Glorfindel has gone. Frodo should be here in less than two weeks. We have little time."

"But all the time in the world, dear one! For I love you now, and so I love you always. And we shall always be at peace."

She laid her head gently on his shoulder, and Ryan closed his eyes.

Outside, a cold wind suddenly rustled through the trees. Leaves swirled a hazarded dance across their forest bed, while tiny pebbles consented to clamber down the many steps in disarray. For a moment, maybe, it seemed as though a cloud covered bright Rivendell, and shadows seemed to overtake the light, so that all was darkness. But Ryan opened his eyes, and the shadow faded.

He couldn't ignore the creeping terror in the back of his mind. His lips formed words, though he spoke not for fear of Narin noticing.

Sarah, please…



~~~ There, darnit, I posted. Happy?

I hope that turned out right. I'm in an analytical mood right now.