A/N----heartfelt (and belated) thanks to Acacia for beta-ing the first part
of the first chapter of this work. Unfortunately, I haven't been on when
she is, to let her beta the rest, but I wanted to say thanks anyway.
Thanks also to my reviewers. You guys mean the world to me. Oh, and
PuterPatty, I'm working on it, I'm working on it! Mithsewwen is being a
pain in my arse, hiding from me. I wish she'd come out so I can write more
of her story. In the meantime, enjoy this one.
Bitter Parting
Now that I have said farewell to my brothers, I must do the same with my father. I am not sure I am up to this challenge. I doubt that the guilt and loss I feel will be lightened with laughter and teasing, as it was with the twins. This parting will be nothing but bitter, I am certain. Still, I cannot simply let my father go without a word. As painful as it is, I must speak to him.
He is not in Edoras itself, which is as I expected. A city of Man is not the proper place for what we must say to each other. Imladris would be more appropriate, if we must be in a city, but we are not there. And I will never be there again.
With these melancholy thoughts for company, I make my way into the hills above the city. I do not need to think about where he is, since he is not in the city. There is no place else my father would go.
He has climbed the highest hill near Edoras. How very like Father, to seek out height if he cannot have forest. He stands with his back to the path, the wind ruffling his hair. His posture bespeaks sorrow. Oh, I cannot do this. I cannot, but I must.
"Edoras is beautiful this time of year, is it not?" I ask in greeting. Cowardly, Arwen, to begin with trivialities. There is too much to say to waste time like this, but I cannot find my tongue for more.
"Indeed," Elrond responds curtly. Is he angry with me still? Or simply holding his hurt in, disguising it with short temper? I cannot tell.
"The view from here is stunning," I say. I remain at a loss for words, but I cannot stand the silence. Thus, I babble meaningless drivel. I disgust myself.
Father merely grunts. He has not turned, has not moved to embrace me, has barely responded at all. I stand behind him for several minutes, willing him to turn or speak, yell, berate me, even strike me, anything at all, but he does not. He simply stands there, his back to me, silent.
I can feel my heart shatter as he ignores me. I wait for a few more moments for some sort of response, then I turn to leave. Tears stream unheeded down my cheeks. I did not expect such a thorough rejection.
I get four steps away before he calls my name. I turn back towards him.
"Father?" I respond, hoping against hope.
"Don't go. Not yet," he says, turning at last. His cheeks are as tearstained as mine. The last time I saw the Lord of Imladris weep, my mother was boarding her White Ship. I push that thought away as I run into his arms. I cling to my father and sob into his robe. I can feel his own tears drip onto my hair.
"I did not wish to hurt you, my father," I mumble.
"I know, my Undomiel. I know," he replies, stroking my hair. Our tears prove to be the catharsis needed; the wall between us is broken. We sit on the soft grass of the hill, and talk. We speak of many things. Mostly, we reminisce, for Father loves to tell stories of my childhood as much as I love to hear them. Occasionally the conversation turns to politics. I wonder if Father is not determined teach me everything there is to know about the governing of a people in these last hours, as if I have not trained for this all my life. Were this not our last talk, I would grow irritated. Now, I soak up everything he has to give as parched land soaks up rain. I cannot get enough, for I know I will never again hear Elrond's wisdom.
We talk long into the afternoon. As the sun sets, I sidle up to my father, cuddling as I have not done in a very long time. Father wraps his arm around my shoulder to hold me close, as unconcerned with propriety as I. No one can see us, after all, and we will not have this chance again.
We fall silent, content to enjoy each other's company and watch the sun set. It is uncommonly beautiful this evening. Every color known lights the sky, almost as if the sunset would console us with its beauty. It even works, for a short time. But then the evening star appears, and a sense of melancholy returns.
"You were born at this time of day, Arwen," Father comments. "Because of that, I wanted to name you after the twilight. But your mother would have none of it. She said you were a noble lady, and that would be your name. As you know, I could deny Celebrian nothing, so Arwen you became."
"But you did not think that fit exactly, did you, Father?" I ask, picking up my cue. I have heard this story countless times.
He smiles down at me. "No, I did not. But your mother truly loathed the idea of naming you after the time of day you were born, so it seemed I would simply have to live with her choice of name. Then, the midwife gave you to me to hold for the first time. You smiled at me, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in all my long years. The first star of the evening appeared at that moment, and shone down upon your smile. I knew then you were the Evenstar of our people, and should bear that name as well as the one your mother chose. 'Twas a sign. Even Celebrian saw it, and agreed, though she would not give up her original choice. And that is how you came to bear two names, my Undomiel."
Father hugs me close and kisses my forehead. I sigh, content for the moment. Then my father speaks again, and my contentment is shattered.
"Do you truly love him, Daughter?" he asks.
I pull away from his embrace, sit up and stare at him, appalled. "How can you ask that? After all we have been through, after all the time I have waited to have him, after what I have given up to be with him, you still question my love for him?"
"I am sorry, Arwen. I ask only out of a father's need to be certain. I know the answer, that you love him beyond words, as he loves you. I did see you both when you wed, child. The love between you cannot be denied. It is pure and real, and plainly visible for all to see. Forgive me?" he practically begs me. Elrond, Lord of Imladris, Bearer of Vilya, who marched with Gil-Galad, begs my forgiveness.
I smile and hug him. "Of course I forgive you, Father."
He sighs. Apparently, he truly feared that I would hold onto my flash of anger. As if I could ever remain angry with him for long over anything. Still, I can feel him trembling in my embrace. There is little I can do to comfort him.
I nestle back into his arms. We watch the rest of the stars come out in quiet companionship, as we did when I was small. Neither of us is eager to end this last interlude.
"Arwen?" he asks after a time. He sounds hesitant.
"Yes, Father?" I reply, choosing to overlook his uncertainty. Elrond of Imladris has never liked to have his flaws pointed out by his children. Normally, that does not stop us, but today, I leave him his dignity.
"What will I tell your mother?"
The question brings me up short. Never did I stop to think of this. Oh, I thought of my mother, but mostly my thoughts were of missing her, wishing I could talk with her of things only females know, desiring to tell her all about Estel, wanting her to be with me at my wedding. It never occurred to me that someone would have to tell her of my choice and my doom. Of course, that someone would be Father.
I take the time to give the question its full consideration. This seems to worry my father, to judge from his expression. The silence lengthens as I think. Father fidgets, which is a very rare thing. Finally, he can stand the quiet no longer.
"Arwen?"
"I am thinking, Father. This is not a question to answer lightly," I say. He frowns, but does not push me. What should he tell Mother? I am embarrassed that I did not prepare for this. Whatever message I send to my mother must convey my happiness, as well as letting her know that I made this choice of my own free will, aware of the consequences.
Finally, I have the answer. In part, I can thank Elrohir, for his words inspired me. I turn my full attention to Father. He is more nervous than I have ever seen him. More nervous than he was even before his famed Council, and then I thought his head would explode from tension. Elrond does not show his nerves easily, but I know him well enough to recognize them when I see them.
"Tell Mother that as she loved you, so I love Estel. Tell her that without him, I would wither and die, yes, even in the Undying Lands. Tell her that as you let her go, so she must let me go. And tell her that I love her still, and will never forget her." That is all I can think of to say. I hope it is enough.
Now it is Father's turn to be silent, and my turn to fret. He considers my message, his brow furrowing in thought. Finally he nods. "That is what I shall tell her, then."
Now it is full night, and there is nothing left to say. The moon rises, lighting the path back to Edoras. Father stands, brushing the grass from his robe. I follow his lead. He pulls me into a hug, holding me so tightly, it is difficult to breathe. I do not complain. I just listen to his heartbeat.
At last, he speaks. Always the voice of wisdom, Father says, "Come, child. We must return. It is late, and you will be missed."
"So will you, Father." I am not referring to the people of Middle Earth, though they also will miss Elrond, when he leaves.
He pauses for a moment, before we go. Father takes my chin in his hand and tilts my face up to look at him. I smile sadly, feeling tears build.
"Remember, my Undomiel, that no matter where your path takes you, I will forever love you. You are always in my heart, Daughter," he say softly.
I am crying in earnest now. "As are you, my Father. Always, as are you."
Father wipes away my tears, then pulls me into yet another hug. We tremble and cry for I do not know how long. All too quickly, however, it is time to leave. We hold hands as we make our way back to the city. There is nothing to say, so we do not speak. But the love and the loss hang palpably between us. We regret being parted, but we know there is no other path to walk. The moon sets, and all is shrouded in darkness.
Bitter Parting
Now that I have said farewell to my brothers, I must do the same with my father. I am not sure I am up to this challenge. I doubt that the guilt and loss I feel will be lightened with laughter and teasing, as it was with the twins. This parting will be nothing but bitter, I am certain. Still, I cannot simply let my father go without a word. As painful as it is, I must speak to him.
He is not in Edoras itself, which is as I expected. A city of Man is not the proper place for what we must say to each other. Imladris would be more appropriate, if we must be in a city, but we are not there. And I will never be there again.
With these melancholy thoughts for company, I make my way into the hills above the city. I do not need to think about where he is, since he is not in the city. There is no place else my father would go.
He has climbed the highest hill near Edoras. How very like Father, to seek out height if he cannot have forest. He stands with his back to the path, the wind ruffling his hair. His posture bespeaks sorrow. Oh, I cannot do this. I cannot, but I must.
"Edoras is beautiful this time of year, is it not?" I ask in greeting. Cowardly, Arwen, to begin with trivialities. There is too much to say to waste time like this, but I cannot find my tongue for more.
"Indeed," Elrond responds curtly. Is he angry with me still? Or simply holding his hurt in, disguising it with short temper? I cannot tell.
"The view from here is stunning," I say. I remain at a loss for words, but I cannot stand the silence. Thus, I babble meaningless drivel. I disgust myself.
Father merely grunts. He has not turned, has not moved to embrace me, has barely responded at all. I stand behind him for several minutes, willing him to turn or speak, yell, berate me, even strike me, anything at all, but he does not. He simply stands there, his back to me, silent.
I can feel my heart shatter as he ignores me. I wait for a few more moments for some sort of response, then I turn to leave. Tears stream unheeded down my cheeks. I did not expect such a thorough rejection.
I get four steps away before he calls my name. I turn back towards him.
"Father?" I respond, hoping against hope.
"Don't go. Not yet," he says, turning at last. His cheeks are as tearstained as mine. The last time I saw the Lord of Imladris weep, my mother was boarding her White Ship. I push that thought away as I run into his arms. I cling to my father and sob into his robe. I can feel his own tears drip onto my hair.
"I did not wish to hurt you, my father," I mumble.
"I know, my Undomiel. I know," he replies, stroking my hair. Our tears prove to be the catharsis needed; the wall between us is broken. We sit on the soft grass of the hill, and talk. We speak of many things. Mostly, we reminisce, for Father loves to tell stories of my childhood as much as I love to hear them. Occasionally the conversation turns to politics. I wonder if Father is not determined teach me everything there is to know about the governing of a people in these last hours, as if I have not trained for this all my life. Were this not our last talk, I would grow irritated. Now, I soak up everything he has to give as parched land soaks up rain. I cannot get enough, for I know I will never again hear Elrond's wisdom.
We talk long into the afternoon. As the sun sets, I sidle up to my father, cuddling as I have not done in a very long time. Father wraps his arm around my shoulder to hold me close, as unconcerned with propriety as I. No one can see us, after all, and we will not have this chance again.
We fall silent, content to enjoy each other's company and watch the sun set. It is uncommonly beautiful this evening. Every color known lights the sky, almost as if the sunset would console us with its beauty. It even works, for a short time. But then the evening star appears, and a sense of melancholy returns.
"You were born at this time of day, Arwen," Father comments. "Because of that, I wanted to name you after the twilight. But your mother would have none of it. She said you were a noble lady, and that would be your name. As you know, I could deny Celebrian nothing, so Arwen you became."
"But you did not think that fit exactly, did you, Father?" I ask, picking up my cue. I have heard this story countless times.
He smiles down at me. "No, I did not. But your mother truly loathed the idea of naming you after the time of day you were born, so it seemed I would simply have to live with her choice of name. Then, the midwife gave you to me to hold for the first time. You smiled at me, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in all my long years. The first star of the evening appeared at that moment, and shone down upon your smile. I knew then you were the Evenstar of our people, and should bear that name as well as the one your mother chose. 'Twas a sign. Even Celebrian saw it, and agreed, though she would not give up her original choice. And that is how you came to bear two names, my Undomiel."
Father hugs me close and kisses my forehead. I sigh, content for the moment. Then my father speaks again, and my contentment is shattered.
"Do you truly love him, Daughter?" he asks.
I pull away from his embrace, sit up and stare at him, appalled. "How can you ask that? After all we have been through, after all the time I have waited to have him, after what I have given up to be with him, you still question my love for him?"
"I am sorry, Arwen. I ask only out of a father's need to be certain. I know the answer, that you love him beyond words, as he loves you. I did see you both when you wed, child. The love between you cannot be denied. It is pure and real, and plainly visible for all to see. Forgive me?" he practically begs me. Elrond, Lord of Imladris, Bearer of Vilya, who marched with Gil-Galad, begs my forgiveness.
I smile and hug him. "Of course I forgive you, Father."
He sighs. Apparently, he truly feared that I would hold onto my flash of anger. As if I could ever remain angry with him for long over anything. Still, I can feel him trembling in my embrace. There is little I can do to comfort him.
I nestle back into his arms. We watch the rest of the stars come out in quiet companionship, as we did when I was small. Neither of us is eager to end this last interlude.
"Arwen?" he asks after a time. He sounds hesitant.
"Yes, Father?" I reply, choosing to overlook his uncertainty. Elrond of Imladris has never liked to have his flaws pointed out by his children. Normally, that does not stop us, but today, I leave him his dignity.
"What will I tell your mother?"
The question brings me up short. Never did I stop to think of this. Oh, I thought of my mother, but mostly my thoughts were of missing her, wishing I could talk with her of things only females know, desiring to tell her all about Estel, wanting her to be with me at my wedding. It never occurred to me that someone would have to tell her of my choice and my doom. Of course, that someone would be Father.
I take the time to give the question its full consideration. This seems to worry my father, to judge from his expression. The silence lengthens as I think. Father fidgets, which is a very rare thing. Finally, he can stand the quiet no longer.
"Arwen?"
"I am thinking, Father. This is not a question to answer lightly," I say. He frowns, but does not push me. What should he tell Mother? I am embarrassed that I did not prepare for this. Whatever message I send to my mother must convey my happiness, as well as letting her know that I made this choice of my own free will, aware of the consequences.
Finally, I have the answer. In part, I can thank Elrohir, for his words inspired me. I turn my full attention to Father. He is more nervous than I have ever seen him. More nervous than he was even before his famed Council, and then I thought his head would explode from tension. Elrond does not show his nerves easily, but I know him well enough to recognize them when I see them.
"Tell Mother that as she loved you, so I love Estel. Tell her that without him, I would wither and die, yes, even in the Undying Lands. Tell her that as you let her go, so she must let me go. And tell her that I love her still, and will never forget her." That is all I can think of to say. I hope it is enough.
Now it is Father's turn to be silent, and my turn to fret. He considers my message, his brow furrowing in thought. Finally he nods. "That is what I shall tell her, then."
Now it is full night, and there is nothing left to say. The moon rises, lighting the path back to Edoras. Father stands, brushing the grass from his robe. I follow his lead. He pulls me into a hug, holding me so tightly, it is difficult to breathe. I do not complain. I just listen to his heartbeat.
At last, he speaks. Always the voice of wisdom, Father says, "Come, child. We must return. It is late, and you will be missed."
"So will you, Father." I am not referring to the people of Middle Earth, though they also will miss Elrond, when he leaves.
He pauses for a moment, before we go. Father takes my chin in his hand and tilts my face up to look at him. I smile sadly, feeling tears build.
"Remember, my Undomiel, that no matter where your path takes you, I will forever love you. You are always in my heart, Daughter," he say softly.
I am crying in earnest now. "As are you, my Father. Always, as are you."
Father wipes away my tears, then pulls me into yet another hug. We tremble and cry for I do not know how long. All too quickly, however, it is time to leave. We hold hands as we make our way back to the city. There is nothing to say, so we do not speak. But the love and the loss hang palpably between us. We regret being parted, but we know there is no other path to walk. The moon sets, and all is shrouded in darkness.