A/N- Again with the not owning any of this. Thanks to FF.Net for allowing
me the opportunity to write about one of my favorite books. :) This is
the last chapter for this story. I'll start working on another soon. I am
very fascinated with the Sadness of the Elves during the book/movies, and
there are a thousand fics of Aragorn out there. Maybe the next one will
concentrate of Celeborn, or Haldir. Haven't decided yet. Ideas?
Chapter 7- The End of an Age
Elrond stood, brushing broken glass off into the floor. He made a mental note to have it cleaned up in the morning. Moving gracefully, as only the Elves could do, the Lord of Rivendell ascended the steps to his bedroom. Each step was like a stab in his heart. It is said that Elves can die of a broken heart, and this night Elrond did not doubt those stories. He knew, full well, the weight of the world as it pressed in upon him.
Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pipin, Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, Gandalf, and even the untrusted one, Boromir weighed heavily in his thoughts. The fate of all of Middle-Earth rested with the Fellowship, and more to the point, rested on the shoulder of Frodo Baggins, a young hobbit from the Shire.
He passed Arwen's room, and heard her weeping softly to herself. He thought to knock on her door, and to offer her comfort. He stopped himself short of touching the thin door that separated them. He would leave her to her grief. She needed to be alone with her thoughts, just as he had needed to be alone with his.
Continuing down the hall, he passed the room of Bilbo Baggins. Inside his Elvin ears picked up the sound of muttering. Bilbo, it seemed, had not yet gotten over the hold the One Ring once had on him. It was doubtful he ever would.
At last, his thoughts heavy on his mind, Elrond made it to his room. Opening the door, he stepped inside, and walked to the cold bed that awaited him. The Time of the Elves was indeed over. The time of Man hung in the balance. He lay down and closed his eyes, doubtful that sleep would come for anyone in Rivendell tonight.
He dared to hope that his dreams tonight would include Arwen, his twins, and his dear, dear, Celebrian. So happy he had once been here before Celebrian had sailed to the Gray Havens. He missed her so, but was content in the knowledge that he would see her before the next snowfall. He would soon hold his wife in his arms again.
Until that time, he was the Lord of Rivendell. He was to protect his people from the threat of Saruman and Sauron. He would stand by that pledge, and not see the light of Rivendell put out before its time.
Before slipping off into a fitful sleep, Elrond said a quick prayer for the safety of the Fellowship. "God-speed, and good fortune my friends. May the light of the lady ever guide you."
And then, because he knew the old wizard would hear, Elrond whispered into the night, "Bring them home, old Friend."
Chapter 7- The End of an Age
Elrond stood, brushing broken glass off into the floor. He made a mental note to have it cleaned up in the morning. Moving gracefully, as only the Elves could do, the Lord of Rivendell ascended the steps to his bedroom. Each step was like a stab in his heart. It is said that Elves can die of a broken heart, and this night Elrond did not doubt those stories. He knew, full well, the weight of the world as it pressed in upon him.
Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pipin, Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, Gandalf, and even the untrusted one, Boromir weighed heavily in his thoughts. The fate of all of Middle-Earth rested with the Fellowship, and more to the point, rested on the shoulder of Frodo Baggins, a young hobbit from the Shire.
He passed Arwen's room, and heard her weeping softly to herself. He thought to knock on her door, and to offer her comfort. He stopped himself short of touching the thin door that separated them. He would leave her to her grief. She needed to be alone with her thoughts, just as he had needed to be alone with his.
Continuing down the hall, he passed the room of Bilbo Baggins. Inside his Elvin ears picked up the sound of muttering. Bilbo, it seemed, had not yet gotten over the hold the One Ring once had on him. It was doubtful he ever would.
At last, his thoughts heavy on his mind, Elrond made it to his room. Opening the door, he stepped inside, and walked to the cold bed that awaited him. The Time of the Elves was indeed over. The time of Man hung in the balance. He lay down and closed his eyes, doubtful that sleep would come for anyone in Rivendell tonight.
He dared to hope that his dreams tonight would include Arwen, his twins, and his dear, dear, Celebrian. So happy he had once been here before Celebrian had sailed to the Gray Havens. He missed her so, but was content in the knowledge that he would see her before the next snowfall. He would soon hold his wife in his arms again.
Until that time, he was the Lord of Rivendell. He was to protect his people from the threat of Saruman and Sauron. He would stand by that pledge, and not see the light of Rivendell put out before its time.
Before slipping off into a fitful sleep, Elrond said a quick prayer for the safety of the Fellowship. "God-speed, and good fortune my friends. May the light of the lady ever guide you."
And then, because he knew the old wizard would hear, Elrond whispered into the night, "Bring them home, old Friend."