Disclaimer: Recognizable characters, places, concepts, and events are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien estate.

Author's Notes: Quite a lot this time! First of all, the illustration is available. Because the address is so long, and I have mistyped it multiple times, the link is not here but on my profile page. Like this fic, anything Tolkien-ish is Tolkien's, but the original artwork is mine. The color is not the best, but I personally feel that it turned out halfway decent!

Also, this could be the end of the story...but it feels unfinished. What do you all think? Let me know, all right? I'm thinking that since this chapter is sort of melancholy, we'll need another rolling on the floor Legolas moment at least.

And now to the reviews! Many repeated thanks to you all!

*Queen of Shadows: So you're not a morning person either? So happy you liked the chapter.

*Katherine: Yes...only a child would toss water on a Balrog. Thank you for the comment on my writing style! That is so kind!

*Dragon-of-the-north: I'm always so excited to read your reviews! The very best brother, huh? I didn't expect to portray my characters that well!

I enjoy giving Thranduil smart things to say---if Elrond can be interesting, so can he!

So glad you enjoyed yourself at the breakfast. Yes, I'm sure Galdor would have looked right down his nose at you had you eaten porridge without a spoon. : )

*Esgalromen: Yeah, Galdor is pretty sophisticated. Rules and proper ways to do stuff. It hasn't taken me a full week to update...

*daw: Very happy that you liked the chapter. Thank you for the comment on Thranduil's caring for his wife---so glad it's appreciated.

*Bean02: Thrilled that you think my writing is so enjoyable to read. I try! : ) *sticks gold star on own forehead* Thank you!

*EMerald QUeen: It's okay if you don't like Galdor...he's leaving. "Stupid Elf"-LOL! Mmmm, tasty cookie. Protect them from the muses!

*Da MuSHRoom PRiNCeSS: Yes! I've snagged another reviewer! Thank you for reading (and reviewing!).

*Galadriel Lorien: Yes...my limited knowledge of Sindarin forced me to compose a fairly childish song. Good thing Legolas sang it and not me (it would have been mutilated even further!).

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Rated for angst in the first few chapters.

I'm very happy that everyone thinks little Legolas is so cute!

Also, it is so touching that you all feel so bad for poor Thilómë. We seem to like Elf-angst...maybe so we can all feel horrible for them!

Do keep reviewing! Your wonderful reviews have bred a Gollum-y kind of desire in me for more! (Not a love-hate desire, as for the Ring, but a love- love one, as for juicy sweet fish!).

Questions and comments are always welcome!

---Aranel

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Chapter 10~*~The Choice is Made

Legolas ran to the windows in the sitting room, pressing his hands against the glass. The rain struck the carefully cut plates, collecting and making a whole map of tiny running rivers. The Elfling drew his hands back after a moment, rubbing them together, "It's cold!"

"Of course it is," Aldandil strode to the window, looking out. Already the ground and trees were wet, shiny with an icy sheen, "It's so cold that the rain is freezing. Lord Galdor shouldn't be happy with that."

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Lord Galdor, in fact, was quite upset with the rain. He had gotten no more than an hour into his journey when down it poured, eventually freezing on his horse, his companions, and himself. He pulled the hood of his cloak closer, trying to fend off the wind and rain. Oh, to get back to Imladris, and then the Havens! Galdor wiped his chilled, wet nose, "Wretched weather!"

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Heading to the sitting room, Thilómë could hear the downpour. She glanced at Thranduil, walking along beside her. His step was long and even, and he seemed to be deep in thought about something. "Do you really think we should tell him?" she caught his gaze.

"He already knows that something isn't right," Thranduil nodded slightly, "He can read it in us."

Thilómë paused at the entryway to the sitting room, looking at her sons. They stood near the windows, Aldandil pointing things out to his younger brother. How many times had she sat on that bench with them, listening to their stories, answering their questions? If she left, there would be only memories...she would not hear their voices again, enjoy their new tales. She stepped over to the bench now, smoothing her dress and sitting down.

"Nana!" Legolas turned and skipped over to her, then attempted to pull himself onto her lap, "There was a bird, a red one! I saw it."

"Oh?" Thilómë lifted him up. How much effort should it take to pick up a child? Her arms ached, but she smiled, "I heard that you had a little adventure this morning."

Legolas glanced towards the windows, putting a finger to his mouth, "Yes."

"Next time you run away from a Balrog, maybe you'll wear more clothes," Thilómë turned his face towards her.

Her son nodded absently, then turned to her with an amused grin, "But Nana, Balrogs are hot."

Thilómë managed a short laugh, then turned towards her older child, "Aldandil, there's something I want to speak with you about."

Had the incident this morning really been so awful? Aldandil sighed, and then sat down in a chair across from his mother. When his father took a place near her, Aldandil got genuinely worried. Their main form of punishment had always been lectures...long, guilt-inspiring lectures, ever since he had been little. Just how long would this one last? He could already hear himself promising never to chase Legolas again, to dutifully teach his brother restraint and self-discipline, and to never get him into any kind of embarrassing situations again.

After prompting Legolas to go and play on the floor, Thilómë turned to Aldandil. How should she start? "Aldandil, I have a difficult choice to make," she stared at her son for a moment. How tall he had grown! Looking at him, she remembered pulling him into her arms when he was small, having him near to her. When had she last held him close? Reminding herself of her purpose, Thilómë went on, "I've been very tired...Middle-Earth holds little joy for me now. I must decide between going into the West, or remaining here, with you."

What had she said? Aldandil gaped at his mother, then instinctively closed his mouth. It was true; ever since Legolas's birth she had seemed...well, apathetic to the trees, the flowers, even the stars. But to leave? He shifted in his chair, "Go? What will that do?"

"There is peace and rest in Aman," Thranduil responded evenly, "Her spirit would have respite and content there."

It seemed to make sense, and yet it didn't. Aldandil kept silent, trying to piece it all together logically in his head. Yes, his mother deserved to be at peace. She was weary, as she had said, and he knew of her love for the green things that she no longer felt close to. Still, another part of him argued that she should stay. Why? It was a combination of things: there was the closeness between his parents...a future without her nearby...he would miss her terribly..and..and..Aldandil started at the thought, "What about Legolas?"

At his name, the Elfling looked up from where he was playing. He hadn't paid attention to any of the conversation, but his brother sounded so concerned that he cocked his head to the side, "What?"

A stream of thoughts had filled Aldandil's mind though, and he sat straight in his chair, staring at his parents. Certainly they had considered this. He glanced quickly at Legolas, then back to them, "You wouldn't take him with you, would you?"

Thilómë's brow wrinkled in confusion, "Why would I? I would prefer to go and take you all with me, but it isn't your time. There are still too many things for you here."

"Haven't you thought about what it would do to him?" Aldandil tried to contain his frustration. They hadn't even thought about it! Had it even entered their minds?

Thranduil laid a hand on his son's shoulder, attempting to calm him, "Of course we've thought about it. I'd expect him to be no less upset than you or I. This is difficult for all of us, but we must think of what is best for your mother..."

"That isn't it!" Aldandil interrupted, looking towards his brother again. Legolas was staring at the three of them wide-eyed. Although the argument was fairly quiet, he had rarely seen them dispute, and never over him. Aldandil turned back to his parents, still upset but quieter, "He's not strong enough yet! Naneth, his spirit is still weak. Will it get weaker? How will he grow? What will it do to him?"

The questions pulled at something in Thilómë. She had considered the effects of her leaving on her family, many times over. Yes, they would be upset for awhile, but she hadn't considered Legolas's spirit. Instead of answering, she held out her arms to her younger son, "Come here, Legolas."

Legolas was glad to be back in his mother's comforting embrace. He was rather worried, although he wasn't quite sure why. He looked up at her, "Nana, what's wrong?"

Thilómë gave the little one a sad smile. How would she tell him? She ran a hand over his head, "Legolas, do you remember Eärendil?"

"Yes!" he perked up, suddenly happier. Eärendil was a good thing, the star. If Nana was going to talk about a star, everything would be all right. He smiled, "In the boat, up in the sky. With the shiny...rock on his head, for a star."

"Silmaril, yes," Thilómë nodded, "Legolas, I am thinking about taking a trip like Eärendil."

"In a big boat?" Legolas got excited. Nana would ride in a big boat! "Are we all going to go?"

"No," Thilómë shook her head, "Just me."

"Oh," there was a tinge of disappointment in Legolas's voice, and he looked away from her, "I guess that would be all right."

"Legolas, do you remember what I told you about Eärendil though?" Thilómë waited for an answer, but only got a blank look. She forced the words to come, "Legolas, Eärendil could never..."

Never come back! Which meant...

"No!" Legolas pushed himself far back enough to see his mother's face, "No, Nana!" As hot, runny tears filled his eyes, he pushed his face into her shoulder, repeating the words.

Thilómë rubbed her son's back in a circle, ignoring the tears gathering under her own eyes. She looked towards her husband. Thranduil's face was a complicated web of uneasiness. She could see his concern for Legolas, but his worry for her was still obvious. When she glanced at Aldandil, the young Elf was staring at the wall, distressed.

Thranduil laid a hand on his wife's arm, speaking softly, "It's still your decision. In time, we would all be alright. Only you know what is best for yourself."

"No," Thilómë managed to smile at her husband, and she leaned towards him, brushing her fingertips across the side of his face, "The decision is made. It has been as I have always felt. I can't leave."

"You're doing this for us," Thranduil protested, taking her hand.

"I'm doing it for myself," Thilómë felt her husband's fingers wrapping around her own, "How could I leave if thoughts of you all would always follow me? There may be peace in Aman, but is there love?"