Disclaimer: As in other chapters, Tolkien owns everything you don't recognise from the books.
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The council dispersed and each went their separate ways. Galwyn went first to the stables, where she brushed Nimsul until her coat shone, and made sure she had been well exercised, for the journey would be long, and arduous. Having done that, she returned briefly to her chambers to fetch the pair of white knives she wielded in preference to a sword and her quiver, and then made her way to the weaponry. She set about sharpening the blades until they would cut a hair lain across their edges. The knives themselves had been a gift from the Lord Glorfindel, who had taught her all she knew about weapon skills. They were made of silver, and were ornately decorated along the blades with elvish inscriptions to incite more strength and skill to the wielder. The handles too, made of a pale white-gold wood, were inlaid with gold and silver wire forming beautiful patterns and similar wordings to those on the blades. She needed also to collect arrows, and filled her quiver with the type she preferred: slightly longer, and a little thinner than the others, they were made of a pale wood, with green feathers for the fletches. As she left the weaponry, she realised that on the journey from Lórien, she had been the only one not armed for her weapons had been at Imladris, and that she had been dependent on the protection of the group. It was unlike her not to have noticed, for she hated not being in control of her own safety, but then a sudden image of Elrohir came into her mind, and she smiled as she remembered that she had been somewhat distracted. When she reached her chambers again, she put her quiver on her bed along with the knives in their special holder that allowed her to draw them both at the same time by reaching backwards. She found her bow, which, like her quiver, had come from Lórien, and ran her hands over the smooth wood, feeling the familiar patterns of the carvings beneath her fingers. It was longer than the bows she had seen the Mirkwood and Imladris elves carrying, and was slightly differently shaped as well. She remembered how she had reacted with surprise when she had first come to Rivendell, and Glorfindel had told her he would be instructing her in weaponry skills. While pleased she would be learning, she had been slightly confused. Surely if the situation arose, she could just transform? But then the answer had come to her; the frame of mind she needed to transform and maintain a form required peace and concentration, away from disturbance. In a battle situation, she would not be able to achieve this, and would have to rely on her own skills. And so she had learnt, and become competent in her skills, so that very occasionally, when she took on her teacher, she was able to win. Thanks to her half-elven heritage, she had inherited both the quick reflexes of the elves, and their heightened senses, so that her hearing and sight were as finely attuned as any elf's. She had not been a naturally good fighter, and it had taken much time, toil and practice to achieve what she had, and she was immensely proud of herself for overcoming her faults. The only problem was that she was probably the only one of the group who had never actually fought in a real situation, and while she blanched now at the thought of killing something, she knew she would not hesitate if she was called to do it. I will cross that bridge when I come to it…She thought, and concentrated on the task in hand: packing her spare clothes. She laid out on her bed several sets, two spare and one for the morning, each consisting of the distinctly un-glamorous clothing she had been used to wearing as a child but now only wore for travelling, but practicality was the key. In each set there was a high collared shirt, leggings and a knee-length tunic split up the sides to the waist. They were all of dark shades of blue and green, and the soft leather boots she placed beside the bed were of dark grey. She placed the clothing into her bag, and added to it her bedroll, and other things she knew she would need. When she was done, she cast her eyes around the room to see if she had missed anything, and, suddenly remembering it, picked up her Lórien cloak which was slit up the back to allow for her bow, knives and quiver, and added it to the pile of clothing she was going to wear the next day. She stood back and looked at her neatly packed bag, and smiled: She was done.
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After the council, having already made his preparations for the council, Elrohir had made his way with Elladan to the grassy courtyard where they had several targets set up. For a while they practiced in silence, intent on their activities, but after an hour had passed, Elladan set his bow down and waited for his brother to empty his quiver. Elrohir felt his twins' eyes on him, and as soon as he had let his last arrow fly to the centre of the target, he turned and went to where he was sitting on the grass, taking a seat beside him.
"Promise me you will be careful, Elrohir." Elladan said quietly, not looking at him.
"I swear it." The elder twin shook his head sadly and was silent for a moment before speaking again.
"I hate that we have to be parted."
"As do I, but these are not peaceful times. We must all make sacrifices."
"I know that, but sometimes it feels like we are the only ones who actually are." Elrohir nodded, knowing exactly what he meant: few could understand the pain the felt at parting. "I am happy for you, Elrohir, you know that, don't you?"
"Of course."
"I like her very much, it's just that…well, I have been thinking about it, and I think we have been a bit naïve."
"Naïve? Why?"
"Just remember what you are, Elrohir, and what she is not."
"I don't understand." But no matter how he protested, his twin would not explain himself further.
"Come, let us say goodbye now, while we still have some privacy left." Defeated, Elrohir nodded, and leaned into his brother's embrace.
"I love you."
"And I love you. Come back to me soon."
"I will. You won't even notice I'm gone." Elladan smiled ruefully at his younger brother's words and kissed him on both cheeks, before turning and walking away.
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The next morning came far sooner than Galwyn wanted. She woke up at dawn with the sunlight pouring through the windows, where she had deliberately left the curtains open to ensure she did not oversleep. Yawning, and stretching each of her limbs in turn, she hastily washed and pulled on the clothes she had left out for herself, and finishing it off with her silver belt. Casting a rueful look at the wardrobe full of beautiful gowns, she sat down in front of her mirror, and set about brushing then braiding her hair in the elven style: one thin plait at either ear, and the top layer of her hair pulled into a pony-tail, and then braided. She had filled all the space in her pack the previous night with the elven way bread, lembas, and she broke off the corner of one for her breakfast. Any other food would be found or hunted as they went, though as usual she would not partake in the eating of meat, for having been a rabbit or a deer for example, rather put one off eating it. She carefully strapped on her quiver and knives, making sure the straps were tight enough. With a last check through her pack, she pulled it onto her back, and was pleased to find it was not to heavy, and that she had, for once, packed efficiently. It was too warm to necessitate her cloak, so she had packed it, the material hardly taking up any space. Lastly, she slung her bow onto her shoulder, and then, she was ready. She made her way down to the stables, noticing that both Elrohir's and Haldir's horses were gone, and hurriedly led Nimsul out of her stall. As she rode into the courtyard, she realised that she was one of the last to arrive, and spotted Elrohir standing talking to the elf Léanor. She dismounted and walked over to him. He smiled as he saw her approach, and kissed her lightly, then introduced her to his friend. They spoke for a few minutes, before Gandalf and Celeborn arrived, signalling the departure. She noticed Elrohir's eyes casting about rather desperately, and realised he was looking for Elladan, who was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly she saw him, coming out of the woods, and she gently squeezed Elrohir's arm, and gestured with her head. He smiled his thanks, and went over to his twin. Galwyn watched from her horse with sadness, as they exchanged several words, embraced tenderly, then parted. When Elrohir mounted Celebmir, he cast one last look behind him, then fixed his gaze straight ahead, knowing that Elladan's eyes were burning into his back. With a word from Gandalf, they began to ride off, and, his eyes dark with sadness, Elrohir did not look back, knowing that if he did, the tears he was trying so hard to hold back would fall. Galwyn rode beside him silently, knowing he needed to deal with it himself, and knowing also that he would speak when he was ready. She rode level with Haldir, and they engaged themselves in light conversation, punctuated with long gaps where each was lost in thought. For the first time, Galwyn realised how hard it must be for Haldir to be away from Ralia. She had not witnessed their parting, but she had seen the look they had exchanged when they had left Lórien. The realisation came to her that probably every member of the group had to deal with leaving something precious behind somewhere, and that each was harbouring a personal pain. But nothing, no bond could compare to that shared by Elladan and Elrohir, for theirs was one that had been in existence their whole lives, and even before their births, and so its strength and depth were without equal. The thought subdued her for some time, until Haldir spoke again and she was drawn from her reverie. After they had stopped for a short break when the sun was high in the, for a drink and to give the horses a rest, Elrohir had still not spoken, but she suppressed the urge to comfort him. Instead, she found herself riding with the ranger Halbarad: a handsome young man a few years older than herself, with light brown hair and warm, dark brown eyes. She found his company to be engaging and pleasant, and the time passed quickly. Soon, the sun had fled from the sky and the stars had become visible. When they stopped for the day, she busied herself with brushing down Nimsul's coat. The rest of the group sat around the small fire they had made, more for light than heat as the evening was warm, merrily telling tales, singing songs and reciting poems. She looked around for Elrohir, but he was nowhere in sight. She sighed, but knew he would not be far. He had not returned by the time the group had retired for the night, and she was surrounded by sleeping bodies. She was sitting up on her bedroll a little way off from the others. She could just see the figures of the two on watch, Arùmil and Finrodan, sitting talking quietly together on the other side of the camp. She lay back on her bedroll, and closed her eyes, trying to find sleep, but her mind was clouded with worry. Suddenly she heard a tiny noise behind her, and she sat up and spun round, her tense body relaxing when she recognised Elrohir's form. He said nothing, but came and sat beside her, leaning his head against her shoulder as she gently wrapped her arms around him, one hand gently stroking his hair, and the other tenderly caressing his back. They stayed like that for some time, before she drew him down to lie with her on the bedroll and pulled a blanket around them, gently speaking soothing words into his ear until they both fell asleep, wrapped in each others arms.
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A/N: As usual, please review and let me know what you think!
