Your welcome steph-h.
ME123, on the off chance that you're still reading this, I got Maranwe off a name translator. Put my name in and it came out. That is so weird, but cool.
Luthea . . . Here. Um, well, you get your wish. It's just the evilness in me that is keeping this angsty. I have so much fuel. *g*
Stacee Phelps, hi! You also get your wish, well at least part of it. We'll just have to see about the happy ending with Aragorn and Arwen back together again. This just might be the first step. Here.
And now, on to the much anticipated (lol) new chapter. Read and enjoy, then review. I love them. =D
If That's What It Takes
Lord Elrond stood on his balcony, overlooking the gardens of Imladris, beautiful as ever though the elf knew that would soon change, as soon as the elves left the shore of Middle-earth. The birds seemed to know the change, and it was a sweet melancholy that filled the air, the peace of the elven refuge tinged with sadness. He would that it was not so, yet he could not change it.
His keen, piercing blue eyes fell on his daughter below, walking slowly among the flowers, tending the blooms ere she departed. The fair Arwen Undomiel spent more time among the flowers than she ever had before, shunning social gatherings in favor of the quiet solitude of nature, her lovely face solemn and her countenance a perfect match for the birds' songs.
He rested his hands against the railing, his eyes never leaving his daughter's form as she finished her walk and sank to the ground, easing onto her back so she laid on the ground, her eyes turned listlessly to the sky, and it was not difficult to discern the shadows in her eyes, and he knew: she was think of Aragorn, Elessar, again.
It had surprised even him when Aragorn had announced there would be no wedding, that he would not join hands with the fairest being yet remaining in Middle-earth, that all he had hoped for since he came to manhood was what he was denying, even as he accepted what he had long denied. It was a surprise he was ashamed to admit had pleased him to no end for he had no desire to lose his daughter to the Doom of Men, the same doom that had stolen his brother so many years decades ago.
He had looked upon his youngest and seen no hesitation, no regret, and he wondered now if he had merely overlooked it because he did not wish to see it. But it was the distress of his only daughter that concerned him now. After her original distress, Arwen had seemed to take the announcement rather well, even participating in the many feasts held as parting tokens for the elves who left before them with seeming happiness. He had seen no pain in her then, and he knew that was because he did not wish to see it.
Now, though, he could see all. What he had originally noticed only a little while ago had actually come about slowly, and it was obvious now that her heart was still broken as she pulled away from anyone and everyone, hiding herself away. Even his high vantage point could not hide the pain that he could sense resting just beneath her desperate mask of calm. When the first tears fell, they seared his heart.
The elf lord wanted to protect his daughter, shelter her from the pain of loving a mortal, of losing one to their inevitable fate. He had been unable to change her mind, had known he would not be able to, and had turned instead to Aragorn, pleading with him that he let her go. Pain closed his eyes and it was not the kind that could be fought with aught but the heart, nor did he wish to. For all his wisdom and all his vaunted foresight, he had not seen this: in trying to protect his children, he had hurt them both.
He opened his eyes and looked at his daughter's face. Crystal tears formed in depthless blue eyes that held too much pain for one so fair, trickling down pale cheeks to catch gracefully pointed ears before being caught in silky black hair. Gone from her eyes was the light of the moon, of the stars, happiness in simply living in Middle-earth that had once been hers. Gone was the joy that had lit her face whenever Aragorn was near or she heard his name, the peace that seemed to settle over her when he stood near, and it shattered his heart anew to realize it was gone, to realize he was responsible for destroying the same joy in his daughter that he had delighted in seeing in Celebrian's eyes whenever she had looked at him.
Pain threatened to collapse his knees, and he leaned against the low balustrade for support, the odd clenching feeling about his middle tingling through his entire body and leaving him feeling even weaker than before. He lifted eyes he did not remember dropping and once again looked upon his daughter, looked upon her and knew.
For all the pain it would cause him, for as hard as he had fought to keep her by his side, as hard as it was to lose her, to leave her, it would be a million times worse to bind her to him in her pain, and know every time he looked into her eyes that the pain was there because of him. He would let her go. Whatever he had wanted, it was not this.
Twin footsteps, blended nearly into one, ghosted behind him and he did not need to look to see that Elladan and Elrohir had joined him in his vigil. They, too, gazed down upon Arwen and her pain was no less visible to them than to their father.
"You will depart soon?" Elladan asked softly, his voice abrupt in the silence that surrounded the elves.
"Aye," he answered, the pain he felt poorly concealed in his voice. "The Lady of the Golden Woods arrives soon with the kin who travel with her. It will not be long."
It would not be long, no, and he could not bear the thought of Arwen sailing to Valinor when her heart truly belonged in Middle-earth with Aragorn. Almost before he realized it, he murmured, "I would not have her go like this."
He felt startled eyes on him and nearly wept from the thought that his children would think him so cold-hearted as to glean any satisfaction from the pain of his only daughter. Nearly, but the pain was far too near. He whispered, "She still loves him."
"Aye, father," Elrohir answered. "She always will."
"Is his heart so set, I wonder," he mused, the thought voiced softly without any real consideration. But whatever answer he had expected, it was not silence, and his gaze was tempted towards his sons, tearing his eyes away from the image of his forlorn daughter. The pain he saw in their eyes gaze him pause, and he watched in fascinated anguish as Elladan gathered himself to speak.
"His heart breaks, Ada," he whispered brokenly. "He hides it well, even as does Arwen, but his heart yet yearns for the one he himself denied and he will take no other. He has not declaimed as such, but we believe he waits only for Arwen to pass over the sea before making his intentions known."
Elrohir took over. "His heart is not in his work; I do not think he has any heart to give. He eats if he is forced to eat and sleeps if he is forced to sleep, but if left to his own devices Aragorn would simply waste away, staring listlessly over something that would have previously brought him joy, or at the least solace, even as now does our dear sister." He paused a moment, eyes fixed on Arwen's still form. Then, "I fear for him, Ada. I fear for Gondor once his determination fails."
"And it will," Elladan continued, voice haunted. "Even now he just manages to pretend he isn't dying inside a little more with each day that passes. Most do not even see, but those who know him do. And one day, too much will have died and the shell will crumble and all will be lost. It is painful to watch, yet there is nothing that may be done."
The birds continued to sing, their tune even more mournful to the ears of the elven lord, and the skitter of squirrels and other such critters was slow with grief. All of Middle-earth mourned the passing of the elves; the grass, the rocks, the trees . . . the creatures. Arwen lamented the love she would never have once she sailed. Aragorn mourned the loss of the love he had denied himself for the happiness of others. The people of Gondor, whether they realized it or not, would mourn the loss of their king too soon. Elladan and Elrohir mourned the sadness and pain of two they considered family, and he mourned the death of joy he had caused in his children. It was too much pain for one time, too much in the face of such victory as the defeat of Sauron presented.
Heart breaking still more, eyes unwavering on his beloved daughter, he spoke.
"There is one thing."