Chapter Twenty-Five: The Past Discovers the Future
Experience teaches slowly and at the cost of mistakes. -James A. Froude
Eryn Lasgalen, afternoon
The Woodland Realm, formerly Greenwood the Great and also once called Mirkwood, now known as Eryn Lasgalen, was known for many things. Their libraries were not one of the numerous things the realm was known for. Some of the more arrogant elves that, until recent times had resided in Lothlorien, Imladris, and the Grey Havens, believed that the rustic Wood Elves did not even know what a library was. However, the libraries in King Thranduil's palace were priceless to the royal family. They contained things more personal and important than books of lore that held tales all knew by memory from childhood. The library contained at least one journal from every member of the royal family. Personal histories of the realm set down by the kings; volumes that were priceless. Thranduil had always sworn history is best told from many points of view, and therefore had insisted that all of his sons detail their years since they had hit their majorities in journals that were to travel with them for their whole lives. It was a seemingly tedious task, the sons never understanding why the pointless actions of pointless years needed to be laid down in parchment and bound into leather confines; but Thranduil insisted it informing his sons that he still kept detailed accounts of his own life.
Legolas had enjoyed writing accounts of his years spent in the forest, the accounts of the few itineraries he had undertaken in his life, yet he did not have words for the past year of his existence. It was still too fresh, so many emotions whirling around inside of him at once. He just wanted..he did not know what he wanted.
Silence possibly.
Yes, silence. The memories to stop, and the sudden glimpses into the peaceful life Rhiannon was having in Imladris to cease. He sat for a moment thinking. She had said, when they had met, she needed Mithrandir's guidance on darkness in her own land. Yet she and Brhagdan did not seem in any hurry to get home. In fact, if he was to believe rumor, Brhagdan was residing in his father's halls this very moment.
Were they speaking of a more metaphorical darkness, or one of the future? Rhiannon certainly held a bit a foresight. Brhagdan may also. No, they had not seemed in any hurry at all. Had she had a vision about Arda and just assumed it was her own land? None of this made sense. None at all.
He pushed his chair back from the table he was sitting at and walked around the library. It was one of the few rooms situated in the above ground parts of the rock. As a child it had been an optimum hiding space when escaping from his tutors. None every thought to look for him in the dusty library, unless he was being punished. He truly did not start to misbehave until his mother left, and then he became a constant problem. That was until his father, realizing his son's tutors were beyond their breaking points, had sent his little Greenleaf out on a hunting part with some of the more ruffian of guards. Here he would not be treated as a prince but as the son of a woodsman. It was his father's way of teaching his son humility, that out in the darkness and on the battlefield, all are of equal birth; that a fancy title will not save you, that in fact being of a royal bloodline was imore/i of an incentive to get one killed or taken hostage. His father had an odd way of teaching, but his lessons only needed to be taught once. And all his sons had turned out well, despite what other's said. A rueful smile came to Legolas' face, Thranduil never listened to what others had to say, swearing that all that mattered was how your family and those whom you protected saw you. Their opinions meant the most. Legolas knew he never truly understood his father until now, and still had yet to understand all that comprised the character of the King of Mirkwood, but he knew enough to never begrudge his father anything now.
His mother..he knew that he should not hold on to a childish grudge with her, understanding now the true impact of the battle of duty and desire. His gaze traveled the bookcases that contained the diaries of his family. One was slightly jutted out from the others; it's binding capturing the light that filtered in through the windows. He reached up to pull the volume down, surprised at its heavy weight. The binding he had glanced was a tightly bound cloth, obviously protecting the cover of the volume he held in his hands. The mischievous part of him, still very rampant in his soul, even more magnified by his spirit being combined with Rhiannon, awoke and rose to the surface. As one who knows they are doing something wrong, he glanced around the room, reassuring himself that no one was there to watch. He carefully peeled the silver cloth back, its luster not dulled by age. His breath came out in a surprised gasp as he saw the cover of the volume. It was an etching on a plate of mithril, exquisite in its design, no wonder it felt so heavy. Small semi-precious stones were inlaid in the design of what appeared to be the four elements: earth, air, fire, and water. For his father's love of jewels, he would guess it to be one of his journals, but Thranduil favored thick leather-bound volumes that could hold as many entries as possible. The first two pages were all seemingly full of notes and inscriptions, in languages he did not truly understand. However, one was Quenya, rumored to be his mother native-tongue and the reason his father had named most of his children in that language, with the very glaring exception of him. He had questioned his father on this and was simply told, "You came into this world calm, ready to except your life as it was, all your siblings came kicking and screaming into this world, you were different, and so shall you remain."
So shall you remain..yes, he had held to that path. He opened the pages, he sense assailed with the smell of slightly musty parchment and oddly, still fresh ink. He scanned the two title pages again, which repeated the same paragraph over and over again in the many languages he did not recognize except for the last three: Quenya, Sindarin, and Westron. His eyes widened at the name inscribed in every paragraph: Vanelaure. His mother.
*********
Imladris, dusk
She walked in the moonlight, weaving in and out of the gardens' paths, paying no heed to others that walked that night, and yet they all looked after her. There was something in her presence all could sense, as if she was drowning in memories. A hooded cape covered her, a slight chill in Imladris' air with the power of Vilya now destroyed. The hood obscured her face, the starlight only occasionally flashing off her eyes. She was on this earth, and yet her mind was walking in a whole other world. He watched from his balcony studying her, making sure no one harmed her.
Elladan had long ago come to terms with the fact that he was not the marrying type and was not attracted to Rhiannon. What for her had been true affection, for him had been a farce to please his father. He felt a brotherly feeling towards her, felt connected with another that seemed so out of place in the world of the elves. She had understood what it was like to grow up with the sneering insults of not having a full pedigree. And yet he had known since he met her that he was not destined to be with her, that they would be a star-crossed match, that she had more in her future. He regretted having ended their engagement the way he had, the ramifications of such an act still being felt in her home, and yet he knew all would work out. Soon, they would stop hunting her. Her father sought a match for his daughter with a warrior for a reason: she would always have protection, protection even more so than that a brother can give. She was not made to be the wife of a warrior, she did not dwell in that genre of pain.
No, Rhiannon was a survivor of the darker side of pain, the emotional side, the one that left you with a darkness on your very soul. You could not tell when you met her now. She covered her pain well, it was a guarantee even Legolas did not know the darkest secrets that laid in her past. Rhiannon was here, in this realm for one reason and one reason alone, she was hunted. The prey of those that crave power. They wanted to trap her, torture her, and convert her power into something they could use. Like the Dark Lords had done with those elves that had been tortured and turned into orcs. However, so long as Rhiannon remained what she was, and held on to that last human part of herself, she was not in total danger. Truly bonding with Legolas, truly forsaking her own people, would put her in the most danger; would change her.
And yet, was that not her fate? Was she not like Estel? So long a fight of trying to escape their destiny that in the end had to be faced anyway. There was no need for her to drown in these memories, she needed to pull away from them before she was in full despair.
*******
She had not been in Imladris for very long and already she was always finding herself looking elsewhere. Anyone that looked at her would know that her heart was not in the River Valley, but then again, none were these days. She jumped as a voice spoke behind her,
"You are in your own world, little one. Come out of it and talk to me."
Her eyes were widened, still stunned, that someone had dared to disturb her thoughts.
"What is it you wish to speak of, Elladan? I admit, we have not said much to each other in the past few years."
"Only because we could not find the words to speak to each other, but now everything is in its perspective and we have no need to wander in the world of uncertainty. Your mind must turn to other things."
"Other things, what things?"
"Tell me..tell me of your adventures."
"Bilbo and Glorfindel can repeat such tales to you."
He smiled that winning smile of his, it used to make her melt, now it made her think of another, "You are being difficult."
She narrowed her eyes, "It's hard not to be difficult around you, I have this predetermined anger towards you."
"Then try to let go of your grudge. Now, tell me.I remember how Elrohir was before he wed, that was quite a morning, tell me how was Estel?"
"You were there -"
Elladan let out a very exasperated breath, "For Eru's sake Rhiannon, can you be any more literal? How was he between the time we left for Gondor and the time Arwen arrived?"
Rhiannon straightened her shoulders,
"He was as to be expected, willing and able but very, very nervous."
*********
Minas Tirith, 25th of May
Aragorn had not been in the sweetest of temperaments these past few days, understandably so as his soon-to-be Queen was on her way with a none-too- happy father. That, however, was not the deepest problem in Aragorn's mind.
Rhiannon came upon him, sitting in a hidden alcove on the highest level of the city,
"Why has the newly crowned King chosen to hide himself already? You do not even have advisors to nag you about pointless matters yet?"
Not even a twitch of the lips.
"Aragorn?"
"I wonder..if this is what I truly am. Am I only King by birthright, by prophecy, but not by power? How am I to lead all these people?"
"You led the Rangers."
"The Rangers are my people."
"You led an army."
"That would have been completely unsuccessful if not for Gandalf and Frodo."
"Gollum, actually, but Frodo did get the Ring into Mount Doom."
"Can you just gloss over the details for once in your existence? I need the sage witch that I know you are. I do not feel myself. I feel lost."
Rhiannon slowly sat down next to Aragorn, disgust at the fact it now mattered to her to keep her dress clean,
"You have more sense than to know you could not come out of this unchanged. The prophecy says.."
"You were the one that told me not to put my full faith in prophecy, that it was a tricky business, that it was not fool-proof. You said I could control my own fate."
Rhiannon grasped Aragorn's weather and weary-beaten face in her hands,
"And you have, my friend, you have. You made the decisions that have brought you to this fate. Your original plan was to go along with the Ring- bearer until your own destination was reached, to travel with Boromir of Gondor. And when that path changed, you still chose to go after two small hobbits, with the unlikely companionship of an elf and a dwarf. You choose to align yourself with mortal men, you helped the kingdom of Rohan greatly in their fight. You called out to the Dead to have them fulfill their vows. You performed actions that ensured Sauron's eye would be fixed on you, so that Frodo and the ever-faithful Samwise Gamgee could slip into Mordor, to Mount Doom with very little to trace them. You have taken what is rightfully yours; your title. You have taken back your true heritage. My dear Ranger, you are now a King. And here you sit, on dirty steps, awaiting an escort from Rivendell that will not come for at least another two months. You are quite a site to see. And to these people, the lands of Men, you are their savior, their answer to prayers they must have felt have fallen on deaf ears. Why do you doubt yourself so?"
"Perhaps it is human nature."
"Estel, Elessar, when have you ever been truly human? You are the most elvish man I know. But yes, it is natural to doubt one's self."
Rhiannon was silent for a moment and then placed a soft hand on Aragorn's shoulder, "I am so very proud of you. We all are. You are very special, very gifted Estel. Never doubt that." She stood up and dusted off her skirts. Aragorn inclined his head,
"Where are you going?"
Rhiannon took in a deep breath of the city air, the scent of ash forever lingering in it,
"I must go deliver some upsetting news to one I never wish to hurt, and yet know I will in the end of it all."
"You have seen something?"
"He goes where I can not follow. I can not allow myself."
"Mithrandir told me, and Legolas, that through some sort of ritual you can become a full elf. You are practically one as it is."
"I shall never do that. I value my humanity too much."
Aragorn seemed to consider this for some time.
"Will you die, Rhiannon? Are you like me, gifted with a longer life-span?"
"Why these questions?"
"I am starting to realize I have never truly known you. You hide so much."
"No one truly knows me. I do not even know myself. And to answer your question, no, I am not human in the way you think. My father's father is of an immortal race. Similar to Brhagdan's mother but not quite so. Now, if you will excuse me, I must see an elf about an.elf."
***************
Imladris
"Gandalf told Legolas..did you speak of it?"
"Of course not, I have no need to give him false hope, you know my path does not lie in the West."
"It does not as of now. The Sun rises in the East, but all sets in the West."
"The Loremaster's son makes himself known."
"I do not understand how it is possible."
"It is just a plea to the Valar through Mithrandir after Legolas and I would be married in front of him in an elvish ceremony."
"But, you would not have one for it would not be seen as valid in your eyes."
"You are correct."
"Is nothing with you simple?"
"Truly? No. It is even more complicated the further you get into my history."
"I know that those of a darker nature hunt you in your homeland."
"I suspected you to know when our betrothal was going through, seeing as how that was the grounds for it."
"Are you still pursued?"
"Even more so. In the future they will burn my kind at the stake. They will hang us, they will drown us, they will pierce us with sword and spear."
"This is the world you wish to save?"
"This is the world you have just helped to save. All goodness fades into darkness for some time to rise again and then to fade."
"How much longer?"
"You will not be here, it will not be for a very long time. I will still reside near Arda, as will my brother and your Grandfather."
"Why.."
"Ancient vows. The people of the Woodland Realm will also still be, also still bound by duty. Imladris however, will be a long-forgotten realm where fact has faded into legend. Children will hear tales about Elrond the Wise and his tragic life. They will hear of his steadfast sons and his beautiful daughter, of his resident hobbit and re-born Balrog slayer."
"I now feel all warm and fuzzy inside."
"I know a few chamber maids that will offer to help you with that, a few butlers also."
"Such a sharp tongue. I will pass on the maids.for now.the butlers maybe."
"Glutton."
"Insolent witch."
"I've missed you."
"I have also missed you. We both were far too prideful and stupid for far too long."
"Journey with me when Legolas comes to collect me."
"Why?"
"I have a certain elf I wish for you to meet, you did not get the chance to meet him when we were all in Minas Tirith."
*****
Proper format of the chapters (spacing, italics, all that) can be found at the website on my author page since fanfic.net cuts it out of the chapters. Also, please, please review. I would sincerely like to know how people feel about the last few chapters, and I greatly appreciate it.
Experience teaches slowly and at the cost of mistakes. -James A. Froude
Eryn Lasgalen, afternoon
The Woodland Realm, formerly Greenwood the Great and also once called Mirkwood, now known as Eryn Lasgalen, was known for many things. Their libraries were not one of the numerous things the realm was known for. Some of the more arrogant elves that, until recent times had resided in Lothlorien, Imladris, and the Grey Havens, believed that the rustic Wood Elves did not even know what a library was. However, the libraries in King Thranduil's palace were priceless to the royal family. They contained things more personal and important than books of lore that held tales all knew by memory from childhood. The library contained at least one journal from every member of the royal family. Personal histories of the realm set down by the kings; volumes that were priceless. Thranduil had always sworn history is best told from many points of view, and therefore had insisted that all of his sons detail their years since they had hit their majorities in journals that were to travel with them for their whole lives. It was a seemingly tedious task, the sons never understanding why the pointless actions of pointless years needed to be laid down in parchment and bound into leather confines; but Thranduil insisted it informing his sons that he still kept detailed accounts of his own life.
Legolas had enjoyed writing accounts of his years spent in the forest, the accounts of the few itineraries he had undertaken in his life, yet he did not have words for the past year of his existence. It was still too fresh, so many emotions whirling around inside of him at once. He just wanted..he did not know what he wanted.
Silence possibly.
Yes, silence. The memories to stop, and the sudden glimpses into the peaceful life Rhiannon was having in Imladris to cease. He sat for a moment thinking. She had said, when they had met, she needed Mithrandir's guidance on darkness in her own land. Yet she and Brhagdan did not seem in any hurry to get home. In fact, if he was to believe rumor, Brhagdan was residing in his father's halls this very moment.
Were they speaking of a more metaphorical darkness, or one of the future? Rhiannon certainly held a bit a foresight. Brhagdan may also. No, they had not seemed in any hurry at all. Had she had a vision about Arda and just assumed it was her own land? None of this made sense. None at all.
He pushed his chair back from the table he was sitting at and walked around the library. It was one of the few rooms situated in the above ground parts of the rock. As a child it had been an optimum hiding space when escaping from his tutors. None every thought to look for him in the dusty library, unless he was being punished. He truly did not start to misbehave until his mother left, and then he became a constant problem. That was until his father, realizing his son's tutors were beyond their breaking points, had sent his little Greenleaf out on a hunting part with some of the more ruffian of guards. Here he would not be treated as a prince but as the son of a woodsman. It was his father's way of teaching his son humility, that out in the darkness and on the battlefield, all are of equal birth; that a fancy title will not save you, that in fact being of a royal bloodline was imore/i of an incentive to get one killed or taken hostage. His father had an odd way of teaching, but his lessons only needed to be taught once. And all his sons had turned out well, despite what other's said. A rueful smile came to Legolas' face, Thranduil never listened to what others had to say, swearing that all that mattered was how your family and those whom you protected saw you. Their opinions meant the most. Legolas knew he never truly understood his father until now, and still had yet to understand all that comprised the character of the King of Mirkwood, but he knew enough to never begrudge his father anything now.
His mother..he knew that he should not hold on to a childish grudge with her, understanding now the true impact of the battle of duty and desire. His gaze traveled the bookcases that contained the diaries of his family. One was slightly jutted out from the others; it's binding capturing the light that filtered in through the windows. He reached up to pull the volume down, surprised at its heavy weight. The binding he had glanced was a tightly bound cloth, obviously protecting the cover of the volume he held in his hands. The mischievous part of him, still very rampant in his soul, even more magnified by his spirit being combined with Rhiannon, awoke and rose to the surface. As one who knows they are doing something wrong, he glanced around the room, reassuring himself that no one was there to watch. He carefully peeled the silver cloth back, its luster not dulled by age. His breath came out in a surprised gasp as he saw the cover of the volume. It was an etching on a plate of mithril, exquisite in its design, no wonder it felt so heavy. Small semi-precious stones were inlaid in the design of what appeared to be the four elements: earth, air, fire, and water. For his father's love of jewels, he would guess it to be one of his journals, but Thranduil favored thick leather-bound volumes that could hold as many entries as possible. The first two pages were all seemingly full of notes and inscriptions, in languages he did not truly understand. However, one was Quenya, rumored to be his mother native-tongue and the reason his father had named most of his children in that language, with the very glaring exception of him. He had questioned his father on this and was simply told, "You came into this world calm, ready to except your life as it was, all your siblings came kicking and screaming into this world, you were different, and so shall you remain."
So shall you remain..yes, he had held to that path. He opened the pages, he sense assailed with the smell of slightly musty parchment and oddly, still fresh ink. He scanned the two title pages again, which repeated the same paragraph over and over again in the many languages he did not recognize except for the last three: Quenya, Sindarin, and Westron. His eyes widened at the name inscribed in every paragraph: Vanelaure. His mother.
*********
Imladris, dusk
She walked in the moonlight, weaving in and out of the gardens' paths, paying no heed to others that walked that night, and yet they all looked after her. There was something in her presence all could sense, as if she was drowning in memories. A hooded cape covered her, a slight chill in Imladris' air with the power of Vilya now destroyed. The hood obscured her face, the starlight only occasionally flashing off her eyes. She was on this earth, and yet her mind was walking in a whole other world. He watched from his balcony studying her, making sure no one harmed her.
Elladan had long ago come to terms with the fact that he was not the marrying type and was not attracted to Rhiannon. What for her had been true affection, for him had been a farce to please his father. He felt a brotherly feeling towards her, felt connected with another that seemed so out of place in the world of the elves. She had understood what it was like to grow up with the sneering insults of not having a full pedigree. And yet he had known since he met her that he was not destined to be with her, that they would be a star-crossed match, that she had more in her future. He regretted having ended their engagement the way he had, the ramifications of such an act still being felt in her home, and yet he knew all would work out. Soon, they would stop hunting her. Her father sought a match for his daughter with a warrior for a reason: she would always have protection, protection even more so than that a brother can give. She was not made to be the wife of a warrior, she did not dwell in that genre of pain.
No, Rhiannon was a survivor of the darker side of pain, the emotional side, the one that left you with a darkness on your very soul. You could not tell when you met her now. She covered her pain well, it was a guarantee even Legolas did not know the darkest secrets that laid in her past. Rhiannon was here, in this realm for one reason and one reason alone, she was hunted. The prey of those that crave power. They wanted to trap her, torture her, and convert her power into something they could use. Like the Dark Lords had done with those elves that had been tortured and turned into orcs. However, so long as Rhiannon remained what she was, and held on to that last human part of herself, she was not in total danger. Truly bonding with Legolas, truly forsaking her own people, would put her in the most danger; would change her.
And yet, was that not her fate? Was she not like Estel? So long a fight of trying to escape their destiny that in the end had to be faced anyway. There was no need for her to drown in these memories, she needed to pull away from them before she was in full despair.
*******
She had not been in Imladris for very long and already she was always finding herself looking elsewhere. Anyone that looked at her would know that her heart was not in the River Valley, but then again, none were these days. She jumped as a voice spoke behind her,
"You are in your own world, little one. Come out of it and talk to me."
Her eyes were widened, still stunned, that someone had dared to disturb her thoughts.
"What is it you wish to speak of, Elladan? I admit, we have not said much to each other in the past few years."
"Only because we could not find the words to speak to each other, but now everything is in its perspective and we have no need to wander in the world of uncertainty. Your mind must turn to other things."
"Other things, what things?"
"Tell me..tell me of your adventures."
"Bilbo and Glorfindel can repeat such tales to you."
He smiled that winning smile of his, it used to make her melt, now it made her think of another, "You are being difficult."
She narrowed her eyes, "It's hard not to be difficult around you, I have this predetermined anger towards you."
"Then try to let go of your grudge. Now, tell me.I remember how Elrohir was before he wed, that was quite a morning, tell me how was Estel?"
"You were there -"
Elladan let out a very exasperated breath, "For Eru's sake Rhiannon, can you be any more literal? How was he between the time we left for Gondor and the time Arwen arrived?"
Rhiannon straightened her shoulders,
"He was as to be expected, willing and able but very, very nervous."
*********
Minas Tirith, 25th of May
Aragorn had not been in the sweetest of temperaments these past few days, understandably so as his soon-to-be Queen was on her way with a none-too- happy father. That, however, was not the deepest problem in Aragorn's mind.
Rhiannon came upon him, sitting in a hidden alcove on the highest level of the city,
"Why has the newly crowned King chosen to hide himself already? You do not even have advisors to nag you about pointless matters yet?"
Not even a twitch of the lips.
"Aragorn?"
"I wonder..if this is what I truly am. Am I only King by birthright, by prophecy, but not by power? How am I to lead all these people?"
"You led the Rangers."
"The Rangers are my people."
"You led an army."
"That would have been completely unsuccessful if not for Gandalf and Frodo."
"Gollum, actually, but Frodo did get the Ring into Mount Doom."
"Can you just gloss over the details for once in your existence? I need the sage witch that I know you are. I do not feel myself. I feel lost."
Rhiannon slowly sat down next to Aragorn, disgust at the fact it now mattered to her to keep her dress clean,
"You have more sense than to know you could not come out of this unchanged. The prophecy says.."
"You were the one that told me not to put my full faith in prophecy, that it was a tricky business, that it was not fool-proof. You said I could control my own fate."
Rhiannon grasped Aragorn's weather and weary-beaten face in her hands,
"And you have, my friend, you have. You made the decisions that have brought you to this fate. Your original plan was to go along with the Ring- bearer until your own destination was reached, to travel with Boromir of Gondor. And when that path changed, you still chose to go after two small hobbits, with the unlikely companionship of an elf and a dwarf. You choose to align yourself with mortal men, you helped the kingdom of Rohan greatly in their fight. You called out to the Dead to have them fulfill their vows. You performed actions that ensured Sauron's eye would be fixed on you, so that Frodo and the ever-faithful Samwise Gamgee could slip into Mordor, to Mount Doom with very little to trace them. You have taken what is rightfully yours; your title. You have taken back your true heritage. My dear Ranger, you are now a King. And here you sit, on dirty steps, awaiting an escort from Rivendell that will not come for at least another two months. You are quite a site to see. And to these people, the lands of Men, you are their savior, their answer to prayers they must have felt have fallen on deaf ears. Why do you doubt yourself so?"
"Perhaps it is human nature."
"Estel, Elessar, when have you ever been truly human? You are the most elvish man I know. But yes, it is natural to doubt one's self."
Rhiannon was silent for a moment and then placed a soft hand on Aragorn's shoulder, "I am so very proud of you. We all are. You are very special, very gifted Estel. Never doubt that." She stood up and dusted off her skirts. Aragorn inclined his head,
"Where are you going?"
Rhiannon took in a deep breath of the city air, the scent of ash forever lingering in it,
"I must go deliver some upsetting news to one I never wish to hurt, and yet know I will in the end of it all."
"You have seen something?"
"He goes where I can not follow. I can not allow myself."
"Mithrandir told me, and Legolas, that through some sort of ritual you can become a full elf. You are practically one as it is."
"I shall never do that. I value my humanity too much."
Aragorn seemed to consider this for some time.
"Will you die, Rhiannon? Are you like me, gifted with a longer life-span?"
"Why these questions?"
"I am starting to realize I have never truly known you. You hide so much."
"No one truly knows me. I do not even know myself. And to answer your question, no, I am not human in the way you think. My father's father is of an immortal race. Similar to Brhagdan's mother but not quite so. Now, if you will excuse me, I must see an elf about an.elf."
***************
Imladris
"Gandalf told Legolas..did you speak of it?"
"Of course not, I have no need to give him false hope, you know my path does not lie in the West."
"It does not as of now. The Sun rises in the East, but all sets in the West."
"The Loremaster's son makes himself known."
"I do not understand how it is possible."
"It is just a plea to the Valar through Mithrandir after Legolas and I would be married in front of him in an elvish ceremony."
"But, you would not have one for it would not be seen as valid in your eyes."
"You are correct."
"Is nothing with you simple?"
"Truly? No. It is even more complicated the further you get into my history."
"I know that those of a darker nature hunt you in your homeland."
"I suspected you to know when our betrothal was going through, seeing as how that was the grounds for it."
"Are you still pursued?"
"Even more so. In the future they will burn my kind at the stake. They will hang us, they will drown us, they will pierce us with sword and spear."
"This is the world you wish to save?"
"This is the world you have just helped to save. All goodness fades into darkness for some time to rise again and then to fade."
"How much longer?"
"You will not be here, it will not be for a very long time. I will still reside near Arda, as will my brother and your Grandfather."
"Why.."
"Ancient vows. The people of the Woodland Realm will also still be, also still bound by duty. Imladris however, will be a long-forgotten realm where fact has faded into legend. Children will hear tales about Elrond the Wise and his tragic life. They will hear of his steadfast sons and his beautiful daughter, of his resident hobbit and re-born Balrog slayer."
"I now feel all warm and fuzzy inside."
"I know a few chamber maids that will offer to help you with that, a few butlers also."
"Such a sharp tongue. I will pass on the maids.for now.the butlers maybe."
"Glutton."
"Insolent witch."
"I've missed you."
"I have also missed you. We both were far too prideful and stupid for far too long."
"Journey with me when Legolas comes to collect me."
"Why?"
"I have a certain elf I wish for you to meet, you did not get the chance to meet him when we were all in Minas Tirith."
*****
Proper format of the chapters (spacing, italics, all that) can be found at the website on my author page since fanfic.net cuts it out of the chapters. Also, please, please review. I would sincerely like to know how people feel about the last few chapters, and I greatly appreciate it.