Disclaimer: Much of this stuff is Tolkien's. Mmmmkay.
Parted
Chapter 2: Memories
All of them stood there on the shores, looking out over that great, golden sea. Elrond Peredhil, Arwen Undómiel, Aragorn Elessar, and a few others, among them Frodo Baggins the ringbearer, for whom Arwen had pleaded with the Valar and gained access to Valinor, in compensation for the horrible pain and suffering he endured for the good of Middle-Earth. They'd all been teleported there by the Valar in order to assure that the journey would be made at the appointed time. Elrond stared, proudly and lovingly, but extremely sadly, at his daughter. This would be the last time he would see her. Ever. Never again. This was it.
"Master Elrond!" called the boatman. "Are you ready? We must make haste...there is a storm on the way."
"I will never be ready," he slowly and sadly replied as he reflected upon the last several thousand years.
He held the little elfling in his arms, barely big enough to be held with both arms. "Arwen Undómiel," he quietly called her. A smile came over his face as he observed once again the miracle of life. She was his daughter...born of his own flesh and of his wife, Celebrían's. He would raise her up to be everything good that an elf woman could possibly be.
Nothing and no-one would ever come between them.
"Ada!" A shrill cry echoed from down the hall. "ADA!"
Elrond quickly jumped out of bed and ran out of the bedroom, and down the hall to where his precious Undómiel slept. In he went, and there she was, crying uncontrollably and shaking violently. He rushed to her bedside and picked her up into his arms. "Everything will be all right," he said as he stroked her hair gently.
"I had a bad dream about Nana," she slowly wailed.
"Don't worry about Nana," Elrond reassured her. "She's gone to Valinor, where all her wounds, both physical and emotional, have by now been healed." Of course Arwen hadn't the faintest about true emotional wounds, but Elrond needed to be reminded from time to time that his wife was just fine, and the comment was halfway directed at himself.
This seemed to quiet the little elf down a bit. But she was still uneasy. "Ada, can I sleep in your bed tonight?"
Elrond took one look into her eyes and could not refuse. He couldn't have refused before he looked into her eyes, but he looked into her eyes anyway, just for the added assurance. "Of course, Undómiel."
Nothing and no-one would ever come between them. Not even horrible sadness stemming from the loss of a loved one.
"Weaving is boring. I want to go shoot the bow some more."
Well, if she wasn't going to be a housewife, perhaps she'd make a fine warrior, or a ranger. So be it! Elrond was perfectly happy with this. Whatever she wanted, he wanted. So, out they went to shoot the bow some more. Unfortunately, Elladan and Elrohir had decided they were going to practice their archery skills as well, and had gone out to do so without permission.
Arwen had just lined up her shot, and was on the verge of shooting, when a horrible gust of wind came up. "Stupid thing! Ada, the wind is making the bow shake all over the place!"
Unfortunately, Arwen's bow was the least of the problems to be caused by the wind. For blown off course from afar was an arrow; whether it was Elladan's or Elrohir's didn't matter, for it hit Arwen right in the thigh.
"AAAAAH! What did I do wrong!" she screamed. "Ada, you didn't tell me about any arrows coming at me out of nowhere!"
"Calm down and sit," said Elrond calmly. Arwen sat down, but winced horribly as she did so, and her eyes welled up with tears. "Don't worry, it's not serious," he assured her.
Out of the blue came running Elladan and Elrohir. "What happened to my arrow?" yelled Elladan. "And what's going on here?"
Elrond turned to face them. "What do you THINK is going on?" he growled. After they took a closer look at the situation, they didn't just think, they knew. "I've told you a hundred times not to go out shooting without asking permission. Apologize to your sister, both of you!"
"We're sorry," they both managed.
" And no dessert for either of you tonight!" he scolded. Arwen was quite pleased with the compensations for her pain and proceeded to stick her tongue out at the both of them. Elrond saw it. He pretended not to, though.
Nothing and no-one would ever come between them. Not even his other children who, at their best, were excellently behaved children and definitely destined for greatness and glory.
"I choose a mortal life." Those words echoed and rang in the back of Elrond Peredhil's mind, giving him a splitting, agonizing headache. "Arwen," he said. "There is nothing for you here. Only death."
"No. I love him. I love him more than anyone can comprehend, Ada."
"Do you not also love me? I raised you from birth. Much of it was done on my own, since your mother left."
"Of course I do. You know that. I love you very, very much...it is just that I love him too, with a love I cannot explain."
He knew what she spoke of. Infatuation...it brings great joy in some cases, utter agony in others. To Arwen it would bring both. To Elrond, only the latter. But there was no convincing her otherwise. It wasn't the first time he'd had this discussion was her. Nay, not even the third. She was going to stay in Middle-Earth, to become a mortal, to abandon her people, her brothers. Her father. That was the end of it. She was not going to change her mind.
Nothing and no-one would ever come between them. Not even horrible sadness stemming from the loss of a loved one. Not even his other children who, at their best, were excellently behaved children and definitely destined for greatness and glory. Nothing and no-one...except, of course, a mortal man from the north, doomed to die and pass into inexistence. Eh? Something sounded very wrong with the situation...as it always had in these last few agonizing years since his daughter had so foolishly fallen in love...
No, how could he ever be "ready" to leave his daughter here to die?
To be Continued
