Destiny's Arrow
(The Long Road)
The days wore on as the small group wended its way toward the craggy peaks of the Misty Mountains. Only the two mornings following their departure from Imladris found Arwen ill, but even that was enough to prick Glorfindel's curiosity. He began to observe her more carefully. The increasing ease with which Arwen became fatigued, the very slight increase in the amount of lembas she ate, and a multitude of other things he might not have noticed if not for the morning sickness made him begin to suspect the true reason that they were journeying to the Golden Wood.
The seventh evening of their journey fell, soft and cool. A twilight rainbow bled from the horizon. Glorfindel decided that this evening he would test his suspicion. When they stopped for the day and supper was finished, Glorfindel went to his bed. Once Celebrian was convinced he was asleep, she and Arwen began to speak in low voices. Glorfindel listened silently.
"We will arrive in two weeks I should think," Celebrian said casually, watching the fire rather than her daughter.
"That is well," Arwen murmured,
"Will you not tell him, Arwen?"
"No," she shook her dark head. "I can't. Something has stilled my voice every time I have tried."
"Legolas is a fine elf who loves you. He loves you very much, Arwen. He deserves to know," the mother said. There was a long silence as Glorfindel watched the firelight dance on their lovely faces.
"I know," Arwen sighed at last. "I love him. Truly, I do. And I could ask for nothing more wonderful than for this life that grows within me to be of his creation, but somehow, mother, I cannot make him know it," she whispered. Celebrian sighed.
"And what of your father and brothers? What of your grandfather and Glorfindel? Will you keep your secret from them even when it shows itself?" she asked. The look on her daughter's face told her that that was, indeed, her plan. "But why?"
"I do not know," Arwen answered, only barely keeping her voice from rising. "I only know that only you and I and Grandmother can ever know." Celebrian nodded. She would respect her daughter's decision. She knew that intuition was a powerful force. Glorfindel looked on, as mother embraced daughter.
"I love you, my girl," Celebrian cooed. Arwen laid her head in her mother's lap. "How long has it been?" Celebrian asked as she stroked her daughter's dark hair.
"Eight weeks or so," Arwen replied. Flames flickered and licked at two large beech logs, reminding her of the heat and passion in which this new life had been conceived. One of her mother's long hands traveled down Arwen's side to the flat of her stomach, below her navel. Her fingers gently probed, exploring the tautness of the barely perceptible convex that was beginning to develop. Celebrian thought for a moment, then began to chuckle to herself. Glorfindel wondered what was funny. He was a good deal less than amused by the situation. Arwen looked up at her mother and voiced his question. "What are you laughing at?" she asked.
"Did it happen when you and your brothers went to deliver your father's summons to the Council to Thranduil? Is that why you were so anxious to accompany them?" smiled Celebrian. A sheepish grin crept across her daughter's upturned face. "Not that I blame you," Celebrian added gently. "Were I a younger elf...," she winked. Mother and daughter were possessed by fits of giggles that they tried to stifle in attempt not to wake the wakeful Glorfindel.
He remained still and quiet, contemplating all he'd heard. Arwen with child? By Legolas? And running to Lothlorien, to Galadriel? Glorfindel did not understand in the least and endless thought churned on in his sleepless brain until it was his turn at the watch. Celebrian, who looked immensely weary when he relieved her, smiled as she told him goodnight and went to her bed. He sat silently against the tree trunk where the lady had watched, bow in his lap. He wondered why Arwen had made up such a ridiculous story about not telling Legolas. Why was she protecting him if he'd refused to take responsibility for the child, if he would not acknowledge his marriage to her?—for he was sure that that was the case. That would account for her not telling her father or brothers.
His mind continued to work as the night passed uneventfully but for the occasional raspy and sinister keening calls and answers of a pack of wargs in the high mountains that loomed ahead. A deep sense of foreboding had come over him as they'd neared the foot of those peaks. They would begin their passage the next day and it would be a slow one. Even as surefooted and willing as their horses were, Celebrian and Arwen had agreed when Glorfindel had suggested that they lead their steeds up the steep, rocky, and narrow trail. If they were lucky, they would not attract the attention of any unpleasant creatures that inhabited the crags and caves of those slopes. Again, Glorfindel became annoyed with Arwen. Should anything happen, she might slow them.
Why hadn't she told him?—he wondered bitterly. He would have set Legolas in his place, made him fulfill his obligation to her. He would have been her champion and defender. Arwen had always been special to him since she was first born. He loved her very much in his way. He loved her as a father, a brother, and a friend. Most especially, he loved her as a friend.
Why didn't she tell me immediately?—he wondered again.
"Why didn't who tell you what?" Arwen asked curiously. He was not startled, but when he turned to face her, Glorfindel gaped. Not only had she seemed to read his thoughts, but she stood before him, completely nude in the watery moonlight, clothes draped over her arm, skin glistening with tiny droplets of water. "I've just had a bath before I came on watch," she smiled in answer to his unasked question. "Besides, I am showing you nothing you have not seen before," she teased as she took a step closer to him. The older elf sat agog only a moment longer before instinct seized him. His hands went naturally to her waist and he began to caress the silken curves of her hips with his thumbs. They smiled companionably at one another before he spoke.
"Not since your first trip to Greenwood, when, I suspect, your…um…association with the dear prince began," Glorfindel said with a sarcasm that rang of reproach, though she was unsure whether it was directed at her or Legolas. She shrugged and gave him a look of feigned innocence.
"Anyway, what were you muttering to yourself?" she asked, shaking off the previous subject.
"Did I say that aloud?" Glorfindel returned with a question.
"Yes, you did. Why didn't who tell you what?" she continued, scratching her nails lightly along his arms so that he could just feel it through his sleeves. He pulled her a little nearer, and, though he did not answer her question immediately, his hot breath on her most intimate parts, the anticipation of what was to come next pushed all her concerns aside. Arwen relaxed, closed her eyes, and let her head loll back. Then, Glorfindel whispered slowly,
"Why didn't you tell me about…," he paused and planted a soft kiss just below her navel,"…this?" Her eyes snapped open. She was struck by the blackness of the irises that she met with surprise. She threw his hands off her hips and backed away. Horror and anger rose in her eyes as she slipped on her clothes. He let her go and settled back onto the ground, calmly awaiting her reply.
"How do you…," she began, but he cut her off.
"How do I know that you carry Legolas's child?" he asked smugly. She only nodded, distress and confusion gathering in her expression. "I was awake when you and your mother were discussing it," he said evenly.
"Eavesdropping? You hadn't the decency to…," she managed to yell before he interrupted her again.
"I hadn't the decency to what? To let someone I love be wronged by a spoiled, arrogant, brat of a prince who won't take responsibility for his actions and…," this time it was Arwen who interrupted him.
"They were my actions too, Glorfindel. And, besides a prince, he is none of those things. Apparently you weren't eavesdropping closely enough when I told my mother that I left him without telling him about the child," she growled.
"Do not protect him!" shouted the elf lord. He seemed to burn with a terrible and frightening power in his anger, but Arwen was not intimidated. She was furious.
"I am NOT protecting him!" she bellowed in argument. "Do you think I wanted to leave him? Do you think I want to bear this child without him by my side?"
"No. I think that you did tell him and I think that he abandoned you," he spat. She did not speak for a moment. She could not find the words.
"Glorfindel," she said in a forced calm voice, "we have been friends all my life and now, I'm not sure whether I feel betrayed, angry, offended, or all three."
"You? You feel betrayed, angry, and offended? Why didn't you tell me—your best friend. Why didn't you tell me, Arwen?" he asked, anger receding and concern taking its place. She sighed and shook her head.
"Because I knew you would act this way," she said. She held up her hand to silence his impending objection. "I knew you would be angry with me when you found out why I left because you won't understand. I won't be able to make you understand the reason."
"Which is?"
"I left because I could not tell him. But it is better that I did not. If I had told him he would have insisted that I bond with him…" she was cut off again.
"And you should if you would bear him a child. I cannot believe that it is you who chooses to hide your marriage, for marriage it is to be with him as you have been. You and I have shared much, Arwen, but not all. Tell your father, tell his, let me…make his commitment for him if you cannot, but do not allow him to make you his whore," Glorfindel spat. She regarded him icily.
"I will not," she said so finally that Glorfindel almost conceded the argument.
"Why not?" he asked when he regained his footing.
"Because, readily as I would spend the rest of eternity with him, something tells me that I cannot," she sighed, knowing he wouldn't believe her.
"You cannot tell him. You cannot bond with him. You cannot do as you should. You cannot do as you'd like. Why not?" he asked emphatically. Arwen closed her eyes and tried to explain as patiently as she could.
"Understand this. Before we left, I tried to tell him. Every time I tried, it was as though there was a weight on my heart. That weight on my heart was as a weight on my breast, smothering me, pressing the breath out of me, strangling me, drowning me. I could not tell him, just as I cannot stay with him," she told him. Glorfindel sat stunned. Though he thought little of it, he noticed that, as she spoke, she first fingered, then clutched the green stone that hung on its silver chain.
"Will you swear to me that this is the truth; that you go from him of your own free will?" he asked.
"You have my bond of trust, Glorfindel, and I have never broken it. I shall swear nothing more," she answered softly not looking into his eyes even though he watched her intently. The fair archer rose to his feet and went to her. He lifted her chin, searching her eyes.
"It is not the way of our people, but is this what you wish? You are sure?" he whispered the question. Arwen laid her hands on his shoulders, stood on her toes, and touched her lips to the smooth, fair skin of his high forehead. Glorfindel held her tenderly, more like a father's embrace than anything else. She was grateful to him for his love and concern as she rested her head against his shoulder.
"Yes," was her only reply.
Celebrian lay listening for a while longer to be sure that the argument had truly resolved itself before allowing herself to begin to drift off to sleep. But before dreams took her, Glorfindel sat heavily on one of the large logs by the fire. His manner told her that he would speak. At last, he did.
"I am sorry for my deception and eavesdropping," he said. Celebrian rolled over so that she could see him.
"I'm glad that you did. She would not have told you otherwise."
"I know," he sighed, "and I was a bit harsh, but I do love her, Celebrian. She grows lovelier with each passing day…with each passing moment, I sometimes think. I want her to be happy."
"You don't like Legolas, do you?" she asked.
"Not especially, no," he answered truthfully. Celebrian only smiled.
"You are too alike," she whispered. Glorfindel glared resignedly. He knew that it was true. She continued, "You only see in him the things that you dislike about yourself, but he is strong like you and, like you, he is loyal—to a fault sometimes." Glorfindel gave a derisive snort. "Believe what you will, but he will prove himself one day. You and I may have long departed for the West…we may not see it, but he will," she finished. Glorfindel considered pensively for a moment before speaking,
"Foresight and wisdom flow thick in your blood, Celebrian, so I will let it be you who tells or keeps this knowledge from Lord Elrond and your sons," he sighed. Again, Celebrian smiled sagely.
"If you believe that Seeing is in my blood, it is in Arwen's, too." And with that, she cocooned herself once more in her warm, soft blanket and began to meditate, drifting ever closer to sleep.
Though he felt reassured, Glorfindel still doubted Legolas's worthiness. He unfurled his bedroll and lay down next to Celebrian, his bow, quiver, and sword all within easy reach. Another ululating wolf's cry rent the quiet of the fluttering leaves that the night wind stirred and the continual chirping and buzzing of nocturnal insects.
Arwen sat the rest of the night watch. Sometimes she stared into the sky. The black canvas was riddled with a million tiny pinholes through which shone the light of Creation. She picked out the multitude of constellations she knew. Sometimes she closed her eyes and listened to the night. She could hear Glorfindel snoring softly where he lay asleep. A third and then a fourth wolf raised its chilling voice. And sometimes she wept quietly for the love she had left behind her and to which she could never return.
Legolas slept fitfully in a cold bed more than a hundred leagues away. He had rarely slept in a solitary bed when he had visited Rivendell and now it troubled his sleep and plagued his dreams.
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AN: I have decided to split the flashback here because I have been being hounded by a certain someone *cough* Vanessa. But that's ok. If she didn't bug me I'd be even pokier. Click on that little button and write me one! Enjoy ~DR
AN2: 5/8- Write me a review dammit! It's my birthday! YAY!!
AN3: 5/17- "…We'll bring it out this Sunday…Tuesday…next week…in about a month…we'll bring it out when we're fucking ready, alright?" –Eddie Izzard
AN4: 5/20- OK people, it isn't a matter of me withholding the story to torture you. I have simply got more important things to do…like take my exams and do well in college for example. Gimme a fuckin' break will ya?