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Disclaimer: See Prologue. All rights Reserved.

Chapter 40

Time


It was decided...

Done...

Legolas would not see her again until he first stepped upon the white shores of Valinor.

Elladan and Elrohir, who had journeyed forth with the rangers, took Arodwen into their keeping. They swore they would see her safely to the Grey Havens, where Cirdan would then secure her safe passage to Valinor.

Legolas had held her in his arms all through the night before she left; memorizing every detail of her beautiful face, preserving the feel of her soft skin, the warmth of her sleeping body embraced against his own... And that day, when Legolas watched them ride off with his love, he felt such an aching in his heart, that he thought surely he was dead. And even those who did not know the elf, saw the unmistakable grief he bore.

To heal, Arodwen needed the care and skill of the Valar. The nightmarish sleep Saruman had set upon her would not be swayed by Mithrandir, or any other in Middle-Earth...


Estë looked down upon the young elleth that lay before her.

Her skin was still slightly ashen, her body weak and malnourished, and her spirit... Estë shook her head lightly, in an almost graceful manner. The Valier leaned forward, singing a song softly under her breath in a beautiful voice. An ornate silver goblet was grasped in her hand, and she carefully tipped the fountain water to the elleth's lips.

"How does she fare?"

Estë looked up from her charge to her husband, Irmo, who stood near her. Young, did he look. Younger than his brethren, Mandos. Eyes that were a pale grey, and long straight silver-blonde hair did Irmo have. His lady, Estë, had silver-blue eyes instead, and light honey-colored hair. Her face was young also, but as caring and kind as a mother of old. For she was, after all, the healer of hurts and weariness.

"Better, mell nin, I assure you. She is not as weak, or pale, as she was when first brought to us. However, what say you of her dark visions?" (my love)

Irmo merely sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed near Arodwen, looking at the only daughter ever made (born from) by the Valar. Estë gripped his hand tenderly, drawing him back to her sapphire eyes. Then he spoke, "She will wake in but a few days. I have banished her nightmarish dreams, and called upon what sweeter memories I could find to heal the hurts she suffered. But still, there will be wounds that I cannot mend."

"What keeps thee from healing her?" the Vaire asked, concerned to see her herven so troubled. (husband)

"Much of the trauma her mind has suffered will be lasting, Estë. She needs to stay here for longer than hoped for... The dark Istari has turned her truths to falsehoods. She fears who she should love - denies what she should take. Who and what she knew has turned to naught."

"You say she would not even know her kin?" (A/N: kin, as in her parents - not the elves in general)

"Nay, such things remain untouched by evil in her mind. Of her true heritage, she barely knew of to begin with. However, it was her closer memories, and things she frequented in that were affected." Irmo looked upon his hervess sadly, knowing that she understood his words. (wife)

Estë's eyes drifted back to the innocent she-elf, as sadness brimmed in her eyes. Why had Ilúvatar done this? Was it not the fault of Yavanna and Aüle, and not their daughter?

Then it occurred to her... Arodwen had altered fate in more ways than one. She had been in the fellowship, helped them, and protected them. She had fallen in love with Legolas, and he with her. All of which should never have happened... And now, here she was, practically having to be reborn. The death of one life, and the birth of a new. For, had not Elrond said? "No matter what choice you make, both paths, will eventually lead to your death..."

"Estë, you must not despair overmuch on this," Irmo consoled, taking her hand in his as he raised her from the bedside of Arodwen, who lay nestled amongst the softest pillows and silkiest gold sheets and blankets known to the sense of touch.

If Arodwen were awake, she would've been in awe of her surroundings. For it was in the garden of Lòrien, in Valinor, that she rested. Her room was no more than a large pavilion of the most beautifully carved pillars, and gold and cream gossamer palisades that hung elegantly from the small vaulted ceiling. She was entirely surrounded by flowers and trees of every kind imaginable - beautiful, tranquil, and the most serene of all places.

But Estë suddenly found no comfort in the beauty of her home as she said, "I cannot help but do so. For I know that he will sail soon for here, and seek her out. How can I turn him away, Irmo? What shall I do when he comes to find his love?"

"He will understand, Estë. And he will wait, for as long as there is need for it. He would not risk her health for the world..."

"I pray you are right... And that when she finally wakes, we can help her. Help her to remember the way things truly were, so that she may be with him once more," she hoped, smiling once again.

Irmo's heart lightened, and he drew her close, walking down the carved steps and onto the winding garden paths. "Lady Arodwen has faced much trial in her long life. Forfeiting that life, is something she would not now ever do; much does she have to live for now. Time is all she needs."

Estë grinned and said happily, "And praise Eru that he hath blessed all elves with it."


A/N: Woohoo! I can't believe I've written FORTY chapters! That's ten more than my last story, and I'm not even finished yet!

P.S. – If you have any questions about Estë or Irmo, please let me know in your review, and I can explain. I did NOT make them up! Bows to the grave of Tolkein He created them:o)