Chapter 6

There was a hush over Rivendell, as if the very earth knew of the task that was to begin that day. The sun had not yet risen, but for some of the members of the newly forged Fellowship there had been little sleep.

Sam had gone over his packs and provisions again and again, sure that something was escaping his notice. Frodo had returned from his meeting with Bilbo, quiet and uncommunicative. Sam's attempts at conversation had met with brief answers or noncommittal grunts. Knowing Frodo's temperament, Sam left his master to rest, wishing him a good night, and gone back to the arrangement of the baggage, the one thing still in his control. While the quest might be beyond his means to complete, his care of Frodo was not.

Hearing Sam leave, Frodo sighed and rolled over to face the wall. Unbidden, Frodo saw Bilbo's tired and aged face before him. Heard again Bilbo's sorrow that this task had come to Frodo. Felt all the pride Bilbo had shown in him. And then the memory of the horrifying change that had come over Bilbo at his glimpse of the ring! The magnitude of this decision weighed him down more than the ring. To him had come this task and he felt his unfitness for the duty fully. He was unsure that he would be able to resist the lure of the ring. He worried that the brave warriors who had volunteered to accompany him would throw their lives away on false hopes. His cousins and his beloved Sam would be killed on his behalf. He turned intermittently, searching for rest that would not come.

Pippin and Merry had spoken long into the night, delighted to be involved, happy to be adventuring with such a company. Although it was love for Frodo that had compelled them, both felt excitement at the importance of this journey. Dismissing the hardships facing them, they agreed that to be travelling across the lands in such good company seemed like the best of times. Finally sleep claimed them, their dreams full of glorious escapades.

For Gimli, it had been an evening of good wishes and farewells with his countrymen. He had no fear of the undertaking before him, only pleasure that he, Gimli, was to be the representative of the dwarves, for so he saw it. A warrior's heart beat within his breast, and he relished the challenge before him. After the last toasts had been given, he made his way to his bed and slept soundly, not a doubt in his mind to keep him awake.

It was not an easy night for the Man of Gondor. Boromir slept lightly, disturbed and woken by the slightest noise. He was uneasy with the idea of destroying the ring, for it seemed wiser to him to use it against the enemy. He had pledged his life to this quest, but a small part of him nagged and teased that the decision was the wrong one. Troubled by nightmares, awakened yet again by the soft tread of footsteps outside his window, he rose and dressed, then sat waiting in the darkness for the rising sun.

Elrond and Gandalf took counsel of each other, and when all was said, Gandalf, like the old campaigner he was, took to his bed. His part in these events was beginning to be clear to him, and no amount of worry or planning would change that. Resting easily, he soon fell into a deep sleep.

Elrond slept not at all. He had spoken to Aragorn and all that was left to him was to wait. He could not look on what he had done as a betrayal. He was fighting for his daughter, for her happiness. He knew, where she could not comprehend, the pain of what she wanted, the horror of her death. And he would continue to fight for her life.

Legolas and Athelas spent the night in quiet talk. Neither brought up the possibility that Legolas might not return. They made plans for an uncertain future, certain only in their love for one another. Their farewells took place in the privacy of their rooms, neither wishing to break down in front of the rest of the company. Legolas, a grave look on his face, held her closely and finally whispered the words she had been dreading.

"If I should fall," he began, but she shushed him with a gentle hand to his lips.

"You will not fall," she told him.

He took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. "I may fall. You must face that. And if I do, if all should be in vain, I will have your promise that you will take the ship." There was an intensity in his eyes that was painful to her.

"If you should fall, my love, I will find you in the Halls of Mandos." Her face was set, her determination evident in her posture. "My grief would be great, but I would stay and comfort you father as best I could. When he no longer needed me, I would return to you with joy."

"What about Arwen?" he asked her, uncomfortably aware that she meant every word. "You once vowed to stay with her throughout her sojourn among men. Will you not stay for her?"

"I will stay with her until your return. I won't abandon her. Just make sure Aragorn keeps faith with her!" She reached up to stroke his cheek.

"And if Arwen leaves?" he asked.

She snorted. "If that impossibility comes to pass, I will go to your father. But I will not go into the West without you. Do not ask me to promise." He held her close again, memorizing every exquisite detail of the moment. She surrendered to his embrace, holding his love close in her heart.

"My heart shall not sing until I am with you again," he told her.

"Clear water and green leaves in your journey," she replied quietly.

He kissed her once, then once again, and broke away from the embrace. She helped him gather his kit, strapping on his knives, his quiver. He faced her once again.

"I love you," he said. There was no need for anything else.

"As I love you," she replied.

Then, with a last aching look, he left. She heard him head for the stables, to calm himself with the horses before the departure. Sitting down, she held her head in her hands, breathing deeply to find peace, searching desperately for strength.

Legolas passed Aragorn without a word, his jaw set with the fears he would not allow himself to show before Athelas. Aragorn watched him go silently. The Ranger was half hoping that he would not see Arwen before the time of departure, yet knowing that he had to. And then, as he turned, she was before him, her wondrous eyes bright.

He heard himself speak the words, make the gestures. Felt her heart break within her. Ignoring his own pain, he finished his carefully rehearsed speech to her. She was angry. She did not believe him. He saw it in her eyes, heard it in her voice. Refusing the return of the Evenstar, she turned and fled from him. Aragorn buried his heart within him and turned back to the gathering of the companions.

Athelas saw Arwen rush by her room and was instantly on her feet, running after Elrond's daughter. She caught up with her and wrapped her arms around her weeping friend. Arwen sobbed out her tale in tears of anger, heartbreak and disbelief. Athelas felt herself go very still. The only consolation she could find was that Arwen did not believe a word of what Aragorn had told her. She spoke gentle words of comfort, agreeing with Arwen that Aragorn was only trying to protect her. When Arwen's tears finally stopped, Athelas left her, assuring her she would return shortly. Shutting the door quietly behind her, she ran through Rivendell as she had not done since she was a child. She had to find Legolas!

The hobbits were finishing breakfast. Not even the start of a great campaign could stop their last meal in Imladris. Aragorn had sent Legolas, the elf's face now as composed and serene as ever, to hurry them along. Legolas had complied, and was now gently urging them to wind up their repast.

Athelas found him there, and called from the doorway to him, her voice ringing, her Sindarin crisp. "Legolas, I need you!"

He looked up, startled. He could see the rage and sorrow mingled in her eyes. He sprang from his seat and rushed to her. She pulled him into an empty room, and rapidly told him what had happened. Her face was flushed with emotion, and her hands waved briskly in the air before him, sketching what her voice described.

He was shocked, but not angry. He understood Elrond's reasoning, although he did not agree with it. Speaking softly and swiftly, he calmed her, and tried to reassure her about Aragorn.

"Don't let him do this!" she said, her voice vibrating with the rage she felt. "He must return to her. Her grief will be her death if he does not! We can't let that happen to her!"

"Comfort her as best you can." Legolas looked over her shoulder, his mind returning to a time when Aragorn had said words very similar to him. "Whatever I can do, I will."

"Please, Legolas! Aragorn loves her, I know it. I know Elrond is terrified, I can feel it. We all are! But they must be allowed to decide for themselves! I charge you, protect him, keep him safe, and bring him home again!"

"Then, beloved, I charge you as well. Care for her. Lend her your strength. Do not let her give in to sorrow. I will see you when we leave." He gave her one more lingering kiss, and then she hurried from him, rushing back to Arwen. He sighed and left the small room. He returned to the hobbits, ignoring the questioning looks they gave him.

"If you are finished," he began politely, "I believe it is time to go." The hobbits looked at one another and stood and followed him out of the dining hall.

Athelas and Arwen, the latter's face still tear stained, met the others in the courtyard by the gate. The Fellowship was gathering. Sam was with the pony, checking the packs. Merry and Pippin thanked Arwen for her hospitality, tactfully not asking the cause of her evident distress. She nodded at them, still not trusting her voice. Athelas led them away, allowing Arwen a few more moments to compose herself.

"Is she well?" Merry asked, concern in his voice. Athelas nodded.

"Farewells to friends are hard at times," she said simply. "And I bid you both good journey. I thank you for your cheerful tunes and happy company. It has been my great pleasure to meet you both."

"Will you look out for Bilbo?" Pippin asked her, looking over at the old hobbit. "He's not as spry as he used to be."

"He will be well taken care of, I assure you, Master Took." She smiled gently at him. "I shall await your return, eager to hear your new tales and songs."

Gimli joined them, ready to be off. He had decided to speak to Athelas instead of Arwen, the Lady's sorrow unsettling to him. Beneath his gruff exterior beat not only the heart of a warrior, but of a true gallant as well. That there was nothing he could do to relieve Arwen's distress was uncomfortable to him.

"I ask you to give my thanks to Lady Arwen. I have been honoured by my stay in her house," he told Athelas. "And I thank you for your hospitality, my lady. You have made my visit most comfortable."

"I must thank you, Master Gimli. Your conversation has been most stimulating, and I have enjoyed our time together." She inclined her head toward him. "I look forward to the pleasure of your company again, when the task is completed."

Gimli chuckled at that, smiling up at her through his red beard. "Confident, aren't you?" he asked.

"In your prowess, Master Gimli, most definitely," she laughed. She felt, rather than heard Legolas come up behind her. She turned to face him, her eyes bright.

"I have just spoken to Arwen," he said, quietly. "To thank her for her kindness. I believe that she would be grateful for your presence."

"I thank you, my lord," she replied, "I shall attend her at once. I shall not forget your charges to me." She bowed her head to him, and he placed a hand over his heart, greeting and farewell.

"It will be well, Athelas," he told her, slipping into Sindarin. "I will return with Aragorn, beloved. Have no fears."

"I shall look for your coming with joy, Legolas. In the meanwhile, I shall wait with Arwen. Safe in your love, there is nothing to fear." She made a quick farewell to the others, and strode back to Arwen, head held high.

Elrond set them on their way at last. With his last blessings in their ears, the Fellowship left Imladris. Legolas looked back once to see Athelas, standing behind Arwen, her eyes blazing with pride and love for him. Arwen watched Aragorn go, refusing to let him see her hurt. Once he was gone, she turned to Athelas and said quietly, "Come with me."

Athelas followed Arwen to her rooms. Once the door had been silently closed, Arwen let loose her grief and anger. Athelas soothed her as much as possible as Arwen alternately wept and raged. After hours of torment, Arwen had spent her fury and was grateful to be cosseted by her friend. Athelas sat by her until Arwen, her body and spirit worn out by the day's events, slipped easily into sleep.

Athelas stormed to her rooms, her anger at her friend's anguish overpowering her. How dare Elrond interfere in this manner? For an instant she thought of confronting him, the memory of Arwen's tears overcoming not only her deep love for Elrond but all her insecurities as well. Her better judgement returned and she continued to the suite she and Legolas had occupied. She needed to be alone, to calm the tempest in her heart. She did allow herself to slam the door behind her as she entered. She looked at the rumpled bed, the scattered tea things, the cast aside clothing. With her rage white hot, she began to clean the rooms, trying to scrub away the feelings within her. Finding Legolas' discarded tunic from the day before, she flung it to the chair.

Once the rooms were spotless, she looked for something else. Needlework would not help her now. She needed something active. Her gaze falling on the tunic, her eyes narrowed and she reached for it. Changing quickly to her travelling clothes, wearing the soft tunic next to her skin, she left the house and began to run. She circled Imladris until the hot pain in her chest eased.

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