Disclaimer:
LotR and its characters belong to Tolkien, I don't make money from this nor do I claim ownership.
Foreword:
My first serious fic in years, as I have an ongoing series of song parodies, also I don't have a beta and while I tried to make sure there were no mistakes, I might have missed something. So if you spot any mistake please let me know.
Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.
~George Eliot
Eärendil and Elwing:
He was but a child, still clinging to his mother's skirts. His father, ever prone to travel was taking his leave again. He remembered how Elros, his twin had thrown himself at his father's feet begging to tag along, how his father had smiled and picked him up and toss him above his head, extracting a thrilled shriek from his brother. His father had smiled then, and promised Elros that another time he would take the whole family with him.
His brother had been appeased then, and returned to his mother's side. His father had turned to him then and opened his arms. Elrond let go of his mother's skirts and walked to his father's waiting arms. He clung to his father's neck and begged him to come back. Eärendil had smiled to his son and said that he would. Elrond could only cling harder onto his father's neck, a fear coiling in him and he hadn't wanted to let go.
But Eärendil was leaving in search of the blessed realm leaving them in the gentle care of his mother.
"Adar will be gone for a while. He will return before you know it, you'll see." That was what their mother had told them. He had stood and waved at his father from the shoreline, watching as his ship was growing ever so small. Little he had known then, that it would be the last time he would see his father.
He was afraid, he had been afraid since the battle had begun. His mother had been worried and had been passing back and forth in the nursery they were. He had heard the scream and the clash of weapons, first they had sounded far away, then closer and closer.
Until one of the brothers had entered the nursery, and everything had happened so very fast then.
-My lady, please, relinquish the jewel…-
-No, it is not yours- His mother had replied then, taking several steps backwards towards the window.
-My lady…- The words had died on the elf's lips while his eyes had grown wide as Elwing jumped out the window.
His brother had been the first to react and made to run to the window, and then the elf moved and caught him before he would jump. He had been silent and unmoving, a quiet spectator. Elros was struggling against the grip of the elf, kicking and screaming, trying to follow their mother.
Elrond just kept staring the sea, and then he saw her. His mother swimming into the sea and he had watched as his mother was pulled deep into the water, only to come back a few moments later as a white bird, the jewel in its chest. And as the bird –his mother- flew away, his only thoughts were:
"Goodbye ada, goodbye nana."
Maedhros and Maglor:
Maedhros was dead.
Maedhros had thrown himself into a fire chasm, driven insane by the pain of the jewel. It was strangely fitting that Maedhros died in fire; being born from fire as the eldest son of Fëanor.
He who slayed his kin in Aqualönde, who abandoned his kin against his will on ice, who survived unspoken tortures in Morgoth's halls, who lived to fulfill his oath at the cost of the death of his father, brother and countless others. It was a fitting death, indeed.
The other was lost.
Maglor had wandered off, his life or death uncertain. He had been a kind mentor, almost the father figure they had lost. Almost. He had been too plagued with regrets and memories; too weary and sad to truly be the father they wanted or needed.
He had saved them from death, perhaps too overcome with the memory of his brothers and Maedhros had agreed to take them in. Elrond would later know of the loss of Elúred and Elurin and Maedhros search.
They had been good to them, thought them and cared for them at the best of their abilities, but at the end they knew they would part ways.
Círdan had met them halfway as accorded; the brothers and Círdan risked much by meeting. Maglor had given both a hug a whispered well wishes for both, Maedhros had followed his example; they both gave thanks to Círdan and left.
After they learn of the fates of the sons of Fëanor, he had whispered to the wind "May you find the peace you need. Namárië".
Elros:
"Mortal"
"Elven"
They both had known they would have to make a choice about their fate. Sooner or later they would have to pick which race they would be counted amongst.
Elros had always been intrigued by their mortal ancestry, he'd been curious and been known for sometimes escape Maglor's watchful eye to join the men in a celebration or another.
He'd a fire inside that urged him to go faster, to live quicker, too precocious to be "elven". So for him, his brother's decision to belong to the race of men didn't come as much of a surprise to him. It pained him to know that he would eventually loose him. But there was no surprise.
He'd said goodbye once, when he had follow Gil-galad and his brother had joined the men and taking the name of Elros Tar-Minyatur. His life was a longer one given by the grace of the Valar but in the end, he would loose him forever.
Saying goodbye to his brother twice was heartbreaking. As he saw him, a man he barely recognized made old by age and time. And he was there holding his hand, while his brother took his last breath and close his eyes for the last time, he whispered:
"Goodbye, gwanur."
Celebrían:
She was lovely.
That was what he thought when he saw her alongside her mother when they arrived at Imladris for the first time. An exquisite mix between Galadriel's radiance and Celeborn's regality.
His beloved Silver Queen, he had loved her dearly and was happy during their marriage, the birth of their twin sons and latter, their daughter. He enjoyed the family he never knew with Celebrían by his side, he saw his children grow and earned a reputation as a lore master and healer.
They enjoyed a peace earned by the death of plenty, the defeat of Sauron. But he knew that peace was only temporary, that Sauron would return.
They called him a master healer yet, his wife lay fading slowly. Hurt and broken of spirit by the torture at the hands of orcs. He blamed himself. He shouldn't have let her go, he told himself over and over. His guilt and pain at not being able to heal her were terrible, he wept with his children when they've finally accepted the fact that she needed to go.
She asked him to come with her, but he couldn't. He knew well that his time in Middle Earth had not come to a close, he was still needed. And his children weren't ready to leave the lands of their birth.
He had stood side by side with his children waving farewell to their mother, much like that one time so long ago, when he had been young and he'd been waving goodbye to his father. He had cried both times. And yet, as he watched the swan ship sail slowly out of his sight, he whispered, this time with a hit of hope for a reunion in the future:
"Farwell, meleth-nîn"
Arwen:
It was a painful déjà vu.
Listening the word "mortal" once more, this time from one of his children. His Arwen, his little girl would repeat her ancestor's choice by becoming a mortal, his only comfort was the knowledge that Aragorn wouldn't take this sacrifice for granted. That he would treasure, protect and love Arwen with all of his being. And he was a good man, after all, he'd raised him himself. He had known this would happen, he had visions and dreams yet they weren't enough for him to prepare him for another permanent parting.
After her wedding, before his parting to the Heavens they spoke privately. Talking little and saying much, and he wept silent tears of both joy and sorrow. The joy of knowing that his daughter would be happy and the sorrow of losing her.
He had hugged her then, held her strongly within his arms as tears fell quietly from his face. She had returned the embrace then. And had whispered a quiet "I love you, adar, forever". His throat had closed then, and as he could he returned them quietly and with a chocking sound. He would treasure her words; keep them with him forever in his memory. And he would treasure her love and the memory of her forever.
And as he stood in the Heavens, ready to depart from Middle Earth onto their immortal home in Valinor, he looked back one last time and whispered, hoping that the wind would carry his words to his daughter:
"Goodbye, sell-nîn"
Expect to have hope rekindled. Expect your prayers to be answered in wondrous ways. The dry seasons in life do not last. The spring rains will come again
~ Sarah Ban Breathnach
Hope was such a strange thing. It settle into his stomach like a butterfly, making him both afraid and excited.
He took a deep breath and looked towards the ship again; there she stood Galadriel with a soft smile and eyes full of wisdom, understanding and longing. And sadness, there was sadness in Galadriel's eyes too. For she would be parted from Celeborn until such day he would sail too.
After all, she too had loved and lost in these lands. And she had witnessed kingdoms raise and crumble, had lost loved ones too. But she smiled with peace and serenity and asked:
"Are you ready, Ion-nîn"
He had allowed a smile to bloom on his face as he answered: "I am." And he was. He was ready to sail, hopeful for a reunion with those who had departed before him. And hopeful, that he would see his sons again.
Elrond Peredhel was going home. And above his head, Eärendil had shone brightly.
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed it. I made the little extra at the end because I didn't want to end the fic in a depressing tone, hopefully I didn't messed it up.
Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome. Let me know if I messed something up. Thank you for reading and I leave you some notes that may be useful to you.
Sindarin (taken from thecouncilofelrond):
Adar: Father
Ada: Daddy
Nana: Mommy
Gwanur: Brother
Meleth-nîn: My love
Sell-nîn: My daughter
Ion-nîn: My son
Namárië: Quenya for "Goodbye".