"If you would excuse me."

Elrond got to his feet and turned away from the campfire he had shared with Celeborn, Galadriel and his twins. He didn't wait for their response but walked away to an area that lay in the darkness of the night. He felt their gazes on his back, but he didn't care. He had a far more pressing matter on his mind. He reached the area and knew that here he would be undisturbed. He found a nice patch of grass and sat down, before opening his tired fea and reaching out for Mirkwood, quietly calling for its king. It took a while until he felt the fea of Thranduil. A shiver ran down his spine like it always did, when his fea connected with the fea of the King of the Woodland Realm, because the Elvenking was one of the few elves who possessed a fea that felt cold to the touch. In contrast most other fear gave away a feeling of warmth, like Celeborn's or the fear of his children. Connecting with them always felt like entering a room with a burning open fire in the fire place. And connecting with Galadriel felt like standing in the bright sun of an early morning. With Thranduil it felt like diving into a clear mountain stream.

But even though their fear were connected Thranduil kept silent, and Elrond feared his powers were too weak to properly reach the Mirkwood from where he was now.

"Thranduil?", he asked tentatively.

"I'm here, mellon nin."

But when he didn't say anything further, Elrond knew that Thranduil was giving him the time and space he needed to start talking about what was on his mind for Thranduil knew where he had been.

"We left Minas Tirith this afternoon." Elrond swallowed. "I left her behind."

"No, you didn't!", Thranduil objected vehemently.

"It has been her decision to make, like it had been yours! She is living her own life, like she wanted to, like you wanted to."

"Then why does it feel so wrong? Why do I feel like riding back and forcing her to come back with me?"

"Because she is your beloved daughter and you are a caring father."

Tears appeared in Elrond's eyes as he thought about what lay in his daughter's future.

"Thranduil, I can't go through that again. I have seen my brother die… I can't watch my own daughter's demise. I have brought her to this world with my own hands… I can't watch her leaving it."

The Elvenking said nothing and Elrond fathomed that he knew what he was going to say.

"I'm sailing."

Thranduil closed his eyes. He had feared this moment all along. His mind had been telling him for quite a while now that the Peredhel would want to sail sooner or later, now that the shadow had been defeated and Vilya's power had vanished. Thranduil had banned these thoughts to the back of his mind, hadn't wanted to think about the day the Peredhel would leave Middle-earth, hadn't wanted to think about the day he would lose his only friend to the Valar, the day he would be alone again. He just wanted to tell Elrond that the High King of the Reunited Kingdom would most likely reign for one hundred years, not longer, and would then decide to leave this world. And then Arwen would most likely decide to join him in death. Just one hundred years, a mere blink in the life of an elf, then everything would be over and Elrond could start to heal in Middle-earth, could see his grandchildren grow up. But he would never say it out loud, not to Elrond, his friend, for he knew it was heartless and egoistic. And he knew, while for him the defeat of Sauron marked a new beginning, a chance to rebuild flourishing elven realms and enjoy Middle-earth without being afraid of a shadow lurking in the dark, for Elrond as well as Galadriel, who had always focused their efforts on fighting evil, their mission to protect the free people of Middle-earth had ended with the victory over Sauron. He swallowed hard.

"When?"

"I don't know. But Galadriel and I, we both want to leave soon. There are still some arrangements that need to be made. A few months maybe."

So soon?!

"So we will not meet again?"

Thranduil felt a cold hand grabbing his heart. Elrond didn't answer immediately and thus Thranduil already knew the answer. He would never see the Peredhel again, never again. His heart sank. Their ways would part… forever.

"I don't think, there is any time left."

There was a short pause.

"You could always accompany us."

Thranduil laughed a bitter laugh.

"I would never set one foot on the shores of Valinor. Like you would never stay in Middle-earth.", he snapped.

He couldn't stop himself, for his heart hurt too much. But that Elrond would never know. No one would ever know.

"Thranduil.", Elrond said softly but Thranduil wouldn't listen, wouldn't let the Peredhel soothe him.

"Do as you wish, Peredhel. It is your decision. Now, if you would excuse me."

Before Elrond could say anything, Thranduil was already gone and Elrond again alone in the dark. He slumped down, exhausted, physically and mentally.

Thranduil slammed his fist on a wooden pillar. What was wrong with him? Why was he feeling such despair, despair that ran far too deep than the despair of just losing a friend… a very dear friend? He leaned against the pillar, resting his forehead on the cool wood.

But he had felt he couldn't deny that the Peredhel had weakened considerably. He had seen it during each visit and he felt it during every conversation they had had after Sauron's defeat. First he had tried to ignore it, and then when it hadn't been possible to ignore it anymore, he had told himself that Elrond would recover sooner or later. And he waited, but all waiting had been in vain. Elrond never recovered. And Thranduil's concern for the Peredhel grew with every day the Peredhel's condition worsened. And he also knew that there might not be any hope of recovery for the Peredhel if he stayed in Middle-earth, even though his heart didn't want to believe in this. But his mind knew better. And as a friend he should listen to what his mind said, not what his heart wanted. He wanted the Peredhel to live a life without pain and sorrow, something he would never have. Something he would never wish upon his friend. He knew the right thing to do was to let the Peredhel go. And yet it was such a hard thing to do.

Elrond went back to the campfire, which was already dying out. Most of the others were already asleep, only single silhouettes could still be seen in front of some of the campfires. So he went to his own sleeping bag and lay down. He had known that it wouldn't be easy to tell the Elvenking, that he was going to leave Middle-earth. They had become close friends, maybe too close at least when it came to himself.

Elrond sighed. His head hurt and he was not happy with how his talk with Thranduil had ended. He had known that his decision would negatively affect the Elvenking and he had foreseen the end of the conversation. Nonetheless he always hated it when a conversation between them ended on bad terms, for he was worried about Thranduil, worried that in his anger the Elvenking would do something inconsiderate. Damn his short-tempered character!

Just when he had decided to give sleep a chance he felt a familiar presence calling out to him. Relieved he opened his fea to the presence. "I'm sorry. My temper got the better of me.", Thranduil stated without preamble. Elrond couldn't hold back a smile. "That is nothing new to me. I know your character quite well, Elvenking."

I know, Peredhel. You know me too well. You alone know of the madness that dwells within me.

"After reigning in my temper I came to the conclusion that indeed you are right. You should leave this land for I can easily feel your exhaustion. Wielding Vilya has taking its toll on your body. The time and environment you need to recover, you probably won't find anywhere in Middle-earth, and even less so as the lord of an Elven Realm."

Elrond felt a sting in his heart. He knew of the weakened state of his body and even of his mind. And he knew the only place where he could recover was Valinor. But being told to his face, that Thranduil really wanted him to leave for whatever reasons, somehow hurt deep inside.

"Peredhel?"

"Yes?"

"You let your mind wander again."

Elrond sighed, for it had happened quite often during the last few conversations with Thranduil that he had missed parts of what Thranduil had been saying. Sometimes it really was because his mind was too tired to focus but sometimes it was just because he was trying to analyze the state of the relationship between him and the Elvenking.

"I guess I'm tired."

At least it was only a partial lie, since he was also tired beyond words.

"Then you should rest. We can still talk tomorrow."

"You might be right."

Elrond knew that Thranduil would most likely be smiling right now.

"Losto vae, mellon nin."

"Losto, vae, mellon nin.", Elrond replied and closed his eyes.

After that day they talked frequently, conversing about everything and nothing. But they avoided the topic of Elrond sailing soon as much as they could. And while he felt his body and mind getting weaker with every passing day, felt centuries of wielding a ring of power finally catching up with him, he occasionally let something slip that he hoped might encourage Thranduil to reconsider coming with him to the Undying Lands. And while his heart always hoped that Thranduil would finally relent, his mind was telling him to stop that nonsense and to respect the Elvenking's decision. And before long the last day of his stay in Middle-earth had arrived.

It was early afternoon, when he felt the presence of the Elvenking and when he opened his fea to his, he felt that familiar wave of cold, washing over his own fea. It would be the last time he would feel it here in Middle-earth. And maybe he would never again feel it in his whole life, so he savored this moment, tried to remember every second on his mind, so that he could recall it later at any moment. Like the many days before they talked about everything and nothing, but when the sun began to set he knew it was time to say goodbye… for good. He swallowed for he didn't know how to begin telling Thranduil, that this was the end.

"Thranduil…", he simply began. "I think it is time. Boe i 'waen."

Thranduil didn't respond. And when the silence lasted too long for his own liking, he tried again.

"Thranduil?"

"I heard you, Peredhel.", Thranduil snapped, but Elrond knew that he didn't mean it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to press you."

Again silence ensued but then finally Thranduil spoke.

"Thank you for saving me, guren glassui.

"You know, you don't have to thank me. I'm a healer. Healing is what I do. And you were no exception."

"But our relationship was strained."

"That is your opinion. I think we had merely lost sight of each other.", Elrond replied, smiling.

Thranduil knew that the Peredhel was smiling, while saying this but he also knew that for him this didn't apply. For him it had been far more than merely losing sight of each other. He had loathed the High King and his herald from deep within for what had happened to his father and kin on the battle field of Dagorlad. But now in retrospect it seemed to him like this had been ages ago. And when he now did some soul-searching there was no hate left at least for the herald. So much had changed… and now all of it would end.

"Guren niniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham."

Thranduil sighed and closed his eyes.

"You know, we won't... Goheno nin."

They would never see each other again. This parting was forever.

"I still have hope…"

"Don't… for it's in vain."

"Thranduil…"

Don't… Don't to this, Elrond. It's hard enough as it is. But I won't change my mind! He had to end this conversation… now!

"Novaer, mellon nin.", he simply said.

Elrond swallowed hard. So this was it, the last time he had heard the Elvenking's voice.

"Novaer, mellon nin."

As soon as their fear had parted, Thranduil felt the emptiness creep into his heart, taking residence there for a long time.

He sighed, allowed himself one short moment of weakness before he pulled himself back together again, becoming the cold and distant king he used to be. He wouldn't despair just because he would never see the Peredhel again, because he would be alone again. He had been alone without any friends or confidants so many years, he could barely count them. But he had endured and he still would. Even though now with Vilya's power gone, his past might catch up with him again, again causing nightmares and hallucinations. The shadows might have left Middle-earth, but they hadn't left his heart. But he had also survived them before he had sought out the Peredhel's help, barely so, but nonetheless he had. And even if now he wouldn't be able to cope, if he would indeed succumbed to darkness and madness. Now it wasn't important anymore to survive because Legolas would then be king in a stable and peaceful time. He wouldn't have to face the evil he himself had had to face as the King of an Elven Realm.

Except for that, his situation was basically the same as it had been before he had gone to the Peredhel to seek help. But deep inside he didn't feel like before. He had changed during the few years during which his path and the Peredhel's had crossed. The Peredhel had changed him. In the past this would have made him angry. He hated being influenced by others especially if he didn't notice it until it was too late. But he couldn't be angry at the Peredhel. His heart forbade it.

And his heart also forbade him to let the Peredhel sail still believing he would follow him someday. He knew that the Peredhel would continue to do so. He knew him to well, the trustful Peredhel. He would waste his energy waiting for him. Energy he needed to recover his body and soul. His gaze dropped on a pile of parchments, that lay on a nearby table and he suddenly knew what he had to do. A last act of friendship… He would crush the Peredhel's hopes forever.

Elrond watched as Galadriel took the hands of her husband into her own, looking down at their joined hands. Celeborn pulled her towards him, pressing her against himself. He knew how Celeborn must be feeling for years ago he had found himself in the very same position. He had been standing here on this very shore and had watched his heart disappear beyond the horizon. And he now could imagine how his wife must have felt then and how Galadriel must feel right now, for he too left someone in Middle-earth, someone who was very dear to him. Since the day he had told Thranduil that he would sail, he had known deep in his heart that Thranduil wouldn't follow him. And why should he? He didn't even know if Thranduil had felt what was between them, that there was something more than just plain friendship between them. The hate and distrust Thranduil felt towards Valinor and some of its inhabitants obviously were stronger than the yearning for his dead wife and definitely stronger than whatever it was, that was between them. And as he thought about all this, for the first time it really dawned on him, that the odds of seeing Thranduil ever again were against him. It tore his heart apart. In the short time he had come to know Thranduil, he had grown to care for the arrogant King of the Woodland Realm.

Elrond turned to his sons on last time. He had to take his leave now. He couldn't bear to see them any longer, when he knew he was leaving any moment now, for it increased the pain in his heart. It was now or never. He hugged them both for one last time, pulling them close like he had so many times before. Then abruptly he let go.

"Watch over your sister for me."

They nodded dutifully. He took one last deep breath.

"We will follow you. We promise."

He nodded in understanding.

"I'm waiting."

And with that he turned and walked towards the ship that was softly rolling on the waves. When he stopped right before the plank he slowly put one foot on it. Half of him had already left Middle-earth. But just as his second foot wanted to follow the first one, he heard Elladan call for him.

"Ada, wait! Look!"

Elladan was pointing towards the gate leading to the Grey Havens. There was a horseman galloping through it at high speed. Elrond's heart stopped when he beheld the colors of the elves of the Woodland Realm. Maybe Thranduil had changed his mind, maybe... The horseman pulled his horse to a halt in front of Elladan and Elrohir. It wasn't Thranduil. This elf had the brown hair of a Silvan elf not the golden hair of the King of the Woodland Realm and he definitely hadn't his pale blue eyes.

"I have a message for Elrond, Lord of Imladris from my king Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm."

It was obvious that he was quite out of breath as was his horse. He must have ridden as fast as possible for a long time in order to make it to the Grey Havens in time. He had been successful but barely so. Elrohir took the reins, while the messenger dismounted and came over to Elrond. He handed him a parchment, sealed with Thranduil's insignia. With trembling hands Elrond opened the parchment and began to read.

I hope it didn't raise any hope in your heart only to be crushed again when you beheld that the horseman wasn't me. My decision remains the same. I haven't changed my mind. It is for the best that our ways part now and forever, the best for you… That is why I will never follow you, because I want to shelter you from me.

You shouldn't get to close to me, not when my inside is such a dark and cold place. Although you always thought that there is hope for me and my lost soul, you don't know all the demons I hide in the shadows of my soul and there is no place for you to hide from the darkness that dwells within me, if you stay close to me, if you stay in this forsaken land, now that Vilya's power has vanished. Sail and you will be sheltered and protected from the pain of your past and from me. There are beloved people waiting for you on the shores beyond the sea. Go to them! There is no one waiting for me, so I stay here, where I can't destroy the small light of hope I could see shining bright in your eyes, despite the horrors and losses you have had to experience. For I am sure I would destroy it. I would take you down with me into the darkness that is my fate. I know you don't believe in fate. But I know my future and I can't escape it. It is woven in my soul. I don't carry this light of hope you carry. Nobody is waiting for me.

So farewell, mellon nin.

When he had finished the letter Elrond closed his eyes and sighed, his heart heavy in his chest. Thranduil was wrong. He didn't need protection, least of all protection against the Elvenking. There might be darkness within Thranduil's soul but it was the same darkness he harboured within himself. He didn't need any protection, he needed someone who understood him, who understood what he went through, as soon as the lights went out and the night and with it darkness reigned. Someone who understood what horrors befell him as soon as he closed his eyes in order to sleep. Someone who accepted the shadows that now resided in his soul, accepted him for what he was, scarred and lost. Thranduil understood what it meant to lose oneself on the battle field that was one's own soul. And they had both found comfort in each other' presence, had forged a bond of friendship out of pain and misery. Together they had managed to transform something bad into something good, into something strong and this something Elrond didn't want to… no… mustn't lose. But they would be worlds apart forever, if he didn't try everything possible to change Thranduil's mind. He had only today, only these last minutes before he left Middle-earth for good. And he would use them. He looked around, searching for a certain person. There he was, standing with his nephew, looking a little lost.

"Bilbo, would you be so kind and lend me one of your parchments and some ink. I'm quite sure you brought some with you to write about your next adventure."

Bilbo smiled at him.

"You know me far too well, Lord Elrond."

And with trembling hands and with the help of Frodo he pulled a parchment and some writing supply out of his sack.

"I'm deeply indebted to you, Bilbo Baggins."

"Pah..."

Bilbo just waved him off and Elrond took the offered things and found a balustrade where he could write on.

Two words… that was all he needed.

He gave the parchment to the messenger.

"Give this to your king."

The messenger bowed to him and took the parchment Elrond held out to him. When the messenger turned around hastily nearly running to his horse, Elrond called after him.

"It's not urgent. Let your horse and yourself rest for awhile."

The messenger slowed down immediately and uttered an exhausted thank you, before he took the reins of his horse from Elrohir and left the Grey Havens on foot. Elrond looked at his sons for the last time in Middle-earth and then embarked.

Boe i 'waen = I must go

guren glassui = Thank you from my heart

Guren niniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham = My heart shall weep until I see you again

Goheno nin = Forgive me

Novaer = farewell

At least I hope that's what the elvish sentences and words I used mean. The problem with foreign languages you don't speak is that you have to trust the people on the internet, that the phrases indeed mean, what they say it means. So either these phrases are correct or Elrond and Thranduil are talking about that red carpet they always wanted to buy...^^

Thranduil's letter was inspired by the song "Demons" by Imagine Dragons. I really like that song and it kind of matched their situation quite well. So I used some lines directly, others I changed slightly.