A/N: For someone who quite dislikes writing battles, this story has a lot of battles in it.
Enjoy!
Celebrimbor came to Lindon in the middle of the night.
Elarinya had been in bed when he arrived at the gates under the cover of a moonless sky, staring at the ceiling with an undetermined feeling brewing in her too-tense body. She'd been tense for weeks now, and it was starting to get bothersome.
She knew what it was. At least, she could make a good guess. The Enemy was once again on the move. Sauron had been quiet for a long time, though his orcs kept being a danger to them all. No more elven cities had been sacked. No more of El's family had been lost to the Darkness.
But Sauron's looming presence, the danger they all knew he formed, remained.
Yet in the past few weeks not even the Waters of Ithil she'd inherited from Melian could show her the truth of the danger in their future. Nor did she get any visions to prepare her for what was coming, and it left her on edge.
It could only mean one thing. Sauron was cloaking himself.
He hadn't bothered to do any such thing while waging the War of Wrath. Nor any of the years that came before. So what was the Dark Lord doing that required such secrecy? It worried her. It worried her co-ruler and it worried Elrond.
They'd been quietly keeping up their armies, knowing they were going to need them. Lindariel had gracefully stepped down as the leader of their army in favor of someone of more experience, and was now training the troops as the captain of the guard with a gleeful verve.
Elarinya also had her spies, both fellow scryers and not, looking into the movements of the Dark Lord and his allies. She'd inherited most of them from her mother, but by now she'd nurtured a few little birds of her own.
Lindon was strong, yet the unsettled feeling remained.
A knock came, quiet but insistent. Her hand went to the dagger underneath her pillow, eyes narrowing at the unexpected sound.
"My queen?"
"Lirision?" Elarinya called back to her personal guard and assistant, startled. "What's the matter?"
She slipped out of bed, quickly dressing in one of her day dresses. Opening the door, she was met with the serious brown eyes of the young elf. "You have a guest, my queen."
"A guest?"
"Lord Celebrimbor." Lirision murmured softly, expression tense. "My queen, he came through the gates cloaked in mystery and in a great hurry. King Ereinion has also been called."
"So something is wrong." Tension rushed through her, and Elarinya took care to hurry just a bit more. Quickly giving her hair a brush-through, she didn't bother with putting on her usual daily jewelry, just the necklace she had worn every day since the day she got it. "Alert Lindariel and my nephew, Lirision. Make sure they tighten security and increase the guard."
It had to be serious if Tyelpe came here from Eregion.
Lisirion nodded, mouth pressing together in a grim line. "I shall alert her to the potential threat. Do you have need for me or Lord Elrond in the throne room?"
She assured him she did not, and the elf left. Elarinya frowned at his disappearing back, worry for the cousin of her heart growing.
He'd tasked a trusted guard to bring them both to the throne room in the middle of the night, unable to wait for a more decent hour. But even more than that, he knew his little cousin. They all knew how much Gil-galad treasured his sleep, and how irritable the elf was when that sleep was interrupted.
Breathing out slowly through her nose, El left her chambers.
Elarinya met her co-ruler as he came out of the hallway leading to his own wing, and felt her lips twitch when she saw the unhappy frown marring his brow. "Do you know why he called for us, hanno?"
Little brother, because that was what he had become ever since her fosterage at Hithlum under Fingon and Meadhros' care. She'd babysat the precocious little king, taught him the songs of Doriath and even helped him train. He was her brother in every way that counted.
After all, it was only thanks to her mother that the trueborn son of Fingon and Maedhros even existed. Scion of kings indeed.
"No." He frowned deeper, making his resemblance to Maedhros grow. Despite his coloring taking after Fingon, Ereinion truly was the son of both of them. "He hasn't alerted me to his plans. It is worrisome that he came here now, at this hour."
They shared a look, the worry each felt reflecting in their eyes. Hurrying towards the throne room, they were met with the sight of their exhausted and frantic friend.
"Tyelpe." Elarinya breathed out when she met the drawn face of her almost-cousin. "Who did this to you?"
She stepped closer, reaching up to cup his face in her hand. Older than her he might be, but Tyelpe had always been someone who stirred her big sister instincts.
Celebrimbor's face spasmed, and he let out an angry sounding laugh. "Me. I did this to myself."
Elarinya frowned, searching for injuries but finding none. Fäe reaching out, she flinched back when she felt something powerful reaching back at her.
Celebrimbor shot her a look, but was distracted by the other ellon in the room with them.
"What happened, cousin?" Gil-galad asked, carefully approaching the tense son of Curufin. "What's going on?"
"Betrayal." He stated coldly, and for the first time since she met the ellon she truly saw Curufin in his son. "Decievement. You were wise to turn him away, my friends. Lord of the gifts he was not."
And suddenly Elarinya understood. "Sauron. Annatar is Sauron."
Anger rushed through her, mostly at herself. What use was her knowledge of her previous life if she couldn't even remember it when the Dark Lord himself appeared on their doorstep, under a different name or not? The knowledge she had had been slipping away for years already, buried underneath the centuries she'd been living as Elarinya.
She knew the big points, true.
She remembered the Hobbits, the hidden king and the quest to Mordor. She remembered Maedhros' original fate, that of Fingon and Maglor.
And that of her home.
(She hadn't remembered Dior's fate, or that of the twins. She often confused the names and dates of the things she did remember. Frustrating as it was, El could make more sense out of her visions than that of her foreknowledge.)
But that didn't mean she could change them. Doriath had still fallen, as had most of Beleriand despite her best efforts. Some events were unchangeable, and that was a bitter pill to swallow. The Music of Arda was set in its way, and while she could add a new note if Eru willed it so, she couldn't change the song. Not truly.
Elarinya was so powerful in her new life, blessed from all sides. Yet she couldn't save everyone. She couldn't even save her own family and friends.
Lúthien and Beren, taken by a mortal death. Little Eluréd and Elurín. Elwing, Elros and Earendil. Thalion, Varyallë, Ecthelion and Maeglin. Amras and Amrod.
Glorfindel.
"Yes." Poor Tyelpe sighed, shoulders slumping tiredly. Yet his hand didn't leave his pocket, it hadn't since Ereinion and El had entered the throne room. He was carrying something, something that had brought him here, in the deep of the night and in fear of his life. "I thought he was my friend."
His voice broke, and El's heart with it.
Tyelpe had always been the best of Fëanor's line. The sweetest, the most innocent in a way. Born in Aman in the Year of the Trees, he'd seen so much cruelty and violence ever since following his father and uncles to Middle-Earth.
He despised war, and had devoted his life to the forge. The sweet ellon she called her cousin made the most beautiful jewelry, from circlets to necklaces to rings. Each more breathtaking than the last, and Elarinya proudly wore every single piece he'd ever made for her.
He truly was only second to Fëanor in skill.
"I should have listened to you. To my uncles. Even Galadriel warned me." His breath hitched. "But the forge had been so lonely since Narvi-"
Since Narvi had passed. The dwarrow had been Celebrimbor's greatest friend and a true rival in skill. For many decades they worked together in Eregion, side by side, creating countless beautiful treasures. The Doors of Durin were a true collaboration between elf and dwarf and a masterpiece like no other.
But then Narvi was gone, and with him most of Celebrimbor.
They'd all tried to comfort Tyelpe in his grief, and his uncles even stayed with him in Eregion for a few years to help him through the worst of it. Loss was something all the sons of Fëanor knew, and their overbearing presence had helped. For a while.
"What did the Deceiver do, cousin?"
The candles on the chandelier wavered, casting their faces and the walls of the throne room into shadow. Tension rose.
"I've always wondered how grandfather had created his Silmarils, how he'd infused so much power, so much of himself in them." He spoke quietly, voice hushed. "We had been working on a project together, Annatar and I. My, our, masterwork."
Elarinya closed her eyes, dread sinking in her stomach.
The way he spoke that name, the heartbreak was palpable. Celebrimbor had loved the smith he'd been working with, Elarinya realized. The hidden Dark Lord. It made her ill to think of it.
To know that Tyelpe had finally let someone into his heart again after the loss of Narvi, and it turned out to be Sauron.
"Galadriel and Celeborn suspected something, but I was blind to anything but his brilliance." Tyelpe winced, scorn infusing his voice. "They left, or were sent away, I don't know anymore. Galadriel and her daughter."
Celebrían.
Galadriel's beautiful and long-awaited child. She'd been born a few centuries past the beginning of the Second Age, and had grown to be a fierce little thing. Smart and kind, and to Elarinya's delight, the young elleth loved a good prank or two.
Ereinion pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning. "What did you and the Dark Lord create?"
"Rings, nineteen of them in total." He admitted. "Nineteen Rings of Power. Seven for the dwarves, nine for the men. Three for the elves."
Silence rang loudly around them.
"Nineteen." Ereinion repeated disbelievingly. "You've created nineteen objects of power."
"Well…"
It went unsaid that Fëanor only created three objects infused with his essence and was forever changed nonetheless.
To have created nineteen…
"Tyelpe." Elerinya interrupted before the two cousins would break out in a brawl not unlike those of their youth. "Please tell me the Dark Lord hasn't managed to get his hands on them. Tell me you have them with you."
"Something was wrong. I could feel it." He explained, and started pacing. "I didn't know at first, not until-"
His voice broke, but Tyelpe continued. "He has the sixteen rings. But I made three more. Three Rings of Power for one of each of my beloved cousins."
He opened his hand and in there, wrapped in a piece of cloth, lay three beautiful rings.
"Nenya, the ring of water for the Lady Galadriel. Vilya, the ring of air, for you, cousin. And fiery Narya for you, my queen."
Ereinion and Elarinya just stared.
Then recovering, Elarinya asked in a level tone, "Are you certain, Celebrimbor?"
"Sauron's taint has not yet corrupted these, Elarinya." The dark-haired ellon shared grimly. "I made sure of that. These three are of my creation, and only my creation. Sauron has not touched them. You shall need them for what is to come."
Hasn't he? The words rang with an undeniable truth, and she stifled a shiver. The night was growing colder but so did the fear in her heart.
El did not like the look in Tyelpe's eyes.
The weariness she saw there, the diminished feel of his fäe.
The pain.
Ereinion nodded, dark hair covering his face for a moment. "As you wish."
Grief underlined his words, but the High King of the Noldor knew what must be done. War was on their doorstep and they needed every advantage they could get. He reached out, and took the offered ring. He inspected it for a moment, awe obvious at the sight of the great craftsmanship of the golden and sapphire ring.
And put it on.
His fäe flared wildly, and a strong wind blew through the open windows of the balcony. Ereinion Gil-galad closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
"This is…"
Celebrimbor smiled wryly, sadly. "May Vilya keep you safe, cousin."
Then he turned towards Elarinya, hand with the last two rings outstretched.
"And what about you?" She argued, frowning delicately. "Sauron will know that you've taken them. He'll come for you."
The One Ring. The memory slammed into her and suddenly El felt a lot more wary at the sight of the pretty rings. But had the One Ring been made yet? Elarinya didn't know.
Glancing at Gil-galad, she thought perhaps not.
"Take the ring, little star." Celebrimbor, son of Curufin said, meeting her eyes. All three of them knew that this was not a betrayal Sauron would take lightly. He would come for their cousin.
Tears welled, but Elarinya did as he bid.
She took the ring.
oOo
Power flared, and if she had been more aware of her surroundings she would have seen the startled expressions of the other two.
But she didn't.
She also didn't see the candles spread out through the room flaring brightly, or the soft starlight that shone out from inside her, bathing them in a silvery glow. All her attention was on the vision that slammed into her brain with the force of a tidal wave the moment she put on the ring.
The clash of army meeting army.
A golden ring, small and unassuming.
A city, a very familiar city sinking into the sea as it faced the wrath of the Valar.
Nine wraiths wearing nine rings.
Glorfindel, on his knees in front of what could only be the Valar.
Glorfindel, on a ship.
Glorfindel, stepping on land. Land she recognized.
Eregion burning.
A corpse, almost unrecognizable from the utter torment it had endured, strung up on a banner and paraded through the throngs of jeering orcs.
The same golden ring, but this time there were words etched in the metal, fire bright and ominous.
Elarinya Aistana, daughter of Elu Thingol and Melian, High Queen and ruler of Lindon, felt frozen as she watched the flashes of vision through her closed eyelids. She saw it all, every horrifying thing.
Yet the most difficult thing to understand was how Glorfindel appeared to be returning to Middle-Earth.
Then came the body, which sent shivers of dread through her. She recognized that long dark hair, the faintly ruddy skin he'd inherited from his father, pale as it was in death. And the ring.
The One Ring.
It was that image that ripped her out of the vision-induced daze.
"One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them." She rasped out as if possessed, shooting upright.
"Elarinya!" A familiar voice urged, but she couldn't hear him over the sound of those dreadful words thundering through her head, over the words that came tumbling out of her mouth without her permission. "Nésa! Wake up, sister."
Her head whipped around wildly, startled to find herself in her chambers, in bed, with a tired looking Elrond sitting at her bedside. Ereinion was there too, sitting in the chair in the corner of the room.
Watching her.
"Take off your ring!" She rasped, before frantically looking for the older elf. He should be here. Why wasn't he here with the other two? "Tyelpe. Where is Tyelpe?"
Ereinion frowned, "He has gone to Lorien. He's bringing the last of the rings to Galadriel."
Too late. She was too late.
The vision had shown her his battered corpse, and by not being able to warn him before he left for Lorien it had been set in stone. She felt it. The music would not accept a change in this. It would not.
But that didn't mean she wouldn't try.
Elrond rose, his fäe washing over her body as he looked for anything amiss. It was soothing as only Elrond's healing could be, but Elarinya could not let herself be soothed by her nephew. Not now.
Her cousin would be taken by the Enemy.
"We need to warn them." Elarinya said. "We need to warm them all."
"Aunt," Elrond asked, concern growing in his pale gray eyes. "What did you see?"
She left the bed, hurriedly humming the notes that would summon her swiftest nightingale. She had to warn Tyelpe, had to let him know so he could prepare himself and Eregion, and hopefully avoid his fate.
"War." Elarinya stated grimly, meeting their gazes head-on. "War is coming to Middle-Earth."
And there was nothing she could do to stop it.
oOo
Once again Elarinya went to war when Eregion called for aid, and her people with her. From their own lands, El knew Galadriel, Oropher and Círdan were doing the same.
With the rings and their bearers under his control, Sauron was more powerful than ever. Once again he had gathered a powerful army of orcs, trolls and other fell creatures.
But also men, dwarves and elves had joined the fallen Maia. He'd chosen his targets wisely and the corruption in them spread easily through the hearts of Men. Númenor had fallen, drowned by the sea for their revolt against the Valar. Most of Elros' line had fallen with it, though a rare few had made it out in time.
Another thing to curse Sauron for.
Even the dwarves were changed by them, though to a lesser degree. Their greed for gold grew, and as it grew so did the distrust between the dwarrow and the other races in Middle-Earth. Elarinya had sent her warnings, but none but her fellow elves listened. The relationship between elves and dwarves had soured and they lost the trust that had once been there.
The kings of men who'd received a ring were even worse off, they learned as the years passed. Greed changed them, transforming them into creatures that cast fear in the hearts of all that lived.
Thankfully, the three rings were mostly free of Sauron's taint. They could use them, if sparingly.
The Dark Lord had still connected them to the One Ring through his dark spells, but the connection was weak. As long as they didn't wear it, they would be safe.
But they soon learned they couldn't win this battle without them.
She spotted Maedhros and Fingon, each commanding the Noldorin troops in Gil-galad's name. On the other side of the battlefield were Celegorm and Caranthir, fighting together in a blur of silver and midnight, fighting for the home of their nephew.
Maglor, using both his sword and his voice to cut a swath through the orcs. Oropher leading a host of the Woodland Realm. Galadriel and Celeborn, the wedded pair a vision of white and gold as they commanded the forces of Lorien in the name of their former home.
Elarinya too was fighting on the battlefield, having trusted both Galion and Hanneth to lead the healers in the Healing Tents. The High Queen could not stay safe behind the lines while her people lost their lives, she could not.
So she fought.
At least she could be secure in the knowledge that Gil-galad was back home, guarding their city with the remaining army. Sauron would not get Lindon, and she would try her damndest to make sure he wouldn't get Eregion either.
"Stand still and let me kneecap you, damnable twinkletoes!" The beardless dwarf she was fighting growled, stomping his foot like he wished the ground would split open underneath her feet. "Treeshagger! Leaf eater!"
El stifled a snicker, as always quite amused by what the dwarrow considered insults. Though she quickly lost the amusement when the dishonored dwarf threw his sword at her in a move so unexpected that it actually hit her.
The blade sliced through her arm, barely avoiding her torso as she sprang out of the way like the badass twinkletoes she was. Humming softly under her breath, she smirked when the wound healed.
"Witch!" The dwarf shouted, wide eyed. "Sorceress!"
Elarinya sniffed, and swiftly took care of the orc that thought he could sneak up on her. "Dwarf."
Then she knocked the foolish dwarf out, easily stepping over his limp body to find the next opponent waiting for her. El fought until she couldn't anymore, and then she kept on fighting. Black blood and other fluids were sticking to her armor and onto her face and hair, but she didn't care.
They'd almost reached Eregion. Almost.
Suddenly the Enemy started to retreat, but there was something about it that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
A banner was lifted.
The sons of Fëanor froze, anguish on each of their faces. And Elarinya knew. She'd seen this before.
She knew what, who she'd find on that banner.
Celebrimbor.
The kind ellon who'd cheered her up when she felt homesick. The friend that'd attempted to teach her how to create as he did, only for her to fail miserably at it. The cousin, the brother who'd been there for her for most of her life.
Gone.
Then what she'd thought to be Celebrimbor's corpse twitched as a rock hit him, and Elarinya's breath hitched. The orcs jeered, some throwing more rocks and all delighting in the outrage and grief of the elves. Maedhros started glowing with the force of his rage, his brothers following behind him.
He was still alive.
Even with the numerous wounds, the dozens of arrows sticking out of his tormented body, Celebrimbor was still alive. El didn't know how she'd missed it, but there was still a tiny spark of life in Tyelpe's hröa. Just a tiny spark of fäe, forcibly bound to his failing body.
She cursed, realizing what Sauron had done.
"Guard me!" She called, and her fellow warriors gathered around her, shields raised.
Elarinya looked around, searching for a way to reach the others. "Galadriel!"
But the name she called wasn't done so verbally. She used her fäe , and connected to her mother's former apprentice mind to mind. Ósanwe, Galadriel's specialty.
"Tyelpe." She said as soon as she felt the blonde's presence in her mind. "He's still alive."
She felt her horror as if it was her own. "No."
"It is not due to his own will." Elarinya shared grimly, letting the older elleth see what she had discovered. "Sauron has forced it upon him. He has denied his prisoner even the mercy of death. Cover me, mellon nin? I need to break the connection between them."
"Do it." Galadriel said, grim horror still audible in her voice. "I'll speak with my cousin, we will join you."
The connection broke. Then her eyes fell on a bird, a little hawk. She hummed under her breath, then started to sing. The hawk spread his wings and jumped off the branch he'd been resting on.
"Hello, little friend." She hummed as the bird landed gracefully on her arm, not breaking the song. "Would you do me a favor and give the tall red-head over there a message for me?"
The hawk blinked, and she felt his agreement.
"Thank you, brave one." El murmured, barely audible over the horrible sounds of the fight going on all around her. "He bound Tyelpe's fäe to his hröa. I can break his hold, but I will need a distraction."
She lifted her arm, and the hawk soared.
Elarinya saw the moment Maedhros got the message, their eyes meeting over the heads of the army. He nodded, a grim understanding weaving through his fäe.
Sauron was the only thing keeping Celebrimbor alive.
If she broke the hold on his fäe, Maedhros' nephew would die. His wounds were too severe, and even a healer of Elarinya's capabilities wouldn't be able to save him. Not after the years the poor ellon had spent in Sauron's company.
Something which Maedhros of all people very much understood.
He lifted his sword, calling to his brothers who quickly followed his lead. "For Tyelpe! For our nephew!"
They charged.
"Can you break it, mellon nin?" Lindariel asked, horror obvious as she stared at the tortured body of their friend. At the many black arrows piercing his tormented body. He'd stopped moving, but she could still feel his pain. He was in so much pain.
"Yes." Elarinya said, raising her voice. "I can."
And then she started to sing in earnest.
The years had only strengthened her song, and with the voices of Maglor and Galadriel joining her it was the work of minutes before she found the string connecting Celebrimbor to Sauron. It was an insidious connection, and Sauron was powerful.
But Elarinya wasn't something to scoff at either.
She sang louder, aiming her fäe like a scalpel. The connection resisted, sticking to Tyelpe's fäe like a leech. Agony flared, but El persisted. She would not let her cousin down.
And she did not.
Bit by bit she untangled the string connecting them. She felt Sauron's fury at being thwarted, but also Celebrimbor's relief. He wanted it to end. She soothed his pain the best she could, enveloping him in her love and care. And then he was gone.
Dead.
"His pain has ended. He's in Mandos' Halls now." She breathed out, drawing back her power. El closed her eyes, sending up a quick prayer. "May you find peace there, dear Tyelpe."
But she didn't have time to do much more. Sauron's fury was palpable, and the armies under his command geared up for another round. Yet the wearer of the One Ring did not appear. Neither did he do anything to help his armies now that they were losing ground once again.
A horn blew.
And an arrow flew.
It hit the orc carrying the horrific banner straight through the eye, killing it instantly. A cheer went up as the sons of Fëanor charged forward to where their nephew lay, but El was too busy searching for where the arrow had come from.
She could have sworn she felt-
There he was. Atop of a white stallion, a golden figure sat. Golden was his armor and golden was his hair, carefully braided out of his face with Noldorin warrior braids.
Glorfindel.
"Do my eyes deceive me or is that the noble fool you like to rant about on our females-only nights." Lindariel remarked casually as she avoided the ax of a charging orc, brows raised.
She'd been aware of the vision Elarinya had when she put on the ring, but none of them had truly believed it. No one ever returned from Aman, not really.
"That is indeed my noble fool." El replied dryly, smiling when the others around them laughed. "Now, concentrate! We have a battle to win!"
Yet she couldn't keep her eyes off him. He shone with the righteous golden light of Laurelin, more than he'd ever before and every foul creature that dared to attack fell before his mighty blade.
Elarinya felt him. For the first time in almost two millennia she felt the fäe of her dear friend brushing against hers. She laughed as she cut down the troll, easily avoiding his swinging club. Her fäe flared, and in the distance she felt Elrond responding to her fierce joy.
"The day has come!" She called, voices all around her echoing her call. "Utúlie'n aurë! To Eregion! For Celebrimbor!"
They fought, though she didn't know for how many days. All she knew was the feel of the sword in her hand and the enemy in front of her. She slashed, parried and sang against the neverending waves of orcs. She caused fires and brought hope and healing with her voice.
But then she was surrounded.
El didn't know how it happened. Lindariel yelped and suddenly all her people were away, and all she could see were the leering faces of the dirt-covered orcs.
"Elf queen."
She sneered back, sinking into a ready stance. "Orc."
"Where's the ring!" The leader of the pack snarled, black eyes narrowed in on her. "Give us the ring, elf whore, and our master might make your end quick."
"You shall never find it." She shot back, voice icy cold. Narya was hidden beneath a glamor so strong not even Sauron could see through it. Galadriel, Gil-galad and El were all wearing theirs, though less now that they were aware of the connection to the One Ring.
"We will." He said, and Elarinya swallowed back her surprise at his eloquence. "You saw what happened to those who refuse our master, elf. It will not end well."
With a flash of knowledge, El knew. She laughed, unable to help herself. "Celebrimbor did not tell. Even under the torment of Sauron himself, he did not betray his kind."
Somewhere behind her an orc gasped, letting out a wet-sounding gurgle. In the same time it took for the body to fall to the ground, a warm presence settled at her back, guarding it. She didn't have to look to know it was Glorfindel.
No one else could make her feel this safe with only his presence. Only he had ever done that, just by being near her. Only Glorfindel.
"Elarinya." He breathed, and for a second the hands that weren't holding their swords bumped together. "Namárië, my queen."
The death of the orc was the signal for the other to attack, and suddenly she had no time to even hug the elf she'd missed so much. Killing one orc and fatally injuring another, El stood back-to-back with him, eyeing the remaining orcs warily.
"Namárië?" She bit back over the sound of the fight, annoyed and so, so relieved. "That's all you can say to me after everything? Namárië? You damn fool!"
Glorfindel grinned sheepishly, kicking away the orc going for her back. "A fool indeed. Is this a bad time to tell you I missed you?"
They were a blur of silver and gold, each of them as vicious in the defense of other as an elf could possibly be. If she had been more aware of the image they made, she would have recognized it from the scene of her very first vision.
Instead all she felt was exhilaration.
"I missed you too, mellon nin." Elarinya admitted, kicking away one orc before disemboweling another. It was strangely easy to banter with him as they fought together.
Then the last of the orcs lay dead at their feet and they were embracing. She buried her nose in his neck, breathing in his scent through the smell of blood and sweat. Closing her eyes for a second, Elarinya felt him do the same.
Moving away slightly, she punched him in the arm. "That was for the way you left me. Really, Glorfindel? A Balrog?"
"I'm sorry, Aistana." He blinked, eyes turning serious. "I am so sorry for leaving the way I did. Leaving you. But I must know, after all these years, are you welcome to my suit?"
"Is this really the moment?" El scoffed, a smile breaking out over her face. "I haven't taken off the necklace you gave me since that day. You are one of my dearest still, Glorfindel. Of course I accept your suit!"
A brilliant smile appeared on his otherworldly face, and Elarinya fought the urge to blink like a green girl. His joy was like looking into the sun, and she felt an answering smile cross over her own face.
"Thank the Valar." He breathed, reaching for her hand to press a soft kiss to it like one of the valiant knights of song. "We have much to speak about, I know, but I am gladdened to see your joy."
El didn't reply. Instead she reached out and daringly tugged on his hair, bringing him towards her. Glorfindel eyed her fondly, mouth curling into a smile as he followed her silent order. She rose up to her tiptoes, and then, in front of everyone, their lips met in a soft kiss.
Home.
She was home.