7 | Just End of the World Things

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Elrond Peredhel | Lord of Rivendell

Location: Sanctum Sanctorum, New York City, USA, Earth

Time: August 2027

- A Few Weeks ago in Middle Earth Time -

Today had been uneventful compared to yesterday. Yesterday...all Elrond could explain to his future self would be the fact that spending a day with his supposed mother-in-law was both terrifying and amazing at the same time.

Amazing that she was perhaps one of the most (and mayhap the most) compassionate and honest women he ever met.

And terrifying because she was fiercely protective and chaotic as her adopted daughter.

It amused Elrond that despite not even an ounce of blood related to her, both Darcy Lewis and Illyria Strange held equal amounts of their character. Combined? He could boldly state that not even Mithrandir or Saruman could counter a storm such as Darcy and Illyria when it comes to protecting the people they loved.

Equally as protective as they were, came Stephen Strange, a man whom he had to thank once more for saving his life. Of course, it had been the doctors and surgeons who saved his life – though had the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth instantly placed him into his former hospital and colleagues, Elrond's body would be on Earth and his fëa would be swimming somewhere in the unknown.

Though as this uneventful day commence, so did it give Elrond time to rest again. His stomach still was healing, faster than humans but slower than most elves. The Sanctum Sanctorum of New York was something he had yet to fully appreciate, reminding him of the buildings back in Oxford though with incredibly different interiors. It was similar to Kamar-Taj, with dark wooden palette colours and rooms and open plans of glass cases, books, and cabinets.

Darcy Lewis was needed back at work supposedly, offering her free consultancy to run research with certain scientists of her expertise whilst helping with Illyria, Harley and Fëanor's project. His sons were, to his surprise, given free reign to explore this modern world. Elrond had rose his eyebrows towards his wife, wondering if that would be the most sensible thing to do.

Illyria simply shrugged her shoulders, smiling with a slight assurance that the twins would behave and that she had Harley Keener keeping a close eye on the two, no matter where they were in the world.

The most sensible thing Elrond could do was just agree. One thing he learnt about being married was that a wife's instinct was always correct in these things.

They ended up mostly reading in one of the extensive library spaces, with him laid back upon the end of the velvet lounger, legs safely propped up by the footstool Illyria conjured. Propped up with his legs, his wife's head laid on his right, hands holding a book above her. With her hair unbraided for once, it splayed out like rivers of silver over him, now blended with her natural golden tint coming from the top of her scalp. As the summer rays passed through the circular windows, it graced her focused face at such an angle, highlighting how the blueness now sparkled instead of the eerie glow in Imladris. And by the steady rising of her chest, her relaxed posture might as well ease him throughout it all.

Because since arriving here, he knew Illyria Strange had been stressed ever since. Her guilt and worry all bundled up, continuously being knotted and tied together.

Elrond knew she still had it, though just hiding it at this time much like his own negative emotions and thoughts. His fears of and worries about what was going on in Arda. What happened in Imladris. His daughter and Aragorn...

"Elrond."

"Hmm?" He glanced down from staring blankly in front of him, finding Illyria had placed her book down on her chest.

Illyria looked up at him and a small smile formed. 

"Nothing," she said. "I just...I was just thinking about things."

"Of?" He inquired, his hand gently brushing over her hair.

"Us," She answered, twitching her lips slightly. "You, actually."

Elrond's lips quirked a little as he asked, "And what about me, melmenya?"

A little short breath left her lips. Even when she never would admit it, Elrond could tell calling her that name had always affected her. Far from the worst case that is.

"How you would look with grey hair," A smile grew on her face, her hand reaching to grasp the strand of his own.

Some ray of emotions passed him. He wasn't exactly sure of what kind. Amusement, confusion, or annoyance. Elrond's first initial reaction would have been sadness, he expected, knowing easily that he had chosen the life of the Eldar than of man. But instead, it rose questions.

"I think we've already seen that when Elros grew to his later years," He noted, causing her to roll her eyes.

She bit her lip, letting her hand graze over his jaw. "But it's not the same," Illyria began, "Elves hearts and souls grow old and yet they look as if they haven't aged a day. And yet I've met many people who look old and yet they feel so young. So youthful."

Elrond remained quiet. In a way, it was always how he saw people. Through their eyes and the flashes of their future, he could speculate how much their fëa could be. With elves, they had that aura, though it matured and sometimes dimmed as ages passed – followed by the world changing around them. But men, dwarrow and hobbits; they were often still bursting with light – fusing out when such a moment changes their soul forever and sometimes it was gradually fading.

His eyes looked for a second at his own strand of hair. Never had he imagined himself with ageing hair. Lines forming not from stress but from age itself. His body becoming weaker. His mixed feelings of experiencing mortality from those he loved were different from if he had the choice.

"Do you ever go back and think of it?" She questioned him quietly, "The day they asked what you'd choose. I—"

She stopped herself, giving more time for him to allow the question to invade his thoughts as well.

"Well, you never really had a choice," Illyria sadly looked away. Somehow he could sense the anger in her tone. "They made you do it despite being so young."

He inhaled deeply. Some part of him wished he never had to discuss some things. Throughout his life, many have wondered in front of him and behind his back how the choice of the Peredhel was even considered. Elrond couldn't even describe it himself. It had been thousands of years and yet thinking back at it...having Manwë's herald inform a young child – only at the age of adulthood – that they needed to choose what life they wanted.

Either the life of Elves or Men.

He had chosen his life because of multiple reasons. Not only to discover centuries later that it had been his growing infatuation with Elemmírë, but also the future he had seen if he had chosen the path as an elf.

However, he wouldn't deny that there was a moment he thought of himself choosing a mortal path. His life would have been far different than the life he now bore. Perhaps he would have tried to make his own realm of the secondborn, or perhaps continue as an advisor between Lindon and Númenor.

Mortal path or not, he would still have followed his heart to protect his family and love either way.

"No. I never really did," He smiled somberly, "Only now when I realise. When I'm starting to understand why mortality...it doesn't seem so bad after all."

Illyria's eyes lingered back to his, her hand smoothing the shirt they had borrowed from Maedhros belongings. "Elrond, we still have time," She reminded him, her voice trying to give a little hope for both of them. "I'm what? Turning twenty-three soon, technically people my age aren't getting married yet."

He hid back his internal stiffening when hearing those words. Despite Illyria's assurances to him, she was considered an adult in this world and age and that the age difference are hardly pointless nowadays. Elrond had coughed out his tea when Darcy Lewis mentioned her friend, Jane Foster, who had dated a one thousand- and five-hundred-year-old alien Norse (her words, not his) and almost lost his grip of the teacup when Illyria had inputted that considering Stephen Strange's travels through the multiverse – neither of them knew his true age.

Nevertheless, it was not a shocking fear for either of them. He had been berated once for marrying Elemmírë due to herself being older by a millennium. And yet his entire biological family had been beyond other things.

They couldn't test him, especially being the descendant of Lúthien Tinúviel.

Though past those emotions, Elrond knew that Illyria had been thinking something more focused on themselves. The mischievous glimmer in her gaze, a grace of thought of them married again passed over Illyria that even he knew easily what it meant. He smiled and murmured, "I'm glad you think of a future beyond what is happening to us."

"Always hope for a bright future," she said thoughtfully before she tattled on. "Because I'm not spending my twenties unalive and non-existent. I want to spend my life doing things that I love, being with who I love."

Elrond felt her hand travel on top of his open palm, letting a string of tingling warmth flow up his body, his chest tightening. He curled his fingers over hers, breathing in as he brought his other hand to caress her cheek.

He hid back the pain and fear. Elrond remembered again the reality of it all. His life with her. Mortality.

"You won't be there all the time," He whispered back, "You...Arwen"

Illyria paused but continued to smile, "I know." She spoke softly, her words causing him to mentally break. "But why fight time when you can save it? We'll meet again, somewhere. I'll spend my next life trying to find you just to make you fall in love again and again."

Elrond tried to imagine her dream, wishing himself that his love would do all she could to fight her way back to him. No matter what, where and when: he would never doubt that Illyria Strange would find him again. And they would fall in love once more. Again and again just like how she said it, knowing now that his heart was for her soul and her soul only.

However, he knew reality too plainly.

He wanted to shake his head and disagree. Elrond questioned, "But what if it isn't like that." He asked her, "What if we don't have time? What if it does happen?"

A range of emotions rotated over her. Her lips curled into a frown but then into confusion. In the end, he was left staring at her cheek crinkling. She was smiling in amusement.

"Now I can see why Galadriel and I didn't get along," Illyria mused, making him confused at her reaction. "Why I was different to the rest of you."

This woman will always stump his mind. Elrond furrowed his eyebrows, "I don't understand."

Her smile turned to almost a grin, her tone almost at a jest as she wondered, "The great Elrond Peredhel knows nothing?" She raised a brow, continuing her sarcastic quips. "Wow, that's something to write about. Better than about, what? This book about Norse mythology and pantheons."

She gestured to the book that was on her stomach.

Elrond internally snorted, making her even grin more.

He then replied; his smile back on |his face, "I do not think I am the great. Perhaps in another world, there may be another Elrond somewhere." He pointed out, humming in thought. "Or so your order believes. Other realities with multiple versions of us."

Illyria smirked as she let go of his hand, poking his chest with her finger. "You have not met my other counterparts." She looked up, a slightly soured expression as she commented, "Believe me: I think you'll be terrified of them as I had."

He raised his eyebrow, instinctively disbelieving in one part but knowing it from a sorceress from another world: he shouldn't remove the notion. Elrond remembered her stories when she was away, speaking about the adventures she had with her father or Maedhros. There were times he had to ask her to repeat such things, such as multiple versions of the same person from other worlds and how vastly different they could become.

Apparently, she met a version of herself as Sorceress Supreme: and it was a meeting that was rather...complicated.

He wouldn't even begin on how he would react if Elrond met a different version of himself.

When his thoughts spiralled, it was then cut off by the sound of a clearing throat.

Elrond had never shown panic nor fear to anyone in his later youth...but he would when it came to Stephen Strange. As soon as he spotted the older sorcerer, he removed his hand away from Illyria's face, splaying it back on the book he had been reading.

'Very subtle, El Elrond.' A voice echoed with a chuckle.

He shushed her internally.

On the other hand, whilst he might be as red as the cushion Illyria was laying on, Stephen Strange looked even redder as he found them in this spot. Stephen Strange adjusted his stance from across the room and said tightly, "Sorry to interrupt your...moment." His eyes were directed to Elrond as he said, "I'd like to speak with you, Elrond."

He noticed Illyria tilting her head to her father.

Stephen highlighted, "Alone."

Elrond was concerned with what was to say but kept quiet, nodding his head in agreement before Illyria rose. 

She whined back, "Aw, I was comfortable."

With a wry smile, he mentally assured her that he would return as soon as he spoke to her father. Illyria rolled her eyes before she glared at her father before agreeing.

On the other hand, Stephen plainly spoke, "You'll get your personal cushion later, Lyria." He noted, "And do take your shoes off before Wong sees them dirtying the furniture."

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He found himself sitting down on the armchair, facing the desk to which he first met the man who ambled around it – his eyes gazing on the multiple books open over the table. One thing he did cross out was that this wasn't some interrogation, especially regarding Illyria and their open display of affection within their supposed home.

One thing Elrond was surprised about when it came to Stephen Ettelëa was that the man understood and trusted his daughter in her choices. Even he would never allow such a thing, neither the twins nor Arwen – Elrond would have to know the people they choose to court openly than calmly let them continue unbeknownst of their intentions. Perhaps it was the differences in their culture or the circumstances they were in.

The man in front of him must have struggled in one way to accept his daughter's choice of loving another person beyond her world. He just simply hid it well enough to not worry Elrond.

"How is your abdomen?"

When he heard Stephen ask, he shifted on his seat to adjust his posture. "Better," Elrond responded, "I think by tomorrow I should be able to travel."

"Good." He hummed, turning back before he clicked his fingers.

In a snap Elrond was flung back into new surroundings, his heart lurching slightly at the sudden unknown force.

They were now sitting in an enclosed space filled with bookshelves. In front of him was Stephen, sitting on another armchair as he folded his arms. Eyes peering back at him.

Now, this was clearly an interrogation.

He inhaled before he began, "I wanted to speak to you about something. How your visions work."

So it would seem it was now about Illyria. Elrond was not sure if that was better or not.

He gulped, remembering his conversation with him back at the hospital. He would not let his emotions override him. Not this time. "It depends on who and what I look into. I may be able to look into someone's future but they vary in length and accuracy," Elrond explained.

Stephen's eyes widened slightly. He asked, "Multiple possibilities?"

"No. Just one," He answered with elaboration, "It would depend on the choices and how people progress. It would change sometimes."

"Do you ever see the big picture?"

A frown formed on his face. "Why do you ask me about this?" Elrond asked, puzzled and slowly becoming concerned by his specific questions. "I thought your world knows what I am capable of."

"From a book? Yes." Stephen confirmed but added, "But the real person is completely different. Your precognition, that's what we call foresight - is...no doubt very strong."

Elrond gripped the sides of the armchair a little too tightly.

It did not take a Fëanorian to know where this was going.

"Maybe even flawless by the accounts of how accurate you have been with what's been going on." He pressed his hands together. Stephen thinned his lips as he contemplated: "My sense with the stone has been off to some degree. Some of it is going in the right direction but it leads to nothing after a fixed point in time. But with what you showed me before you left, how certain do you think it will lead to that path?"

He gulped. Elrond took a shuddered breath, the vision of the last version of that future replaying in his head. He answered Stephen, "I...cannot answer that."

Somehow Stephen knew. How? Elrond would not fathom before a sorcerer.

Stephen questioned, "Was it accurate?"

"At first, no," Elrond conceited and answered, doing his best to keep it vague as he sagged his shoulders and continued, "But it is starting to get more accurate. The closer we get to it; I can sense its certainty growing."

Stephen stared back at him, eyes calculating and difficult for Elrond to read. The Sorcerer Supreme remained quiet for some time, the clock ticking almost like those gunshots before he hummed. "I see," He stood up from his chair, making Elrond follow with a frown. "I will have to discuss this with someone. My theories on how your foresight works really."

"Your theories?" Elrond echoed.

His face relaxed, his eyes telling him that it was nothing he needed to worry about. "Don't worry, Elrond." Somehow that didn't calm Elrond at all. "I don't need to reveal anything else other than that I think we might have been wrong about something."

Confusion and suspicion arose in his mind. What had Illyria's father found that not even he could understand and explain at such a time? And how would it help them either way for such an uncertain future?

Unless there was something. That everything Elrond had predicted was going to come true.

"Will it happen?" He questioned. A slip of plea dripped from his voice.

Stephen eyed him and spoke, "The question is, will you let it happen?" He peered with a knowing gaze, "Fate and destiny are completely different things. Determined by different variables. The question is: are your visions determined by fate or destiny?"

He had been left in the room pondering deeply on the words Stephen Strange spoke, finding himself bringing that fear and concern back into the front of his mind once more.

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Location: Imladris, Middle Earth, Arda, Ea

Time: March 2981 T.A

"Are you alright, Lord Elrond?"

Elrond snapped his head upwards, flexing his fingers to realise he had been gripping the edge a bit too tightly than normal. Once he realised that he had blanked out from his work, the next had been realizing that his advisor had been standing in front of him for Eru knows how long. When did he enter his study? Surely not too long, he hoped.

If so, he must have been deep in thought about what had happened.

Or the rather storm of events he had from yesterday and back from waking up on Earth.

He inhaled through his nostrils, rolling his shoulders slightly before he removed his hands from his desk. Elrond stretched his hands as he nodded assurance to the younger ellon, "I am quite fine, Lindir."

He could hear Illyria whispering in his mind about how much of an understatement that was.

However, Lindir didn't seem to buy it and commented, "Well you have not slept. Perhaps some tea may ease you?"

Oh, he had slept. Though, Elrond wouldn't say it was the most comforting thing. He missed the feeling of his wife's body curled in his, her back pressed upon his chest as he draped his arms over her just several hours ago.

He had kept her promise to stay with her, to hold her close as she slept through her tears. Their fëa entwined, letting their pain and grief mix – trying to comfort their own demons they had faced on that very day. With Illyria's heritage confirmed and his reunion with his complicated relationship with his foster father.

If he would call him now his foster father all these years.

After he left with Maglor, the idea of seeing him again (in Rivendell out of all places) felt like a dream. Elrond believed at that moment that he died, waking up in another world perhaps and finding Maglor Fëanorian standing in his study as if he had just come around to visit.

Instead, it was all real. He was there, wearing something similar to what Maedhros and Illyria wore and yet detailed with such unique patterns. And his eyes; Maglor's eyes had glowed an eerily blue like Illyria's, though in a way that was neither warm nor cold. It was just simply a mysterious shade that only brought him to understand that this was no dream at all.

Maglor had changed.

He was Lokachari.

And Elrond had thought he would have snapped then. Just like Illyria had when she told him how they discovered who he was throughout the years.

"No, it is alright, my friend," He smiled with reassurance to Lindir before the smile faded, "It is only just the news I received. Or rather the guest who is now here."

The news of Maglor Fëanorian in Imladris was the first thing that spread all across the valley. Soon enough, Mithlond and the rest of Lindon would know. So would Lothlorien and unfortunately Mirkwood.

Lindir stiffened, awkwardly stammering back, "Yes...your...foster father, if that is what Lady Illyria informed Miriel."

When Elrond looked back to his friend, he caught him eyeing down at the floor before their eyes met.

That gaze: he knew exactly where he had seen that before. A face he had seen in both Ereinion and Glorfindel whenever they mentioned those they clearly loved.

"I am quite glad you have found something with Lady Miriel, mellon." He spoke with genuine happiness, asking back in a light tone: "Is that the reason you are here?"

Lindir almost leapt from his spot as he replied, "Yes." A little too loud, his cheek grew warm as he questioned to him, "Will it be too spontaneous if...if I am to marry her soon?"

Well: that was not what he had expected.

At least Illyria would be pleased about it. Something to do with a list of things to do before the end of the world had been spoken about when they were both back on Earth.

Elrond smiled openly at his friend, "No. With such circumstances, it is good that there is something happy and good to look forward to." He stood up, walked over to his friend and placed a hand upon the ellon's shoulder. "Lindir, you have always been a good person to confide to. Ever since we welcomed you to our household from Mithlond, you have done nothing but have been a good friend to our home. I give my blessing not as your lord, but as your friend."

Lindir lowered his chin before he then looked back up and smiled. "Thank you, Lord- I mean Elrond."

He eyed the door behind the advisor. Elrond may not have such magic to detect it, but he easily knew by knowing them too well.

"You may come in Lady Miriel," Elrond spoke with amusement, watching as the door opened.

The young face of the elleth they had been speaking of looked at them with wide eyes before her gaze looked upon Lindir. She walked over, reaching to take both of Lindir's arms before she cried – happy tears upon her cheeks.

When she turned to him, Miriel bowed and spoke, "Thank you! Thank you, my lor- I mean Elrond."

Elrond remained smiling, ushering the two as he answered, "Go, have your leave for today. Enjoy some time together."

The two were too ecstatic but surprised him when Lindir had slyly mentioned before they left, "If only you spend the same with Lady Illyria as well, Elrond."

As the two left, Elrond returned to his spot – chuckling to himself as he returned to his work.

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To some coincidence, he somehow followed Lindir's advice. After the young elven couple had left his study, he could not help but feel a little lighter than moments before. The first thought that crossed his mind had been his own love, and sooner or later he had found himself taking the moment to seek her out.

Finding her in her favourite garden, Elrond silently waited for her to finish meditating – standing back up after her mesmerizing levitating tricks. She was surprised that he was there, confused why he had waited for her. Perhaps it was just that spontaneous idea he sprouted, knowing now that their moments together were so little in these tight times.

A second with her was worth more than years without her.

Her eyes brightened, her smile growing slightly before she took his gestured hand and happily followed her out of the garden. When she asked where they were going, Elrond simply told her that he wished to spend some quiet time with her before going back to work. And knowing by the preparations for the coming weeks, he might as well deserve it. They both did.

And with what happened last night, Elrond promised himself he would do all he could to comfort her in any way possible. He wanted to assure her that she was not alone in this. Half-Ainur or not, he cared not for it but to make sure she was alright.

Hand in hand, he kept her close as they wandered through the homely house, passing by open corridors and paths.

After some quiet minutes, Illyria piped out with a sly smile, "Heard from Miriel about the engagement," She grinned, "Wow, wasn't expecting Lindir and Miriel."

How in Arda she had known about it so quickly perplexed him. 

But then again, Elrond knew his wife had multiple methods to increase her productivity (and eavesdropping). The last time he had asked her if he could teach him her unique trick, she told him that it wasn't exactly something she could teach him – an instinct in fact.

Perhaps it was the Aini part of her that was able to make it.

But back on the topic at the end, Elrond glanced down at her before he quirked his lips and said simply, "War and the end of the world do things to people."

Illyria's eyes glimmered as she sadly smiled up at him – a slight tease in her tone. "You speak as if you know it, El Elrond."

The quick jape sent another jump at his heart, leaning down to murmur into her ear, "I am not the one who had enchanted me and has whisked me quite far from my study, melmenya."

When he looked at her, Illyria raised a brow before she tutted back with an amused tone, "I was not the one who left their work to find someone just to have a stroll around their own home."

"As I say with evidence," He wistfully countered, bringing his hand to adjust the strand of hair upon her hair. Elrond's eyes glimmered as he spoke, "I have been tempted by a fruit and have been enchanted by a great sorceress."

A spark grew in her eyes, his fëa jumping in slight surprise as she leaned up to him – her lips almost touching his as she began to let her fingers wander up to the side of his neck. "Maybe that was my plan all along." Illyria tilted her head before she sighed, pulling away despite his internal frustration at her teasing. "Unfortunately, got to get back to work. Even if there have been some setbacks."

Elrond shared the knowing look and sighed as well. 

As much as they were now hiding in an alcove between two pillars in the corridor, in the proximity of one that was courting the other, they both had to get back to work.

That didn't mean he couldn't help but plant a small kiss on her nose, causing her to scrunch her nose before she pouted – making him chuckle back.

There were moments like this he cherished more than those of private affairs. The small, tiny gestures he loved to give, even if it was their glances at one another or just simply seeing her smile back.

They continued their walk; her hand now focused on tapping her staff. It was then Illyria decided to change the subject and began to speak. 

"I uh, I wanted to ask you about something,"

Elrond looked at her and nodded, letting her proceed. "Of course."

Thankfully none had walked past them or were nearby, easily continuing their conversation in the middle of the hallway.

Her hands tapped on the metallic surface of her staff, a nervous tick perhaps as she exhaled. "Firstly, I want to tell you that I may have remembered what I saw...when I died." Illyria scrunched her lips, licking them when she curled them inwards as she added wryly, "Or almost died. Depends on which time, you know."

Elrond curtly nodded for her to get to the point.

"I wasn't sure it was just me hallucinating, but then I dreamt it when he told me what I was. Just before I fell through the portal." She began, her eyes going slightly hazy as she recalled: "I dreamt about something. About some stars...a mountain of some sort."

His eyes narrowed as he commented, "You will need to be more specific."

"Yeah but this mountain...there was like sort of beacon or something," She allowed her staff to disappear from her hands, allowing both her hands to gesture in front of her. "Then I saw the trees. And when I mean the trees, I mean—"

"Laurelin and Telperion." 

Elrond finished with a quiet voice. An idea struck in his mind whilst he began, "Perhaps...hmm."

His mind faded into the vague memory, slowly becoming more vivid and clearer as he realised what she had once meant all those centuries ago. When Elemmírë began to lose control of her magic and abilities. She told him during the middle of the night, finding her drawing faster than her voice could comprehend as he watched her. All those parchments sprayed across their bedroom floor, drawings of broken shards and stars two familiar trees.

She told him then that she had been dreaming of the same thing again and again. About multiple voices over one another: telling her to find them. To find them beyond unknown and known.

After her death, one of the first things he did was try and decipher what it all meant. He wondered if whatever she dreamt about had something to do with what happened in Angmar. But as his focus turned to his children and his people, the search was pushed out from his mind and would be now somewhere hidden within the valley.

Until now.

He couldn't stop now, his feet quickly moving in glided steps as he spotted Illyria look at him oddly.

"Elrond?" Illyria called out with a very confused voice, racing up to him. "Hey, slow down! No wonder Lindir can walk so goddamn fast!"

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There was a lot more to which Elrond remembered about Elemmírë's last years. He tended to remove them from his mind as much as he could, mostly to remove the grief, guilt and pain that was attached to them like limpets on the rocky shore.

However: there was a place that kept those memories out of his mind and onto ink and parchment.

As they entered the ruined entrance, greeting some elves who were already rebuilding the frescos and columns as well as some novices and librarians, Elrond continued to walk in a certain direction as Illyria was trying to keep up with him – having needed to double her steps due to his long strides.

She finally caught up as he turned towards the smaller section, a private alcove that only he and certain people could access.

"Why are we at the library?" Illyria asked, voice a little breathless from their detour.

Elrond continued onwards, passing a senior librarian who nodded to him before they left, closing the door behind them as they entered the private rotunda of books and scrolls. This would be the first time Illyria Strange would be in here, knowing that years ago she would never have been allowed at such a place – even when Erestor and Elrond knew that the sorceress was too much like Elemmírë.

He gestured for her to wait for him, letting her wander about in the small room as he rummaged through boxes and books. They still had labels in which Elemmírë wrote, because in truth: this entire place was every work which he, Erestor and Elemmírë had done since the beginning of the Second Age.

Every note and journal were every work they have either individually or cooperatively done. Most have been published for the public, though some remained solely for their eyes and their eyes only. Notes that were either pointless to be shared or too dangerous to be shared.

As for Elemmírë's notes of her powers and dreams, that had been something he knew he would never let be revealed.

When he found the right scrolls, hidden under so much newer things, Elrond walked over to one of the small tables and gestured for Illyria to come to him. "When you first passed, I had most of your works accepted into the library along with the guildhall. Though, I understood that some works were a little more...abstract than others." He told her, opening the large parchment he would know that reminded him exactly what she had said. "Certain maps had yet to be shown to the rest. Only your brother, Erestor and I are able to see these."

He opened the scroll, finding an eerily good depiction of what Illyria Strange said to him minutes ago. He saw her eyes widen in shock, already her mind working faster than he could read from her face. Elrond continued to open the others until one scroll caught both of their gaze.

When he opened the parchment, they found themselves looking at some map.

Though it would be inaccurate to call it a map of how vague it was. It was hardly anything Elemmírë used to make, considering her craft was heavily to do with map-making and using the stars as her guide.

It had been why Elemmírë was well known in Númenor; her work had inspired many of Elros' descendants to follow their hearts in exploration and adventure.

It had also been the blame for their downfall as well.

Illyria smoothened her fingers over the map, huffing in a big breath, "Boy, these are..." She began to shake her head, her face entirely clueless at what she was looking at. "I may be an astronomer and an astrophysicist...but these are beyond modern comprehension. Even when I've studied maps and scriptures from other dimensions, this is just a bunch of scribbles."

He sighed in return, "Neither can Erestor, Glorfindel and I understand it. We have tried and it only seemed you could understand."

Illyria took a second, her eyes never leaving the multiple drawings and maps as she wondered, "Maybe Maedhros or Maglor can?"

He could sense himself freezing at his name. His gaze was blank upon the surface of the parchment.

With a soft voice, he heard her ask: "Elrond, would you like to talk about it?"

The subject of the maps had disappeared, only to be filled by the questions his head was filling up, bursting out from the vaults that he had locked up for thousands of years. Even when he guided him to the baths, Elrond was holding everything in him to not burst out. Deep down: he was angry. Angry at everything to do with Maglor Fëanorion. Betrayal, confusion, and sadness contrasted by disbelief and happiness at seeing him in the flesh.

Whereas his reunion with Maedhros had still been within the same reaction as this one, his relationship with the next older Fëanorian had been deeper. His foster father. The only parental figure he and Elros had and at first never expected. He, his brother and Elemmírë was hostages, a barter for their goals to obtain a jewel which now sat upon Maglor's chest.

But as he continued to analyze the ellon who stood and walked with him hours ago, Elrond noticed that the change that was brought had only made his confrontation even more complicated.

What would happen if he asked Maglor what he had done all these years? Where had he been and why didn't he even try to reach out to them? To him?

As honest as he could, Elrond let out a small breath before he spoke quietly, "I am merely just...he will speak of his time when he is ready."

Illyria's eyes softened, moving to his side before she placed a gentle hand on his arm. When he turned to face her, she held both his hands – soothing him with the calming motions of her fingers over the back of his palms.

"I think you need to ask him," Her head tilted up to stare into his gaze. "He told Maedhros and I some of it already. But with you; he needs your encouragement. And you need his."

Elrond questioned her, "Was it difficult? Your reunion with your father?"

He watched her pause, thinking carefully about how to answer as she let out a ragged breath. "I didn't say it was going to be easy," Illyria explained, "It's never easy. But the best things don't come easy, never really does."

Refraining from another sigh, Elrond asked her, "What do you believe I should do, Illyria?" He searched her face, trying to find some comfort once more. "I...I want to understand him again. To know him again."

With a light touch, she placed a hand on his cheek.

"Do what you always have," She smiled gently, telling him with encouragement. "Whatever your heart believes is right."

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A/N: Oh I love more Elrond and Illyria, with a little hint of father-in-law bonding. And yes, Lindir has a one; I couldn't let him off the hook at being single.

Also, guess who has planned ahead and now I've got Part 4 ready and hopefully a plan for Part 5 will be in the works. It's been a slow progress as I've had to sort out how each viewpoint will be placed.

Thank you for the patience and hope you guys enjoyed it. <3

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Edited: 27/10/2022