22 | A Promise From a Sorceress

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Location: Dale, Middle Earth

Time: November 2941 T.A

She suddenly took a wheezing breath.

Her vision grew white, feeling her head had been slammed against the rock as she stumbled to the side and onto someone's body. She felt something, something terrible. Like a dozen shards had pierced her chest and the pain crawling up to her mind.

When she gazed up, she found Elladan worriedly looking back.

"Arwen? Are you alright?" He asked her attentively, carefully moving his arms to support her upper body.

Opening her mouth, she tried to speak but no sound escaped her mouth. She couldn't explain how she felt. Even the sounds of orcs being slain, and the cries of men, women and elves could not comprehend the feeling of her heart waning and the sounds of cries in her mind.

"My Lady...you must get her somewhere safe." Someone, possibly Lord Bard, suggested to them. "I will fend the rest of the orcs."

She felt laid down onto the ground, her back supported from the wall. Elladan crouched down to her eyesight and cupped her cheeks. "Sister. Say something...please." He pleaded to her.

As she adjusted her mind back to reality, Arwen finally realised who was around her. Elladan and Elrohir were with her, along with an Ithron. The wizard strode towards her, his eyes commanding for her to speak.

Arwen breathed out, "Mithrandir." She stared up at the grey wizard. "I felt...I felt it again."

It was the same feeling she felt over nine hundred years ago. The day which the Battle of Fornost had ended.

The day her mother had died.

A grim look stretched over the wizard's features as he spoke gravely, "Something has gone wrong."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The sound of metal clashing at each other and the shrieks of demons.

Elemmírë was within the desolation of the city, her armour already drenched in sweat and blood as her hair was matted down. Her face brought cuts and bruises, hidden by the mud and the dirt on her skin. Her gloved hands were shaking, already worn from the extent of her magic and the use of her blades. Thúlíra laid limply in her hand whilst Calimmacil was sheathed in her left.

The Witch-King now stood before her, his longsword already in front of him.

With an intake of breath, she brought Thúlíra down to her sheath and allowed the warmth to flow through her arms and out into her hands.

As the Witch-King lunged forward, a bright light illuminated the entire city. Every man and elf who was left alive could only sense the powers of the Oialëa drive the darkness away. The Witch-King drew his sword down and felt forced back by the incredible power – fleeing out of the city littered with the death and towards Angmar where he would not be met once more.

However, despite the victory for the remaining men of Fornost and elves, it was the defeat of the Eternal.

Elemmírë Oialëa felt her arms fall to the side before she staggered down to her knees. When she blinked back, she had seen her hands now charred black – the gloves burnt away from her magic.

Though what scared her was the black scorches as she ripped her armour off. With a hole through her tunic, there was a dark lining where her heart should be.

The last thing she saw was her brother and sons racing towards her.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Upon the top of the hill were two bright trees. Greater and grander than any being could see as they expelled great and wondrous light among the lands of this world.

Telperion with its dark green leaves and silver beneath them, its ground filled with silver flowers that shed a rain of silver dew. [1]

Beside them was their companion: Laurelin. [2]

Laurelin with its golden leaves and whitebark, its golden dew and flowers drawing the light of the days of Arda.

However, it will not be long as a dark creature, spawn of evil, would devour and suck the light of its trees – bringing the world into utter darkness.

Leaving Telperion's last flower to be brought up to the skies as the moon and Laurelin's fiery fruit as the sun.

However, one fiery fruit from Laurelin – hidden under the eyes of Eldar apart from some of the Valar, had also survived the darkening.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

In the land of Almaren, the two great lamps of Arda were brought to life. Ormal and Illuin. [3][4]

Ormal, which was placed in the south of the world whilst Illuin was situated in the north near the Helcar.

Their light and energy flowed around the world under their destruction by Melkor bringing the imperfection of the world...and the release of the light of Arda and the birth of two trees in Aman...

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Stephen saw what Mordo had done, forcing his motives to finally bring Mordo's staff out from his hands before clasping them both with the Cloak of Levitation. Taking out from his dimensional pocket, he clasped the object onto Mordo's wrists – a pair of restrained cuffs now on him.

The moment he realised what Stephen had done, Mordo had frozen still in shock. He gazed up to him, still out of breath from their fight.

He stared down at Mordo. A dangerous tone in his voice: "You should be glad that you're still alive, Mordo. I would have killed you there."

Mordo glared up and questioned him harshly, "Still a coward all this time, Strange?" A manic grin grew on his lips as he began to choke out a laugh, "...You...you will never be able to protect her. She...she is like them. Like her. A walking time bomb that will unleash unbalance to this world and ours."

There was a thump in his chest and Stephen quickly hid his reaction. "I don't know what you mean."

Mordo mocked, "Don't lie, Strange. You know who she truly is, or what she would become." He stated, "The Ancient One hid her because of the Wanderer of Worlds.... I've been trying to find them everywhere. Rid of their existence and power."

Peering his eyes, Stephen hid his concern over him. The Wanderer had not been on Earth ever since the invasion on Earth. He had contacted him just as Bruce Banner broke through the roof of the Sanctum, remembering that the Wanderer had recalled it during his own time with the Time Stone.

Did the Wanderer know that Thanos was coming.? If so, was that why he had been adamant to keep Illyria safe?

How would he have known she wouldn't be dusted alongside him?

"They know who she is. They brought her to Kamar-Taj..." He told Stephen. Was there fear in Mordo's voice or was that him hearing things? "He is the threat between these worlds, carrying a dangerous weapon before him."

Stephen already knew this.

He knew there was something different about the Wanderer of Worlds. Not only the fact that the Wanderer hid his own face, but the power and energy in here that was radiated was nothing like from Earth.

In fact, it was his years of deductions, the weird, decrypted letters, and timestamps when to search using the Time Stone that finally brought Stephen to realise the importance of not only the Wanderer...but Illyria too.

She was tied somehow to this world. Her powers were almost equivalent to his own...maybe even stronger than his.

Stephen simply said, "I know. And no matter what: she'll still be a better person than what you've tried to be." With a quick swipe, he knocked Mordo out with a spell.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Okay, getting stabbed was a bitch.

She'd seen other people been stabbed before. Her dad had been the first one she had seen as a child, then seeing countless other sorcerers including Uncle Wong get hurt during the next few years.

Though she didn't realise it would be as painful as this.

After what the hell she had seen through her mind (the weird trees and lamps and some guys clad in black armour that screamed Nazgul), Illyria glanced down to her stomach and saw the dark blade.

Right. Well...this was not something she wasn't trying to get herself into. Talk about trying not to die; Elrond was probably going to kill her first before this poisoned blade would try to kill her.

Not only that, but she had also finally remembered her death. Her first proper death.

And some other visions she wasn't sure how or why it came to her.

She was about to think about how it was possible to see the other visions, but the pain began to grow through her body and up to her spine. The next thing she knew, she was being placed down onto someone's lap until she noticed those grey eyes.

Beautiful grey eyes. The same ones which had seen so much in his life. He had seen his parents leave him, Maglor and Maedhros leave him. His brother Elros, Gil-Galad, Celebrían and then her.

Now Elrond had seen both two known people he cared for die before him. He was going to lose her again.

He brought on arm around her neck, keeping her head tilted up slightly as the other brought his hand over her stomach, carefully taking the dagger out. Illyria winced, hoping that it would just be a simple click away to remove the pain.

This was not the case. Her entire body was burning like a volcano, her hands growing warm under Elrond's cold touch as he brought them under her robes and felt the opening of her armour. The blade must have been special enough to piece through nanotechnology or else she could be walking now.

Even though the spells and enchantments she made with the armour and clothes, the blade had pierced through with no scratch.

Elrond's voice began to waver as he spoke, "Elemmírë...Illyria." He shushed her whimpers, "Melmenya, it's alright. I am here."

She tried to reach her hand up to his arm, aiming to just try and touch his cheek again. Illyria struggled through her words, "El...Elrond...I—"

He said with a hurried tone, "Let me, let Vilya—"

However, Illyria shook her head in disagreement. "...V...Vilya can't." She explained, "You've used it already...Bil—Bilbo will get exposed if you...use it on me."

She saw the confliction in his face as Elrond eyes searched for hers, begging to reason her.

Elrond asked back, "Then what am I supposed to do?" Desperation was evident in his tone. "Melmenya. Don't please... Please allow me. I can't lose you after your brother!"

"It's...it's my fault. I...I didn't watch his back." Illyria croakily sobbed, "I promised...I promised to show him the stars...I promised you and them..."

At the mention of her brother, Illyria couldn't help but feel more tears spill out from her eyes. She knew where he was, but where would she go? She wasn't even sure if she was human or elf or whatnot. There was nothing to say where she would go now. If her soul just floated in the planes between worlds or she just ceased to exist.

And Illyria knew that Elrond was speculating this. Because if she left him now, who knows when they would ever meet again.

Her eyelids began to flutter shut; it was getting harder to stay awake until Elrond gentle moved her chin – guiding her eyes back to him.

"No! No..." He begged louder to her, "Stay in the light, melmenya! Look at me! Listen to my voice, Illyria!"

When she opened her eyes once more back up, for a moment Illyria finally felt the world stop for her – for them. The many moments and months she had been around this half-elf: she never got to focus on how much he had meant to her. Not Elemmire, but as Illyria. Even after so many years, she had thought someone like him would grow accustomed to the world and easily be like any being – get old and tired.

It was the case for Elrond Peredhel for he still glowed so brightly in his mind, heart, and soul. Even in the darkest moments, he still had that hope in his heart, and she wondered how someone like him could get through so much. He had given her all he could and yet all she brought was sorrow to him.

Illyria didn't want to worry him any longer, so she decided to change the topic. Trying to forget what had happened and bring Elrond away from panic.

"Are they...are they alright?" She asked him, "Please...p-please make sure they are safe."

To her amusement, Elrond caught on her act and replied softly, "You will ask them yourself."

She choked out a small laugh, before sighing again. "And...Bilbo." Illyria asked him, "Take care of him, will you? Take care of them... for me."

More tears flowed down his cheeks, his hands caressing her cheek tenderly. Elrond whispered, "Let me heal you, please."

However, she smiled sadly back to him, "Take the Silmaril. Protect it." Illyria continued, "Give...lay him beside me."

"This was my doing. I broke your promise. That I would never look into your future." Elrond squeezed his eyes shut. He took a shuddered breath, choking out a sob.

Her heart was crying out to him, reaching to grasp him. To assure him so.

"Hey, hey. It's okay... It's okay." Illyria brought her hand to his cheek and said, "Look...at me."

Opening his eyes, Illyria formed another small smile to him. He leaned his head down to her. She could sense the feeling of his breath against her face as their foreheads touched.

For a few seconds there Illyria sensed his mind at their touch. The memories were faint and yet so vivid for her. The times they had shared together. The love she and Elrond had even before Elemmírë had to realise it had been love all along. He had given her his time to find herself again for over a thousand years, never leaving her side despite her self-destructive character.

Leaning back up, Illyria stared into his eyes and spoke, "It's going...to be okay. You...got it?"

At that moment, she saw the flicker of the blue robes and tilted her head to the side. Well, she wasn't hallucinating at all, finally facing the man she hadn't seen in perhaps a year now. She wondered if it had been the same amount of time for him.

Stephen breathed in as he knelt quickly, opposite Elrond. "Illyria? Oh god, I...I should have seen it. I didn't-"

When his hand was placed on top of hers, she couldn't help but let out another choke of crying as she felt the scarred skin. Illyria spoke to him, "Dad...I miss you."

"I hope I wasn't too long." Her dad brushed his fingers over her hair and quirked a smile.

Ah, the dry humour. She hadn't heard that in a while. Illyria replied, "Only...nine months late." She then asked, "How...how did you find me?"

"Like how I find you all the time," Stephen answered wryly. "Clearly it's not that hard."

Returning her hand away back to Elrond's, she continued asking. "Darcy...She's okay?"

Oh fudge, Darcy must be worrying her tits off because of her. The typical daughter she was that always finds trouble when she goes out on her own.

Luckily, her dad's response hadn't been too bad. "She's okay."

"She...is...going...to kill me." Illyria breathed out a laugh.

"Not before I can," Stephen commented.

Her eyes darted across to Elrond, who had yet to speak as he silently watched the conversation between the two of them.

Oh right. She forgot about the...thing.

Illyria nudged her chin to her husband (she wasn't going to call him her husband yet. Not when she might possibly be dying right now). "Dad...Elrond...he's...he knows me," She said.

Expecting her dad to be cautious or even curious about the closeness between her and the half-elf – what came next was even more surprising.

Stephen's eyes went in Elrond's direction and she saw his face relax as he blankly said, "I know Illyria." He darted his eyes down to her, a little smile on his lips. "I think I already worked it out years ago."

Her eyes widened as she brought her eyebrow up. What did he mean about working it out years ago? Did her dad know about this?

She then remembered who she was talking to. The Sorcerer Supreme...keeper of the Time Stone. Or formerly the keeper.

He had seen her future...or possibly her future.

Elrond had finally spoken, telling her dad: "She needs to come back to Dale. I have all the provisions there."

"No," Stephen answered plainly, a grim look now morphing onto his face. "This work is for sorcerers. Mordo used dark magic with that blade, and I know only one witch that could help her."

Elrond's had a look of determination as he replied, "Then I shall come with you."

Flicking her head to him, she reached out to hold his cheek. "You...need to make sure the others...are fine...And that they are safe. Sauron... will return...the people of Middle Earth will need help...Your help." Illyria took a breath as she continued, "...I know that you think the time of our... kind is over, but there is so much more... we could do. Please...help them. Make sure...Bilbo knows."

There was conflict in his eyes. She knew Elrond would do anything to save her. However, she knew his own magic and Vilya won't sustain the injury she had. She knew what her father meant about that certain person. If she was back on earth was the next question for them to know.

Though from now, she could only hope that person was on the dial to call.

In the end, Illyria nudged her dad. Once he got the hint, he stood up and brought himself back, allowing her and Elrond to speak alone together for the final time. He somehow must have gone to Mordo to make sure he was still there across the lake for all she sensed around her was the half-elf by her side.

Elrond gently pushed her up to a sitting position, aided by his arms as he gently brought her head upwards. She did all she could to hide the pain she was going through, her breath growing shallower as she kept her eyes on his.

A small smile rested on her lips, trying to cheer him up within all this predicament. And with that, he leaned it. Their lips met halfway, gentle, and yet enough for her to feel the fluttering sensation in her mind as her entire heart soared. She could taste his own tears on his, the bittersweetness that matched the very situation they were in.

When he pulled away, Elrond's fingers pulled a strand over her ears. He softly spoke, "Find me, Elemmírë." He murmured, "Our promise. Calanya."

Illyria paused slightly, remembering the familiar word. "Calanya...I know that name." She breathed, "You put it on the journal..."

How did she miss that? The very name Elemmírë had written on her first notes on the journal Elrond had given her. The present that would soon tell her everything about what she was before.

"It was what I named you. My light." Elrond answered back, the same honest and loving voice she would yet to know.

She wanted to make this moment last longer. To be in his arms despite the agony and the cold around them. The sun was high up in the sky. The battle had finished moments ago. There: Illyria felt herself finally succumb to tiredness – her eyes slowly shutting and the world turning black.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Elrond could feel himself shake in emotion, his tears beginning to cry as he brought himself up to his knees. When he looked down, Illyria was passed out – tired from all the fighting and the wound inflicted on her. He then heard the swooshing of cloth and found himself staring at the sorcerer in front.

Stephen Strange did not look anything like he had imagined, though the character and caring voice for Illyria spoke more on the truth between him and Illyria. As a father would when he was worried for his daughter.

He didn't want to let go of her, eager to send her down to Dale instead. But Elrond was wise enough to understand Illyria's suggestion. The blade was nothing like he has ever seen before, and a dark unknown force surrounded it before being put through Illyria. He needed to trust her father that she would be safe.

As he passed her to Stephen Strange, the sorcerer spoke: "She is slipping, I must go."

He glanced over to Glorfindel's body. He would yet to bring him back to Imladris...or perhaps he would rather be buried in Erebor. Elrond had now lost a brother again, just like Gil-Galad.

However, Illyria asked him to be buried beside her. Elrond would make sure of it.

As he sheathed both his sword and Glorfindel's longsword – he took the Illyria's staff into his hand as he turned to him. "When will you return?" Elrond questioned.

Stephen Strange took a second to respond before admitting, "I don't know. The portal between this world is unstable. Maybe months or years."

Elrond took an inhale of breath, forcing his tears away before staring back at Illyria. When he finally brought his courage to look back at the sorcerer: Elrond questioned him, "And how will I assure she will be safe."

"She is my daughter." Stephen Strange said firmly, "And we both know we will do what we can to keep them safe."

At that response, he and Stephen Strange shared a silent nod of agreement. He must have known already their relationship, for how a father could simply trust him for what he had done.

He watched as the cuffed sorcerer be carried by the magical floating cloak through the golden gateway first before Strange along with Illyria entered next. As the hissing of the gateway lessened, Elrond was left staring out at the frozen lake – a numb sensation that now left him unsure of himself.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The Battle of the Five Armies – or so what Illyria Strange named – was over.

An eagle of Manwë spotted him above the mountain top, diving down before carefully taking Glorfindel's body in their claws. It took him a while to process what had happened before continuing his descent from Ravenhill before he spotted the state of the City of Dale.

When he entered the Northern Gates, Elrond kept his eyes forward. Every step he took he could hear his heart pound from his ears, the world going blurry around him. There were bodies littered everywhere, orc, elves, dwarves, and men. The snow was already falling onto the piles around him as he arrived at the city square. As he entered the open area, Elrond spotted his children immediately and froze.

The body of the Lord of Gondolin had already been placed down, now held in the arms of his daughter. Arwen stared at her uncle; her eyes already rimmed in red due to tears. Elladan and Elrohir were stood beside her, their heads low but enough for Elrond to sense the devastation in their eyes.

When he got closer, Elrond could feel all eyes on him. Glorfindel's guards along with the Lothlorien elves knew where he had been, so it was not a surprise as they not only were relieved at him to be alive but worried that the sorceress was not with him.

As he brought his hand over Arwen's shoulder, she gazed up and his heart almost broke. His daughter was pale, stricken in grief – sensing her mind to be searching for answers. She didn't need to ask the question for him to reveal to her the truth.

"She is gone, isn't she?" Arwen murmured back.

Elrond's heart skipped a beat as he replied, "She was dying...but her father had rescued her in time."

"Then where did they go?" His son, Elrohir, asked.

"Back to their world," He answered simply. He gently gazed down at Glorfindel; his relaxed features almost seemed to feel like he was just sleeping.

He would wake up in the Halls once more, waiting for Mandos' hearing to him.

Elladan questioned back, turning to him, "And when will she return?"

Swallowing back the bile up his throat, he carefully reworded his thoughts though the twins and Arwen already knew what he had been thinking off, their eyes slightly glistening under the midday sun.

They wouldn't know when their mother would return. Elrond didn't even have the heart to reveal to them that he was afraid, so afraid, that she would not return alive.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

They had lost many during the battle, among the most fallen had been the Silvan elves and the dwarves of the Iron Hills. All elves who had come to defend the North and the Mountain had decided to stay, for they wished to give the final send off to their kin on the outskirts of Dale. The dwarves on the other hand had decided to bury them just outside Erebor, Thorin Oakenshield's own decision to show unity between the dwarves, men, and elves.

Among those who had fallen had been Lord Dain of the Iron Hills, who had been fending the walls of the city – losing his life against the great trolls. Elrond knew that the dwarven lord had a son under the same name as the King Under the Mountain. Word would come around to the Iron Hills through the crows one morning that the young dwarf lord would be the heir.

Next had been three of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.

The first had been the red-headed dwarf, Gloin: who Elrond remembered to have asked what he spoke of at the beginning of their stay in Imladris. His brother, Oin, had aided Elrond through healing the wounded after the battle despite knowing his brother had been dead. The elder dwarf had persevered throughout the ordeal, and Elrond respected his wishes by allowing him to grief and aid the dwarves.

The second member who had passed was Dori, the young Ori's eldest brother who loved his brothers equally and greatly to an extent. Elrond always caught Illyria speaking to Dori many times during their stay in Imladris, speaking of fabrics and tailoring despite the language barrier. He had felt the pain both Ori and Nori had when they had found their brother barely alive on the battlefield, lost in the piles of orcs and soldiers. They had lost a brother who had cared for and nurtured them.

Lastly, and Elrond had foreseen in, was Balin – the councillor and friend of Thorin Oakenshield and the brother of Dwalin. He had been amongst the frontlines of the battle, following both Thorin and his brother at the first wave of orcs. Elrond heard that he almost survived throughout the battle until Balin, the first of many dwarves, defended an injured elf. There was shock amongst Thranduil's guards (especially Thranduil himself) and himself included that a dwarf would take his life to save an elf's.

Illyria always spoke highly of Balin, telling him how he had been the first one out of the older dwarves of the Company to come to respect her – to see her as a friend and not just a stowaway. Balin did not question Illyria's own background, patient to know more than to seek it directly.

As the dead were laid respected, it had been time for Glorfindel's body to rest as well. Illyria wanted Glorfindel's body to be laid in Rivendell with Elemmírë's – though time was limited for them.

Instead, Elrond asked Thorin Oakenshield to bury Glorfindel up on Ravenhill.

There he and the elves along with the Company helped create a small memorial for the Lord of Gondolin. A similar grave to what Elemmírë had once described to him one time. Elrond listened to the song his daughter sang, beautiful and yet hauntingly sad before Arwen brought down the bouquet of yellow flowers atop his grave.

Along with Glorfindel, Elrond had brought forward the flag which held the Rivendell sigil, the Star of the Noldor along with the Golden Flower of Elemmírë.

They stood there for as long as they could against the harsh weather until it had been only him, Arwen, Elladan and Elrohir left along with the Rivendell guard. He looked upon the grave wondering to himself why it had come to this. This was not what his foresight had seen, only the danger of one other – Illyria.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

They decided to stay longer to aid the rest, knowing well for him that Illyria would have done so. Arwen had also not yet recovered, her heart waning for the loss of her uncle as well as her mother. Elrond should have known this to come, already seeing the powerful connection Arwen had between her entire family. She had felt what happened to them both, their fëa slowly fading away to the West.

However, Elrond noticed her head looking further up every day as she brought herself to talk to others. Especially to the men and women of Dale, aiding with their children and keeping them occupied with her magic as tricks. Everywhere, he heard laughter beginning to surface from the sorrows of the battle – little smiles from the young as well as the old.

His sons were amongst those that were determined to continue the promise they held to themselves, to aid those in need and sought to kill the darkness. Elladan and Elrohir helped with the dwarves along with the red-haired elleth: Tauriel. He had yet to talk directly to the young Silvan elf for aiding them to bring the Durinsons back down to Dale. And to Elrond's shock, had felt the bond and love between the youngest Durinson and Tauriel.

Never had he heard the love between a dwarf and an elf. But then again: he was in love with Illyria Strange.

Lastly, he would not forget Bilbo Baggins. The hobbit who had been the soul and gift to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Elrond was the first to approach him (even before Mithrandir) to inform the hobbit what had occurred on Ravenhill. It took him some time to compose himself, but Elrond got to the end of his story – leaving a moment for Bilbo to grieve and worry for Illyria.

She had asked Elrond to take care of Bilbo, to ensure not only his safety but to bring him close. Elrond should have known eventually, having known Elemmírë and Illyria long enough, that she would become friends to the most unlikeliness of people. If one elf became friends with the Fëanorians after being involved in a Kinslaying, Elemmírë would be the elf to befriend a hobbit.

Elrond had also grown a liking to the hobbit and almost felt a kindling heart between their seeking of knowledge. Arwen had come to adore Bilbo as a friend, finding himself wondering if he was watching Illyria and Bilbo instead as they spoke quickly about topics they loved.

When the coronation of Thorin arrived, he stood beside King Thranduil on his left whilst his children were beside him. Prince Legolas had been next to his father, surprised when they first met if he had seen the ghost of the Lady of Imladris shout at him to throw a sword up to her. Elrond couldn't help but mentally laugh whilst his children chuckled, leaving out a confused Thranduil during the dinner party.

As much as the joy and comfort everyone had been, neither he, his children and Bilbo were truly content. All evening he had his mind on Illyria all the time, wondering to himself if she was safe and that her father had returned in time to save her.

He watched the youngest Durinson ask for the red-haired elleth's hand in the dance, the latter smiling down at the dark-haired dwarf before accepting. They danced amongst the dwarves and elves, men, and women around the ballroom before he encouraged his children to do as they please.

When Prince Legolas asked for Arwen's hand, he caught Elrond's eye in which he simply nodded. He would let his daughter accept his hand or not for he already knew his daughter was old enough now to choose for herself. She had always been from the start, young enough unlike other elven children to be bold and to choose her paths.

They all danced as he sat to watch, thinking to himself 'I hope one day you would sit beside me watching our children be happy. Maybe in another world or Valinor...' Elrond did all he could to not break there until he could feel the room tighten around him.

Eventually, he brought himself outside – an empty balcony that overlooked the South of the mountain. The snow had stopped falling as the clouds parted and the moon shone brightly upon the sky.

He placed his hands onto the bannister, glancing down at Vilya with a sharp breath.

He could have saved her, maybe it was possible.

Elrond clenched his fingers under his palms, his jaw tightening as he could feel his eyes already threatening to water.

He had promised her one thing only: and that had been to never look for her future. Yet Elrond could not help it and did it for his own sake. He wanted to be sure she was safe, and that nothing could harm her again.

When he looked back up, he heard the gentle tapping of wood against the smooth flooring and found the Ithron stand by his side.

"You knew of this, didn't you Elrond?" Mithrandir quietly asked.

He turned his head back to glance over the landscape as he replied blankly, "I looked. I shouldn't have."

"Do not blame yourself for such things. You did it for fear you might lose her again." The grey wizard told him, giving his own advice. "Elrond, you must continue for her."

Elrond turned his head to him and questioned, "And what of Glorfindel? He had chosen to follow you to ensure Middle Earth's safety." He let go of the bannister, now facing the Ithron before him. "The Valar will now know what had occurred. They will be warned that there was a threat, Mithrandir."

Once again, the maia appeared to be worried deeply. Mithrandir already was worried when the appearance of Illyria Strange in Middle Earth occurred. Now the death of the great spirit of the Eldar caused a discordance of the song.

Soon he would not doubt that Galadriel, Celeborn and Círdan would hear of the death of Glorfindel and become concerned about how someone with great angelic power can be defeated by a sorcerer.

Mithrandir began, "To my own worry, I do not even know. Glorfindel was not...he was not fated to die in this world. Vairë weaves the fate of Arda and now..."

"...It has changed." He finished the grey wizard's sentence.

They both knew, not just as friends but as defenders of Middle Earth: that this will change the outcome of the tale which Illyria Strange told them of. The tale Elrond had not entirely known but suspected by the hidden glances Arwen and the twins had around them.

His children knew the story, and they promised their mother to never tell a soul unless needed.

Narrow concerned eyes bore into him as Mithrandir spoke, "You must be wary, Elrond Peredhel." He continued, "And with now this jewel in your hands, you, and your children no doubt will be in the eyes of the dark lord. He will watch you closely."

Elrond did not need to ask what he meant by him; already warned by his mind and Illyria's words to him to protect the Silmaril at all costs. He had done all he could to keep it secure, keeping it guarded by the best of his guards along with the twins to ensure it from dangerous hands.

He then changed the subject, asking Mithrandir another important topic. "And what of Bilbo Baggins. It is..."

"Now that I am afraid to know its truth." The Ithron firmly finished, a grave look in his eyes as Mithrandir glanced over to Elrond's hand. He added, "I will have to consult and search for proof...to see if it truly is the very object."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A few months of travel passed by and they returned to Imladris with the grave news to the valley. The city mourned for the loss of Glorfindel, having already heard the song through whispers in the wind and travellers from the other elven realms.

It was not the same for them all in the Last Homely House. Erestor, his advisor and friend, had shattered the moment the news came to his ears. Elrond never left the elf's side, along with Lindir. Miriel, the young elleth who worked in their home for many years, was saddened by Illyria's disappearance and return.

Though nothing compared to the heartache Estel bore. The young boy had seen too many of his loved ones die before him and it made them all guilty that Estel would never see Glorfindel again. Perhaps there would be a chance for Illyria, though already he saw the connection Estel had with his wife even at their first breakfast.

The first thing Elrond did was hug his youngest son tightly, allowing the young boy to weep over his shoulder before he too felt his eyes sting.

He and his family mourned once more.

Elrond almost felt breaking again. He could sense it, a small fraction in his heart eager to fade and move on. But something stopped him like before. Even in the Battle of Fornost, Elemmírë's death didn't cause him to fade. There was hope in his mind and heart that he would come to love again, to continue the Eternal's light for her. Through his children.

It was why in the special halls of the house, Elrond gazed upon the statue of his wife – hidden by a cloth once when Illyria was here. Her features were so alike, though without the smile she wore on his lips and eyes and the playful expression she had when she once looked at him.

"Father."

He turned his eyes around to find his daughter walking up to him, concern upon her features.

Elrond couldn't help but look away, staring back at the statue and whispered, "I failed you again."

Feeling her hand hold his own, he heard Arwen reply strongly, "You did not, Ada. Uncle Glorfindel did not die in vain." Her voice was clear, echoing by the dome-shaped hall. "...And she will return. Naneth will."

How could his daughter be so firm? Had she already seen the future already? Elrond was too afraid this time now to look beyond the future set for Illyria, fearing that if he did: perhaps a worse fate could arise.

Elrond opened his mouth to respond though felt the familiar sense in his mind to bring him to a halt.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A woman, no: an elven lady, raised her staff in hand whilst a sword equipped on her side.

Her dark hair was pinned in several braids down her back. She wore silver and gold armour which glowed despite the darkness around her. When the shadow rose in front of her, she brought her staff upwards before sending a blinding light at the creature.

The next vision was of two elves, both unsheathing each a curved blade like each others.

They too had dark hair, simply braided to keep their faces clear as they cooperated and slashed every orc in their path along with their path. One of them sent another ball of light at one of the orcs before slicing them through the neck with a single movement. The other had defended the other's back, bringing the other sword into an orc's chest.

As that vision faded, another formed revealing not of a battlefield but trees of golden and green leaves. There was a bridge, where two people – an elven woman and a man – stood facing each other. As their hands intertwined, their lips touched.

"Do you remember what I told you?" The elleth asked him.

The man sighed, running his fingers over her arms. "You said you would bind yourself to me." He stared at her as he continued, "Forsaking the immortal life of your people."

"And to that I hold," She replied, her eyes never wandering away from his. "I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages in this world alone."

Afterwards, the elven woman with the dark hair took his hands, placing something before she unclasped to reveal the small object.

A green gem, ornated with a silver frame that was shaped into an eagle.

The man looked back at her in shock, lips parted as he wanted to speak.

However, the elleth stopped him as she said: "I choose a mortal life." She replied, "I choose the life which the Eternal has always been."

"You cannot give me this," He whispered down to her.

She firmly answered, "It is mine to give to whom I will." Her hand held his own, clasping his fingers down over the gem. "Like my heart." [5]

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Once he was brought back to reality, Arwen had been patient – her hand kept in his to steady himself. Elrond flickered his eyes back to the statue.

Elrond finally spoke, hope rising in his heart. "Then I believe it time to give you three what she intended."

Laid upon the arms of the statue were the very same objects Elrond had seen in his vision.

The bracers, part of the silver and gold armour along with the two dual blades of Elemmírë: Thúlíra and Calimmacil.

And adorned upon the statue's neck was the very gem the elleth had given to the man.

What their daughter would give to the man she would love in the future.

The man that would hold the Elessar as a token of Arwen Undómiel's love. [6]

____

[1] - Telperion: The Silver tree of Valinor, is the older one out of the two.
[2] - Laurelin: The Golden tree of Valinor, the younger one of the two.
[3] - Almaren: A large island in the centre of Early Arda as was perfectly symmetrical.
[4] - Ormal and Illuin: The great lamps of Almaren.
[5] - The Evenstar Scene: This was a part of the Jackson movies, changed from the scene in the tales of Arwen and Aragorn where she pledges her love to him. Here, she is giving the Elessar instead.
[6] - The Elessar: Or Elfstone in Westron, was one of the fabulous green gems. It had the light of the Sun trapped within it, was marvelled by the Noldor and was made in Gondolin in the First Age.

____

A/N: Ahhhh! We're almost there! Honestly, I literally dragged this ending Return of the King Style and not going to lie I think it heavily fits the agenda I've wanted to go for. I wanted so much to add here and if you haven't already figured it out at the end of this chapter: Arwen and Elrond's story is not done ;)

Don't worry, next part and the finale we get to see what's happened to our favourite sorceress.

Edited: 14/10/2021