22 | If You Love Something, You Protect It

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Elrond Peredhel | Lord of Rivendell

Location: Imladris, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: 1975 T.A

Within the hidden valley, an elven lord strode down the open hallways of his house passing many servants and soldiers hurrying past him. They stopped for a second to acknowledge their lord and the head of their house before stalking hurriedly away with grand strides towards their destination. May it be the stables, the kitchens or the rest of the city which were bustling with preparations.

He knew that the elves who lived here were on high alert with fear lurking in their minds the time it arrived. News from Arnor calling for the alliance of elves from Lindon, Imladris and Lothlorien to band together to aid the kingdom of Arthedain. And it was no surprise when Prince Eärnur, Captain of Gondor, rode to them in a request for aid. More specifically: help from his wife. [1][2]

Alliances and connections with the Arnor and Gondor have been strong, though it had been a decline since the darkness began to grow in the north. With many changes and the lands of Eriador began to infest with foul creatures, had not been the bond between the Lady and Lord of Imladris the entirety of the kingdom would have fallen earlier. His wife had done all she could, raising the issue with those of Lindon and even to King Amroth.

She was the one behind the larger proposal of this attack.

It was why he was rushing as gracefully as he could towards his chambers.

Though as he rounded the corner, he spotted an elleth entering the house from one of the pathways. Their eyes already met his before she stopped in front of him and lowered her head.

"My lord," She replied politely.

Dismissing the propriety, he quickly asked the young elleth: "Lady Eitheril, have you seen my daughter?"

The young Silvan elf, despite being built tall, shyly responded with a stammer, "I...I believe she was down in the gardens, my lord." Eitheril paused and asked quietly, "Shall I go get her for you?"

He examined at her for a moment, seeing her blink several times away past him – diverting his eyes. The young elleth may not have been in his household for long, perhaps a century, but he knew the hints of a bluff.

But with his gaze going for too long, he knew she was getting afraid.

Instead, he calmly answered her, "If you may. Inform for her to be ready at dawn at the front of the house. You shall tend to her along with Sedril."

With a rushed nod and reply, she silently bustled the opposite direction, perhaps to search for his daughter. Perhaps not. One thing he knew was that Silvan elves hardly lived in these parts of Middle Earth, and especially in the realm that included the Noldor and the occasional Vanyar lord (who in turn was mostly part Noldo). He would have to discuss with Thranduil again with the excessive amount of elves he was bringing, excusing it to 'integrate' and 'learn' their various cultures and lifestyles.

The first time his wife learnt of this: she snorted before storming off in anger at the insult. He may not explicitly say it, though he knew that it was a way for Thranduil to know what they were doing. After all, their kingdoms have not been working well since the Queen of The Greenwood's death.

He arrived at his chambers, silently inhaling before he entered.

It was there he found her.

Sitting out on the balcony, she was quietly looking out towards the valley. Her back was turned from him, seeing her hair out with golden blonde tresses down her back. An odd image for him for he was used to her tight yet simple braids. But when her hair was down, it meant something concerning for him.

On the way passed through the chambers, his eyes lingered with a heartbeat towards the armour stand at the far end of the room. But he kept his focus back on the woman outside.

She didn't need to acknowledge his own presence, closing the door as he walked over and allowed himself to focus upon her hand. Her left hand sat atop the table, over the blue leather book that was shut beside a pot of ink and quill. Knowing her, she must have written something beforehand.

Once he found himself standing beside her, he gazed down to find her face still staring out into the valley.

Everyone was preparing for tomorrow. At dawn, an entire segment of their army would be going to war. And he hated it every bit.

"The northern skies darken. I can sense the evil and their plight growing." The woman sitting next to him said with a melancholy tone and yet was filled with a melody that resonated with him. "I am afraid if we do not go to aid them: it will enter the valley."

He shallowly inhaled, allowing his hand to carefully place over her shoulder. She tensed at his touch, a spark of warmth crawling up from his arm the moment they touched. It was a feeling that always had his head dizzy, heart-swelling before he couldn't even speak. But now as the centuries passed: it fluctuated. An erratic energy that she knew (to which she never commented) but never spoke any further of it.

"No." He said quietly, "Neither of us would allow that."

He swallowed the imaginary object down his throat before he could even dare to speak. He knew what she spoke of what really laid between the lines that had him sending in a fire up into his eyes and mind. It was those moments between them that made him question why he chose her. Someone who would lay themselves over everything for the sake of the good of the world despite all the risks.

Yet it shattered his heart that he would still love her no matter what.

"You are not happy that I will be going." She spoke plainly, "It has not stopped me before."

His head rotated down to her, seeing the fire appear in her face. Her face filled with pure determination.

There, the panic rose his body sending Elrond Peredhel's heart quickening as he brought his hand to caress her cheek.

With a strong and yet calm voice, he said with no hesitation: "My love, please listen to me."

Her gaze bore into his and he felt as if the valley faded before them.

Elrond continued, "I am only doing this for you. For your wellbeing. You know what has been happening to you. To your magic."

His wife's eyes darted away for a moment, hearing her breath deeply before she stood up from her seat. Even as she stood, the glow and aura before her brightened and waned at every second – something which had been growing more and more. It worried him as much as their children and Glorfindel. Never had her light constantly changed.

There was more than just the magic he mentioned to her. Something was deep within the growing loss of control of her powers. He was only angry at himself for not knowing the cause of it, but even more remorseful in seeing his wife grow frustrated at her own condition.

However: it made him mad that sometimes she would ignore it completely.

"I know." Elemmírë Oialëa's gloved hands trembled, shaking as she brought them up to his shoulders. She let out a ragged breath and spoke with positivity, "But I feel as if I need to be there. Be beside my brother and our sons. And only I can be sure to know what this Witch King's potential."

"No." Shaking his head, Elrond responded with a pang in his chest. "For the first time: I refuse for you to go. I will not allow you to go with Glorfindel to Fornost."

Her eyes widened as she glared up to him and stressed, "I need to go—"

"And I will not demand anymore, Elemmírë." He said with his own glare down at her as he ordered, "You are forbidden to leave this valley."

Snatching her hands off him, he saw her grit her teeth before her face changed into a blank expression. She stayed silent for a moment, clenching, and unclenching her hands before she returned to him.

If a voice could be as cold as the Helcaraxë it would be the perfect description as Elemmírë said to him: "It took less than the time we knew one another for one of us to break." She stared at him, her lips trembling as her voice rose, "Telling someone who has been locked in their own realm to be forbidden to leave their very home, the home which I built with you!"

Something in him snapped and the fire within him erupted.

"I am only doing this to protect you!" He growled, his fingers curling into fists. "I am protecting our family!"

Elemmírë snarled back, "And you forget who I was, Elrond! There is no protection in this world. This valley is nothing but a façade of what is out there! A cage!" She said, gesturing her hands out towards the balcony: "Out there are our friends; our allies. They are dying when we should be helping them!"

He scoffed.

How could she speak of allies when he was clearly the one having to fix the mistakes she made from their own kind? Elves being hostile to one another because of his wife's opinion of her friend's marriage.

But instead of fueling another matter, he exclaimed with an exasperated tone, "And you do not need to always be there! You constantly wish to fight, to fight for good and yet you forget how others feel when you put yourself at risk!" Elrond reprimanded, "You are not being brave, Elemmírë. You are being reckless! Acting like a child!"

Her eyes flashed with light.

Then, he felt the lamps the entire valley brightening; the air grew static as their heads almost clashed at one another.

Elemmírë jabbed her finger at him and shouted, "And you are a selfish and overprotective coward!"

Elrond shut his mouth as he felt the air leave his lungs. All he could sense was his heart racing, a pit growing in his stomach as those words smashed through him like a hammer.

Somewhere inside him: a voice inside him began to cry out, but he would never let it out.

In another part of him, despite never admitting it, wanted to agree in defeat at her harsh words slashing at him.

He knew Elemmírë was not the most subtle elleth he knew. She was forward and blunt at times with honesty and loathed those who threw themselves to their subtle ways at hurling insults. She would accuse and state negative comments at those who deserve them, calling him stiff and too open to those who still offend them.

However, never would she call him selfish and it damaged him to know that it was what Elemmírë saw in him. His wife. His long life friend.

His heart.

The second she realised what she had spat out, her eyes grew wide before she cursed under her breath. Her hands withdrew, clasped over one another. "Elbereth...I—"

"Is that what you think of me?" He asked with a dead voice. "Selfish because I want you safe?"

Her own guilt quickly went away, hiding it as she stiffly answered back: "You cannot keep everyone you love in a cage. We have learnt it the hard way." Inhaling through her nostrils, she sent him another stern look and spoke, "And I am reminding you again that we have to choose the hardest things in life."

He felt another part of him sensed the ache in his chest and yet saw it similarly in her face. They both knew that what they were doing had hurt them and they were willing to go through it either way. Elrond had known his wife long before calling her by that title and he knew may he still bend to the will of others, he still showed stubbornness.

Perhaps it was what made those who looked up to him question his own actions.

Refusing the title of High King.

Marrying the Eternal.

Elrond replied simply, taking a step forward to her. "And I am doing my part in doing so."

She stayed still staring blankly at him, clouded and busy in her own mind whilst he attempted to reach for her.

There, he lifted his arm before bringing his hand up to her chin.

Her eyes lost the light for a moment as he looked upon her.

With a whisper, Elrond pleaded: "Calanya..."

"Don't..."

She shook her head, taking a step away with a warning gaze.

He then felt a surge of heat up his body. Elrond knew what she was trying to do. To push away and to forget.

Instead, he stepped as close as possible to her, taking both her arms on either side before he brought his face to hers. He said with a strong voice, hiding his trembling body as his body shook with mixed emotions. "No. I will not let our time before war grow into a fight." Elrond said with no hesitation, "Even if I loath this in every way possible."

Elemmírë eyes glistened under the evening light, tears springing at the corners as she questioned him, "Then why did you choose me? Why?" Her eyes almost screamed with plea whilst she added, "The most un-elven elf in this forsaken world?"

He brought his hands to cup her cheeks, a thumb wiping the tears.

"Because that un-elven elf held a heart bigger than anyone else." Elrond professed - anguish evident on his face. "I promised you that day in Angband that I will never leave your side."

Suddenly, he felt a warmth fill his heart.

Elemmírë brought her arms over his shoulders, bringing her body pressing against him, "And I promised that night I will always come back to you." She continued, "I will never leave you. I leave you a memory and my love. To our family. To you."

Afterwards: Elrond closed the gap between their mouths.

A kiss that held more passion and desperation since their first confession of their love to one another. As their kiss heightened, their breaths grew shallow as they panted and felt their fëar intertwine with another.

The two halves became one once more that night, as their love was brought into ecstasy and he felt once more to know every part of his light in his arms. They learnt once more every part of them, what they felt and what they needed. Desperation and the feeling of the end of the world rose in their minds as Elrond and Elemmírë brought themselves into satisfaction and laid in each other's arms.

But at the night dwelt on, the Lord of Imladris dreamt. Many scenes unfolded. Some so vivid that it had him shaking in his bed whilst others felt like he had been hearing voices from the far future. There was a moment when he felt that he was almost living what seemed to be the war. The fire almost burning his skin.

The blinding light encasing the fortress.

The black char in her chest as she laid dead upon the ground, red slowly spilling onto the dirt as her eyes grew dim.

Elrond did not realise that the very vision he dreamt of was going to come true. All because he had accepted to let her go.

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Time: October 2980 T.A

"What in the right mind did you swear on it!"

"I—"

He yelled, "You will not be going on this quest!"

His wife opened her mouth, "Elrond—"

"I trusted your mother's word that you would sit in the council as part of my house only. Not to swear to go into danger and—"

"And Arda is already in danger!"

He spun around and looked at her.

It was like seeing Elemmírë once more. The same blaze burning and glowing in her face and voice. The magic and power his daughter portrayed may have sent him pausing, but it was the words and passion which brought his jaw to slack.

His very daughter was showing the side of what Illyria's and even his own fury could become. The potential and strength of snapping were always there, but it was his own blood that gave his youngest child the ability to shock anyone when her anger was brought into question.

Whilst Illyria Strange was an untamed flame already burning brightly, Arwen had always been tamed until it was given the right amount of fuel to bring her flames up. Centuries of control and peace brought her to know who she was and the dangers of her powers. But never in a way that was in a situation such as this.

And why he knew he stepped over the threshold.

Arwen stood in the middle of the study, her hands clenched in knuckles as she questioned with an accusing tone, "Don't you see what is already out there? There are two enemies we must defeat and none of Middle Earth know less of the elves that Dagor Dagorath has come! Sauron and Saruman know we have it and it won't be long that their armies will be arriving in Imladris in the future."

He continued to stare at her, sensing heat already burning through from his daughter's strong gaze.

She ground her teeth, refusing to back down as she stated boldly, "I will not cower in this valley, neither in another world nor do you think for your own mental and emotional safety." Her head hung up high as she continued, "Not only I am your daughter, Adar. I am also the daughter of the Eternal, the very person who confronted both Morgoth and Sauron in her life. She had taught me enough to know how dangerous they are. And I will not be swayed by their fear. Yes, I am a lady, but it did not stop Illyria Strange nor Queen Celebrían from fighting alongside you and her husband."

He stared at her in shock.

Arwen had never gone against him like this.

But as the shock diminished and he began to understand what she said: Elrond flared his nostrils, preventing himself to scoff back at his daughter at the notion. Is this how she would prove herself? To compare her own life to those of her mother and Celebrían? Two people who had to watch leave this world due to all the pain of their consequences. And what did they leave in the end: friends and family and people who loved them dearly mourning for them. He had lost his wife whilst the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien lost their only child.

Did she not know the consequences? Of whom she would lose if she left? The pain she would bring upon them. Her friends, her family.

But no matter how he wanted to protest and tell her the thoughts that passed in his mind, the worry and fear in him: Elrond diverted his gaze and stalked away, letting himself pace.

He murmured with a disapproving tone, warning her: "Aragorn will not be pleased." Stopping, he glanced back at her and added, "He will not allow you."    

For a moment Arwen's mind paused and retracted.

She appeared to swallow her breath before she brought her voice back. But there was a softer tone when she spoke, "I love him, but it does not stop my word to protect this world."

His face contorted with pain, sensing his heart throbbing, and banging against his ribcage. There was a fracture in his mind that told him that he shouldn't have mentioned him. But even with her response, there was no hesitation nor regret. Arwen had already thought of it deeply – perhaps even longer than what he suspected.

He wondered again: how did he not sense this in his visions?

Elrond had paced once more, driving an even deeper wedge as he saw Arwen look even more guilty but continued to refuse and hold her stance. Meanwhile, his wife stood idly beside his desk, watching the whole ordeal quietly – assessing it in her mind.

Or perhaps speaking to their daughter telepathically, making it even more stressful and concerning for him.

He noticed Illyria glance at him before he slowed down before his heels could dig against the marble floor. She gave him a stern look, making him retreat to his spot in front of Arwen before she continued.

"Adar please, this is my future. My people's future. I cannot be the ruler or consort of a kingdom if I am to stay here," His daughter pleaded, taking a step forward to reach out to him.

Sensing the warmth snake up his chest, he squashed it down as another wave of memories brought to him.

Under the evening light: it eerily appeared to be like the very moment he and Illyria fought. And sadly, he could tell from her blank look that she had yet to remember what happened during the War on Angmar.

Though before she could question him, Elrond clenched his jaw before he told her, "We will discuss this later."

Arwen's face didn't change, hiding well her reaction before she silently nodded.

Once he glanced away, focused to stare at the bookshelves: in the corner of his gaze he saw his daughter pause to look at Illyria before she lowered her head and began to walk towards the door. Illyria didn't speak but he heard her inhale sharply before the sound of the door shutting quietly brought him to let his façade fall.

Slacking his shoulders, he felt the weight in his entire body double before he dragged his legs across his study and continued to pace.

"Elrond."

When her voice filled his ears, he stared up at her from across the room. The anger and distraught rose once more in his voice.

He questioned her rapidly, "So you agree then? You will send our daughter out there when she is a risk to herself?"

With eyes widening, Illyria exclaimed, "No!"

But with her face and tone – he knew there was doubt.

"I don't like it either." She exhaled a large breath before she responded in a pressing tone, "But you know it. You gave her the staff and that already tells me."

He asked, confused: "Tells you what?"

Illyria replied plainly, "You saw it in your visions."

When those words left her mouth, Elrond did all he could to hide his immediate response. Blame centuries of constant worry and mourning, believing that his beloved half truly left him because of his acceptance. But he couldn't deny that he already foretold those visions even after her death, predicting fearfully that one day one of his children would go down the same path as the Eternal.

Out of all three, he should have expected his youngest to carve that similar path.

The path of mortality.

Elrond closed his eyes for a second, taking a shuddering breath before he whispered under his breath: "I cannot lose you both." He confessed before looking back at her, almost panicking to see such a resemblance once more of his youngest. "If Elladan and Elrohir dared to even choose—"

"They won't. Unlike Arwen: the twins were older and more controlled with what they had. They have your patience." She reassured him, gradually taking a few steps to him. Her eyes darted for a moment down, gulping. "Arwen...she's too much like me when it comes to decisions of the greater picture."

That was what caused his soul to crack.

Since knowing Elemmírë Oialëa: her mindset was always to strive for the best for everyone. To see things right and protect those who were defenceless. Regardless of rebirth and re-embodiment, Illyria or Elemmírë: she was the same.

A person who thought of protection as a duty, even if it hurt (or kill) her in the process.  

Arwen's choice was cast by years of control and seeing the world in the eyes of elves. Elves who chose to live in peace rather than see a world in shadow and death.

But his daughter, he should have known better. No matter how he tried, she chose a way to find another way. Stubbornness and determination interlaced by the empathy and patience given perhaps in his own blood. Yes: he may be stubborn and impulsive but he had been young. His daughter was at his age when she would fight for what she believed.

Just like how he chose to fight for Gil-Galad. For Elros' descendants.

He turned to her and spoke, "You were going to choose to help them. If you had chosen..." Elrond trailed off, knowing well enough how that sentence would end.

Illyria seemed to know as well, folding her arms and huffing: "And yet I didn't. Because I realised that isn't my path." She continued, "My path...our path is to help the fight against Morgoth with the Noldor. To stop him and Sauron from winning. And you understand that there is no safe place anymore."

Taking another pause, he looked away and pondered.

She was correct. There was no place left in Arda for them to be safe. Even his valley – their valley – that was built for the sake of retreating from the enemies of Eregion in the Second Age was now in the eyes of their enemies. The very home they promised their people that it would be their haven much like Valinor – it was now a target.

An idea sprouted, letting him quickly glance back at her as he began, "Your world..."

"Arwen would never forgive either of us if we made her go there," Illyria's voice hardened before she quietened down, "She would forever hate us and I can't do that for the sake of her safety."

He believed that it could have been a choice, something which Elrond already began to contemplate on even before they discovered a way to Illyria's world. After experiencing a few weeks there, the prospect of bringing his children to her world; may have eased his worried mind.

However: it would mean losing the trust he had with his children.

His daughter would never forgive him until the very end of their time in Arda in choosing to keep her safe.

As he stared across, spotting his father's star in the sky, he felt a hand interlock in his. When he turned to his left, he found Illyria speaking to him. "My love for her is strong, and yours is stronger."

Elrond hitched his breath, eyes beginning to sting.

"But remember this: you cannot hide something forever. We must let go of things. You have to let her find her path." She spoke softly, staring straight into his eyes with candour. "The hardest choices are the ones we hate to choose."

He squeezed his eyes shutting, hearing himself shudder before the tears flowed down his cheeks.

Elrond whispered between his cries, "Why did our life come to this?" He questioned, realizing that he had brought his head upon Illyria's shoulder. "That I am to let go of the ones I love? I have lost my parents. Atar...my friends. You..."

Bringing her hands upon the sides of his face, she lifted his head to press against her's. Their foreheads touched, the contact sending him a wave of assurance from her as her fëa began to reach out to him.

Locking eyes, Illyria answered: "Because we have lives, Elrond. We make choices. And at some point, we have to lose things that we want so much." She breathed out, her voice wavering at the last words. "And if we love them, we should have the capacity to let them go."

Elrond uttered to her, "I do not want to let go."

"Neither" She responded, fingers wiping his cheeks. "But we need to even it breaks us."

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Maedhros Fëanorion | The Red Wolf

When he spotted her running across the corridor and away from the family wing, he decided to follow her to where she went.

It wasn't difficult, sensing the light of the Evenstar's trail before he found her in one of the gardens. She was sitting on one of the benches, her face scorned with anger and anguish whilst tears went down her pale cheeks. Her hair was slightly unkempt, though still perfectly draped over her dress whilst she clenched the fabric in the palm of her hands.

Maedhros walked over slowly, keeping his distance reasonably far as he heard her whisper helplessly.

"Adar does not understand," The young peredhel drew a handkerchief from her pocket, dabbing her eyes.

He inhaled deeply, taking a few more steps closer as he murmured, "He is conflicted, and it is understandable." Maedhros gestured his chin towards the empty space and asked, "May I?"

It was highly improper as such, especially as one of the princes of the Noldor, to even ask to sit close by a fair maiden such as her. But this was Illyria and Elrond's daughter, his foster-niece in a way, and he had seen and felt the confliction and fire that burnt in her. She needed someone to comfort her when her parents could not give it at this moment in time.

There, Arwen reluctantly allowed him to sit beside her. He sat uncomfortably stiff, watching her compose her breaths until she was able to speak.

They did not look at each other, mostly staring out in the garden that was slowly withering away by the season. Soon, all the leaves will be gone and who knows when the flowers will bloom again.

She asked him quietly, "Did Naneth ever do things so recklessly during the war?"

What war she meant had been ambiguous. There were too many wars he knew from Illyria's vague memories as Elemmírë to know which ones she partook. Though considering Arwen was asking him, she was probably hinting about the war he was involved in.

He replied honestly, "Too much to count. So many times, she risked herself just to save us, if I may put." Maedhros added, "And at the other end, Elrond would join."

The young elleth asked him, "What changed?"

Maedhros paused, letting curious eyes gaze up to him.

"I might not be the right one to tell you this," He began, "Your books and stories may mention Elemmírë Oialëa having endured eight years in Angband, but you do not know truly what she said to me. She said that she was tortured, every day and night. Morgoth would have his power rip her fëa before putting it again...trying to find the power within her. Sauron would join, physically defiling her until she could not bear it no longer."

Her eyes began once more to water, hearing the tragedy of her mother's terrible past.

Perhaps now in truth and not so sugarcoated as what was written in their pages.

"Elrond...he found her. So broken and almost dead. And yet her fëa and power still shone brightly." He said, his voice beginning to lose volume. "Years of it, the light in her eyes never left. It surprised everyone since that she was born after the trees. She should not even bear the light and the fire. And yet she did."

When he saw her eyes still wide with shock and grief, Maedhros knew he had given away something he should have given Illyria instead.

But he knew Arwen was bound to know. Better now than by the end of the world.

Maedhros did not lie.

Angband changed Elemmírë.

It changed Elrond too.

All of them changed the moment they agreed to rescue Elemmírë from Angband. It had been the very thing that brought him to acknowledge how her presence altered their very hearts and minds. How a loremistress and advisor of Gondolin had the last Fëanorians alive wrapped around her finger, tugging the sons of Eärendil to save her.

Because she was the one who brought them together. The force that kept their bonds stronger in time. She gave his brother a purpose as a father to them and gave him the purpose to amend his mistakes. To see himself having a chance of fixing what he did.

"Naneth," She swallowed, "All this time..."

He continued, "He was so afraid. Never would I see your father so struck by fear for none but her death." Maedhros flickered his eyes momentarily by the entrance and saw a silhouette entering their periphery. Yet, he carried on: "He loved her so quickly, a part in which I think he blames of his human side. And he would do anything then to keep his family safe. To keep him by his side. It was why he was...devastated by my supposed death and Maglor's disappearance."

He hadn't yet spoken about Maglor yet to Elrond, but the brief mention of it came from the Balrog Slayer himself. The blonde elf informed him during their short, and rather uneventful, time together sparring sparked a conversation about his brother. When Maedhros heard that Elrond hesitated every moment to seek entirely for his foster father, he could understand why he hadn't.

Arwen glanced down to her lap and admitted, "Yes. He blames himself for never seeking him out in Middle Earth."

"You must understand his pain, accept his reasons before making yours," He spoke, attempting for her to understand.

Maedhros knew that Arwen understood. He just accepted that the blood from Elemmírë would lead her to a future that brought her to protect those she cared for and wanted to care for.

His niece clearly was Elrond Peredhel and Illyria Strange's daughter.

"I...I still want to do this." She looked back up to him with a growing resolute expression on her face. "I want to keep my family safe."

Maedhros stared at her, her eyes lit up much like Illyria's. He had to take a double-take, feeling as if he was seeing someone else in front of him.

Arwen reminded him too much of her. The nightingale.

Her ancestor.

Blinking, he glanced sideways to see Illyria approaching them quietly. Her gaze was focused on him, lips thinned in a line before she nodded slightly back to him.

He returned his focus to the younger elleth in front of him and said, "Then if this is your heart and mind saying this: then tell them." Maedhros hinted, "Tell your mother."

As his eyes gazed at Illyria, he found Arwen to rotate and found herself standing up to face her.

Both mother and daughter looked at each other. One held guilt in her contorted expression whilst the other held a sad smile upon her lips.

He heard Arwen apologize, "Nana, I am sorry."

"I know, my Evenstar." Illyria inhaled, "I think you did...What you did was right. Your father may not understand right now, but eventually, he will come to it."

Both daughter and mother embraced, with the raven-haired elleth tucking Illyria's head over her shoulder. He could sense the entwining of souls, the power radiating off both as they looked at each other with running emotions that it was as if a star descended from the skies and landed in front of him.

The Evenstar and the Eternal shared the same willing duty to bring light into this world, and they would do all they could to fight against the growing evil and darkness.

As Arwen smiled a little, she glanced back to where he now stood quietly beside the bench. Gliding up to him, familiar grey eyes gazed up to him mixed with a yellow glow.

She spoke to him, "Thank you, Uncle Maedhros." When he nodded in return, hiding the warmth that filled his chest, Arwen turned around and looked over to her mother. "Naneth. I will go and speak to Aragorn."

When Illyria nodded silently to her, Arwen bowed her head once more before departing the peaceful (and withering) garden. Maedhros continued to watch the young Evenstar leave, feeling something stuck up his throat at the similarities of their appearances before he blinked his stare away.

Which left him to frown at Illyria's own blank (and rather unimpressed) look.

Maedhros questioned with confusion, "What is it?"

Illyria replied nudged her chin far to the right, aiming in a direction to the house, and asked interrogatively: "What was that?" 

He narrowed his stare at her, completely confused at her pressing demand. Did she mean about talking to her daughter? Because if so, surely his young reincarnated titled sister would understand that he was only attempting to support the poor elleth. Hardly anyone in the valley liked the prospect of Arwen Undómiel leaving to go and destroy the One Ring. Arwen's brothers were flabbergasted whilst Lord Erestor, Lord Lindir and Glorfindel along with the other elves had paled at the sudden shock from her decision.

No one comforted or even allowed to hear her reasons.

But as that thought crossed his mind, Illyria shook her head indicating that it was not what she implied.

Then he remembered what he did in the council.

Maedhros' thought revered back to the moment he revealed himself and recalled every face which saw him. Seeing their jaws drop as he peeled away the veil. Every elf who knew of the Fëanorians through stories and paintings in books were surprised to see him.

Well...it was not every day a Fëanorian would come to their front door with modern Earth technology laced within his robes. Not to mention his metal hand.

Again, the people here in Arda were not very observant.

However, his thoughts recalled again of Illyria's question and Maedhros stiffened before inhaling sharply. Just a little bit of frustration had him flexing his hands whilst Illyria tapped her foot against the carved stone below their feet.

His answer may not have been something she expected. "I did that to prove something," Maedhros explained to her. "I wanted to know what characters they all had. I needed to know if they were the right people to take that weapon to its destruction."

Reading and watching an entire future unfold in another world may have given him an insight into several people's characters, but it didn't mean that they were the same people in real life as well. With so many things going on, their present so different to the pages Tolkien wrote it was not definite that the characters wore the same personalities as their counterparts.

From what that council told him; he knew there was a slight change in people.

Obviously, with the circumstances, the end of the world does let the desperation out of people.

War as well shows the truth of people as well. The thought of having death waiting for you every second as you fight and see the very place and people you love whisked away to death and destruction. He could see it in all of them: most of all with Boromir, Aragorn, and Arwen.

For Arwen she was calm throughout, defending the one she loved for the insult thrown at him. Until she decided to jump in and take her place in the New Fellowship.

Boromir and Aragorn were slightly different to the people he read. Whereas Boromir's desperation to protect his people heightened, so came his darker side and hostility. He did not find it amusing for most of the council to be elves and hardly humans. More importantly: it was the betrayal of trust between Prince Legolas and Aragorn which had Boromir concerned over their journey.

The Gondorian Captain needed to cooperate and still find a place for his redemption. If he got the Ring, the entire plan would be foiled and the chances of them winning would decline.

Aragorn, despite not seeking to speak knew who he was and held no dislike to him. He was quiet and considerate, speaking at the right time. His mind held with patience, evidence that Elrond's parenting aided this young man to see the right path.

However, Maedhros saw doubt cloud his judgement. The worry was built by the less amount of experience as a ranger and as the heir of Gondor and Arnor. The older Aragorn would have seen many wicked evils and the hardships of the races of Middle Earth. However, half the time and the fall of Gondor's capital had shaken the ranger. And even more worried as Arwen pledged to protect Frodo Baggins from the evil.

Then came the wood elves, both Sindar and Silvan combined knew immediately which side to take into. He was expecting a weapon, either way, pointed at him, hence why he had been calm when Prince Legolas had an arrow towards his chest.

He saw in the young ellon's mind doubt muddled with stories and nightmares. The people whom he grew up and was taught by understood the assignment when creating a stigma around the Fëanorians and the Noldor.

According to Glorfindel (again, he was surprised he got more time to converse with him), there was never a good relationship between the Sindar and the elves of Rivendell. The elves of Lothlorien welcomed them from time to time but kept to themselves. Those of Mirkwood...they would rather have them fed to the spiders.

Something about Elemmírë apparent dislike over Thranduil (both as an elf and as a human) due to their opinions on his family. That wasn't really a surprise to him considering he did (and never would ever forget) destroy his original home of Doriath along with his brothers.

Maedhros still regretted every moment of their last centuries in Beleriand. Falling into his brother: Celegorm's, trap and following through to their plan to take the Silmaril back from King Dior.

Look what happened to them.

The older Sindar elves who knew of Beleriand and lived through the First Age had the right to be angered by him. But Prince Legolas: he was the prime example of history eating away and causing a divide again their very race. He could only be glad that he was friends with Elrond and Illyria's children, sensing a link between the families.

Perhaps one day he would know of it.

Illyria gave him a deadpanned look and asked, "And antagonizing them would help them?" With an exasperated sigh, she said bluntly: "They now know you're here."

Maedhros crossed her gaze and clicked his jaw. He very well knew the outcome of his reveal to the council. It was perhaps even a little tease for when they agree that his own kin finally crossed the seas once more and entered Middle Earth.

Insults and death threats never hurt him anymore. It was second nature to him now that getting angry or annoyed was something of a feat if anybody tried to cross with him.

Though with his other brothers – whom he realised they had not seen him in three ages – would perhaps be a little more affected by threats.

Then came his titled sister all but blood. The very person who saw the darkest sides of his soul, heart and mind and yet continued to defend him. He was even surprised, honoured secretly when the Balrog Slayer and the children of Elrond and Illyria were ready to keep him from attacking but also defend him.

Placing his left hand atop her shoulder, Maedhros told her, "You forget, nethig." His lips twitched a bit, "You see the world so differently that you forget reality itself."

Her brows creased as she realised what he meant and replied, "Mae..."

Maedhros held a small tight smile, smoothing down her robes before he glanced over her neck. The small pendant shining under the moonlight. Once he returned to look back to her, he lowered his hand and continued, "Remember." He recalled, seeing the confusion flash over her.

He then said one word.

"Ossiriand."

It was one of the memories which Illyria still recalled even before he met this version of her. And with the glassy-eyed sheen over her eyes, she shook her head profusely.

Arguing back, she stated: "You're not a villain." Illyria inhaled, folding her arms across her as she nudged her chin out, "If they think like that then they are the idiots. No matter if they're immortal or not."

With that, he knew not to change her opinion being as stubborn as he and his family were as well. Illyria Strange would cease to surprise him that it became apparent that he might as well meet her unexpected recklessness and stubbornness.

Matched by fluidity and patience from Elrond: Maedhros began to see the connections which allowed the two souls to be of some compatibility of one another.

Their conversation returned to the first thing he was in this small and sad garden for.

"Mae," Illyria called out to him before her voice softened. "Thank you."

He nodded slightly in response, glancing away for a moment to look over to the house. Somewhere inside, he knew the young Evenstar was trying to keep her confidence high. To prove to those around her that this was the right choice for her.

Something which he knew very well of.

Maedhros spoke, "Your daughter...she will bear the fate of Lúthien. Just like you."

All he got was a sad smile as her lips trembled.

She covered her mouth and coughed for a bit, shaking her head as she raggedly answered him: "And nothing can stop it. Not even Elrond can." Illyria stared at him and continued, "Because the way to the West is gone now. This is all we have."

He felt his chest tighten at her words. Once dreaming to see Aman again if he was ever pardoned for his family and his own crimes was now forever wiped away like chalk on a whiteboard. She was right: the Valar were not here to aid them now.

Despite it all, Maedhros learned through his time on Earth of such hopes of the help of higher beings. That you could never trust cosmic entities and their honesty in caring for those less powerful to them. He had read and seen how they saw the world as a game.

For Maedhros: he would not trust yet to ally with those who think of them much like a little plastic figurine on a chessboard. They needed to act and break it. Or as a well-known dragon queen once said: break the wheel.

Break the pattern which brought them to this.

He eyed the silver-haired woman and replied, "Not unless we go and fight it."

Glowing blue eyes burnt held determination as she rose her eyebrows.

With a small upturn on the corner of her lips, Illyria answered back, "Then you know what we'll have to do." She responded, "Finish the mission we started."

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[1] - Arthedain: One of the three realms of the Dunedain of the North created by what had been the kingdom of Arnor. The last city, Fornost, fell by the Witch King and thus broke entirely the Northern Kingdom.
[2] - Prince Eärnur: The 33rd and last king of Gondor. He had been the one to lead the armies in defence of Fornost. He disappeared after his duel with the Witch King and was never seen again.

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A/N: Quite a very tense and sad chapter, a lot of angst for pretty much our lovely Rivendell family. I might not be a parent, but it must be so much harder for Elrond to have to let Arwen go considering knowing that he had lost Illyria once. But he knows deep in his heart that he loves her. He wants her to find her own path - even if it means letting her go on the most suicidal mission ever.

We also get a Maedhros and Arwen moment, which might actually be the only excerpt we'll be getting. (*starts planning another chapter in like two dozen chapters later*) I'll try and fit a section with him and Arwen before the end of the series. Depends if they ever reunite.

And with the long-ass pages of notes and plans I have for this...might be a low possibility but not zero.

Next week's chapter will be the final chapter plus the post-credits scenes, I'm hoping as well to release the Part 2 Teaser that will include further info. :)

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Edited: 07/03/2022