17 | Perainur

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Arwen Undómiel | The Evenstar

Location: Edoras, Rohan, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: March 2981 T.A

Dream walking had become easier throughout the years of her life.

Especially from the last four decades, as the confidence in her magic resurged, she had been allowed to explore the many options of her natural abilities. Lady Galadriel always said that despite having the gifts from her mother, her ability of dream walking will always be unique to her – blended with her father's ability of foresight through dreams and visions.

But Astral Projection - yes it was almost the same as they occur during a state of peace and lack of physical bodies - was even more dangerous. When the soul was split from the body and the mind was the only thing tethering between the two planes. Her mother told her that it was possible to multiply herself, create copies through a similar state and use the bending of light to imitate the image.

Then there was the time when she had projected herself to dream and find Aragorn – and that was when Arwen Undómiel realised she could go beyond that.

That it could be possible to move through the Astral Dimension by materializing her physical body from one place to another.

None of the books her mother provided spoke of it.

Though, why was she thinking of this? Shouldn't she be finding ways to help with the war efforts? To stop Sauron from advancing even more towards the West.

Perhaps because the moment she hit her pillow; Arwen woke up standing on her feet a few hours later – in a dark-lit room.

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It appeared to be some sort of great hall.

Chandeliers of dark metal and crystals hung up on the ceiling. Lamps lit with a reddish glow as they imitated the darkening horizon from the balcony. As she slowly walked towards them, Arwen almost felt the cold marble upon her bare feet. The coldness and heat mixed as they brushed through her skin as she finally arrived out – the air in her lungs leaving her.

Out in front of her was a barren wasteland. With red, black and brown hues making it brighter due to the stars and moon above. But that wasn't what made her horrified at where she found herself.

Because right in the distance was the very mountain two certain people were heading towards.

Mount Doom.

When her hand shakily shot up to her mouth, Arwen was at loss for words. How in Arda did she get here?

"Someone is here."

Her entire body froze, almost feeling her physical heart stop as she heard a voice. Arwen slowly moved away from the balcony, sliding back into the round hall before deciding to then run and hide. There was no point, however; the place was practically lit up despite assuming this very tower would be owned by the same person that should be with a dark Vala.

' No... '

As she rotated at her heels – there was no time for her to hide or to concentrate back to where she was. Or if this was just merely her own creation of a nightmare.

The only exception is that how could she imagine the dark Maia that had tortured and marred this world to be so...beautiful. That was the only way she could describe him. The Lord of Mordor was far from the drawings and paintings she had seen, but even more different than the elven emissary known to the elves of Lindon as Annatar.

Sauron's hair appeared to burn, the colour of flames dancing upon his pale complexion. Upon his brow was a black and gold circlet, with sharp points that she could have sworn could cut her if she touched it. But nothing was left even more surprising was his robes, which were black and gold, shimmering under the light.

This was not the dark lord Arwen would dream of.

His tall form stopped in the middle of the room; eyes only trained on the round orb upon the podium. The Palantir's aura glowed faintly in her sight.

"You...you should not be here." Sauron glanced around the room, narrowing his eyes.

He could sense her.

But he couldn't see her.

She could still have a chance to leave now.

Arwen sucked a short breath, clenching her hands into fists as she tried to force her magic to bring herself back and wake up.

She tried all she could, remembering the meditation techniques and actions she had done to place herself back in her unconscious body, but the moment she felt her fëa lunge out of the scene: Arwen gasped.

Suddenly a forceful tug took her from her chest, causing her legs to tremble. Her voice hitched, echoing now as she finally felt almost present in the room. As she rose her eyes from the cold floor, she was met by burning irises.

Staring directly at her was the dark maia, towering over her like a bonfire. With his gloveless hand, he reached out: holding his palm in the air at her. A sensation enveloped her, halting her movements as he glided towards her.

When his words left his lips, she could feel them both entering her ears and her mind.

' Do not be afraid, little elf. ' Sauron's voice was calming and yet terrifying. ' I cannot touch you, but I can feel you... '

As he suddenly clenched his palm, Arwen hitched – feeling the tightness of the magic almost compressing her. Her anger rose, panicking at the same time as she cried out: ' Let go of me! '

What was he doing to her? How could he even do this?

And yet the power that was overwhelming her didn't faze him, causing him to get closer until she saw his eyes widen at her sight.

His whispers almost sounded like echoes booming into her head, ' You are the Eternal's Daughter... ' Sauron's head titled down, his next words causing her to hear to froze. ' The one called Undómiel. '

She could not even flinch nor move as his face got closer, watching his nose sharply inhale before he brought his hand hovering across the side of her head.

Arwen then felt a pierce through her mind, her mouth going immediately dry. He was trying to get into her mind, untangling the outer walls of her head as she tried to rebuild them.

However: it was not enough. She could feel the walls beginning to crumble. Piece by piece, she could sense the surface memories almost tangle, escaping until she could sense her astral body beginning to wane.

' Stop! ' She screamed, but to no avail.

Sauron was searching for something in her. And it was the same information Saruman was asking her. His weapon. The remnant of his power.

Inhaling again, his tone began to lose his patience as he began, ' Tell me where the Ring is, and I shall grant you what you wish for. '

She wasn't sure where her courage returned, or perhaps she wanted a death wish right now at the searing pain she was enduring.

Because the next words she spat out, would make something snap inside the dark Vala.

Arwen gritted her teeth as she responded, ' I will never tell you! '

The flames in his eyes brightened, and the dark aura folded around him grew as Sauron growled.

'Stubbornness from the Oialëa. ' He continued, ' I see it! Tell me! '

The pressure in her head increased and it felt like her mind was being squeezed and crushed. She wasn't sure if she was screaming; all she could hear was the white screeching noise that began to fill her. The strings of her mind began to stretch, afraid that the dark Maia could snap it in one more second.

However, all Arwen could do was firmly place herself on the spot, even if she felt the pain coursing through her muscles and her soul.

But as the moments passed: she felt a sudden tightness in her throat.

Eyes opening, she found herself staring at a blazing pair before her mind reeled back through the skies. The cracks were crumbling upon her barriers. All the centuries spent growing and strengthening her very magic had been fallen by him.

She felt as if she was falling now, thrust upon within the depths of everything and nothingness. 

The world before her entwined like she was falling through the stars, with blinding lights and echoing noises. Arwen's body jerked, her head pounding as she saw a desolate wasteland, of hues of yellow to red and sand.

Suddenly the landscape around her shifted, morphing into the silhouette of mountains. The sound of horses galloping, making the ground shake beneath them as the world turned upside down, reflecting atop one another until everything was much like a pattern. The pattern then began to rotate, converging until it burst into tendrils of smoke...until there was only a singular glowing figure in the distance.

It was white, with what seemed to be white specks floating out from it. It began to wane its light until there was nothing left but a glowing golden ring.

Arwen sucked in a breath as she finally felt slammed back, entering the familiar surroundings of Sauron's great hall. The pain had lessened, the tension inside her calming down once she adjusted once more.

What in Arda was that? What did he do to her? Where did she go? She was so confused and deeply afraid.

And yet the fear didn't make her any more hesitant as she saw the full anger on Sauron's face. ' It is nearing me...but where...Where is it?! ' He clenched his palms, bellowing back.

' Where is the halfling!? '

' I do not know, alright! ' Arwen snapped back. 

She had enough of the countless pressure he was giving her. ' I don't know where your Ring is, no matter how far you try to push me! '

Sauron clenched his mouth but then snarled back immediately, ' But you know something else. ' The dark Maia pulled back, sneering as he continued, ' I only saw one half, tell me of the other! The other vision! You have the other Palantir! You see something beyond my sight! '

As he was about to raise his palm once more, Arwen's instincts hit again. Bringing her hand up, she wasn't sure if her very magic would surpass the Astral Dimension.

Heat began to surge up her chest as she blocked the incoming attack, watching a white hue expel from her palms. Arwen's eyes widened as she looked at her fingers.

They didn't show the translucent cover that remained upon her Astral form.

A part of her turned into matter.

' No! '

Sauron's rage almost caused the tower to vibrate, watching in horror at what was on his other hand upon him. Two golden rings connected between a singular bar.

Arwen's mouth dropped. ' That couldn't be... ' She trailed off.

However, as Sauron was about to lunge back at her: Arwen breathed in – closing her eyes as she felt herself finally connecting to her real body.

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The moment she opened her eyes, she flung up from her bed with a large breath.

She could feel her heart racing again, the very blood running through her veins as she pressed her hands upon her face – now covered in sweat.

There were no words to describe what happened.

All she could do was stare at the darkness in the room she was settled in – thinking of what had happened.

She had just escaped Sauron...and had possibly risked Frodo and Sam's very lives.

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When she entered the great hall, Arwen made sure she could slip inside. She wanted to make sure that nobody could notice what had happened to her last night. Thankfully, Mithrandir was outside, sensing his aura to be nearby not only Legolas but Aragorn as well by the walls of the city. Of course, she could never hide for long what had happened.

Once she walked over to the long table on the left side of the entrance, she slid beside the Gondorian healer's side. Arwen thanked Lady Éowyn who sat in front of her, who pushed a bowl of porridge across to her side. But once she glanced down at it, her mind was still recollecting Sauron and her encounter with him in the Astral Dimension.

' He possessed a sling ring... '

The words repeated in her mind.

' He knows about the sorcerers... '

And Arwen dreaded the one person who could possibly own it.

Her mind reeled back as she felt a tap on her shoulder. Arwen straightened herself, sobering up to turn to Tazhin's honestly concern.

With a peering gaze, the healer questioned, " You don't seem well. Did you sleep? "

Dear Eru, she should've suspected the next person to immediately notice her attitude was perhaps the one who was the most stubborn when it comes to looking at others' feelings.

At least she had a few seconds to quickly pick up the spoon and take a bite, swallowing it forcefully down before she answered.

" I did, " Arwen paused, trying to get what seemed to be 'porridge' down herself. She shrugged it off and added, " I suppose it is just homesickness. "

Arwen averted Tazhin's face and looked at her plate, trying to swallow the food down. She'd rather get through this than face whatever the healer had to say about her.

But of course when she grazed through Tazhin's head: the healer was absolutely not convinced.

" Well do try and eat, " Tazhin hid her frown before she nudged her hand towards the end of the long table opposite them, " Before your companions finish your plate. "

Sitting across Éowyn were both Merry and Pippin, already with what seemed to be three bowls stacked upon the other. Each. And Pippin was already keeping an eye on her's and Éowyn's bowls.

Right, better to get something inside her than to get through this day with her stomach rumbling.

As she rubbed the centre of her chest after another spoonful, she heard the main doors of the hall creak open – making most of the heads at the table turn to them.

Hurrying towards the king's throne, the guard politely bowed to their king before he began, " Théoden King, there is a group of calvary heading our way. "

Théoden appeared surprised; it would seem it was unexpected. " Who? Which banner do they hold? " He questioned.

The soldier replied, " It is a six-pointed star along with a golden tree. "

Arwen immediately dropped her spoon and slid off the bench, her heart racing with only one hope in her mind.

That she knew exactly what banner it was.

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As she hurried out of the halls, followed by Lady Éowyn and Tazhin, she noticed that Boromir and Gimli had arrived as well along with Théoden King and his new advisor at hand. Arwen couldn't care less about the dark circles under her eyes or her slightly dishevelled morning appearance because the moment she spotted the banners in her own eyes and the sight of the two at the front of the group – she breathed in.

She waited rather close to the front, standing at the balls of her feet as the horses stopped and three familiar faces slid off. Noticing that both Legolas, Tauriel and Kili arrived from their morning shooting, Arwen found Aragorn and Mithrandir already heading closer to Lord Eomer and Théoden King.

The three figures walked up the staircase, her heart pounding as she finally caught their eyes.

Aragorn's voice filled the open air as he smiled and proudly informed them who it was, " It is my kin. " Stepping forward, he hugged the bearded man just in front of the other two. Aragorn grinned as he spoke, " Halbarad. "

Halbarad of the Dunedain appeared tired but relieved to see his friend's face, exclaiming as he patted her fiancé's shoulder, " Aragorn! " Halbarad smirked, " You are alive. And so what Lady Arwen tells his brothers. My lady! "

She didn't care for the propriety just now. Arwen had known Halbarad through Aragorn during their visits and enjoyed the tales the ranger spoke about. Especially the ones that involved Aragorn making rather reckless and heroic choices – even the funny ones.

So when she stepped forward, bowing her head with a growing smile, Arwen answered, " Hello Lord Halbarad, where are my... "

Suddenly she squealed, finding two taller figures engulfing her in a tight hug.

At that moment she could all the noises and worries left her mind as she found herself smelling the familiar scent of her brothers. The same pine and fir scent mixed with the dirt, rain and sweat they had upon their riding gear. She wrapped her arms around each of their shoulders, doing all she could to hold in the tears.

As she pulled away, she glanced up to take a look at both of them.

Elrohir's first words were placed with a sincere beam, " Nethig! We miss you. "

Arwen couldn't help but share her brothers' happiness, cheeks going red with the same emotions along with a tint of embarrassment. Oh well, it was clearly obvious by how they all looked similar.

She sighed as she replied, " I miss you deeply so as well, brothers. " Arwen paused, looking back at her other brother as she breathed out, "Ro...Dan. Dan...your face."

Unlike Elrohir, her other brother now wore a very faded scar upon his face. A human wouldn't see it from such a distance, but for her and possibly the other elves around them – it was hard to miss the scar that ran from his left cheek.

Elladan just merely shrugged it off and assured her, "Ai, don't worry. Only a mere scratch." He smirked – his usual mischievous eyes as he eyed her back, " Unlike me: you seem unscathed. "

As she went to squeeze his hand to assure him again, Arwen heard someone behind her exclaim with a full laugh.

Gimli grinned as he spoke, " Aye, don't underestimate the lass! This lass defeated over a thousand orcs just by her light! " The red-headed dwarf proclaimed, throwing a pointed thumb beside him, " Ha! Beat me and Legolas. "

Standing beside Legolas, Tauriel and Kili eyed each other after sharing a smirk back. All whilst Elrohir asked her mentally if something was going on between their Mirkwood Prince and dwarven companion.

Arwen internally sighed. Oh, she could go on for hours along with the rest of the Fellowship at how much they had to endure listening to their marriage bickering.

As Halbarad turned to go speak to Théoden King and Lord Eomer, Arwen continued to listen to their own conversation. She noticed that now Boromir, Tazhin and Lady Éowyn were listening in, followed by Pippin and Merry who waved hello to both her brothers.

Legolas rolled his eyes as he retorted, " Only because she wields magic. " He hummed, lifting his chin as he added, " I for one still won with forty-three. "

" Why you— "

As Tauriel chuckled and Boromir refrained himself from smiling, Arwen turned back to her brothers.

She asked them, a little more serious now as the excitement subsided, " Tell me, how well is Adar truly? And Naneth? I felt her magic back in Isengard. "

Both her brother's faces grew in a mixture of emotions. Elladan's face turned more troubled and serious whilst Elrohir contained himself with inhalation, "We need to speak to you and Mithrandir alone." He averted his eyes across to where the Rohirric king and lords were before placing a muted smile. Elrohir politely said, " But we shall properly introduce ourselves to our hosts. "

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Having the Dunedain and her brothers here at least eased off her mind after what happened with her.

Since she, Legolas and Aragorn knew them more than those of Rohan and Gondor: they busied themselves helping with the meetings and negotiations between the Rohirrim, the Gondorians and Dunedain. It comprised of an hour having to explain what had been occurring throughout the past few months.

About what was happening up north. About Lindon and Rivendell. The Noldor's plans in their meetings whether they will be helping Middle Earth or not. They told them about Saruman and Helm's Deep and what were their plans about Gondor once they replenished and grouped.

Yet, all Arwen could think about throughout that time were the pair of grey-blue eyes from a certain wizard.

For some (probably predictable) reason: Gandalf the White knew what was bothering her.

Though why he hadn't approached her itched her more. It was as if he was waiting for her to approach him herself.

Unfortunately: her mother's traits seemed to kick in and stop her from ever speaking of it.

After their meeting, Théoden King allowed the new visitors to either share the space in the halls or make use of whatever is left of the space. Halbarad assured him that they will be fine outside Edoras, hoping to help defend and scout the surrounding area until there was some agreement on what two of the armies were planning to do. Arwen knew that Halbarad had done what had been a tough choice. She heard that they had lost so much from the Battle of Rivendell, and it must have been difficult to choose to follow the twins south.

But Halbarad – he was loyal to the bone. He trusted Aragorn and his choices, especially now when the ruse of him being the heir of Gondor was amongst Edoras.

The twins on the other hand decided to stay where Legolas was, offering to take watch as well considering their lack of need for sleep. Tazhin had left for the healing halls, reminding Arwen to speak to Elrohir. The two may get along...and perhaps make Boromir initiate his feelings for their healer friend.

(Arwen was hiding her smirk when she felt Boromir's panic and annoyance when Tazhin's eyes never left Elladan or Halbarad's face, causing her desperately to just shove the captain in Tazhin's direction. But of course, she would never do that to her friend – she would just have to suffer through the long pining. For now.)

Finally, they had time to finally speak to Gandalf.

They found a quiet room in Meduseld that nobody was using – courtesy of Lady Éowyn – and made sure to ward the place for extra caution. It was there their barriers, that they must have held, relaxed, and Arwen finally saw the exhaustion in both her brothers' faces.

Elrohir appeared more tired than his twin, being the one who had to do the negotiating with the rest. He had slumped himself upon a chair, placing down his belongings before anyone else did. Elladan on the other hand just seemed conflicted. He remained stood up in the room, twirling a dagger around his hand whilst he stared at a column.

All whilst Gandalf gladly relaxed on the seat across the table, with her remaining facing Elrohir whilst Elladan stood at her right.

Then Elrohir cleared his throat and began his tale.

Her brother's stories never bored her. Even as she grew up, tale after tale, a recurring story would never bore her. He had always captivated his audience, his voice almost pulling them within the story itself as he spoke of the history of their people and the myths of their ancient race and world. The Hall of Fire in Rivendell was never a chore to go into, and Arwen would either come out happy or saddened by the tale, but always left her pondering what could have happened if the stories were so different.

But the tale that Elrohir finished had left nothing but her emptiness.

With her mouth dried up, she had to swallow a breath before she shuddered out what everyone was thinking.

Arwen whispered, staring down at her hands, "So...she killed them. By ripping their souls apart."

Never would she imagine hearing herself say this. It made no sense at all; a soul can be ripped by the very power Illyria Strange held. The very power that coursed through their veins.

She didn't want to think about it, but there was no denial in Elrohir's voice, or even the blank looks Elladan held as he paced back and forth.

After he was done, Elrohir cleared his throat as he added: "That is what Ada speculated, or what Dâd was discussing with Naneth." He shut his eyes momentarily, shifting in his chair as he continued, "She wasn't... I don't think she was herself. She was there but she was not there. But it is unlike anything she had taught us. Do you know how this happened, Mithrandir?"

Arwen and her brothers' eyes turned to the White Wizard – who in doubt didn't seem fazed or shocked at the revelation. As if he had known due to the emotion that now showed upon him.

Sadness.

Mithrandir breathed in, adjusting the hold of his staff as he began, "Only something we once did, Elrohir. When beings like us, like you all, were to sing the Song...we can manipulate beyond control." He looked between Elrohir and Elladan before he went to her until he gestured to all of them. "But yours, you could grasp more than what we could. Manipulation of power beyond physical barriers."

Her heart skipped a beat, making her hand rub once more at the same spot on her chest.

Elladan stopped beside her as he asked, "Wait...does that mean—"

"Saruman was telling the truth. Somehow she is...Peraini." Arwen rose her chin, raggedly letting out a breath, unsure for herself if what she was saying was real. "Therefore we are, in no doubt - Perainur. Which makes us more Ainur than elven and human."

It was more than that. Everything that they knew, everything that they were taught was all clouded by a lie. That the blood that ran between her and her brothers had a connection to the very spirits of Arda. That they hid it for a reason. Was it to keep them from being exposed to the darkness?

Or was it to stop them from gaining power?

The truth must have hit them all at once, as she sensed Elladan's own magic surge. Arwen grabbed his wrist, gazing up at her older brother. She knew that he hated the idea of hiding truths, hated it with a passion. But for a secret to be hidden from him caused more pain than anything else for him.

So with mental reassurance, she waited for him to relax before ushering him to sit beside her. Elladan reluctantly gave way before bringing himself down at the chair next to her, his body still tense and more aware as Elrohir looked at them, silently asking if they were alright to continue.

"What happened in Isengard? We heard nothing from them after they had left. We had hoped to meet them soon after but discovered the place flooded," Elrohir continued, keeping an eye on his brother (rather too well) as Arwen replied to him.

"Naneth is with Lokachari. She knows where I am." She paused, her eyes averting to Mithrandir for a fraction until she revealed: "Where you are...and where I'm planning to go."

Silence arrived after that.

That had been the other thing that had her thinking all throughout the meeting. The visions she had when she saw when she was trapped in Sauron's grasp.

The white silhouette upon a mountainside.

The burning desolate land.

Arwen was a danger to the people around her because of what she did. And she had no choice but to do one thing. And that was to find whatever she had seen to divert him from her family.

She wrung her hands upon her hair, holding back the worried tears before she looked at her brothers.

It was then that Elladan spoke with a knowing tone, "I was afraid you would say that."

She eyed him confused until she turned to look back at her other brother.

Elrohir answered for him, "I had a proper vision of you. It was why we headed here as soon as possible and why we needed to give you this."

Taking something out of his satchel, she glanced slightly back at Gandalf, who was smiling faintly back at her. She couldn't place exactly how it felt, but it felt like a mix of nervousness and hope which weighed her down as she noticed what was being revealed on the table.

Sprawled in front of her were several pieces. Bracers, a golden chest plate, shoulder guards and a silver long-sleeved tunic matched with dark trousers. However, instead of the ordinary elven armour, she knew of Rivendell's army, this was beyond the work she had known...and yet it felt new at the same time.

Arwen brought her hands upon the metal fabric, feeling the texture and magic surrounding it. "Naneth's armour." She furrowed her brows before she glanced back at them, "It's new?"

Elladan nodded. "We took it secretly back to Earth when we had to save Adar. Dâd added runes to it for protection and Harley Keener had it altered for you," He explained, quirking his lips slightly as he added, "It is light now and more flexible. You may be able to wear it once you need it."

Clutching the hem of the tunic, Arwen held her breath before she closed her eyes – shaking her head in disbelief. Of course, her brothers knew, despite knowing how much it must have conflicted them. And considering their faces: their parents knew nothing of this.

Well, perhaps not explicitly.

Her eyes slightly watered as she whispered to them, "Thank you. Both of you."

Elrohir returned with a sad smile, telling her that it had been hard to consider this ever since he gained the vision. He wanted to tell Naneth at least, considering she was the one that persuaded Adar for her to go. But in the end, he told their mother – in a subtle notion about his vision.

As for Elladan, he simply told Adar that they would be helping Arwen be protected.

As she folded the armour neatly, she turned to the Maia who remained quiet all this time. Arwen asked, "How much do you know, Mithrandir? Truly?"

Gandalf stared back at her, his lips twitching a little as he answered: "Eru has seen your paths now. And he has allowed me to tell you that may you all be apart, you will always have one another. You will see each other again I assure you."

Arwen eyed both her brothers, leaning into Elladan's shoulder as Elrohir solemnly replied, "Of course. Because we're going to meet again. Before the final battle."

That was when hope and lightheartedness brought herself to relax as Gandalf spoke, "Indeed. Now, let us not feel saddened." He smiled with a kind gesture, "Enjoy your company before the shadow arrives."

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Elrond Peredhel | The Lord of Rivendell

Location: Mithlond, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: April 2981 T.A

A young Elrond Peredhel would have been enthusiastic in doing all these tasks; back when his very heart and mind were at the focus of thriving in elven society. Back when he would enjoy research in the guildhalls, studying further in healing with the older healers and alchemists. He would stay up at night to finish the work he was given, all whilst willing to enjoy the frivolities of elven court despite disliking the cold side of politics and propriety.

Now: all he wanted to do was run from it.

He understood again how much he appreciated establishing Imladris. Not just a stronghold against Sauron's forces back in the Second Age, but a sanctuary to anyone wanting to escape the outside world. A place for peace, where only stress revolved about keeping the city running and maintaining some order.

But Lindon: it was a kingdom that never rested. And once more, the revival of the Noldo-Sindarin cities reminded Elrond that even the quendi were once this bustling as before. Mithlond was taking most of the toll of the return, and as the months now passed, Elrond was understanding how tedious it was to coordinate the place.

Elves from different groups and ages all wrapped in one bow, forced to have a good relationship with one another whilst the threat of death was coming at them. Yes, the weeks since he returned from Imladris may have been short to compare, but he could tell that things had changed.

The Noldor and Sindar were getting along better than two months prior, happy to aid with the war effort whilst contributing to keeping the city intact. Elrond had been able to travel about in the city, to and from the healing halls, and notice that there weren't many arguments and quarrels between the refugees and residents.

It would seem that things were getting better somewhat.

Apart from the odd sneers and quiet murmurs between older elves, the younger quendi were more open and happily cooperating with each other. Elrond was then reminded back of his own youth, as he headed back to Cirdan's home, of how much it all paralleled thousands of years ago.

Anyhow, as much as he wanted to ponder and dwell on such things – he was very much tight on schedule.

As he hopped off his steed, thanking the guard at the front of the house for bringing the horse into the stables, Elrond rushed up the stairs and headed towards his temporary office suite which he shared with Gil-Galad – carrying his satchel alongside scrolls of parchment under his arm.

He must have looked like some eager acolyte striding down the corridor because one of Cirdan's household staff asked him if he needed a hand in carrying things. Elrond just politely declined, assuring them that he was perfectly fine and that he was quite busy.

As he finally nudged the door open with his elbow, Elrond once more heard the guard outside ask if he needed any help. But Elrond shut the door with his back, cutting off the guard's voice with a small slam.

He leaned against the door and took a breath, closing his eyes momentarily.

' Finally, some peace in this place... ' Elrond thought to himself, exhaling once more.

"How were the Healing Halls?"

When he heard that voice he internally swore to himself that he wasn't alone. Gil-Galad was somehow in, unlike yesterday of the same time he had been helping with the soldiers down in the training yards across the city.

Why so, Elrond could ask but he could barely have the time to relax now.

Standing back up, he passed his friend who was sitting at the lounger and armchairs in the middle of the room, the small table filled with papers and a tea set on a silver tray. Elrond headed towards his desk, the very same one he had taken such good care of if one considered taking care of as filling it papers, scrolls and books about every viable subject from Cirdan's archives, his own, Illyria's and Maedhros' notes.

As he plopped everything that he carried onto the only spot at his desk, Elrond massaged his temple as he stared at everything. He couldn't even fathom how much of the reports and notes on the healing halls already comprised.

Because even visiting the Healing Halls had already been a hectic chore for him since returning from Imladris.

He heard what seemed to be a teacup as a book being placed down as Gil-Galad plainly pointed out, "Well...perhaps not as good as hoped." From the corner of Elrond's gaze, he spotted his friend walk over to him as he spoke, "Elrond you need to sit down."

As he was ordering his desk, mostly trying to find the stack of letters he needed, Elrond let out a sigh as he shook his head.

"I cannot. I must send more of these to Forlond and Harlond soon." His voice let out a frustrating inhale through his nostrils whilst Gil-Galad was watching him work, "Lord Turgon and Lady Aredhel are visiting to discuss matters before the final council meeting. Then we both have a meeting with Lord Dior and Lord Oropher and their people to aid Mirkwood. Afterwards, I shall have to aid Glorfindel with Lord Caranthir on how we will manage the finances of provisions. And do not let me begin on the shipment of new weaponry Celebrimbor has offered."

Those were only the important issue to deal with. Not only did he have to work his way with persuading the Noldorin and Sindarin lords and ladies about the plans, but Elrond also had to maintain some sort of bridge between the Fëanorians and the rest of the elves in Lindon. Thankfully the months he spent with them he had gotten to know more about them, allowing him to support them as a sort of delegate if things got out of hand.

Elrond only wished he wouldn't have to be the shield between them. He was not having to deal with their problems just like six thousand years prior.

"You are thinking too hard about this. Stressing about it will not help this," Gil-Galad told him, peering back at him as he added, "Or is this because of where your foster-father took Illyria to?"

Secretly he bit the inside of his cheek before he stared back at his friend.

Curse Gil-Galad knowing him too well.

But it didn't mean that he would deny it. Elrond would brush it off but he would never lie that all he could think of for the past few days was his family. And that included Maedhros and Maglor as well.

"Perhaps," He answered before he continued, taking the wax from the corner of his desk and beginning to melt it under the small candlelight. Elrond strongly spoke, "I cannot sit idly and not do anything. Maedhros has given me and Glorfindel an entire list, and a third of it is already in Lord Celegorm and Lord Caranthir's hands, and they already have so much from him directly."

Nudging his chin towards the side of his table, the former Noldorin king walked over to pick it up. It stood out from the rest, with its crisped shiny fake-leather cover to its pure white pages – starkly different to the journals they made here.

Gil-Galad asked if he was able to open it and he nodded, hearing the pages flick across. As Elrond was placing the wax seal onto the envelope, he heard a string of curses in Quenya before Gil-Galad whistled, "No wonder the March was known all over Beleriand. Maedhros Fëanorian does not sit around." He closed the book, impressed at what it contained, "Or at least sit without having to write something."

Even he was impressed as well. "Illyria tells me that he constantly has a list of every hour of the day," Elrond looked back at him as he hummed, "Perhaps we should have been doing that."

Gil-Galad smirked as he replied, "Oh, but then we wouldn't have the time to spar or go to the parlour and speak of the books you had read. As well as your usual visits at the Nólecoa to see Elemmírë, despite Loremaster Pengolodh telling you that you should be with me instead of loitering around bookshelves – spying on my cartographer and ambassador."

Elrond mentally rolled his eyes whilst he discarded the remaining wax back into its small container. Assume his friend for reminding him again of his younger years as Elrond answered back with a slight glare, "I dislike your use of your cousin as a way of noting my whereabouts."

"Mereneth has always been useful when it comes to information." Gil-Galad's face held mirth before he relaxed, sighing out loud before he changed the subject: "Right, now: I should hope from what Lord Turgon has said, we are to have a chance of allying with Lord Thingol through Lady Idril and your birth mother."

He yet heard the mention of his mother until now. His and Elros' birth mother to be exact. How long ago was it? Almost six thousand years since he last saw her, during the sacking of the Havens. And even now Elrond couldn't remember in detail what his mother looked like, only to hear from those who knew her that she was very beautiful and shared his and Elros' colouring. The only person who was able to speak about her was in fact his wife: who tried her best despite what their mother had done to not only them but her as well.

Elemmírë eventually forgave Elwing for what she had done, but he knew deep down that his wife would always remember.

As for him: Elrond's thoughts of his mother faded over time, only a small essence in which that one day he would at least wish to meet her someday and at least understand what she did to them. Even if abandoning two of her children over a Silmaril would tug painfully within his heart.

But to hear that she was aiding them along with Lady Idril (his grandmother technically) made something warm up inside him. He might never truly think of Elwing as his mother (that would always remain with his shared parental figure: Maglor), but it made him relieved that his mother thought of him and Elros.

Whilst he was finishing the stack of letters he was planning to send later, Elrond cleared his throat after he realised he had paused for too long. He then questioned back, "And with Olwë?"

Gil-Galad answered with dismay, "Not as of yet Círdan has heard of his kin." He quickly assured him, "Do not worry."

Do not worry.

Elrond was very much drowning in it every moment.

A sudden prick surged up his chest causing him to rub that part over his robes. Elrond immediately felt the discomfort from Vilya, the ring as if telling him to calm himself down or else his heart would stop at any moment.

Even after a month since the incident with Sauron, everything still felt...unbalanced. As if he wasn't sure how much he was controlling himself and the Ring of Power that was upon his hand.

Maglor assured him just before they left of what he could do to control the ring (secretly hiding it from Illyria no less they wanted her to worry more about him). All he could do was keep it on, to not force its power out but to allow his own magic to cooperate with it. His foster father explained it as if he was teaching him how to read a book.

In the end, Elrond just simply nodded but internally hoped the sorcerer could have been more specific on how he was going to deal with it.

And now: now he was having to experiment with it alongside a certain former Noldorin queen. Elrond took a breath before he picked up another set of scrolls, larger than the ones he carried from here before he gestured to Vilya. "I still have to help Celebrían settle with this," Elrond shrugged as he continued, "I do not understand what your wife and Illyria have found."

Gil-Galad eyed the Ring of Power, seeing the fraction of reminiscence of its past for he sighed as well, "I don't exactly know the details myself, but Celebrimbor has perhaps found a way to sort out Vilya and the other elven rings." He then eyed Elrond, nudging his chin back at his neck, "What of your...our transport I guess."

Glancing down, he looked at the sling ring that was now hung on a chain on him.

Right. That was one other thing he had to solve himself...

...And he was dreading when he would have to attempt at using it.

Admittedly, Elrond answered: "I have yet to make one." He cleared his throat before he piped in, "Perhaps Glorfindel may be able to do it instead of I."

A scoff left his mouth before Gil-Galad patted his shoulder. "Don't give up just yet, Elrond." He twitched his lips as he added, "Oh, I would like to add that Lord Finrod has accepted your hearing."

He paused before he spoke, "Well that is good news." Elrond looked at his side, finding that Gil-Galad had walked away...but not towards the small table and loungers.

In fact, he was walking toward his own desk.

Elrond furrowed his brows. "Ereinion?"

Rummaging through his drawers, Gil-Galad replied, "Yes?"

"This is the reason why I loathed being your herald and advisor, mellon." He bluntly said, "And never will I accept this job ever again."

With a chuckle, Gil-Galad returned to him: with not one but two silver cups and a bottle of wine. "Then we better drink to that then."

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A/N: Oops, sorry it took some time trying to upload this. Been trying to sort irl stuff and I'm just too busy to sit down and edit stuff. But here ya go :)

In this chapter, we finally have an unlikely interaction between Arwen and Sauron. I intended at first that it would be Illyria vs Sauron BUT I was like: 'hey, Illyria can't go up against Sauron and Morgoth'. And I thought what would be poetic is the daughter of both the Oialea and Elrond to future beat his butt?

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Edited: 16/01/2023