6 | The Evenstar & The Ranger

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Illyria Strange | The Eternal

Location: Rivendell, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: March 2981 T.A

Illyria stared at the console, watching the colours and diagrams move and change as time passed. But when she should be working, her entire mind was elsewhere. Even her other counterpart was just copying her, jotting notes but not exactly putting the information back to her.

Because all she could think about was all of this. Her. Everything that she was and what she wasn't.

'Maybe if you weren't so nosy, Lyria...you wouldn't be breaking like this.'

That was her flaw, always wanting to know the truth. She hated secrets, hated something that shouldn't be kept away from someone. Even if it was hard to reveal them or even hard to accept them, for some reason her heart felt and mind felt better if things were like that.

However, this time it felt far from satisfying. 

Illyria felt disgusted. Like no matter how much she cleaned it up with her assurances that it was alright: it still felt the dirtiness of hearing it was there.

Why did the truth have to come from the ones she loved? Her dad with Tony Stark and the Snap. About Mordo. Elrond and his reveal of her past. Now her brother about what they really were.

Illyria slumped down on the desk, hands holding her head as she let out a deep breath. 

She was exhausted because of everything. Trying to maintain her control. Trying to accept whatever this was. And now everyone outside her temporary laboratory expected her to continue and act as if nothing happened. Those days spent in Maglor's Crack Shack didn't help the weight that was thrown at her by Glorfindel – and she was sure the Balrog Slayer had done nothing but try and talk to her.

Instead, their conversation just made things worse.

Somehow she had to thank the Fëanorians for distracting Glorfindel from ever getting close to her soon as she ran out of Elrond's study. Maedhros must have told his brothers what happened and reunited with Maglor. She wondered how that went. By how she heard Celegorm's scream and shouts from the gardens nearby...probably not the best reunion.

And speaking of reunions, Illyria heard the knock at the door – immediately known by the sense of their mind and fëa before they opened the door.

Placing her head down onto the surface, she covered her face by crossing her arms over herself – closing her eyes.

"May I come in?"

Hearing Elrond's voice, she tensed slightly. He was the last person she needed to see today...well now after what happened. She couldn't bear what would happen if he saw her now.

But she didn't care anymore.

Hearing him shut the door, she moved her arm slightly to spot him. He was still wearing his formal clothes, probably coming from some meeting or dinner. His mind was still reeling from Maglor's arrival, still mixed with feelings by how his fëa was fighting between wanting to cry or scream at what was going on.

Oh, he was going to have a track and field day when he finds out what she had to say. But did she have the strength even to do it?

To tell him and break him?

Elrond's eyes were not on her, however. 

Focused on the figure closer to him, he was about to reach and place his hand over her shoulder until her counterpart disappeared, shimmering into white dust before he pulled away and focused on her. When he got to her, she quickly shied her face away – tucking back until a hand was placed on her shoulder.

"You were not at dinner, Illyria. Nor have you touched the food I had Miriel send to you." Hearing him sit down on the wooden chair beside hers, she could sense his breath over the nip of her shoulder. 

"Please eat," He urged her, "When I saw you, you hid yourself struggling to walk straight to your room."

She waited for a moment.

His voice almost broke her, "I worry for your health."

Illyria looked up, rotating her head to find him staring down at her. His eyes were pouring with concern, his worry laced all over his face and words as he tried to nudge for the tray that sat on the other end of the large table. The food was now cold and untouched.

She stared blankly at the tray before she spoke quietly, "I'm not hungry, Elrond." Carefully putting his hand away from her, she told him in a weighted and tired voice: "Please just...leave me, before I hurt you or anyone in this house."

For reason the press of his hand immediately brought her sitting back up, the fear returning to her mind as if something had just electrocuted her. Her eyes hastily tried to look back at him, but she couldn't dare to reach his gaze. Instead, she pushed herself away, standing up with the large creak of the wooden legs against the marble flooring before she stepped back.

Elrond stood before her, his face filled with confusion and concern that it almost replicated just like him. Just like Maglor back at the store, fear and concern drowning his face that all she could do was cower as her eyes began to sting and her chest began to tighten once more.

Goddammit Illyria, why were her emotions everywhere? Why was he so close to her? Didn't he get the hint that she was dangerous? She was practically a ticking bomb considering how Glorfindel described who she was.

The Valar's own little ticking bomb.

As the room grew silent, all she could hear again was the static energy around her. Her hands were shaking at her sides, energy pulsing around her as she tried to tell herself to calm herself before she could hurt anything or anyone. And yet as every machinery and object around her was thrumming with an electrifying surge of energy: the only thing that remain calm and almost comforting was the peredhel standing in front of her.

His hand stretched out for her, his pale palm upwards as his eyes longingly gaze towards her.

"I am worried for you, melmenya," Elrond whispered back to her. "Please speak to me."

Her lips wavered, blinking several times as she tried to answer back. "I'm not who you think I am." She breathed in with a shudder, getting the grip now of her voice as she continued, "What I am...it's something I can't even control anymore."

In a flicker, she saw him remember the same exact moment. Elrond was reminiscing the moment she first began to lose herself as well.

The words through her head made her spine freeze, 'You will not love me anymore when I tell you what I am.'

It was just over two weeks since Illyria confessed her love to him. That she truly loved him. Perhaps not yet as much as Elemmírë, but in her own new way. And saying this: realizing that she could hurt him felt like Fate had stabbed her in the fucking back.

Yet she couldn't even dare move or portal herself away. Not how she could feel the sudden pull towards him.

How his soul and his heart made her feet planted firmly on the ground – her breaths growing raspy as she finally felt his hands in hers. Long and slender and yet callous, they graced the tips of her fingers. Such a light touch she could feel the spark of warmth in them, finding her breath to hitch as he finally met her gaze – his face inches so close to hers.

"I will love you no matter what, Calanya." He spoke softly. 

His thumb slowly rubbed circles on her outer hand. His eyes never left hers.

Elrond's eyes showed plea. "Allow me to share your burden."

"I..." Illyria trailed off. 

And with another breath: she finally revealed to him what had been eating at her all this time. 

"I'm half-Aini." Her eyes bore with guilt as she confessed: "A part of me...is the last remains of the two trees."

She continued to stare at him, dread slowly growing inside her as he watched him not even react physically to what she just said.

Was he shocked? Surprised? Horrified?

If he wasn't - he fucking should be. He should be shoving her off him: horrified at who he had fallen in love with. Someone who could probably kill him if she couldn't simply hold her emotions.

And yet...

All he did was stare at her.

"Elrond." 

She began calling to him, her hands letting go of his. Reaching up, she pressed a hand onto his cheek – checking if he was even mentally there with her. 

Illyria begged telepathically back, 'Say something. Anything.'

It felt impossible for something to sound so soft and strong at the same time, but it seemed Elrond Peredhel met the impossible and caused her heart to burst in the process.

Her heart stopped as he gently brought his hand to cover hers, the reflection of light on his golden ring as he began;

"Nothing changes." Elrond proclaimed quietly - his words echoing into her head. "You are still Illyria Ettelëa. Sorceress of the Mystic Arts, Lady of Imladris. The mother of our children. Nát melme coivienyo." [1]

He brought her palm upon his lips, letting a surge of warmth up her arm as he pressed a kiss upon her skin. She felt her tears slip down her cheek, her eyes fixated on every inch of his face.

Elrond continued, "I care not for your heritage or blood, only to care that you are well and loved."

She glanced down at her other hand, lifting it place upon his chest. "Even if I...I am this?"

His fingers reached towards her cheek, sensing his warmth upon his breath as he wiped away the tear on her cheek. 

In a second, a slight smile rose from his lips as he replied, "If you meant beautiful and wondrous and brave, then I suppose you are."

In all their moments just like this, Illyria couldn't fathom how many had been her initial instinct to do it. To find their noses touching, their breath against their faces as she finally brought her courage to bring both her hands onto his face. Her heart racing as if she had been running for miles on end, fighting for her life perhaps.

As she closed her eyes, she leaned up and tilted her head slightly and brought her lips onto his.

She knew before how his touch felt. How his lips tasted and the scent that she inhaled at every moment she could leave him for a breath. The gentle brushes and taps which brought felt like tiny bursts of light and energy over her skin. How her mind someone calmed, as the crashing waves of her thoughts dispersed into a gentle rolling of waves lapping against a beach.

But this one, this one was far from the simplicity and comfort they both shared.

Illyria felt bliss. Her heart exploded as she felt the heat rush up to her head and throughout her body. Her fingers trailed to the caress up to his ears and onto his neck, hearing the muffled sound of him finally moaning as she graced ever so lightly upon the tips of his ears.

Something must have snapped inside her, perhaps something which she once knew and felt so unaware of in her own mind and body when she brought more pressure against his lips. His mouth opened as another low rumbling sound echoed into her ears, allowing her to bring more as her fingers continued to tease him down into his neck.

Elrond then took his turn, taking that moment to leave her lips to her dismay. 

But that had been short-lived when she gasped, eyes widening slightly before she closed them once more. She savoured his lips pressing lightly upon her jaw, leaving a trail that reached upon her the side of her neck.

She was not sure what she felt. Excitement mixed with utter love and a tinge of anxiousness. They have never gotten this far, not even when they had been back in Oxford. He had been a gentleman ever since they reunited, ever the half-elven lord he was and always making sure their kisses and caresses never went further than their face.

And now...would Elrond let her? Would he accept her?

Illyria tilted her head to the side, muffling a moan as he found that exact point, her mind reeling back for a second. Her stiffened fingers against the collar of his robe made him lift his lips away, lifting his head back up to gaze at her with worry.

He knew exactly what she had remembered. Their promise to each other. 

Elrond rasped, "We said we wouldn't." He murmured, his eyes growing darker as they lingered once more upon her – hands beginning to smoothen her shoulders. "And now..."

Now their promise could break if they continued.

But her heart- No. Her soul. Her soul was crying out to him. Begging to release everything to him. To show him how much she truly cared for him. How much he meant to her.

'I want you.' 

She heard his voice whisper into her mind.

'I know my love.' Elrond cupped her cheek. 'I know.'

Illyria thought, 'How can you want me?'

A fire burned within his gaze. That speck of purple flashed momentarily in them before they returned to their usual silvery tint.

'It is not a want.' Elrond spoke her mind, 'It is a need.'

And at that moment, Illyria had lost all doubt as she flung her arms over his shoulders and kissed him once more.

She wasn't sure how long they were in that room, or when they had managed to enter Elrond's quarters and found herself in his arms – her nightmares shoved away for what felt like an eternity.

Because with Elrond's fëa entwined so closely with her's, she had finally found herself at peace after so long.

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Aragorn | Heir of Gondor

Location: Helm's Deep, Rohan, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: March 2981 T.A

There were only a few times he had seen the wonders of Lady Illyria Ettelëa and her children's light magic.

But nothing could have compared to what Aragorn had seen.

Watching barely with his eyes, he felt that wave of light pass through them all, his cloak and hair blowing behind him as he shielded his eyes with the bend of his sleeve and saw only the tiny figure standing in the middle of the light's source.

Kneeling on the ground, with her staff abandoned and her glowing face was the very dream he once strayed into all those years ago.

His Evenstar had brought a miracle to them like she had descended from the stars and brought a gift to all those before Middle Earth. The orcs screamed and screeched around them, disintegrating into dust as they all fell onto the ground. Some took that advantage to push them off the ramparts, letting their remains fall as the rest continued to fall like ash and snow. It had been hours since they had begun fighting, doing all they could to hold the Hornburg until the sound of the horn and hooves arrived.

Not only the Rohirrim had arrived but several troops from the Gondorian encampment arrived. Along with them had been Gandalf, with his new white cloak and robes – his staff held up high as he rode Shadowfax with light beaming from his staff.

He continued to fight for his life, strengthened and supported by Théoden King and his kingsguard as they tried to pry them off. Upon the wall were both Legolas and Gimli, with a battered Haldir of Lothlorien doing all he could to help.

After the first wave, unfortunately, an explosion tore the Marchwarden off the wall. Hadn't Aragorn noticed him and shielded his back, the Sinda-Silvan elf would have been shot and killed.

But as the light finally dimmed away, all their eyes were focused on her. Aragorn was too far from her to reach her, but he could already tell she was alright by the speck of her figure when she stood up. Then the chanting began. The people of Rohan sang off their Sunne Ælf, a mythical story that had been passed down by their people when they were still living in the Rhovanion, passing into Rohirrim's lives.

Whilst the Sunne Ælf may speak of Elemmírë, the name Undómiel began to be sung throughout the valley. Aragorn couldn't help but be filled with pride and joy, thankful that she was alive and that she had been everything she was.

Once the chanting had subsided, many have begun to move once more. Soldiers found the wounded and took them inside the fortress to heal whilst he spotted Théoden immediately heading towards someone wearing the Gondorian armour. By his vague guess, Aragorn assumed it had been one of the higher-ranking officials he usually saw back in Minas Tirith.

When he began to help the rest of the Rohirrim soldiers through, keeping count on those that have passed and hoping to find each of them some name that could point him to their families, he heard the grumbling of Gimli. He looked up to his right and saw the blaze of red hair, pipe already on his hand as the dwarf was bickering with his elven friend.

Legolas noticed from the distance that he had caught them, giving him a look that showed some amusement.

Returning a raised eyebrow, Aragorn was smirking internally. There was another reason why the Sindarin Prince's cheeks were red.

As another man from Rohan thanked him after getting him up, he heard the clanking of metal armour and boots splashing against the mud.

"Lord Thorongil!"

Wait, that voice.

Alright, was it just him or had he died during that battle and was hearing a certain Gondorian captain's voice?

Aragorn spun his head towards the direction of that voice, his eyes widening to find him out of all people.

Jogging up to him with a breathless grin was indeed him. These rules out Aragorn having died (that would have been very problematic for the story).

"Boromir!"

He ran over to him, unhelp to crack up a grin as he met the man with a hug. Aragorn patted his back several times before they quickly stepped back, eyeing him with surprise as he began, "I...you are well."

Boromir gestured to his arm, a motion of pain despite trying to hide it, but nevertheless kept his smile as he noted, "I give my life to Lady Elenníca and Healer Tazhin for the work."

He furrowed his eyebrows, though by the glint in his eyes it was as if Boromir was teasing him. What in Arda had happened between the weeks they have been away?

But back at the matter at hand, the only thing Aragorn was now focused on what the only person he needed to see. He wanted to make sure she was alright. For his sake more than anything else.

He then quickly asked the Gondorian captain, "Where is Arwe—"

Aragorn was suddenly stopped by the quick change of his face. Hardening his expression, he pressed a finger upon his finger and gestured his chin before stepping at his side.

"She is fine, in fact," Boromir assured him, smirking as he eyed their front. "And walking right up to us now."

Aragorn averted his eyes at the figure walking up to them. Even with the aches and scrapes, he bore, the broken ribs he had as well as the supposed splitting headache he wore – all of them were forgotten once his eyes laid upon hers. The world before them clouded, and he began to walk over to her.

Jumping into his open embrace, he spun her around – her head nestled upon the crook of his neck. Her arms snaked over his shoulders as he placed her firmly onto the ground once she stared up at him with a wry smile.

Aragorn murmured, "Meleth nin..."

"My love...I miss you," Arwen Undómiel smiled, pressing a short kiss upon his cheek before she pulled away.

Considering they were still out in public, he followed her gesture and politely stepped away, but he never looked away from her. He couldn't believe she was still here. Not just her spirit but her real self. He had replayed that moment at the riverside during his journey to the Helm's Deep, hoping she would be safe.

And yet not even such things as the battle could part them.

He smiled softly at her, carefully tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. There was a slight cut on her cheek as well as a speck of dirt and blood all over her clothes. 

"I miss you so too," He opened his mouth, unsure how to even begin. Instead, he sighed, shaking his head with his smile still on his lips. "You...I see that Lord Boromir had given into your persuasive technique."

Moving his head to where the Gondorian was standing, both he and Arwen saw him still watching them – a light smirk on his face.

"Elenníca Undómiel was very insistent, Thorongil." Boromir noted, causing Aragorn to turn back to her.

He raised a brow at her, "Elenníca?" He was surprised why she would choose such a name. Especially for one that was Quenya.

Aragorn could only presume there was a meaning behind such an ironic name.

Though the reason for it, Arwen leaned over and murmured back, "It is best that none know my name the closer we are to the enemy."

Understanding, he frowned for a moment once Arwen winced as she stretched out her arms.

"You are hurt." He said with concern.

Her eyes flashed slightly with a tint of blue in them, fading back to their usual grey glow before she assured him: "Only a graze, my love." Arwen then changed the subject, her face growing back to its usual focus as she told him and Boromir, "We should perhaps continue aiding with the injured. Healer Tazhin will have our hides if she discovers us slacking, wouldn't she, my lord?"

That slight tone made Aragorn eye the Gondorian captain, who looked almost more flustered than even seeing him and Arwen reunite.

"Ah-I...yes." Boromir nodded at them, clearing his throat before he added: "Of course, please excuse me."

As the Gondorian sent a narrowed glare at Arwen, he could have sworn the elven maiden showed a sign of amusement before he rushed past and headed towards the group of Gondorian Soldiers. Amongst them was a small stature, with dark plaited hair which matched her tanned skin and navy leather armour.

It was Aragorn's turn to raise once more an eyebrow back at his intended. Whatever just happened, it seemed that there was a long story about it.

She grinned tiredly back and placed a hand on his shoulder, "I'll explain later, my love." Arwen tutted, "However, you need to be treated."

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With the help of not just the Rohirrim but the soldiers from Gondor, the job of replenishing and regrouping was quicker than they all anticipated. Several of the Gondorian soldiers whom he remembered were healers, quickly aiding the women inside the fortress. After the message of victory arrived and the killing of several strays of orcs, they were all safe for now.

Aragorn had followed Arwen into the fortress, eyes all of them. Or mostly eyes on her. Men and children were bowing at her as they passed, with a few even kneeling before her as they praised her for saving them. Even the women must have discovered what had happened, as whispers passed them all as they entered the main hall. Even with all the attention on her, Arwen's sole purpose was to make sure he was tended to before they could return and help the rest of the wounded.

However, Arwen's meeting with Théoden King was sooner than Aragorn had wished. As they arrived at the main hall, all eyes once more locked on Arwen's, her face remaining strong as she presented herself along with him. Aragorn noticed Boromir sitting on one of the benches, a small smile as he nodded silently at them. To right, staff in hand, was Gandalf – looking no prouder than anyone he had witnessed.

Lord Eomer stood at Théoden's side, now with his sister at Théoden's other side whose eyes quickly stared up to Aragorn's but then back at the figure beside him. He hoped internally that Éowyn understood the implications of this now, and felt relieved as a small, tired smile rested upon her lips.

Aragorn nodded slightly in return. There would have been a conversation later about what just passed, and hopefully – there were no harsh feelings once more of it.

But back with Arwen at the hands of the King of Rohan, she greeted herself with the usual elven gesture. Afterwards, she introduced herself – naming herself Elenníca of Rivendell.

Théoden must have heard from his nephew more about Arwen, nodding in agreement that she was welcomed and that Lady Éowyn may help her tend if she needed it. Aragorn frowned when she declined, mentioning that she was alright and that she only offered aid to help with the wounded along with the healers that arrived with them.

He couldn't help but mentally shake his head; again he was thrown back at the hardiness and determination Arwen wore. Not only the fact that she mentioned nothing about what happened on the battlefield but then assisted with healing the wounded.

As he watched her leave, he noticed the look from Théoden's eyes as well as the rest of his advisors, all confused and yet a little intrigued at an elven maiden wishing to just help with the work. Aragorn would have thought that would be hesitant about magic because of Saruman's manipulations. Though as he eyed Gandalf from across the room, seeing the glint in his eyes, he knew there was more to what occurred.

He could have only guessed that both Arwen and Gandalf were talking telepathically at one another.

Wizards and Sorceresses: Aragorn had placed himself within the most mysterious group he would wish to marry into.

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The hours passed and he was able to get himself out of Healer Tazhin's sight. He immediately recognized that face from the Healing Halls from Minas Tirith, mentally apologizing for forgetting such a character who hailed from Khand. The petite woman had scolded him for such poor care on his wounds, slapping him out in public.

However, he knew the healers of Minas Tirith well enough – and especially the likes of Tazhin – that there were no hard feelings between them. Aragorn spotted the mirth in her dark eyes before she picked up the washbasin and began to attend to another patient, jutting her chin to order him to start getting everyone else in line.

When he noticed Boromir sitting on one of the chairs, his wounds from Amon Hen remaining obvious briefly, he noticed that he had been staring at the healer the entire time.

Well, he wondered, perhaps Arwen didn't need to explain anything after that.

Speaking of Arwen, once he was done with tending to the wounds, mostly closing stitches, and making sure wounds were cleaned, it had been another full set of long hours before he found her at Haldir's side. Several cots laid were Lothlorien elves at one part of the fortress, with some elves healing one another whilst to his surprise a few Gondorian healers were aiding some.

When the new cycle of day broke, everyone in Helm's Deep knew their orders. All of them were preparing to depart back to Meduseld as well as Snowbourn, hoping that with the quiet goings around him: both Gondor and Rohan have agreed somewhat to help defend the eastern lines against Mordor.

Aragorn smiled when both Boromir and Arwen reunited with Gimli and Legolas, with Boromir standing back awkwardly as Legolas grinned and began to chat with the Noldo-Peredhel. Gimli boasted and congratulated Arwen like some dear relative, telling her that there would be songs written about her.

There was a somberness when both Legolas and Gimli spoke with Boromir, though there was no hatred nor neglect – only friendship Boromir was welcomed into their conversation.

In that time Aragorn thought once more of the rest of the Fellowship. His first thought had been Frodo and Sam, wondering if they were even alive and how far they could be to Mordor. Did Arwen and Gandalf know? He only prayed to Eru that they haven't been caught by the enemy, praying that the choice they made was correct.

His other mind was openly shared by (to no surprise) had been Boromir. As they ate together, the Gondorian captain only hoped that Merry, Pippin, Kili and Tauriel were alright. He had been the last one to see them before they were taken by the Uruk Hai.

All Aragorn could assure Boromir that the four were alright and that Gandalf had given them a task. Hope began to floor his face as well as Arwen, telling them all that as soon as everyone left, their first task was to go to Isengard.

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Haldir appeared as much as a leader the moment he marched into the fortress, bidding Lord Eomer and Théoden King. Théoden King could only offer some supplies and safe travels.

Though before their official departure, the Marchwarden requested to meet with Aragorn and Arwen alone. He wondered what the Marchwarden needed to speak about but nevertheless followed the two elves – finding themselves speaking in a secluded room.

As no other presence was evident, the Marchwarden of Lothlorien bowed his head. "My lady, I am forever in your debt in saving the lives of my soldiers," He glanced to Arwen and then to him, "And for Lord Aragorn as well, I thank you for saving my life."

Arwen smiled kindly to her long-term friend, lowering her head as well. "Your lady has always been grateful. She has done many for me and the Fellowship, and in turn, we shall return the favour."

There was a slight hidden smile on Haldir's face before he cleared his throat and answered, "Unfortunately we must depart. There are stirrings in Dol Guldur and the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood asks us to return."

"Then we can only provide your blessing for a safe journey to return," Aragorn replied with a shared smile.

A reminder must have popped into his mind and he quickly spoke more, "A note from Lady Galadriel, I do mention. She speaks that your father is well and alive. Imladris has defeated the rest of Saruman's forces. It is said that they are almost ready to depart." He paused, unsure of the words. "Perhaps all things may not be at lost."

His eyes went to Arwen.

With a quirk of her lips, she said: "No, indeed not." Arwen placed her hand over her hand and continued, "And thank you, mellon nin."

"May we meet again," Haldir returned the gesture smoothly before quickly departing the room, leaving Aragorn watching with a raised brow at Arwen's hopeful eyes.

It would seem the plans in Mithlond with the Noldor are in motion.

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[1] - Nát melme coivienyo: 'You are the love of my life' in Quenya.

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A/N: Welcome back and oh boy oh boy, I honestly had to think about that scene with both Illyria and Elrond in it. I was going to add some saucy bits afterwards but I thought about it: this story as much as it is about romance it just wouldn't fit it.

If you want a smut scene, I can always do one if you ask politely :)

As for Aragorn and Arwen, heck yeah the Fellowship is almost together again. And I honestly just love the friendship between Boromir and Arwen along with Aragorn. Also, of course Haldir lives. Who do the heck do you think I am?

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Edited: 20/10/2022