AN: This hit me in the middle of chapter 20 of Altariel’s “A Game Of Chess” (which I cannot recommend enough), and I wrote it walking to school, in class and while sitting in various forms of public transport. It was that kind of trip people, and I am not sure there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. Consider yourself warned.

Also, there will be some departures from canon. For various logistical reasons, Celebrían is getting attacked on the way home from Lorien, not to, and I have compressed the time line in some places, namely the part between her wounded and her passing. Furthermore, despite the fact that they are just shy of two and a half thousand years old, the twins have had not real life experiences, and are thus treated accordingly. They have about 400 years before they join the Rangers. My apologies to the purists.

Disclaimer: My last name is not Tolkien, and I own nothing except (multiple) copies of the books, hence the term “fan fiction”.

Summary: When Celebrían is wounded, many changes come to Rivendell, and some of that which was forgotten is relearned.

* * * * * *

~Premonition~

It was one of those perfect mornings. Such a thing was not uncommon in Imladris, but this morning seemed different from the endless procession of perfect mornings that had preceded it. An air of expectation hung in the air, for the Lady of Rivendell was returning. She was expected to arrive in the evening, and the whole house, indeed the valley itself, seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of her coming.

It had been some time since Celebrían had departed for one of her frequent journeys to the Golden Wood. Though she loved her husband, home and children, part of her still held that ageless yearning for Caras Galadhon, and the paths she had walked as a child and maiden. Still, she was dearly loved by those who dwelt at Imladris, and there was always great joy in her returns there.

One never would have guessed that, however, upon observing the scene which unfolded in one of the gardens, marring that so perfect morning.

“Really, Elrohir, look at this bowstring! You have cared so poorly for it that it will snap the moment you try to do anything with it.”

Elrohir rolled his eyes and snapped the sinew as he attempted to draw the bowstring. He withdrew both of his stinging hands, leaving the bow to clatter to the ground.

Elladan, who had been observing the exchange, drew his bow in one smooth motion, nocked an arrow and released it. The arrow flew through the air in a perfect arc and buried itself into the approximate centre of the target, which stood some fair distance away. Elrohir muttered something highly unbecoming of a young Elven-lord and bent to pick up his fallen bow.

Lord Elrond had, however, beaten him to it. Holding the bow elegantly in his hands, Elrond ran his fingers over the intricate designs. The bow had once belonged to Elros, even as the bow Elladan carried had once belonged to Elrond himself. Elros had not needed weapons for an age, and Elrond had long ago decided he would never fight again. It was right, he thought, that his sons use them for sport.

“You need to practice my son.” Elrond said patiently, sounding, though he did not realize it, quite patronizing. “There is more to the hunt than fast riding and keen eye sight.”

“Yes Ada,” Elrohir said complacently, though all three knew that the rebuke had stung worse than the bowstring.

Elrohir reached out his hand to take the bow back from his father’s extended grasp. Suddenly, the Elven-lord tensed, drawing the bow of his long dead brother towards him. He turned his face to the south east, looking more panicked than either of his sons thought possible.

Elrond dropped the bow and it fell hard upon the ground, chipping away some of the fine gold filigree.

“Ada?” said Elladan, sounding as frightened as he had when Glorfindel had told the twins of his battle with the Balrog during an ill fated child-minding episode many decades previous. “Ada?”

But their father was already gone. With a heedless haste customarily not exhibited by elfkind, Elrond ran towards the house. Before he reached the threshold, Lord Glorfindel

appeared there, his face shadowed in concern.

“My lord Elrond,” the elder elf began, but was cut off almost immediately.

“Something has happened,” exclaimed Elrond, unmindful of his watching children. “In the mountains. Something has happened to. . .”

He checked himself abruptly and looked back over his shoulder at the twins who stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces identically aghast. With obvious effort, Elrond gained hold of himself and spoke again.

“Have our horses made ready, my lord Glorfindel. We must ride out at once.”

Glorfindel sped away to the stables. Elrond walked sedately back to his sons, but the lines around his eyes belied his calm demeanour.

“My sons, Lord Glorfindel and I must ride out. I have sensed a great disquiet in the hills.”

“It’s Amm isn’t it.” Elladan did not phrase it as a question. Elrond didn’t answer. “You forget, Ada, that other members of this family are gifted with long sight.”

“We too will ride forth.” Elrohir proclaimed.

“No!” Elrond said sharply. He modified his tone. “My sons, you shall stay here so that, if I am wrong, your mother will not return to an empty house.”

It was a weak defense. Elladan was about to point that out, when Glorfindel emerged from the stable with the horses.

“Be good, my sons.” Lord Elrond never pleaded, but this was close to it. “We shall return home.”

He swung himself up and the two great lords rode away. Before they had even reached the gate, Elladan felt his twin turn and walk away. Elladan did not have to look to know that Elrohir was headed for the stables. Elladan bent and picked up the bow. He searched the bottom of his quiver for another string. He had just finished his knots when Elrohir returned with the horses.

“Have you your knife?” Elladan asked.

“Aye,” Elrohir nodded. “And I brought extra arrows. We are better with the bow than at knife work.”

“That was well thought, toron nin.”

They swung up and rode out of Rivendell together, taking care to choose the opposite path from their father.

The hunt had begun.

* * * * * *

AN: The story “Candle Light” was inspired by Elladan’s line about the Balrog. Read it if you need cheering up. That’s why I wrote it.

AN: Part of the trouble with this story is how to make Elladan and Elrohir separate characters with their own personalities. My solution to this was grossly unfair: I made Elladan the thinker, and Elrohir the doer. Psychologically speaking, my Elladan is the dominant twin. This doesn’t so much mean that he always goes first, but rather that he always gets the last word. It’s not really fair to Elrohir, but I had to split them somehow.

* * * * * *

~The Hills~

Lord Elrond ran a hand across his brow. The fire that had ignited in this stomach upon receiving his premonition so many hours earlier had burnt down to a gaping, cold hole that was slowly encroaching on the rest of his body. Glorfindel drew his horse up beside Elrond’s and looked deep into his friend’s eyes. The gaze Elrond returned was one of desolation.

“Mellon nin,” Glorfindel’s voice was full. “You must focus. You have a strong bond with Celebrían. You must find it and follow it.”

“You would think,” Lord Elrond replied with some bitterness, “that I would at least sense the orcs.”

“My lord Elrond,” Glorfindel’s tone was sharper now. “You will focus and we will find her.”

Elrond looked startled at his friend’s sharp tone. He drew himself up straight and took a deep breath. His eyes looked far away, and while they did not move, it looked as though they were ranging up and down the hillside. After several moments, Elrond expelled his breath, blinked, and indicated the direction in which they would ride.

* * * * *

“Well, now what?” Elrohir asked. “We’ve gone opposite ways to Ada and Lord Glorfindel; what is next?”

“I suppose we hunt,” Elladan said. “You know, look for tracks, read the bushes, that sort of thing.”

“But we’ve never seen orcs!” Elrohir exclaimed. “Only heard stories of them.”

“I do not think this will be the type of hunt where we use our eyes, toron nin,” Elladan said. “Look with your heart, and when you find something abhorrent, ride towards it.”

Elrohir made a face, and Elladan nodded at him sympathetically. Their father and the other elves at Rivendell went to great extremes to ensure that none of Elrond’s children ever encountered mental unpleasantries. Once, when Elrond had been telling them about the fall of Gil-galad, the twins had received a flash from their father’s mind that neither had soon forgotten. And now they planned to actively seek it, and follow it when they found it.

“Come,” said Elladan, his hand extended. “It will be easier if we look together.”

Elrohir gladly clasped his brother’s hand and immediately felt stronger. All elves were connected to each other, and those with close familial, or in cases such as Elrond and Celebrían, emotional ties, often shared a special rapport. The bond between Elladan and Elrohir went even deeper and when magnified by touch, was powerful indeed. Linked together, they left their bodies in the glade with their horses and soared up above the mountains, seeking for something they did not want to find and had no choice but to locate. If they had not been so linked and strengthened, the jolt that accompanied their discovery might have unseated them. Both cried out involuntarily, and Elladan, who often took the lead when they were bonded, retched.

“Are you all right?” Elrohir asked concernedly.

“Yes.” Elladan said shortly reaching for his flask and taking a drink, which he spat on the ground. “Let us ride.”

* * * * *

Elrond’s long sight led them perhaps to the remains of an orc encampment. Though technically they were in The Wild and not in the protected confines of Rivendell, it angered Elrond to find a spot spoilt by orc filth. The trees had been hacked down and burnt, and the grass was blackened and smoking, and the smell was truly appalling.

What angered Elrond all the more was that the orcs were gone, and the famed long sightedness of Elrond Peredhel had led him to an empty campsite. Seeing that the Lord of Imladris was too immersed in self-flagellation to function rationally, Glorfindel rode around the perimeter in search of the trail. He found it easily as orcs are not know for their skills in woodcraft, and his heart sank. It led back the way they had come. Sighing in frustration, Glorfindel turned his horse and called out to Lord Elrond.

* * * * *

“Why could Ada not sense the orcs?” Elrohir asked, breaking a long silence. “I mean, we found them, and we did not even know what we were looking for.”

“There are many orcs in The Wild, toron nin,” Elladan pointed out. “It is possible that we are tracking the wrong band.”

“Can we try again and see if Amm is with them?” Elrohir’s voice was full of distaste, but he had a valid point.

Elladan stretched forth his hand again, and the brother’s brothers looked, not for orkish filth, but for the familiar, comforting light which they associated with their mother. They almost missed her. Her light was faint and so marred by the orcs that they did not recognize her at first.

And she was alone. Elladan felt Elrohir begin to ask him why she was alone, and then stop as Elladan anticipated his brother’s thoughts, and answered the unvoiced question. She is alone because her escort has been killed. She is alone because the orcs have slain all her company and left her for dead.

Elrohir cast Elladan’s hand aside, and the two renewed their ride with a hunter’s cautious haste.

* * * * *

It had been too easy to convince Elrond to return to Rivendell. After hours of following the trail they were close to the valley and Glorfindel nonchalantly suggested that they stop by the house for food and drink if they meant to continue through the night. Elrond acquiesced, and Glorfindel watched another small part of his old friend die.

If Elrond had not such high regard for his horse, he might never have noticed the twins’ unsanctioned absence. But he did, and it was immediately evident upon entering the stables that his sons, their hunting gear and their horses were gone. Lord Elrond of Rivendell slumped and sat in the hay. He wept, and Glorfindel could find no words.

* * * * *

Elladan had always known that elves could die. His uncle, the great King to whom his father had been herald, even Glorfindel had all had been killed and lived on in the tales and songs that were spoken in the Hall of Fire. But Elladan had never seen death before. He had never ridden his horse into a sun-drenched glade and pulled up short at the carnage he saw before him. He had never seen orcs; he had never seen black blood; he had never seen elves without heads; he had never seen fair Elven faces marred by a cut across the brow.

He saw them all now.

Elrohir slid off of his horse and picked his way through the bodies. He did not look upon any of their faces, instead relying entirely on his sense of his mother to find her. He knew his mother’s escort. They were lordly elves of the Golden Wood who told great stories, and laughed richly, if not often. They honoured Lord Elrond by escorting his lady home. Elrohir could not bear to look upon their eyes.

At length, he found her. Her eyes were closed, and when he lifted her into his arms, she murmured insensibly, mistaking him for his father. He bore her to his twin’s horse, and Elladan took her in his arms and set her before him. They both knew their mother’s condition was grave, and offered up a silent prayer that their father would be in Rivendell when they returned. They rode as quickly as they could from that place of horror.

Today, they had seen death. They had also begun to understand Time.

* * * * * *

~Vengeance~

“My lord!” came a shout in the night. “My Lord Elrond, they have returned and you are needed!”

Glorfindel was amazed at the speed with which Elrond moved. One moment, the Elven-lord was slumped, defeated in the hay, and the next he had risen, gained some measure of lordliness, and on his face their dawned a new hope. The two lords were met at the stable door by the elf who had called out. A quick, unobtrusive gesture from Glorfindel made the messenger remain silent, and he turned and led the way to one of the healing halls.

If there had not been such an audience, Glorfindel was certain that Lord Elrond would have cried out, flown to his wife’s side and wept. Instead, Elrond strode into the room with a look of purposeful authority on his face. He completely disregarded his sons, and began to issue orders to the Healers. As soon as all of his instruments were gathered, Elrond addressed the room at large.

“Lord Glorfindel, if you would remain.” He sounded painfully objective. “The rest of you will leave us. Fallain, if you would stand in the corridor in case we have need of a messenger?”

There were nods from almost all corners, and Elladan managed to stifle his brother’s protest with a gesture. The room quickly emptied.

Glorfindel, who had some idea of what Elrond intended to do, placed his hands on either side of Celebrían’s cold, pale face and muttered soothingly. Celebrían’s breathing, which had been rapid and shallow, slowed and became more normally paced.

Lord Elrond looked down and took a deep breath. He reached for his sharpest knife, set his face, and turned to face his belovèd lady.

* * * * *

Elladan may have been able to silence his bother in the sick room, but nothing could be done to make him cease his incessant pacing. It had been almost two hours, and the door had not opened. Elladan had used the time to send a company of elves to bring home their slaughtered kin and deal with the glade. Fallain had been completely idle, save moving to fetch chairs and food in case Elrond or Glorfindel need it. And Elrohir had paced.

“What are they doing?” burst out Elrohir, finally dropping into a chair.

“Can you not feel it, toron nin?” said Elladan a bit more sharply than he had intended. “Glorfindel keeps Amm at peace while Ada seeks the poison in her body and draws it out.”

The door opened, and all three in the corridor leapt to their feet. Lords Glorfindel and Elrond looked tired, but the latter looked relieved and the former cautiously hopeful.

“My sons,” Lord Elrond began. Then words failed him, and he took them in his arms as he had not done in centuries.

“Elladan,” Glorfindel broke in tactfully after a few moments, “what happened?”

Elladan related the tale and if he saw his father’s anguish about the sights he and his brother had seen that day, his voice did not tell it. “And we sent a party to the glade, to - - -” Elladan hesitated, and then decided the tale was told. “How is Amm?”

“She is sleeping comfortably. You may go in.”

The twins nodded to their father and Lord Glorfindel, and went into the room. Elrond watched them draw chairs up on both sides of their mother’s bed and each take one of her hands. Unconsciously, they both reached out with their minds and Elrond knew that this was the best therapy he could devise.

* * * * *

The sky was lit with the pale predawn light, and the brightest of the stars was at last fading. Elrond was feeling almost refreshed when Glorfindel broke the long night’s silence.

“You did not purge it all.”

“I know. But I got enough.”

“You cannot know that for certain, mellon nin. We will only know when she wakes and begins to move about again.”

“It was enough.”

“My lord, if it was not, and she begins to fade, she must pass. You know this.”

Elrond made no answer for a long while.

“It will be enough.”

* * * * *

As the sun rose, Elladan and Elrohir were relieved by Eril, a Healer almost as proficient as Elrond himself. They walked towards their mother’s garden, where they knew there father would have spent the night.

“I want to track the orcs,” Elrohir said.

“Ada will never allow it,” Elladan pointed out. “He will tell us that it will do no good.”

“And he will be right.” There was something in Elrohir’s eyes that Elladan did not recognize. “But I would ride out nonetheless.”

“Then we do not ask him,” Elladan said.

Elrohir nodded in understanding, and the two of them strode into the garden.

“Good morning, my sons.” Elrond greeted them.

“Good morning, Ada,” Elladan said. “Elrohir and I have decided to go hunting today.”

Glorfindel smelled trouble but held his silence.

“A welcome distraction. Tell me, what quarry will you seek?”

“The very foulest, Ada.”

Elrond’s face darkened. “No.”

“We did not seek you permission, Ada,” Elrohir said.

“My sons, you are not hunters of orc. The game you seek does not fight back; the orcs will. You are not able.”

“As we were not able to track Amm yesterday?” said Elladan, hating himself for what he was about to do. “What if we had stayed here? What happened to the famed long sight of Elrond of Rivendell? Would you have been able to save her if the hour had been later?”

Elrond drew himself up, his eyes blazing. Glorfindel noted with some surprise that neither brother quailed.

“My sons,” his voice was dreadful, “do not mock me. You have never known loss. I try to maintain that. But I cannot stop you forever. Hunt then. Hunt whatever you will.”

And he left his lady’s garden.

“You play a dangerous game, elflings,” Glorfindel said quietly. “And neither one of you is proficient enough with a knife to take on a band of orcs.”

“Then you will have to come with us, my lord.” Elladan suggested.

“Very well. But I will aid you only in battle. If your tracking goes awry, there will be no help from me.”

They rode out together. From Celebrían’s window, Elrond watched them go, and his heart lightened to know that his Protector rode with his sons. He prayed to the Valar to bring them all safely home.

* * * * *

Glorfindel was amazed at the ease and speed with which the twins tracked the orcs. It appeared to him that their bond gave them greater range and strength than their father. Soon they had located the valley where the orcs were encamped, and Glorfindel stepped in to help.

“Can you think, elflings, how this might best be done?” He addressed them as children, but used an adult’s tone.

“We should leave the horses and circle the valley on foot,” Elrohir suggested.

“And then fire from all three sides at once,” Elladan said. They truly were of one mind. “They will not know which way to charge, and regardless of which way they choose, they leave their flank exposed.”

What times are these, that our children become the tacticians we used to be? Glorfindel wondered, but all he said was “Well thought out. What shall we use for a signal?”

“We do not need one, my lord,” Elrohir replied. “Elladan and I can shoot at the same time without the help of birdcalls, and it matters not if the third shot arrives a few seconds after the first two.”

“Very well, then,” Glorfindel agreed. “Go separate ways from here and place yourself one third of the way around the valley.”

The twins nodded and set off. Below in the camp, the orcs were butchering two large stags and squabbling over the meat. Even the sentries were involved. Glorfindel very quickly made a small fire, knowing that the attack would begin long before any of the bickering orcs noticed the smoke.

His keen elf ears heard two arrows cut through the air, but he needed no help at all hearing the orkish outcry. He lit his arrow on fire and began shooting at the tents.

In the camp, Elladan noted with some pride, there was general mayhem. He had taken care to fire first at the orc he thought to be in charge. Judging from the reaction, he had been correct in his assessment. It was some time before the second-in-command could organize a retaliation, and the elves were able to shoot many volleys.

But a counterattack did come. With a fierce, guttural cry, the orcs charged up the hill, directly towards Elrohir’s position.

With a cry, Elladan was off down the hill to aid his twin. He fired arrows as he ran, his Elvish heritage of keen eyesight and grace aiding his aim. He heard the clang of steel and knew that his brother had engaged the orcs. Only ten of them had survived to make the charge, but Elladan knew that Elrohir could not face them all. In growing fear, Elladan reached out to find his brother as he began to climb the hill. To his intense distress, he could not!

And suddenly, he understood.

This is why Ada could not find her, Elladan thought. This is why he did not come. He was so utterly panicked that he could not find that which he held most dear. I cannot feel him. For the first time in my life, I do not know exactly where he is.

And then Elladan and Glorfindel burst into the clearing together. Elrohir’s knife flew through the air almost too quickly to see, and three orcs lay dead at his feet. Just as he dispatched a fourth one, Elladan and Glorfindel fell upon the flanks and battled the others. Within moments, it was over. The three stood breathing hard, and the orcs lay dead upon the ground.

“Come my lords,” Glorfindel said. “We will burn this carrion, and then ride for home.”

* * * * * *

AN: I need a hug!

AN: One thing I noticed in the movie is that there is always some sign of joy in Galadriel’s eyes. Basically, I wrote this story to explain why there isn’t any in Elrond’s, and why he is so afraid to let Arwen go: he is terrified that one more loss will break him. Elrond and Glorfindel’s conversations mirror the ones Elrond has with Aragorn in the Movies (and the appendices, to a degree). But when all is said and done, he sees Joy again in Minas Tirith, and realizes that everything will be OK. The bit about autumn is taken from the Movie appendices, and something the Set Designer said about the Elvish state of mind. I have also taken some liberty with what Vilya can do, mostly because I am not exactly sure what it does.

* * * * * *

~Mourning~

The trees changed. This in and of itself was not alarming as trees both changed and shed their leaves in accordance with the turn of the seasons. What was alarming was that it was high summer, and that the trees of Imladris did not customarily follow this trend, as they were customarily held exempt from so small a thing as the march of time.

Elladan and Elrohir rode out often now, to hunt and learn with Glorfindel. Under his tutelage, their proficiency increased, and soon they rode without him and were gone over night. And though the orcs began to give Rivendell a wide berth, they could not hide from the young lords’ wrath.

And the birds did not sing so sweetly, and the water no longer leapt joyfully off the falls reflecting the light like so many diamonds as it fell. Instead, the birds only cried and the water plummeted down only because it was compelled to do so by gravity.

For the Lord of Rivendell was sick at heart. No more did he wander the gardens, nor did he watch the stars from the terraces. And though his appearance did not change, his heart grew old within him as he lamented for his departed lady.

He had not been able to wholly cure her and was forced to stand helplessly by as she wasted away, losing the joy in her gardens, in her children, and in him until Glorfindel himself had packed her things and laid plans for a final journey. Elrond had not spoken to his friend since Glorfindel’s return from the Havens, so he did not know that his lady’s countenance had lifted with each westward step, nor that she had smiled as she waved at Glorfindel from the stern of the ship that bore her hence.

He had not spoken with the twins often of late either. They no longer dined with him when they were home, and if they knew that their father took no rest when they were out, they did not show it. Life in Rivendell had settled into a silent, unvarying, uncomfortable routine.

A knock broke the silence of Elrond’s chamber. He did not want guests, so he said nothing. The knock came again, and when he still did not respond, the twins opened the door to admit themselves.

“Ada, we would speak with you,” Elladan said.

Elrond did not look up.

“Ada, we have been practicing with Lord Glorfindel, but he said if we wish to become expert at sword handling, we should ask you,” Elrohir said. “He said you are the best.”

“I was,” Elrond replied, his voice devoid of everything save the air on which it was carried. “That was too long ago.”

“Ada, please,” Elladan said. “You must do something. Teach us, or read or look to the gardens. While you sit here your valley withers. You must come back to life, Ada, or take the ship yourself and join Amm. It is in my heart that nothing else will bring you joy”

“I cannot accompany her!” Elrond exclaimed suddenly, showing more life than he had in months. He held up his hand so that Vilya shone in the fire light. “I have a duty, my sons, and you cannot change this.”

“You could,” Elladan said bluntly. “You could give it to someone else, and pass over the sea.”

“No, my son, I cannot.” There was great pain in Elrond’s eyes. “There is no one else.”

“I will not sit idly by in Rivendell, Ada,” Elrohir burst out. “Nor will I spend my days at sport.”

“What would you have then?”

“I would have these hills cleared of orcs,” Elrohir’s eyes were full, but his voice was horribly controlled. “What good are Elvish havens if the roads between them are too dangerous to pass? What when Arwen wishes to return? Will you forbid it and have her live in exile?”

“My son, you cannot take this upon yourself.”

“As you have taken the care of Imladris upon yourself? Ada, I do not bear a Ring, but I would still protect my home.”

“Enough, Ada.” Elladan broke in, his face hard. “It is not as though Elrohir has come to this decision independently. We stand in this together.”

“My children, I do not require this of you. I did not intend for you to become warriors.”

“You will not dissuade us, Ada,” Elladan said. “We choose this. If you will not teach us, then we will teach ourselves, though we would benefit from your wisdom.”

Elrond’s eyes clouded.

“Many a time over the last centuries I have cast my eyes to the heavens and have asked the Valar to make my sons grow up.”

The twins regarded their father solemnly, seeing him in an entirely new light.

Lord Elrond continued, his voice as hard as stone. “I would take each of them back.”

The silence between them was exceedingly awkward.

“Excuse us Ada,” Elladan said finally. “We have told Glorfindel we would meet him in the glade for archery lessons.”

Lord Elrond nodded and watched as his sons left the room. He sat for a while, and then walked into his study where Hadhafang, his great sword, hung on the wall, untouched since the Last Battle of the Last Alliance.

* thwack. . . .thwack *

The arrows were too far apart. They could not have more than two in the air at a time.

* thwack thwack . . . .thwack thwack *

Ah. Now they were firing together. Four arrows, two bows, and ever of one mind, Elrond realized that his sons would be a force to be reckoned with.

Lord Elrond stood before his sword and shut his eyes, forcing out his last tears. When he opened them again, they were solemn and hard as agates. Gone were the last fragments of his ageless joy, driven out finally by this latest grief.

Stretching out his hands, Elrond took down his sword and closed his fingers around the hilt. Memory flooded back to him and he ruthlessly quashed it. There was much to do.

And all he had left was Time.

* * * * * *

AN: I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll never touch them again, I swear!

AN: And here is where I make free (r) and loose (r) with the canon. Sorry, it was just too good to pass up. And I am a sucker for happy endings.

I have to thank my beta editors, who tolerated my many, many words and passive sentences. Thank you Marta and Turelie Alasselle. And I also have to thank Marigold. Everything you’ve ever heard about how amazing she is, is completely true.

* * * * * *

~Epilogue~

The gray ship had a unique design. Its builder had never beheld Cirdan’s havens, nor had he ever seen an Elven ship. But even though the basic design was reminiscent of that of Men, and there were some aspects of the ship that were quite alien indeed, there an inherent Elvish feeling to it. The builder was, after all, an elf himself, and some traits run deep.

Its moorings made fast, those on board disembarked and went to greet long lost kin. Four lingered on the deck facing eastward until the crowd had dissipated. Three were tall and fair, and the fourth was one whose likeness had never before been seen in Valinor. At last, they too left the ship that had so faithfully borne them across the sea, and stepped on to the quay.

They were not unexpected. The party that stood to greet them was widely varied. Two were tall and fair, one was tall and dark, one was clad all in white, two were quite short with merry faces, and two were Elvish maidens, so alike in appearance that it was as though those who beheld them saw double.

“Welcome, Gimli, son of Gloín, friend of Elf-kind,” Galadriel’s tone was musical, as always, but there was more joy in it now.

Gimli, bereft of speech as he beheld again that which he held most fair, bowed deeply to the lady, and then to Gandalf the White as well.

“Come, walk with us,” said Gandalf, and he led the dwarf and the High Elf from the quay.

The two small ones approached the traveler clad all in green. He smiled down at them.

“They have passed then?” asked Frodo quietly.

“Yes, all in peace and happiness,” Legolas of Ithilien replied.

Sam reached up and took the Elf’s hand in his own. Frodo took the other, and they too left the quay.

“My sons,” said Lord Elrond at last. “These are Arómenë and Andúnë. I thought none of our children could ever be more alike than you two, but as you can see, I judged too soon.”

There was much embracing and tears then, and so it was not until the family made it to the end of the quay that Elrond noticed that his sons bore no arms.

“My sons,” he said. “I cannot remember the last time I saw you walk unarmed. It suits you well. But tell me, what became of them?”

“The knives we gave to Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn for their wedding.” Elladan said. “They are now heirlooms in the House of the Steward and the Prince of Ithilien.”

“The bows we kept for many years,” Elrohir continued. “But we cast them overboard ere we made port.”

“My sons,” said Lady Celebrían with a song in her voice. “The bows are made of wood, and even here it is the nature of wood to float.”

No one was ever certain who laughed first, but it was the first time of many.

~finis~

* * * * * *

AN: You didn’t think I’d leave you out of your own birthday present, did you mellon nin?

I put the twins on the ship with Leggy, because they had to get there somehow. Also, I wanted to try my hand at hobbits before taking the plunge, so having Sam and Frodo greet Legolas was a good way to get my feet wet. And then I remembered Gandalf and Gimli and Galadriel, and the party on the wharf got bigger and bigger. I fabricated like no tomorrow for this chapter, and I loved ever minute of it. My spell checker, not so much.