Canon compliant AU. Fits with the Mellow Soulmate AU I guess. Elrond reflects upon his life as it comes to a close. All Sindarin names here, even for the Fëanorions, except Gil-Galad is referred to by Ereinion. This story is connected to a multitude of others, including the Cleansed arc ("Cleansed", "Life", "Scowl", "Winter", "Choke", "Color", "Isolation" and "Untouchable", not necessarily in that order), as well as "Stop Time", "Shining", "Repeat", "Panic" and "Memorial" among a few others. Too many. Takes place in pieces scattered everywhere from First Age to early Fourth Age.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion or The Lord of the Rings
Pairings: Elrond x Celebrían, Elladan x Fem Maeglin
Characters: Elrond, Elros, Elwing, Eärendil, Maedhros, Maglor, Gil-Galad, Celebrían, Arwen, Elladan, Elrohir, Lómiel (Fem Maeglin), Sauron (mentions Aragorn and Eldarion in a certain way)
Warning: canon-compliant AU, canon character death, implied rape and assault, mentions Third Kinslaying, war and violence, fading, self-hatred and survivor's guilt, crying, kissing, etc...
Song: When You're Gone
Words: 2,415
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goodbye (noun): a concluding remark or gesture at parting; a taking of leave
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/goodbye
The shoreline was finally coming into view after weeks of nothing but waves upon the endless horizon. Truly, the sands were quite golden in the fading light of day, something ethereal and otherworldly. Something plainly not of the realm of mortal creatures as it gleamed and glimmered, pearl dust awash with the waves and the wreaths of writhing sea foam. And then, appearing from the hazy mist of the ocean, was the port. White and towering as some ancient city of alabaster and sapphire, its white-washed spires and arches rising to welcome the newcomers.
To welcome them home. At last.
And Elrond stood upon the deck, hand clenched tight upon the white railing, gazing in anticipation of the end. In anticipation of happiness after so many years...
---
He said goodbye, but Elrond did not remember. There was the vague image of a man, tall with a crooked smile and stubble upon his cheeks, a golden mane spilling around his face as he lifted his twin sons--one in each arm--so that he might press kisses to their cheeks and listen to their giggles.
Skinny little arms tangled about the man's neck, clinging tightly. "Ada..." He did not want his father to go. He never did.
"Worry not. I shall return." The powerful embrace was so warm and comforting. So secure. And Elrond whimpered when it released its hold upon him, when he was lowered back down to the ground and left shivering, suddenly bereft. With that feeling he could not name niggling in the back of his brain.
So young had Elrond been that, at the time, he had not recognized it. That faint twinge of dread.
"I love you. Be good for your nana..." He began to walk toward his ship, stepping upward until his form appeared upon the bow, hair scattered with the cold wind. His hand rose, waving at the little ones.
His eyes had been different that time.
Always, he came back. But that time, he didn't.
---
She said not so much as a goodbye. There had been no time for such trivial words when screams wormed their way through the open doorway and the cracked windows, sending shivers through the frightened twins. Instead, she hugged them close and pressed them tightly into the closet together, and Elrond could recall only the blurry images of his brother and of shadows within. Of the bright light glowing from the crack at the foot of the door.
"Stay quiet and do not come out. I will come and find you."
The pillared shadows of her feet outside their hiding place disappeared. And he could hear her footsteps as she ran across the room. As she left them behind.
The feeling was back. The feeling Elrond remembered. The cold chill crawling up his spine when he watched their father walk away for the last time.
He wanted to call her back. To scream and cry and demand that she hold them tight and never dare to leave them behind. To make certain that that ugly and unwanted feeling stabbing needles into his heart was false. That history was not repeating.
But he stayed quiet and cuddled close to Elros instead. Waited silently for her return.
Waited silently and hoped and hoped to hear her voice...
But, when again feet broke the static line of the light crawling beneath the door, it was not his mother standing upon the other side. It never was again.
---
Maglor was the foster father. The one who smiled and sang them lullabies when they cried and had nightmares in the early hours of the morning. Elrond always recalled his touch as something gentle and feathery skimming across his skin, as if the supposedly cold-blooded murderer were afraid to press too hard with the tips of his fingers. As if he were afraid they would disappear, shatter into mist and be sucked away in the light.
Maedhros was the protector. He was distant and his eyes were very dark. Frightening and threatening. But for all his uninviting appearance and personality, ever did he offer comfort and guidance when most the fosterlings needed calm and soothing words of wisdom. And, sometimes, Elrond thought that the redheaded prince of tragedy loved them and cherished them just as much as did his brother, though rarely did he show his affections.
One could not have asked for better parents.
But the twins' tenure as the fosterlings of Maedhros and Maglor had ended. The younger of the brothers hugged them tightly and kissed their foreheads in farewell, a gleam in his eyes so sorrowful that one could not look upon it for long. Already, the rims were reddened and swollen with tears that refused to fall.
The older brother did not touch them or kiss them. Never had he been a demonstrative man. But his eyes were soft with worry and grief when he looked upon them.
"Be safe, little ones," he told them only.
It was ironic and heartbreaking. For that feeling was ever-present, and Elrond was old enough to know what it meant to feel this dread and longing. Old enough to know that they would never see these two brothers again. Old enough to know this was goodbye forever.
That knowledge made Elrond ache as he walked away. And he would never tell anyone but Elros that, later that night, he cried and wished...
Wished he had never left them behind...
---
Never had he truly been alone.
Elros had always been by his side. Always. They had shared a womb and a cradle. Shared their mattresses and their blankets and their parents and their adventures. Shared their triumphs and their joys and their sorrows and their secrets. Rarely could one be found without the other, for they were bound as close as two separate souls could be.
But that was about to end.
And he would not cry.
Not at the wedding of his brother, who looked so happy with his mortal spouse upon his arm and his mortal friends crowded about passing around drink and laughter. Not when Elros turned to him, grinning--and was it his imagination, or was that face more weathered than he remembered?--and looked so contented and proud. As though he had found his place in the world. As though this were exactly where he belonged.
And that place was not at Elrond's side.
"I should be going now, brother."
"Leaving already?" Elros slapped his shoulder in a friendly greeting, but between them lay something awkward and unspoken. Elrond forced a smile, and though perhaps it appeared more as a grimace.
"Ah, I will depart in the morning. Surely, Ereinion will be wanting his councilor back as soon as possible." It was an excuse, and a poor one at that. But a poor one would do just as well as a subtle and manipulative one. They knew each other too well for silent words to be hidden. For intentions left unsaid to be misunderstood.
"I shall see you another time then." Elros patted his shoulder and retreated to his wife's side. Elrond headed for the door. Neither dared look at one another, lest they acknowledge the lie.
The younger brother fled. In the morning he departed Númenor. And he never did go back.
---
There was no real goodbye for his best friend and king. Just the knowledge that they may not leave the field of battle alive. That they may have to stand by and watch the other perish in violence and bloodshed. And Elrond had believed himself prepared. He had seen comrades die in the midst of madness and chaos before. Held his hands over their gaping wounds and comforted them in their last moments of agony and struggle.
But nothing could have prepared him...
For the way that body spun around, eyes searching until they clashed--
Until Ereinion was staring straight at him, wide-eyed with knowledge, lips parted and dark hair flying about his smudged and sweaty face. Aeglos tumbled from his fingers, and the clang of it hitting stone resounded through the air like an electric current.
No more than a step did Elrond take before the light blinded him. He lifted a hand and blocked his eyes from the garish rays, crying out at the wave of hideous, blackening heat that raked its claws over his exposed skin and left him glistered.
Silence fell. Even the din of battle had faded out.
When he blinked his eyes open to find everything between himself and his best friend's murderer was empty space. Devoid and scorched to the last particle. Erased.
There was nothing but ash to mark the passing of his king. Of his best friend and confident. Of his last rock of stability in his crumbling world. Nothing at all.
How his knees kept him upright, Elrond would never know. In that moment, had the enemy struck out in violence, he would have been obliterated. For he could do nothing but stare at that emptiness where Ereinion had stood no more than ten seconds before.
Where there was nothing...
Nothing at all...
---
She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, a gleam of silvery hope rising from the blackened ruins of the life he had once called his own. And she was the most wondrous thing to ever happen to him in his long life of watching those he loved come and go as fleetingly and devastatingly as mortal men.
But she was a constant, he had thought. Never would she leave his side, nor he depart from hers.
Never would they be parted.
And yet here they stood, her gaunt and blanched face half-hidden beneath a hood of velvet, her once-silver hair now white and wispy against the translucent membrane of her skin. Eyes once such a healthy, lively blue were paler than the tint of ice upon water. And no smile marked her lips as she looked at him, her lover and husband.
She looked at him as though she were seeing through him to somewhere else. Somewhere that was real. Somewhere where this hell was the dream. The nightmare.
"This is farewell." Elrond reached out and lifted her hand, pressed a kiss to her cold knuckles and squeezed so tenderly, worried he might bruise or break her frail body with his strength. "But we shall be reunited."
It was then that she looked. Eyes focused but so distant and empty.
"I love you," he added, almost desperately, pressing a second kiss to her hand. "And I shall miss you dearly."
Her eyes lowered as she released his hand without a word of acknowledgement or love or devotion. As she walked away with her guard and was lifted upon a horse. As she was carried over the Bruinen and out of the Valley and out of his life.
And all he could do was watch until she was gone. Until he could not see her distant form. Until he could not feel her presence against his soul. Until his Celebrían was out of reach entirely.
That night, he cried for the first time since losing Elros. But only once. Still there were preparations to be made and a house to be run. Paperwork to be completed and trading agreements to be finalized. Patients to be healed and children to be cared for. There was still life. And there was not a moment to be wasted.
---
But it was hardest saying goodbye to his sons and his daughter.
One, he would never see again. He hugged Arwen tightly and felt the tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he took in her sight and her spirit. A woman, glowing radiantly with happiness and already pregnant with her first child. Ready to live her life to the very end as a mortal and pass beyond the edges of the world with her husband.
At least he knew Aragorn would make her happy and keep her safe. Felt it with burning surety in the marrow of his bones.
And then there were his sons, one smiling and one frowning.
Elladan he was certain he would see again one day, for his heir had chosen the path of the Firstborn and not the Aftercomers. The oldest twin stepped out of his father's embrace and pulled his wife close so that they stood together as one, their burdens lifted from their shoulders beneath the other's magnetic pull and tender caresses. So in love and so ready to live. They would keep Imladris as home, and one day they would come over the sea with the remaining elves, back to Elrond's embrace.
About his oldest son, Elrond was not worried. If anything, he was relieved and grateful to see at least one of his beloved twins pull himself up from the quicksand of shadow and vengeance.
But Elrohir was an uncertainty. Distant and dark were his eyes, as ever they had been since the departure of his mother to the Undying Lands. As they exchanged their farewells, Elrond feared terribly that his youngest son might chose a path apart from his brother only as an escape from facing his fears and letting go of the distant past. Might evict himself from their family out of penitence and misguided self-hatred if only to keep himself from moving on. To keep himself from living.
When he embraced the younger, Elrond hugged tighter and stifled the urge to sob all the harder.
"Please, be safe," he pleaded softly. "And be happy."
Whatever you choose, please be happy. And never regret.
---
After so many years of goodbyes, Elrond was ready...
Looking upon the approaching docks, his heart leapt into his throat, throbbing insistently. A slender figure was waiting, hood pulled down to reveal a familiar face with eyes only a shade paler than the midday sky and hair spun from the finest mithril. And she was smiling as she moved closer, stepping out onto the dock and gliding toward the ship finally making land.
He moved in tandem, hand sliding along the railing, toward her. Pulled by her own personal brand of gravity. By the need to take in her scent and feel her skin and kiss her lips...
And hear her voice speaking his name...
Elrond was ready for the end to begin in a welcome home and a sweet "I missed you".
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Wow, long story. Sorry it took so long to edit this mess. I didn't intend for it to become such a monster, but as usual it ran away with me. It helps that I've no homework in the way tonight, though, as I have tomorrow and Wednesday off. Quite a relief, to be honest. And it allows me to think about something other than physics and organic chemistry.
In any case, all of the events are technically "canonical" except the presence of Maeglin's reborn girl-form. I didn't stick Galadriel and Celeborn in there, though. Oh well. I just thought, of all the characters I can think of, there aren't many who had to say as many goodbyes as Elrond. In fact, I think only some of the Fëanorions can equal the amount of tragedy that Elrond gets shoved through, Maglor in particular. And, though I would love for Elrond and Maglor to cross paths again, I decided against it.
It's just more bittersweet and satisfying this way.
As for the song, I just happen to really like it. When You're Gone is one of my favorite songs by Avril Lavigne, especially of her more melancholy and meaningful pieces (as opposed to Sk8ter Boi and Girlfriend, which are just dancing music, let's be honest here, though they have their moments I guess). I've loved this song since... ah... probably around ninth grade. So for a while. And it hasn't managed to get old yet.
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