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weofarda-archive · 5 years

Text

Like I’m gonna lose you

So writing this was basically what cemented this AU in my mind and I kind of forgot to actually post it here instead of leaving it on my Ao3 so enjoy. Also helps give some world building so win win. under a cut because long

Song inspo

All Elrond had ever wanted was to have all his family with him all at the same time; it seemed such a simple request but one that had little, if any, chance of happening. His daughter had chosen the way of Lúthien before her. His sons? All he knew was they had stayed. At the very least he had his love and light Celebrían there, with him, and for the first few millennia they were rarely spotted apart. Then came the trickling in of old holdouts and stragglers bringing with them tales of the lives they had lead until at last rejoining their kin. Most had remained within settlements that they eventually couldn’t recognize but some, some brought messages for those in Valinor: news of the families that had chosen mortality. One of them brought a message from Elladan and Elrohir: Arwen was alive, still, and wandering. They try to console her as best they can but her sorrow is an ocean and she was starting to drown.

It was his wife who suggested the imperfect plan. He had planted the image of her outliving her love into her mind long ago and she was almost certain, if nothing else, he may be able to convince her and her brothers to sail West at last. Was this not what he had wanted: his family happily together once more? Yes, but not like this, never like this. He was forced into a position he had never wanted to be in: choosing between the love of his life and his own child.

“Go for me,” Celebrían begged cupping his cheek to turn his face towards her own. He remembered that heartbroken look. “Please.”

So he petitioned, pleaded, begged to be allowed to go back for his children. His pleadings fell onto deaf ears that was until Celebrían went in his stead. She brought back to him the verdict that had been in his favor: he could go back for his children but he and any one else who chose to return to Middle Earth had to remain. Permanently. He fell to his knees sobbing. So, so, so many thousands of years spent losing all those he held dear and now they were going to do this? She knelt down next to him pulling him into her warm embrace. One last night together; they had onelast night to pour all the ‘I love you’s, soft kisses, and warm embraces until the end of time out for each other, and then he’d sail.

There were already ships missing when he left; apparently he wasn’t the only one to have some reason to return.

When he landed at what he could only assume was what had become of the Grey Havens there was already an envoy waiting. Among them were most of the messengers and his sons. The world they showed him along the route home had changed significantly but still had a strange sort of familiarity to them. As if he were looking at an artistic rendition of something that had only ever been described to them. They assured him that their sister was waiting, tired, but waiting. As seemed to be the way of the elves his kingdom remained nigh on unchanged save for additions of new technology. The old had blended with the new to create something better; his sons had done well. He planned to spend time learning what had passed in his absence and of the new inventions that seemed to fill most corners of Imaldris but first -

He barely got the chance to cross the threshold of his old home before a blur of black, pale white, and royal blue nearly knocked him off his feet with a hug that rested somewhere between a tackle and the tight hug of a child who had waited far too long for her ada to come home.

The ages had started to blend into each other and Imaldris became a hub and a haven once more. He had never been able to convince his children to leave him behind to join their mother which left him no choice but to stay and help the world however he could. After Arwen left once more he became a travelling physician knowing the haven he’d helped found was in good hands with his sons. He traveled the continent lending his healing hands to those who otherwise would have no means of getting help. In doing this he passed the time as the centuries flew by until one day he looked up and it was the dawn of yet another millennium: year 2000 by the calendar Men now used. He decided it was time to plant roots and moved to the city to be near his daughter.

He found many familiar faces there including two he had thought would never join them: Galadriel and Celeborn no longer lady and lord. Now Senator and historian respectively doing what they could to change the future and preserve the past. He never asked why they had left just remained grateful for their company while he adjusted to the strange city he’d moved to. They helped him find work at the local hospital and helped him find an apartment even offering their guest room in the meantime. He had no words for his gratitude thankfully with Galadriel he didn’t need any: she knew.

March 2008 had been unseasonably cold and while his elven heritage hadn’t let him feel the worst of the chill it had kept him from one of the few things that could help keep his mind clear these days: jogging through the park. Instead he called up his sons to see how things were, see if they needed help, purposely dance around whether or not he’d spoken with Arwen recently. After he hung up he went outside to check the weather for himself: clear, sunny, and warm enough for it not to look too strange for him to take a jog.

[txt: Iellig] Ada meet me here. I have something to show you.

Attached was a picture of the old Mallorn tree - one of the few left in the area - heritage site. It had been so long since he’d gotten a chance to talk with Arwen. He’d gotten so caught up in his work that he’d just lost track again. He was quick to text her back to let her know he would come, after his run, glad for the chance to talk with her and make amends.

The drive there was spent trying to put his regrets, he seemed to collect those like stamps these days, into words. He hadn’t meant to lose touch, hadn’t meant to stop answering her calls once she met this century’s incarnation of Aragorn at a tattoo shop, hadn’t meant to just stop talking to her. Except he had hadn’t he? Even now, 6061 years later, he was still trying to keep her within the box he’d created. One would think he would have long since learned that his daughter had inherited her grandmother’s steely will. She knew what she wanted to be, who she wanted to be, and who she would love and every time he tried to shield her from the inevitable pain he’d only ever made it worse.

He put the car in park and hit the trail. It was long and winding but it’d give him more time to measure his words carefully. If he wasn’t careful he’d only push her even further away. The park was oddly quiet save for the birds and crunch of gravel beneath his feet. It didn’t take nearly as long as he’d hoped to reach the site that was, thankfully, far more populated than the trail had been. He scanned the crowd as he drew closer looking for the shock of long blue hair he’d seen Arwen with the last time they’d spoken. His eyes though were instead drawn towards - no. She’d stayed. Just someone who resembled her. Yes that - His feet drew him closer and closer; each step making it harder to deny what he was seeing. He stopped a few feet away trying to swallow the golf ball sized lump that had formed in his throat. It had been ages, surely his mind was just desperately grasping at whatever was closest to close over the, now reopened, wound that had been left when he watched Celebrían dip below the horizon so long ago.

“I’m sorry I made you wait,” she said taking a few tentative steps forwards to cup his cheek in her hand. It was her, Celebrían, here in the flesh standing before him. Was this some cruel apparition? He closed the distance between them pulling her into a desperate and needy kiss. The moment their lips touched the dam that had been holding back the sorrow he’d collected over far too many years broke all at once causing him to crumple. He had become so resigned to his fate that he never thought of the possibility that she may return to join him.

#out of arda #this is an older drabble and i should rewrite now that i have a bit of a better grasp on it #but i could just be overthinking #so have a drabble #drabble

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