The Gift of Ilúvatar

[Lady Elwen]

Author's Name: Lady Elwen

Email: [e-mail]

Submission Title: The Gift of Ilúvatar

Rating: PG

Genre: general

Summary: The eternal parting of the Undomiel from her beloved father, set deep in the hills of Edoras. The words of father and daughter.

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns ME; I don't

Dagor Bragollach...... Nirnaeth Arnoediad



Review The Gift of Ilúvatar here.

[Lady Elwen]

The day following the commemoration of the fallen King Théoden dawned a painted sky, and Arien’s rays illuminated the two figures that rode through the gates of Meduseld in the early hours of the morning. Neither uttered a single word to the other, letting the silence fill the gaps, moving away from the Golden Hall with the silence of the Eldar.

The air was remarkably still, seeming to sense the chained emotion within its travelers, the song of the wild reaching them as only the Eldar could be. The riders turned east, riding deeper into the hills that surrounded Meduseld and formed a barrier around Edoras. For the first time in their lives, neither knew what to say, much less to each other, and so they rode for hours in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Arien rose higher, bathing the land in a luminous glow, and both riders cast back their hoods. The lady’s deep grey eyes reflected a mixed happiness and despair as she quietly avoided her companion’s gaze. The lord beside her did the same, appearing to hold a silent conversation with his bay stallion as they rode on.

At last they reached a secluded vale well into the hills where they stopped, turning the horses loose to graze beside the stream. The lady walked slowly across to the trees that bordered the base of the hill, laying her hands on the smooth, worn bark, feeling the life within it as she tried to find the words to describe her own.

“Undómiel.” The quiet word drew her from her thoughts, carrying across the space between them, and she turned to the speaker.

“Ada, Im…” she stopped, unsure of how to continue. How could she explain to her father the reason why she gave up an eternal life with him and her family in Valinor to marry a mortal? How could she explain that the love that lay between them was worth more than anything else in the world to her? How could she explain that without hurting him?

Elrond sighed, crossing the space between them as he read the indecision in his daughter’s eyes. For nearly the first time in his life, he was at a complete loss for words. There were none to be had. No words had ever been written to befit a father’s eternal parting with his own daughter… when that parting was her choice…

He stepped forward, embracing her. “Alae, iell nîn,” he murmured softly, leaning his chin against her hair. “Uivelin le,” he continued. Long moments passed before either of them drew back. Placing his fingertips gently under her chin, he made her meet his eyes. “Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?”

Arwen closed her eyes, unable to bring herself to respond at first. “Ada, our troth has ere been spoken,” she said at last. “There is nothing now that can be undone, for the Valar do not let such statements pass lightly. He loves me, ada, and I can ask for nothing more, for I love him in return.”

“Does that love exceed your love for me? For your mother?” The questions bore no self-pity within them, but rather a simple desire to know.

The lady shook her head. “Do not lay that on me, I beg of you. Naneth told me to follow my heart… and so I have, making the choice of Lúthien – both the sweet and the bitter.” She turned for a moment, watching the horizon, before she spoke again. “My love for him does not mean that I love you or naneth any less. But the love we share is merely different.”

The Lord of Imladris sighed. “And I cannot force you to turn away from that path… To break your will in such a way would be unthinkable. Am I to merely accept it?” The last words were spoken almost as though to himself, rather than to any other, but they did not go unmarked.

“ ‘The Shadow I shall utterly reject,’ he told me. ‘But neither, lady, is the Twilight for me; for I am a mortal, and if you will cleave to me, Evenstar, then the Twilight you must also renounce.’ He offered me a choice, knowing what I would face, and I accepted that, for my love for him overrides whatever else may befall me because of my choice.

“Whether you can accept it or no, ada, the choice is made, and there is no ship now that can bear me hence.”

“Alas, so seems to be my fate to lose all I love before time is due to take it… First your mother…”

“Ada,” Arwen protested softly, laying a gentle hand on her father’s shoulder, “what of Elladan and Elrohir? Surely they –”

“No,” Elrond answered her softly. “I do not think that they intend to pass with me, and then their fate here is as sealed as yours. And were you joining with any but Estel, I do not think I could bear it.” He turned from her, the pain reflected in his eyes in sharp contrast to the glory of the horizon before him, and stared blankly, trying to find the fitting words and coming up empty.

Arwen stood, watching her father’s back, and suddenly there came to her mind unbidden the words her father had spoken to her long ago when she had been but a child: “ ‘tis the Gift of Ilúvatar to Men,” he had said. “The gift granted to His younger children to live in a world that is in itself mortal.”

“The Gift of Ilúvatar,” she murmured, only realizing she had spoken aloud when Elrond turned sharply to face her. “It is said that mortals cannot achieve everything within the short time they have to dwell here… but perhaps the same is true for us,” she continued quietly, half to herself. “Living three thousand years does not always mean that we have achieved our heart’s desires. We cannot have it all.

“It is no gift to be sundered from one family forever to gain another, but so it must be. I swore to cleave to the Dúnadan, and so I will, ada, whether by your will or no, for my choice was laid before me and my fate set for me and so my choice is made. I will become of the Atani, and…” The Lady of Imladris looked to her father, pain etched into her eyes, and sighed. “And though I then must now be sundered from you, Ada, know that I love you no less,” she whispered.

“Im le melan,” Elrond whispered in reply, and closed the distance between his daughter and he and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him as her tears fell upon the shoulder of his robes. And with his Undómiel’s quiet words of wisdom, the truth was laid bare before him, and the Lord of Imladris finally let it make itself known and allowed himself to weep.

Indeed, the Gift of Ilúvatar was no such thing, and that it was that would take his only daughter. And in the hills of Rohan, far from their home in the North, father and daughter were drawn together in their final meeting before the parting that would live eternally, and there came the bittersweet realization that what is loved and lost is never gone; ‘tis merely fading through the glen, awaiting a final destination of the heart.

There they remained long together, prolonging such bittersweet sadness as long as they could, allowing silence to work its magic and calm their hearts. Then, many long hours later, father and daughter rode back through the hills to the Home of the Horse-Lords to make their final parting a part of history.