As Frodo stood upon the threshold, Elrond wished him a fair journey, and blessed him, and he said: ‘I think, Frodo, that maybe you will not need to come back, unless you come very soon. For about this time of the year, when the leaves are gold before they fall, look for Bilbo in the woods of the Shire. I shall be with him.’

Many Partings, Return of the King

Chapter 17: The Dominion of Men

October 1, 3019

The air was cool and crisp and the sun shining brightly; a perfect day, Bilbo had proclaimed, for a walk about the gardens. Elrond had noted the old hobbit’s words at the breakfast table, and arranged for Erestor to take Sam, Merry and Pippin to a grove of apples where they might pick from the late season harvest. He listened from his study for the sound of hobbit voices and the light thunk of the walking stick Bilbo was sure to have with him. He had just heard them set off slowly on the path and risen to follow them when he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Mithrandir,” he greeted the wizard. “I was just going to join Bilbo and Frodo in the garden.”

Mithrandir gave him an appraising look, then lifted his hand and motioned for Elrond to continue. Elrond smiled as the wizard settled himself on the balcony in the sun, clearly intending to wait for his return.

Elrond walked slowly through the gardens, following the sound of hobbit voices, glad for the laughter he heard from both.

“Elrond,” called Bilbo in greeting.

Elrond nodded as he drew near then sat down on a bench adjacent to where the hobbits had settled. Bilbo stifled a yawn, but Frodo turned a keen gaze on Elrond.

“In Gondor, Arwen gave you a gift,” he began. Frodo’s hand rose to cover his chest, and Elrond knew the white jewel of the Dúnedain hung about his neck.

Bilbo brightened and looked to Frodo. “She did? You did not tell me. If it is important, I must include it in my book.” His eyes gleamed, alert and full of anticipation. “What is it, my lad?”

Frodo pulled the chain from his shirt and lifted the white jewel for Bilbo to inspect. The old hobbit whistled under his breath, reverently touching the stone. As his fingers caressed the smooth surface, a look of surprise crossed his face. “There is some power in this jewel, Frodo!”

Both hobbits looked to Elrond for an answer.

“There is indeed,” he replied. “That jewel was made in elvenhome, across the sea. It was a gift from the Elves of Tol Eressea to Númenor, and has been an heirloom of the North Kingdom for more than an age of the world.”

“Aragorn,” whispered Frodo.

“It has been passed from Queen to Queen for many generations. Aragorn’s mother Gilraen left it in my care for Aragorn’s bride one day.”

“Why would Arwen give it to me?” asked Frodo finally.

“The jewel is related to the second part of Arwen’s gift,” replied Elrond gently.

Bilbo gasped. “There is more? What else did she give you?”

Frodo fell silent. Elrond waited for several minutes, then reached with his mind to the hobbit, feeling about the surface of his thought. He sensed hesitation and some confusion. Frodo finally met his gaze, and Elrond smiled. “May I explain?”

“Please,” answered Frodo in relief.

Elrond took a deep breath, realizing that his words applied to more than the hobbits before him. “Frodo bears the scars of many injuries: of a Nazgul’s blade, of the sting of Shelob, and the hurt caused by the One, which has damaged his soul in ways incomprehensible to any mortal.”

Frodo’s eyes never left him as he spoke, and Elrond held his gaze, noting Bilbo’s reaction only from the corner of his eye and through his senses that allowed him to encompass all of them.

“You and the Lady Galadriel bear the same damage,” said Frodo softly, a knowing look in his eye.

“We do,” admitted Elrond. “As Ring-bearer, you have new sight to see deeper and further into the hearts of others.” He paused, allowing Frodo to consider his words, then continued, “Healing for such wounds is not to be found in Middle-earth, not for any of us. The second part of Arwen’s gift, offered by permission of the Valar, is that Frodo may sail with us into the uttermost West, to elvenhome, where he might live out the rest of his days in what peace and healing he may find there.”

Bilbo gasped and paled, and Elrond reached with one hand to steady the old hobbit. “As Ring-finder, this gift extends to you also, dear Bilbo. You should have each other, a companion of your own kind.”

“Me?” gasped Bilbo. “Sail with the elves to Aman?” He struggled to his feet. “When do we leave?”

Elrond laughed at the hobbit’s excitement, but he kept an eye on Frodo, for it was the younger hobbit’s reaction he hoped for. Indeed, Frodo’s attention had left Elrond and turned to Bilbo, for Elrond’s announcement that Bilbo might also sail was the first he had heard of it. As Elrond had hoped, Bilbo’s ready acceptance and eagerness sparked a desire in Frodo’s heart.

Elrond felt Bilbo’s hand rest on his arm, and he looked into eyes filled with sudden compassion. “You will be reunited with your wife, the Lady Celebrían.”

Elrond’s heart leapt at the mention of her name. “Very soon, Bilbo. I have waited long for this time. She will be glad to welcome two hobbits to her home.”

Bilbo sat down again, shaking his head in wonder. “I will meet your wife, who has not walked these shores in five hundred years.” He sat up straight, his walking stick slipping from his hands and clanging to the bricks below. “Will the kings of old be there? Elu-Thingol? Turgon of Gondolin?”

Elrond laughed again. “I do not know, Bilbo! I look forward to meeting them, too, should they be there.”

Frodo’s brow furrowed in confusion. “The old kings are dead, are they not?”

Bilbo grinned. “My lad, you have not been listening. An elf cannot really be killed, not forever.”

Elrond held up his hand, stopping the hobbit from beginning the re-education of his nephew. Knowing Bilbo, he would cast it into verse and take weeks to retell the stories. “We were speaking of the gift,” he reminded them. He turned back to Frodo. “The jewel is meant to be a token for your passage, a sign that you are an honored elf-friend, should you decide to come. Neither of you must make your decision immediately. I understand that you must return to the Shire, to your home. Bilbo must consider if he wishes to take this last journey.” He rose. “I will leave you now, to think and take counsel with each other. If you have questions, Frodo, I am always here for you.”

Frodo did not respond, but nodded, and Elrond rested his hand upon the hobbit’s shoulder for a moment, imparting calm and strength as he did so, before leaving. He returned to the house and his study, where he found Mithrandir still seated in the sun on the balcony.

“Well?”

“I think Bilbo would leave in the morning, should we allow it,” replied Elrond. “He will come. Frodo’s heart is drawn west, but he does need to return home before his head will acknowledge what his heart already knows.”

Mithrandir nodded, then smiled. “There are many in the West who would do well to have a hobbit in their care.”

Elrond looked up sharply, but Mithrandir laughed. “They shall remain in yours, for you have already learned patience. But there are others who many need temporary custody.”*

Mithrandir laughed again at his own words, but did not explain what was so funny.

* * *

Early Spring, 3020

Elrond left the trail at the point where it began to slope through the canyons west of Imladris and picked his way up the rocks, finding careful hand and foot holds as he scaled the steep wall. He finally reached the flat rock that he knew was the highest pinnacle one could climb to, and stood on the edge.

He had a glorious view of Imladris. He could see the house and gardens, stables and outbuildings, the expanse of lawn where so many celebrations had been held and the rivers and waterfalls that formed the backdrop he so loved. The bridge and steep and winding path that rose to the east were below him, and he could see far west. At one time, he had been able to see the fire burning far off on Amon Sûl.

“The view is still breathtaking,” murmured Elladan.

Elrond smiled at his son, who had climbed up behind him, then reached down to offer Elrohir a hand as he completed the climb.

Together they stood, surveying the realm of their people.

“All of this land, from the Havens to Dale and south to Gondor will be under the Dominion of Men,” said Elrond finally. “The Shire will remain under the protection of Aragorn and his sons, but in time Elves and Dwarves and Hobbits will be as Fairy Tales to Men. Even Orcs and Trolls and Dragons will become as tales that none remember,” said Elrond evenly. “The New Age is nearly upon us.”

Beside him, Elladan shifted. He began to speak, but then stopped. Elrond turned to him and smiled in encouragement to continue.

“What does this mean for Imladris?” asked Elladan.

Elrond gazed off into the west. “It will pass to Men. To Aragorn’s children, my grandchildren. The Elves will leave to Men a legacy of beauty, grace and wisdom, as well as the places we once dwelled. The land will not soon forget that Elves once lived here, and Men will be blessed because of it.”

Elrond felt Elladan’s shoulder press against his, and then Elrohir slipped an arm through his on his other side. He looked from one son to the other. Elladan was strong and straight, unbending against the wind. He would soar with the eagles if he could. Elrohir was more like a willow, able to bend with the breeze. He would not fight against the tide of times, but move with them. Elrohir turned to meet his gaze, and as his son bared his thoughts before him, Elrond saw already the stirrings of the sea deep in his soul.

“Have you spoken to Estel of this?” asked Elrohir.

“No,” replied Elrond. “I thought you two might do that, after we have sailed. Aragorn will wish to know Bilbo and Frodo’s decision.” He paused, then smiled at Elrohir. “Your sister will welcome your presence, then, I think.”

Elladan remained silent, and Elrond turned to him. “What are you thinking, Elladan?”

“I am thinking of what Imladris will be like when Elves no longer dwell here, when you, Adar, no longer dwell here. It will no longer be the Last Homely House east of the sea, but a memory of it.”

Elrond looked out across the valley, his love of this place warring with the weariness in his heart and the call of the sea that was upon him. “I am glad I will not be here to see it,” he admitted. “I have wished to stay, to see Aragorn come into his inheritance and restore the Kingdom of Men. But now I am glad it will come after me.”

Elladan looked at him gravely. “I am glad you have come to this conclusion, Adar. We have been concerned that you would try to stay, when it is obvious to us that you can not.” He smiled gently. “And Naneth is waiting for you, Adar. We cannot wait to see her.”

Elrond returned the smile, gladness rising within him at Elladan’s words. More tempered was his reaction to what he had seen in Elrohir. He hoped the sea would not become an unbearable burden to him. He thought of Thranduil suddenly, for the realm of the Greenwood would last long after the other elven realms were bereft of the Eldar. His son Legolas had had the sea longing awakened in him on the Quest, and a day would come when the sea would part them. For Elrond, the awakening of the sea longing meant his son would be drawn to him.

He turned his thought back to Elladan. “The concerns of Imladris will soon cease to be my responsibility. They will fall to you, and to the relationships you establish with Elessar and the Northern Kingdom. Starting today, I will begin to cede my responsibilities to you two, and focus primarily on the needs of those who sail with me. Erestor and I will assist you, and Glorfindel will be your primary counselor. There is much for you to consider.”

Elrond had kept his eyes mostly on Elladan as he spoke, relying more upon the touch of his mind to Elrohir, whose arm was still wound through his, to gauge his reaction. Elladan’s eyes grew bright, for he enjoyed new challenges. This task would appeal to him, a chance to shape the passing of Elvendom in Middle-earth to Men.

Elrohir’s heart, however, was still focused on Elrond’s earlier words, on returning to Gondor to see Arwen. Elrond was pleased, for he foresaw Elladan in a position of command and leadership, while Elrohir would excel in diplomatic relations. He would do well in working with whomever Aragorn appointed.

A shadow appeared in the sky and Elrond looked up as a great eagle slowly circled above them. He raised a hand in greeting, and heard the eagle cry out in return before continuing north to its eyrie. Manwe’s messengers. Was their mission now accomplished as well? Would they stay to watch the affairs of Men?

The days were still short and the sun was already passing into the west. Elrond looked out once more over the hidden valley where he had spent an age and a half of the sun, committing the view to memory. He did not know if he would make this climb again.

Elladan led the way down while Elrohir came last, and Elrond smiled and allowed this expression of the protectiveness they had shown for him for the last year.

* * *

Late Summer, 3021 TA

Elrond entered his study to find Erestor staring at a pile of paper. His hands were clasped in his lap, and he leaned back in his chair as if he had been giving the parchment long thought. His brow was furrowed in a frown unlike anything Elrond had seen for years.

He pulled a chair up in front of his desk and stared at the pile too. Finally, he reached for the top paper only to have Erestor slap his hand down on top of it, holding it in place.

“Leave it,” growled Erestor.

Elrond smiled. “Is there a reason why you are abusing the parchment with both glares and beatings? What is in this stack anyway?”

“Plans for those who remain behind,” replied Erestor quietly. “My best estimations on what they will need for supplies, what stockpiles will remain here in Imladris and what they should trade for; a brief history of our interactions with the Dúnedain and dwarves, as well as what knowledge we have of Men in Dunland and the south.” He looked up at Elrond finally. “May I admit I worry for them?”

Elrond forced a smile back to his lips. Taking a deep breath, he answered, “Yes, you may. But we are not allowed to speak of our worry to them. I predict they will miss you terribly and manage on their own.” He sighed and a genuine smile came to him. “We are passing the standard, Erestor, giving wings to eagles who proved their ability to fly long ago. We have loosed them to fly from this nest for many centuries. We just are no longer maintaining the eyrie, but turning it over to them. They are well taught and have been left as prepared as we can make them.” Elrond ducked his head and grinned. “And we do not leave them entirely alone. Glorfindel stays with them.”

Erestor snorted. “That does not comfort me. Glorfindel can manage the defense of Imladris, but he has never managed the house, and his version of diplomacy usually means taking two swords to the training field and beating out the differences with them.”

“You must admit it normally works,” drawled Glorfindel.

Elrond glanced to the door, where Glorfindel lounged against the door frame. Glorfindel was not looking at him, though, but at Erestor, who glared back at him. Glorfindel’s gaze was gentle, however, and soon Erestor looked away.

Glorfindel pulled up another chair and sat down next to Elrond. He tugged the stack of papers from under Erestor’s hand and began to page through them.

“You have laid a good foundation for Elladan and Elrohir to work from,” he said after a moment. “They – we – will be fine. They are not elflings, but competent elves. Warriors, yes, but do not discount the long years of training in healing, diplomacy and administration that they have spent at your sides. They have already made plans with the rangers to include Rivendell in their defenses, as well as use the House for their needs.” He paused. “I have heard that Halbarad’s widow may come serve as housekeeper.”

Glorfindel straightened the stack, then placed it on the far edge of the deck, out of easy reach of Erestor or Elrond. “Have we heard decisions from all in Imladris now?” he asked.

Erestor grumbled under his breath and reached across the desk, pulling the stack back to him and removing the fourth document. Glorfindel grinned as he took the parchment and skimmed the contents. “There are so few staying I am surprised you do not have the names memorized. You could have simply recited them instead.”

“The list is for you, Glorfindel. I have no need of it,” groused Erestor.

Glorfindel grinned again, but then grew serious. “Are you prepared?”

Elrond shifted restlessly, and noted Erestor doing the same. His sons and Glorfindel had become used to their irritability. “Yes,” he finally answered.

And they were. Word had come from Mithrandir that Frodo would join them when they reached the Shire. He had sent to Círdan the same list of names that Erestor had on his desk, ensuring room for all, along with some items of historical items that Elrond wished to bring with him on the ship. Eyebrows had been raised at some of the things he had chosen to keep, but they were physical reminders of things he wished to share with Celebrían. All that remained in Imladris were the people and what they would need on the trail west.

His restlessness had grown as the day of departure had drawn near. The Wandering Company of Gildor Inglorien had appeared a week ago, accompanying Galadriel and Celeborn and the many elves of Lothlórien who were sailing. They were rested and ready to continue.

Music drifted up from the gardens.

“Come,” said Glorfindel. He stacked Erestor’s parchments and set them aside, then stood. When Erestor hesitated, Glorfindel walked around the desk and tugged gently on the chair back. Erestor rose and Glorfindel herded them from the room. “A last night of song and remembrance.”

* * *

Elrond mounted his horse, noting the young human boy who was assisting with the horses. He had noted several men and women in Imladris that he had not seen before, acknowledging them graciously but asking no questions. He had left the Great Hall in the early hours of the morning, returning to his chambers. He had spent his marriage night in that room, and his children had been born there. He had nursed Celebrían through the agony of her illness there, and shed many of his own tears on that bed when she had gone. Young Estel had spent his first night in Imladris there, while his mother recovered from the shock of Arathorn’s death. He had said goodbye to those rooms, then walked through the House, then out to the stables and around the grounds and gardens. It was autumn now, and the leaves had begun to take on their fall colors. A fitting time, it seemed to him, to say goodbye.

Now he looked around at all those who would be traveling with him. They waited on his word. He decided to speak it with action, and gently nudged his horse forward. With his sons flanking him, he led his people out of the valley.

He looked back only once, as they crossed the ridge where the House would disappear from his view forever. Smoke wisped from the chimney, dissipating in the west wind. He turned his back and continued.

The journey was uneventful. They saw few people on the road. They passed through the forest near Bree during the night, avoiding the town, and entered the Shire. Bilbo perked up at seeing his old home, and as expected, they found Frodo waiting for them. Elrond and Galadriel greeted him, both immediately sensing his weariness and restlessness. Gandalf had said as much, during one of his rare late night meetings with Frodo in the woods. Tale had come to them of the harm done to the Shire, and they heard more from the hobbits of the troubles that had come upon their land and how the four travelers had helped to settle them.

Círdan met them at the gates to the Havens. The ship was ready, a beautiful white ship, larger than some of those that had sailed in more recent times. Many had sailed in the two years since the War of the Ring ended, but this would carry the last of the Eldar. The Silvans would remain in their forests, and Glorfindel and Elrond’s sons in Imladris, but few others.

Mithrandir was there with Shadowfax, and the hobbits were glad to see him. There were few goodbyes spoken, for few were leaving loved ones behind, and soon most had embarked.

The sun was low in the sky. Elrond turned to his sons, his heart suddenly skipping a beat as he realized the time had come when he must say goodbye. Elladan and Elrohir stood side by side before him, and Elrond wondered how anyone could think they were identical. Their faces and bodies were indeed similar, but the projection of their fëar and their personalities were as dissimilar as any other two siblings might be. He knew he had to memorize them, though he doubted he could learn more in these few minutes than what he had learned in the millennia he had been blessed to have them in his house. Nonetheless, he could not stop the hands that rose to trace a hairline, a jawline, the curve of a lip as it rose in amusement.

Then all four of those arms were around him, and as their strength surrounded him, he knew that he was parent in name only. How was it he had learned this with Arwen first, and not seen it with his sons?

“We are only giving you a head start,” said Elladan tenderly.

“Time for you and Naneth to practice …things … in private until we arrive,” teased Elrohir.

Elrond bowed his head against their shoulders, laughter shaking all three of them at memories of days long past. Even as Elladan held his head comfortingly against him, he turned a stern voice upon his father. “You have grown thin and brittle, Adar. I expect when our smiling faces show up on your doorstep in Valinor you will be healed and whole, with Naneth at your side and your heart lighter than it has ever been in Middle-earth.”

Elrond could not respond. He had felt old since he was a youth himself, fighting in the War of Wrath, and since Vilya’s loss of power he had felt weary beyond hope. Thin and brittle, breakable. Could he become as his sons wished, as he wished?

“Yes, you can and will,” replied Elrohir, and he smiled at his father’s look of surprise. Elrond saw both sadness and love in the eyes that met his. His ability to shield his thoughts had remained diminished, and Elrohir, always so sensitive and perceptive, was reading them as easily as Elrond had read his when he was a child.

As he looked upon them in that moment, he no longer saw the wonderful adults they had become, or even the gangly adolescents who had amused the house with their delight in the world, but infants in his arms. He recalled the pride he had felt leading to their birth, which had become as nothing when he helped each from their mother’s womb.

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

Spring, 130 Third Age

“I have all the grace of a waddling warg,” sighed Celebrían, but the smile on her face was luminous as she waited for Elrond to come to her aid.

Elrond had been unable to remove the smile from his face since the day he had felt each of his sons move inside Celebrían, had connected with each tiny fëa and felt a joy unlike anything he had felt before. They had laughed as her slender form grew round, for if anything, she only looked more perfect to his eyes, like the ripest fruit on the tree, a flower in full bloom, and she shone in her radiance. Extending his hand to her, she grasped it and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“Please do not insult my wife so,” he admonished. “She may have little sense at the moment, attempting to tend roses - which her beauty far overshadows, I might add - when she should be sitting in the shade with me, but I will tolerate no such criticisms of her.”

She leaned forward to kiss him, but her belly prevented her lips from reaching his, which reduced her to helpless laughter. He turned her in his arms, so her back was to him, and reached one arm to support the weight of her pregnancy while the other pulled her hair to one side, exposing her neck and ear to his questing lips. She gave a moan of pleasure, then turned her head to capture his mouth as she had originally intended. “It is not the same,” she complained.

He drew slightly back, one brow rising in amusement, for she had never complained about his lovemaking before. Her brow was furrowed and she was scowling as she tried to get comfortable in his arms. “Celebrían?” he questioned.

She pulled his head down and whispered in his ear. He felt his face grow warm as he considered her words. “I suggest we return to our rooms for that,” he finally answered, as blood rushed other places as well. “I am happy to oblige without question on all points but the last, for which I will insist on examining you first.”

She smiled at him. “That may be just as good. Come!” She turned toward the house and the private entrance to their quarters, and Elrond smiled to watch her go. She was waddling! She turned, attempted to place her hands on now non-existent hips, but had to settle for folding them across her belly instead.

“No warg waddles like that,” he informed her.

“Elrond,” she said in a warning tone.

He lifted his hands in supplication. “Your wish is my command, my lady,” he answered, and he walked quickly to join her.

Her entire pregnancy had been a joy. While Elrond had tended other elves in the birthing process, he had not known what those elves had experienced on a daily basis. Celebrían was vibrant and alive, easily aroused and more demanding of his touch than she had ever been. Her emotions varied, she laughed and cried sometimes over the same thing, but the emotions were nurturing. She would come into his study and march to his desk, and place his hands on her belly to feel the twins wrestling inside her. She would laugh with joy, and then cry with joy, and he no longer tried to determine when she would do which or why, for it followed no pattern and did not really matter.

She had gone out to tend her roses despite his wishes that she stay in the shade, and he had not argued, for he had known she would tire and not last long at the task. Her attention was not easily held by one activity, and she had tended over the last several days to sort baby things and arrange blankets and linens which needed no sorting or arranging from the last time she had done it. He had seen mother rabbits nesting, and knew that Celebrían was doing the same. A year had not gone by since the twins’ begetting, but he suspected they would be born early – he rather hoped so, as he did not know how much larger his wife could grow.

She tugged him to her as they entered their chambers, and he acquiesced, helping her to remove her clothing and let the warm breeze drift over her bare skin. She smelled different than normal, and she was so intense in her desire for his touch that he was surprised it took him so long to determine what was happening. He gave in to her immediate demand, fondling her breasts and kissing her, enjoying the sounds she was making, all the while moving her to their bed. Unable to lay any way except on her side for some weeks, she rolled to that position, content as long as his hands were on her. Husband turned to healer then, for he felt the rising intensity within her, and used his healing touch to soothe her mind even as he stroked her body. Her sighs of relief and delight in climax were followed by a contraction that doused their bed.

She looked at him in shock, trying to sit up and unable to, and he laughed and leaned down and kissed her again. “You will hold them in your arms this day,” he informed her.

“Today?” she cried. “But, it has not been a year! I do not have everything ready. They must wait.”

He rubbed her belly and breasts, and the slight contractions he had felt earlier increased again at the stimulation. They were not enough to be truly painful yet, but told him that she was progressing. “Everything is as ready as it needs to be,” he informed her. “Except for this bed, which will need to be changed. How does a warm bath sound?”

“Will you be there with me?” she asked, smiling, her outburst forgotten.

He could not help but laugh again. “I am yours to command. Let me get you settled and arrange for a clean bed first, however.”

He entered their bathing chamber and turned on the taps, then chose what essential oils he thought would be most beneficial to a mother about to give birth. When he returned for Celebrían, she had drifted nearly into sleep, so he scooped her into his arms and carried her to her bath. Once she was comfortable and relaxed, he again left the room, this time in search of Galadriel.

He found her in the hall outside their chambers, patiently waiting.

“Her water has broken and the contractions are slight but consistent. She is in a warm bath now,” he informed her. “Would you ask that our bed be changed?”

“I will prepare everything. Go back to your wife while I arrange your rooms,” replied Galadriel, a light of excitement in her eyes.

When Elrond and Celebrían emerged from her bath, Celebrían was in full labor and the room was prepared for birth. Their carefree moods had changed, with Celebrían fully concentrating on her labor and Elrond concerned with a child who would not turn into proper birthing position. His eyes met Galadriel’s, and without words his concerns were communicated.

“We will walk for a bit, and when you want to rest, I will help you to the mat,” said Elrond, and so they began the long process of walking and resting. Celebrían withdrew inside herself, focusing entirely upon their sons and her body, and Elrond would touch her mind and bear her pain as he could, and as she allowed. He would remember that time of communion forever, for never had he felt so close to Celebrían and both sons as he did during those moments.

They had just entered their room from the garden when a strong contraction shuddered through her, and she turned to him. “I have an overwhelming desire to push. It is time.”

Elrond helped her to kneel on the mat, and he was surprised when she automatically went to a hands and knees position. “This is different than I told you, my love, for our first son is breech. Stay on your hands and knees, as your body is telling you.”

Galadriel then took over support her daughter, for though it pained Elrond not to be sharing his wife’s burden, his concern for their sons meant he needed to focus on the delivery. Celebrían leaned into her mother’s touch as Elrond examined her. To his amazement, one foot had appeared.

“Push as you feel need and relax in between,” he said to Celebrían, caressing her hips, and then he turned his attention to their child. He massaged Celebrían’s belly, encouraging their sons, promising to aid them, and several pushes later their first son’s bottom had delivered, along with most of the body, the other leg and one arm. Alarm grew within him, for the shoulders and the other arm remained with the head in the birth canal, and he could see the cord straining from the belly.

“Do not push, Celebrían, hold for a moment!”

He turned all of his attention to his sons, calling to him silently by the names he and Celebrían had chosen but not yet announced. Lower your arm, Elladan; it is time to come into the world. Come, Elladan, come and meet us. A sudden vision flashed in his mind, and he saw into the womb, saw Elladan holding tightly to Elrohir’s hand, which was stretched above his head. Elladan, let go of Elrohir’s hand. We will not forget him. He will come right after you. Still the twins held to each other tightly, and Celebrían’s moan as she fought not to push as her body wished passed into Elrond’s mind. He turned his attention to Elrohir. Elrohir, let go of your brother so he might be born. Your mother needs you to help her, not fight against her, he coaxed the infant. Suddenly, Elladan’s arm dropped down and the cord went slack. Elrond encouraged Celebrían in the touch of their minds to push then the infant’s shoulders twisted, and Elrond gently guided the baby forward and out.

Celebrían slumped into her mother’s arms, unable to rest on her own hands anymore, and then looked for her child. Elrond quickly clamped the cord, and handed the infant to Celeborn, who had sat unobtrusively nearby until now. Celeborn sat on the floor next to Galadriel, holding their grandson for Celebrían to kiss and nuzzle.

Celebrían had only a short break, however, and a groan escaped her as another contraction gripped her. Elrond had used those few minutes to console Elrohir, and to convince him to place his arm back where it belonged. The infant had done as requested, and Elrond felt the trusting hold this child’s fëa had upon his own. He also felt his wife’s weariness, and her inability to support herself on her hands anymore.

He stood and lifted Celebrían to her feet, and she clung to him for a moment, unsure of what was happening for she was so withdrawn inside herself that she did not hear what was being said. When Galadriel was in position at the end of a bench, Elrond lowered Celebrían into a squatting position before her, and Galadriel took full support of her daughter’s weight upon her thighs. Celebrían relaxed under their soothing touch, and then the urge to push came. As Elrond felt the push, he called to Elrohir and the child easily slipped from his mother’s body and into his father’s waiting arms. At the same moment, Celebrían let forth a triumphant yell and then rested her head in her mother’s lap, panting as she strove to catch her breath.

“One push? He came with one push?” she said suddenly.

Galadriel laughed and stroked her daughter’s head. “One push. You are done; the hard work is over.”

As soon as she was cleaned and tended, and comfortably settled on cushions, both sons were placed in her lap, on cushions appropriately placed so that both might suckle at her breasts. “So Naneth says the hard work is over,” she murmured, lovingly caressing each dark head. “Why do I think this is not true, my stubborn one?” she crooned to her first born.

As she spoke, Elladan reached out his hand, and when it met empty air, he loosed his hold on his mother’s breast and let forth a cry that Elrond was sure could be heard all over the valley. Elrohir had not yet begun to nurse, still just nuzzling at Celebrían, and at his brother’s cry he began to squirm and reach to where the cry came from. When he could not find what he was seeking, he joined his cry to his twin’s. Celebrían seemed unbothered by the crying, gazing thoughtfully at her sons as she stroked their downy heads. Her touch helped, but did not calm them.

Galadriel and Celeborn both just watched, Galadriel quietly cleaning up the room as she kept one eye on her daughter and grandchildren. Elrond moved cushions to sit beside Celebrían, and she leaned against him gratefully, drawing strength from him as she had done throughout the pregnancy.

“This is how they tried to be born,” he said with a smile. He shifted Elrohir slightly, and the child’s arm dropped beneath her breast, then wrapped as far as that tiny arm could reach around it. Celebrían smiled as realized what he was doing, moving Elladan into the mirror position. Their hands clasped between her breasts, and silence fell on the room. Elrond guided each small mouth to a nipple, and they latched on and began to suckle vigorously, causing Celebrían to jump in surprise. “Painful?” he asked, concerned.

“A little, but not terribly so. It is just a slightly different sensation,” she replied out loud, then breathed into his ear, “You don’t suck nearly this hard.”

Elrond laughed at the twinkle already back in his exhausted wife’s eyes, and whispered back, “My intent was met by different gain,” to which she smiled knowingly, for she had liked the end gain of such play. When the twins were finished nursing, he let Galadriel and Celeborn take them, and put Celebrían to bed. He pushed her into a healing sleep, and sat beside her until she was completely relaxed beside him.

“You must rest now too,” said Galadriel firmly, pointing to a comfortable chair set between the bed and window.

“We will watch . . .” interrupted Celeborn, already heading for the door with a sleeping infant in his arms.

“. . .and hold your sons,” finished Galadriel.

She placed Elladan in his arms, and then took Elrohir from Celeborn and settled him next to his twin. Elrond smiled at her, thanking her wordlessly, and as they left the room he sat in silence, the only sound the light breathing of his beloved Celebrían, and the nearly imperceptible smacking of lips as Elrohir apparently dreamed of his next meal.

As he held them, he could not believe he had been so blessed. He had two sons, two perfect children, and all the time in Arda to get to know them. He caressed Elrohir’s cheek, and watched as the child’s head turned, his mouth opening, seeking the stimulus. He sucked on Elrond’s fingertip for a moment before lapsing back into sleep. Shifting them slightly, he drew back Elladan’s swaddling just slightly, freeing the hand that had just thumped against his chest. The tiny fist moved through the air, and Elrond caught it in his hand, and felt his heart melt when the fingers uncurled to clench at his finger.

“You are my seeker, grabbing on to life, taking what you want and you will pull your brother along with you,” he murmured to Elladan. “You are already like Elros, your spirit is so like to his I feel like I have known you forever.”

He turned to Elrohir, who nestled against his twin. “You will be my curious one, easily contented as long as your thirst to know all you wish to know is sated. You are so like to me that I must remember to let you be you.” He looked over them both, and then to Celebrían, then leaned forward to kiss each small forehead. “You cannot know how blessed you are in Eru’s choice of a mother for you. I still cannot believe she chose me, and now she has given you two to me. Undeserved love, undeserved grace.” His eyes filled with tears, and he felt as if his love was trying to burst forth from him.

“Fatherhood becomes you,” said Celebrían softly from the bed.

He looked up to see her watching him, her eyes heavy with sleep, a smile curving her lips as she looked on them with utter love. She was lying on her side, one hand pillowed against her cheek, and silver hair loose around her. She was beautiful, even when exhausted. Carefully standing, he made his way to the bed, lying down beside her, both infants asleep on his chest. She snuggled closer to him, still too round to get as close as she would like, but close enough to feel him pressed against her, and able to touch her sons.

“I love you, Celebrían, forever,” he reminded her.

“I love you, and you are mine, Elrond Peredhil, forever,” she answered possessively, yawning, then admonished him as she drifted back into sleep, “Take good care of my sons.”

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

“Adar,” said Elrohir, interrupting his thoughts.

Elrond focused his eyes, gazing on his sons who watched him with a mixture of amusement and concern.

“I promised her I would take good care of you,” he said hoarsely.

“And you have, Adar,” said Elrohir, though he had no idea what path of waking dreams his father had been on. He wiped away the tears that ran down Elrond’s face. “We could not ask for more, nor have expected better.”

“It is time, Adar,” said Elladan.

Elrond followed his son’s gaze out of the protected area in which they stood to where the hobbits were saying their goodbyes. Merry and Pippin had raced from the trees, down the slope and to the harbor as if their very lives depended on it. They were saying goodbye to Frodo and Bilbo, and when Gandalf finally motioned for the hobbits to board, Elrond knew he must also.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. “Not goodbye, Adar, only a fare well until we next meet,” said Elladan, his voice as cheerful as he could make it.

With a final look at them, Elrond turned to the waiting ship.

Galadriel had boarded, and Bilbo and Frodo, and only Círdan remained, waiting for him. Celeborn was standing motionless, watching where Galadriel had just disappeared from his sight. Elrond lightly touched his arm. Celeborn turned to him, his eyes reflecting the long years of his life.

“Fare well, my son. Go to my daughter and be well,” he said softly.

Elrond clasped his arm. “We will be waiting for you.”

Elrond sensed no restlessness in his father-in-law, no call of the sea upon him, only grief at the parting from those he loved. Celeborn turned and walked away, joining his grandsons.

He looked for Glorfindel last. His golden hair shone in the setting son where he stood next to Círdan. His friend and protector took his hands and smiled at him.

“Glorfindel,” he began, but then words escaped him. How did he thank this elf who had stood by his side for two ages, who stayed behind with his children?

“Elrond,” replied Glorfindel, smiling. “I promised your father I would serve and protect you. Such has been my honor. I will bring your sons, in time, and I will watch over your daughter. Go and be healed, my friend. Your long labors in Middle-earth are finished and your beloved awaits you.”

Glorfindel embraced him and Elrond held on to this comforting presence that had stood by his side through the best and worst times of his life. Then Glorfindel released him to Círdan.

“It is time,” said Círdan.

Elrond felt the warm weight of that fatherly hand on his back, and he boarded the ship. Círdan followed him, and the gangway was moved away. Elrond watched as the ship slowly moved away from the shore. Suddenly Galadriel was at one side, and Frodo on the other. The faces of Celeborn, Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir, Sam, Pippin and Merry gradually faded into the shadows as the sun set and distance increased.

“This is the end, then,” said Frodo softly.

Elrond laid a hand upon Frodo’s shoulder. “The ending of our time here, but it is also a beginning,” he replied. “There is hope for all of us in elvenhome, Frodo.”

As he spoke the words, Elrond realized the promise of them, of the hope they brought, not a hope based on wishful thinking, but on a joyous and confident expectation of a promise made. Estel, in the language of the elves. A trusting hope in the promises made to them. He turned and looked west, where the sun was sinking slowly into the sea. “Come,” he said gently. “Let us now watch what is before us.”

* * * * *

* Gandalf laughed. 'A most unquenchable hobbit! All Wizards should have a hobbit or two in their care – to teach them the meaning of the word, and to correct them.’ (The Two Towers)

Author’s Notes: Long again, but I know some enjoy these.

There were a few things that I thought were important to cover as Elrond prepares to sail. First is this notation from letters 246 (see below) about conversations that Frodo would have had in Rivendell that helped him to understand the gift that Arwen offered him, plus someone had to tell Bilbo, and it made sense to me that it was Elrond who would have spoken to them. Gandalf likely did too, but I am not writing from his POV.

The second important thing is around the theme of the Dominion of Men. There are two references in HoME XII and one in Letters (there may be others as well) that speak to Aragorn and Arwen and/or their children being the heirs of ‘Elfdom’ – and beyond the symbolic things, HoME XII specifically mentions the Elven Realms. Had Elrond passed the standard, so to speak, to his sons if their fate were that of the elves, would be to ignore the theme of the Dominion of Men and the end of the time of the Eldar. To pass the standard to his sons, if their fate was that of men, complicates the HoME passages that speak to the heirs being through Arwen’s line.

I read an interesting argument that Tolkien’s letter stating that the sons of Elrond ‘delayed their choice and remained for a while’ holds an implication that they chose to be Elves. If they stay, they are men. If they make the choice, it implies change, and that would be to sail. A ‘while’ is some length of time, but not normally ‘forever’, so the implication is that they chose to be elves and sail. Now, one can argue the other side too, but I like this one better, LOL. So, if they choose to be Elves, then it makes no sense for Imladris to be left to them or for them. There may be inadequate inhabitants to defend and care for it, so it will fall into decay unless Men are brought in. That is one model, of course, and other writers may choose other scenarios. But I like the idea of the twins as stewards of Elvendom, stewards to Aragorn and Arwen, helping to orchestrate the passing of the baton from the Eldar to Men.. and how fitting that the half-elven would serve in this final role of bridging the two worlds.

Regarding the birth of the twins in the flashback, some may have noticed that while the ‘current’ story is progressing forward to the end of the Third Age, the flashbacks have been going backwards to the beginning of the Third Age. I’ve already shown Elrond and Celebrían’s marriage, so we are mostly done with flashbacks. The rest of the story will mostly be the wrap up of the end of this time.

I wrote this birth of the twins scene fifteen months ago, and published it on my LJ on Father’s Day 2005! So if some recognize it, you’re not crazy. :D It has more detail than a flashback might need, but I had other intentions for the scene when I first wrote it. If you don’t like medical reasoning/stats, quit reading here.

For the twins to be holding hands in the womb, they had to be monoamniotic – sharing the same sac – which sort of fits with a previous story of mine, where the twinning was a confusing experience for Elrond and Celebrían due to how late it happened (the two fea were still one and then split). Monochorionic-monoamniotic twins are rare and have a higher rate of complications than twins each having their own sacs. Being elven, I figured E2 would be careful not to compress each other’s cords or twist up too much. :D

Statistics on breech births suggest that up to 30-40% of twins have at least one twin born breech. One of the highest success rates for uncomplicated spontaneous vaginal breech deliveries is the hands and knees position, as it is gravity neutral and can take pressure off the cord. Many women take to it naturally, when left to their own devices. It also can ease back labor. Squatting is one of the most common birth positions in the world (except here, where we like to defy gravity for some reason) and can work for both spontaneous breech and head down delivery. Interestingly enough, a surprising number of women feel heightened sexual arousal when pregnant, and orgasm can occur in some birth positions due to pressure on the clitoris… and a few case reports associate orgasm with the breaking of the water and helping to initiate labor. Not stuff a lot of women talk about with their docs, I’m sure, but it was an interesting article and hey, this is fantasy and I thought Celebrían should have a good experience.

Last, my apologies for the long delay. Real life has been a bear. The last chapters are mostly written, so they should go up in a timely manner.

HoME XII:

Aragorn became King of Arnor and Gondor in the name of Elessar. He played a great part in the War of the Ring in which at last Sauron and the power of Mordor was destroyed. He wedded Arwen Undomiel daughter of Elrond and restored the majesty and blood of the Numenoreans. The Third Age ended with the departure of Elrond in 3022 [> 3021]; and the descendants of Elessar through Arwen became also heirs of the elf-realms of the westlands.

'Became King Elessar of Gondor and Arthedain, aided in the overthrow of Sauron with which Third Age ended in 3019. He wedded Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Elrond. His descendants became thus heirs of the Numenorean realms, and of Luthien and the Elf-kingdoms of the West.'

Letters

131: We are to see the overthrow of the last incarnation of Evil, the unmaking of the Ring, the final departure of the Elves, and the return in majesty of the true King, to take over the Dominion of Men, inheriting all that can be transmitted of Elfdom in his high marriage with Arwen daughter of Elrond, as well as the lineal royalty of Numenor.

246: This is a long letter, and one that should be read in its entirety to understand more about Frodo’s accomplishments and fate. I wondered how he came to understand what Arwen offered him in Minas Tirith, and found this comment: Already on the journey back from Rivendell he suddenly saw that was not for him possible. Hence his cry ‘Where shall I find rest?” He knew the answer, and Gandalf did not reply. As for Bilbo, it is probable that Frodo did not at first understand what Arwen meant by ‘he will not again make any long journey save one’. At any rate, he did not associate it with his own case. When Arwen spoke (in TA 3019) he was still young, not yet 51, and Bilbo 78 years older. But at Rivendell he came to understand things more clearly. The conversations he had there are not reported, but enough is revealed in Elrond’s farewell. From the onset of the first sickness (Oct 5, 3019) Frodo must have been thinking about ‘sailing’, though still resisting a final decision – to go with Bilbo, or to go at all. It was no doubt after his grievous illness in March 3020 that his mind was made up.