Vows
Author: Kathy L
Feeback: Make my day!!! :)
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.
Summary: A conversation in Rivendell the night before the Fellowship departs.
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It was the last night before the company was to depart, and Lord Elrond had seen to it that the Fellowship received the most elaborate of farewells. There had been music earlier in the evening, and the elder Ringbearer had been pressed several times for both accounts of his adventures as well as for his latest verse. The feast was extensive, even by Elfin standards, and afterwards, the large assembly had fragmented into smaller, more intimate gatherings, as goodbyes were said and preparations were made.

I had approached Elladan about delivering a letter to my father, and had soon found myself in a small, but lively gathering of humans and elves. It seemed that the noted absence of one particular Ranger had given his comrades the perfect opportunity to reminisce about some of his more entertaining exploits. I looked around, half expecting to see him in a shadowed corner, smirking at all of us, but he was nowhere in sight.

Someone moved behind me, then, and I was given my summons in a hushed voice.

"My sister would speak with you on the terrace," whispered Elrohir, and then swiftly glided to a seat on the floor to join the others.

I slipped away from the group and made my way out of the hall.

**

Her back was turned to me, as she gazed out over her father's lands by the light of a slowly rising moon. The white gown she wore billowed in the light breeze like a star flaring to life in the night sky. Elbereth incarnate.

To this day, I do not recall what I was about to say at that moment, because when she turned to face me, all thought was gone from my mind. The look of deepest sorrow on her face was expected. The bare skin over her heart was not.

I came towards her then, and ran my fingers lightly over the space that used to occupy the symbol of her birthright, as if to convince my own heart that indeed, she had made the most grievous of pledges. For had she bound herself to one of my kind, the gesture would have been answered in kind, the exchange a symbol of mutual devotion both here and in the eternal realm. But he was of the race of men, and he could not give what he did not have. I was suddenly horrified.

"You cannot do this," I said. Although I meant it differently, in truth, I was correct. The gesture was part of the marriage ceremony, and to my knowledge, no such permissions had been given.

"It is done," she said, with a note of defiance.

"And your father?"

"He is... not pleased.," she said with the slight smile of one who is used to thwarting her father's wishes when it suits her. Her face darkened once more, and she added, "He says it does nothing to change the pact he made with Aragorn."

It was not only the gift itself that sent my mind reeling. It was the affirmation of her commitment to this man, this human, who could offer her nothing but a few brief moments of happiness, bought at the price of her immortality. I knew of their troth on the glades of Cerin Amroth, but felt sure that it was an impulsive move, born more out of belated panic over a near-fatal injury to her beloved rather than from a true desire to forsake her own people. I could stand no more of this lunacy. "Elrond would condone this?" I said, sharply. "Would he let his own child cast off the gift of the Valar so easily? Aragorn is a good man, but his lifetime is but a heartbeat to our kind. Would you pledge yourself to naught but the blink of an eye?"

My angry stare was met with blue pools of despair. "I have no life without him." She was silent for a moment and then, glancing away to the south, she added in a broken voice, "But it may happen that such a choice is no longer mine to make."

As I stood there watching her haunted eyes spill over with tears, I suddenly realized the true magnitude of the quest I to which I had so eagerly pledged my service. There was every possibility that none of the Fellowship would ever return from this task. In the back of my mind, I knew this, but I had thought little of it in a conscious fashion, other than to make preparations and set my affairs in order. Even now, I could not bring myself to consider the implications. I could not bear to think about those who would be left behind.

I gathered her in my arms, then, and comforted her weeping as I had on the eve of a similar departure so very long ago. It was the darkest of evils, I thought, which would drive men away from arms such as these and into the black embrace of misery and death.

She pulled away then, and looked at me with pained eyes. She smiled tenderly, and touched my cheek saying, "And what of you, dear friend? After these long years, do you not think that my heart breaks for you as well?"

I said nothing, merely kissed her on the forehead and embraced her once more. Would that we were back in Lorien, where time moved in its own slow fashion and the urgency of our farewell could be lessened somewhat by the ancient mysteries of the Wood. But we had no such luxury. I glanced back through the open doors of the hall and noticed that the hobbits, and several of the Rangers were beginning to take their leave. Aragorn had rejoined the group and was deep in conversation with Gandalf at a table in the far corner.

I felt her squeeze my hand as she followed the path of my gaze.

"I should return," I said. "There are still details to be looked after before the morning."

"Legolas-" she said, tightening her grip on my arm as I turned to go. Whatever I had hoped to see in her eyes was dimmed by the pained stare directed over my shoulder.

"You have sworn your oath to the Ringbearer. Would you swear one other, to me?"

"On my life," I said. "You have only to ask."

She turned her attention away from the house, and gazed at me with pleading eyes. "Watch over him. He will take no chances with Frodo's life, but he has no regard for his own." She sighed and added, "I have so little hope left. It would bring me at least a small measure of peace."

And with those simple words, the task she set before me pierced my heart more surely than any Morgul blade ever could.

I am charged with the guardianship of the one person in the world who would rob her of the greatest gift that is hers to possess. What does he know of the immortal life? Was he a child fostered in the Wood when she was but a child herself? Did he stand with her, trembling before the stern gaze of her grandmother as they were chided for some errant childhood mischief? Did he spend summer nights under the mallorn trees listening to a wide-eyed girl speak of distant hopes and realized dreams?

It was I that held her as she wept bitter tears, the night Celebrian passed into the West. She was too young to bear the responsibility of mending a family too broken to heal itself on its own. Her brothers were mad with grief and rage, and her father inconsolable. And so, what ought to have been merely a minor diplomatic errand for me became a matter of direst need. She had not the strength to hold both herself and her family together, so I at least saw to the former. I have watched over and cared for this woman for over two millennia. What is half a mortal lifetime compared to that?

She thinks of me as a brother, and grieves at my departure as intensely as if I were Elladan or Elrohir accompanying Frodo into the dark lands. I grieve also, but the feelings in my heart will be guarded more cautiously than the Ringbearer guards the chain around his neck. I will not add to the turmoil of her own feelings by revealing my own, even knowing that this parting may well be the last chance for such confessions. I would do anything for her. Even this.

It is my curse that I cannot shield myself with hatred. For although many years of my life were spent in the company of the woman before me, so too were a fraction of them spent with the Ranger whom she would entrust to my keeping. The Dunedain is a noble man, and I have seen firsthand his regard for his people. Though he himself doubts the integrity of his Numenorean blood, he is a true king. We have been long wandering the wild, working together to rid the far reaches of Sauron's influences. He has saved my life on occasion, and although I will never speak of it to her, I have done the same several times over.

And so, I have no other choice than to commit myself to the protection of Arathorn's son, the last hope of Gondor who would, ironically, destroy the only woman I have ever truly loved.

I look into my beloved eyes and say the two words that tear my heart to pieces.

"I promise."


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