Sparks by Independence1776

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The Time That Is Given Us

Over the years, Elrond and Arwen talk about Elros' choice-- and hers. Rated Teens.

In many ways, this story is a sequel to “Never Look Back.” It is also the sole reason I’d thought about writing an Elrond POV companion story to “Embers” that covered the Second through Seventh Ages. I eventually decided against such a massive undertaking, partly because of the length but also because of a lack of interest in covering events other talented writers have (and much better than what I would do). But there were stories scattered across the timeline that I still wanted to tell. Hence, “Sparks”-- and therefore a place to put this story-- was born.

The title comes from this line in Fellowship of the Ring: “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

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Arwen came into Elrond’s study, holding a book in her arms. Elrond looked up from the ledgers he was puzzling over. “What is it?”

She set the book down on the desk and sat in the leather-and-wood seat in front of it. “I’m reading a history of the founding of Lindon, and one passage jarred loose a question I’ve meant to ask you for a while now. But I kept forgetting, putting it off--”

Elrond smiled. “Out with it.”

“The book says you and Uncle Elros made your choice, but it doesn’t go into detail beyond that.”

Elrond sighed. He’d been waiting for her to ask this for a few years now. “And you want to know the details.”

“If you wouldn’t mind telling me.”

“I was rather upset, to put it mildly. I’d thought we at least would be together even though we’d lost everything else.”

“I know that much. But how were you offered the choice?”

Elrond leaned back in his chair, and studied his daughter. She was growing into a lovely young lady, headstrong just like the rest of her family, and beautiful enough that he’d overheard one young man her age saying to his friends that she looked like the portrait of Lúthien that hung in the main corridor. Yes, she was old enough to hear the ugly details.

“It was shortly after Father and Uncle took the Silmarils. The Valar had decreed that the survivors of Beleriand could travel to and live on Tol Eressëa if we so wished. That announcement caused much debate, among both the Exiles and the Moriquendi. Neither Elros nor I participated-- we knew we would not sail. Elros was especially reluctant, saying that it didn’t feel right.

“It was only a day later that we were called before the Valar. Not all of them were there, having better things to do. But Manwë and Mandos were, befitting their roles as king and doomsman.

“Manwë said, ‘You have heard the choice offered to the Eldar. Now you must make a choice of your own. Your parents, due to having both mortal and immortal blood, were offered either immortality or mortality. That decision is now passed down to you. Do not make the decision in haste, but go and contemplate which would be the best road for you.’

“Elros took three days to make his choice. We spent that time together, but rarely talking. We had agreed to not speak our decision to each other until we were both decided, and to not pester the other if one of us came to that choice faster.”

“How long did it take you?” Arwen asked.

“One day. I could see Elros struggling over it, as well as he could see that I wasn’t. But we were there for each other, and I kept our agreement. I went first, as the elder brother. My choice did not surprise him.

“His surprised me.

“I reacted rather badly. It was the cause of much conflict between us until a chance meeting with Father helped me through the anger. Our relationship was rocky for a while afterward, especially as Elros spent more and more time among the Edain. But we never stopped talking and listening to each other after we reconciled. We knew that harsh words would never be forgotten.”

“How did you discover that we would have a choice?”

“When Elros and I reported ours to the Valar-- the day after we had told each other-- Námo said, ‘Your children will have the same choice, Elrond.’ I do not know if he meant it as a warning, a kindness, or just pronouncing something he’d been told to. Nor do I care, Arwen. The end result is the same-- the choice is yours.”

Arwen nodded. “You made it when you were a young man. Is a similar age when we have to decide?”

Elrond shook his head. “Your brothers have not, and they are far older than I was. No, I believe you will not have to make that choice until Sauron is fully and finally defeated. Middle-earth will change then, and it seems to be in times of great upheaval that such decisions must be made.” He smiled. “Don’t worry about it now, Arwen. I think that time will not come for millennia.”

She nodded, looking unconvinced. “Thank you. I know it hurts talking--”

“But you have the right to know.”

She grabbed her book and slid out of the chair. She waved it in front of him. “Is there anything else this skims over?”

“We’ll discuss it when you finish reading.”

She grinned and skipped out of the study.

* * * * *

Elrond looked over at Celebrían when she entered his study. He smiled at her and went back to watching Arwen talking to Elendur’s messenger in the courtyard. Celebrían joined him at the window and slipped an arm around Elrond’s waist. “What are you contemplating?

“Worrying about the future.”

From the exasperated expression on Celebrían's face, Elrond knew what would come out of her mouth next. They’d discussed this on and off since before their betrothal. But now it was no longer hypothetical. “Elrond, I cannot imagine her choosing a mortal life for anything less than love, whether of Arda or someone catching her attention.” Celebrían smiled and gestured out the window. “From what I see, Arwen is doing what you do-- corresponding with Elendur’s house because of the connection with Elros and a desire to know his descendants. It’s why Elladan and Elrohir occasionally ride with their patrols, yet I don’t hear you fretting about their choices.”

Elrond sighed and kissed the top of his wife’s head. “While neither of them have said anything, I think I know what theirs will be. Arwen… my heart tells me she may choose differently, and I fear losing her.”

Celebrían leaned into him. “You have feared that ever since Mandos informed you that they would have the choice. I cannot tell you I do not fear that any of our children will choose a mortal life, because it is not the truth, but I can choose not to dwell on it.” She looked up at a him, a stern expression on her face. “You cannot help but think of Elros and how his choice affected your relationship, and how you wish you had reacted differently. But we cannot change the past, and you know how not to react in the future if-- and I do stress the if-- that choice is made. But you are dwelling too much in the past and almost everyone thinks the way you do, that the time for choices is far in the future.” Celebrían put her hand on the side of his face and pulled him into a slow, lingering kiss. She stepped back when they drew apart. “Go talk to her. Assuage your fears as much as possible. And remember you are not the only one who faces grief if she forsakes immortality.”

Elrond nodded and followed Celebrían out of his study.

* * * * *

Arwen entered Elrond’s chamber, closing the door with a thump behind her, and joined him where he was leaning against the doorway to the balcony. It was a warm early autumn night, and the crickets were almost drowned out by the sound of rushing water.

“Father…”

“Is this what you truly want to do?”

He saw, out of the corner of his eye, her swallow hard. But she answered with a firm voice. “I love Aragorn, Father. I know this is not the choice you imagined me making, not after so long, but it feels right in my heart. This isn’t just about love, though some may think I am addled by it. That gives me no credit, and assumes I have no mind of my own.

“I am under no illusion that my life will be an easy one, especially when I live among Men. I will not stay here, and have you watch me fade.” She stared into the night, at the swirling waters shining in the moonlight. “Nor will I be content with being the wife of a simple Ranger, eking out an existence in the wilds. We both know Aragorn’s lineage, and that he may be content protecting those who need it here. It is a worthy pursuit, but he is destined for greater things.”

“Destined?”

Arwen glanced at him. “You know a time is coming when Sauron will strive to rule Middle-earth, even without the Ring. Gondor and Arnor will need a king.”

Elrond nodded. “Then that will be the condition on which my blessing your marriage falls.” He smiled crookedly. “I would not accept anything less, either.”

Arwen laughed and finally turned to face him. “You have taught me so much, Father, and learning my choice has distressed you. But now I must know the details I never asked about. How did Elros adapt? How did people accept him?”

Elrond took her hand and led her to the wooden bench Celebrían had carved several hundred years ago. “He had an easier time of it than you will, I suspect. Coming of all the major lineages of Men and being the son of those who successfully begged the help of the Valar meant rather a lot. It helped that all of the traditional lands were destroyed and they were traveling to Númenor to start anew.”

A wry smile appeared on her face. “And that he was pronounced their leader by the Valar, whom they had seen demolish said lands?”

Elrond chuckled. “That makes immediate rebellion less likely, yes.” He sobered. “But that didn’t mean there wasn’t trouble. He had to distance himself from Father, and partly from me, due to my continuing-- and rather outspoken-- beliefs. There were those who thought a young man who had little battle experience shouldn’t rule, that a proven leader should. In the end, he was renowned as a good and just king. As for adjusting to mortality… He didn’t find it much of a problem at first. He said to me once that it felt right. But he was young then, at the prime of his life. In his later years, when his body began to tire, he found it a bit more difficult to bear.

“But he understood death then. He said it would be a chance to rest, a reward for a life well lived. It isn’t easy, building a realm. But he never once blamed me, or hated me for not aging. He had embraced his path long ago. And he chose the time and place of his death, surrounded by his loved ones, while still whole in mind and body. He left gladly.

“I fear I still do not understand.”

Arwen kissed his cheek. “I do, I think.” She looked down at her hands and then out across the valley. “When I see Elros, I’ll tell him you still miss and love him.”

Elrond inhaled. “Arwen--”

She smiled at him. “I look forward to meeting him.” She sighed and brought the subject back to its original topic. “But Gondor will not be as welcoming. They are an established people, and proud.”

“They have forgotten much.”

“But they also have their own politics. Aragorn will be expected to marry, and many would prefer it be from one of their noble houses. And yet, I come from one nobler, a closer relation to Elros than any there could claim. I can and will use that to my advantage, as well as my ties to Arnor. I will not let them think I am some pampered Elven princess who needs to be waited on.”

Elrond raised his eyebrow. If Aragorn became king, if Sauron was defeated, she and Aragorn would take the Citadel by storm, him by proving himself, her by her quiet stubbornness. Woe betide those who underestimated his daughter.

Arwen chuckled. “I promise I won’t destroy Minas Tirith. But I will not be an ornament. I know my mind and my desires.”

Quietly, Elrond said, “I know.”

Arwen leaned against him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She said, “I love you, Father, and everyone in our family. Imladris, and my friends, and…” Her voice trailed off and she paused for an instant. But then she said, “My choice isn’t just about loving Aragorn. I could love him and still choose to be counted as an Elf. But I have lived a long time, and I know my heart. This is my world, here and now and a little beyond. This is my choice.” She looked up and met his eyes. “I know it grieves you, that it will grieve you to tell Mother. But I can make no other decision.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. I had hoped, yes, but I could not decide for you, Arwen. That would deny everything I raised you to be: a wonderful, strong, brilliant, beautiful, brave woman.” Elrond kissed her forehead. “A queen.”

* * * * *

The quay was full of people, many of them wearing colorful, boldly patterned clothing and waving banners and streamers. It was a joyous day for many, but not for his family. He glanced over his shoulder to find Olórin talking with Bilbo and Frodo. He caught Elrond’s eyes and nodded slightly. Relieved he didn’t need to worry about the hobbits, Elrond turned his attention back to the crowd.

“There,” Galadriel said, pointing. She waved excitedly, leaning over the railing.

For both of them, it had been too long since they had seen Celebrían. For her father, it would be even longer. And Arwen… He still hadn’t decided how he was going to tell his wife.

After the gangway was lowered and the rush of people died down, he escorted his mother-in-law to the stone quay. Celebrían ran into their arms. It was too short of a time later when she untangled herself, looking around them for the other members of her family. “Where’s Father? And our children?”

Galadriel smiled. “Father will be coming shortly. He wasn’t quite ready to leave.”

Celebrían nodded, a fond smile on her face. “Him and those trees.” She turned to look at Elrond.

He gulped. “Elladan and Elrohir will come when their foster brother Aragorn is fully established in his role as the King of Gondor and Arnor. Arwen… Arwen married Aragorn. She made Elros’ choice.”

Celebrían closed her eyes and leaned against him. Elrond wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight while they cried.