A Breath of Fate

A/N: The reason for the lack of update. I live in Florida and just recently we were bombarded by two huge hurricanes within weeks of each other. I am lucky to still have my house and I just recently got power back. Anyways, I hope the updates will be quicker and that Hurricane Ivan does not go northeast for Florida.

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Arwen made her way through the ancient halls of her home on silent feet. Her nimble fingers sifted through the loose strands of her waist length hair, her eyes roving to and fro. Ingrel was to have met her hours ago, but the Vanyarin was nowhere to be found. Arwen had her suspicions, but found them hard to be true.

Laughter floated on a breeze coming from the library. Now, Arwen was not one to spy or eavesdrop, but the scene that was before her caused her to pause. Her brother sat in a chair, a book in hand, reading aloud in an outrageous voice. In his lap sat Ingrel, her face red from laughter.

The only daughter or Elrond could not believe her eyes. There was no way in Mandos that that was her stern, overbearing brother. She rubbed her eyes, but he remained. Arwen knew it was not Elrohir, for the slight differences in the shape of the face and tone of voice.

Watching her brother, Arwen noticed how relaxed he appeared; a carefree expression she had not seen in years adorned his features. Deciding her conversation with Ingrel could wait, Arwen headed instead for the kitchens. It was about lunchtime and she found herself hungry for a sweet cake.


“Elladan, I find it difficult to believe that Gil-galad sounded exactly like that,” Ingrel protested, giggling again as she thought of his less then noble imitation.

“I tell you truly, as Glorfindel himself related. That is exactly how Gil-galad sounded!”

Ingrel sighed, a smile on her lips. “That says it all, Elladan. Glorfindel is a mischief making fiend, I will stake my life on it!”

“Oh really,” Elladan replied, “Then I suppose you can say I learned from the best!” With that, Elladan dropped the book in his hand and began to tickle Ingrel’s sides unmercifully, ignoring her gasps and pleas to halt.

“Not until you beg for mercy and proclaim me the greatest of all Elven Lords!”

Choking on her laughter, Ingrel gasped out, “My lord, I beg you for mercy and name you greatest of Elven Lords, just please stop tickling me!”

Elladan chuckled and ceased his torture, pressing a gentle kiss to Ingrel’s temple. “Since you begged so prettily…”

Smiling, Ingrel kissed his nose. “I know I have you wrapped around my finger, my Lord.”

“Is it so obvious then,” Elladan sighed, mock disappointment on his face. Giggling, Ingrel replied, “Only to me, Elladan.”

“Then that is as it should be,” he said, standing and setting her gently on her feet. “As much as I wish to while away the afternoon with you, my father requested a meeting. Shall I see you at dinner?”

“Of course,” Ingrel murmured, her eyes following his departure from the room. With a sigh, she collapsed back into the chair, her heart fluttering. The last couple of months had been a blur of happiness and joy. Elladan had opened up to her like never before, and Ingrel found herselinkiinking of him from the moment she awoke until the moment she slept. Even in dreams, she returned to their conversations and comfortable silences.

Of late, her prophetic dream had quieted. This only served to prove more and more that Elladan was the ellon in her dreams. Picking up the book Elladan dropped, Ingrel lazily turned the pages, but her mind was not on the elegant Elven script. Instead, her thoughts continued to stray towards Elladan and all of the charming qualities he kept so well hidden.

Since the night in the stables, Elladan had not looked at another elleth. And when there were dances, he danced with no one else but Ingrel. She knew that among the elleths of Imladris, she was not popular. Although Elladan was somber and somewhat brusque, he was still the eldest son of Elrond.

His status and his public mannere nre not what attracted Ingrel. It was the essence he kept veiled, the personality hidden inside that intrigued her, and pulled her to him. She wanted to know his inner thoughts and feelings, and she was gaining ground each and every day. Yet there was a part he withheld, a piece of himself he refused to share. Rather then feeling hurt, Ingrel felt challenged. She would learn all there was to know about Elladan and she would save him, hopefully finding happiness for herself in the process.

Ingrel wondered what her father would think of Elladan. His lineage would mean very little to a King who did not know half of Elladan’s ancestors. Most were Eldar of Middle Earth and had never seen the Lands of the West. He would respect Elladan’s prowess in battle, once having been a warrior himself.

Her mother would adore Elladan. Eldatári loved her sons and would pull Elladan into her fold, mothering him and showering him with affection. Her brothers would take him on the hunt so he could prove his mettle and decide if he was worthy of the only dter ter of Ingwë.

Shaking her head, Ingrel mentally scolded herself as she put away the book. Elladan had never once mentioned marriage and she did not think that he would. For now, he was interested in her; she was different from the elleths of this world. In the years to come, who could say if his interest would remain strong or wan with the changing of the seasons?

To be truthful, Ingrel did not think her heart would survive Elladan’s disinterest. She had dug herself in deep this time, and there was no light at the end of this tunnel. All that she could do now was love him to the best of her ability and accept whatever he decided to do.

Meandering her way to her rooms, Ingrel was surprised to see Arwen there, nibbling a cake and sipping sweetened water. “Arwen, what are you doing here? Not that you aren’t welcomed of course.”

“Actually, I was waiting for you,” she replied. “We were supposed to discuss the upcoming festival.”

Mentally slapping herself, Ingrel shot Arwen a contrite look. “I am dreadfully sorry, Arwen, I completely forgot. These days I just do not know what has happened to my mind. I have never been this scatterbrained.”

“I forgive you, Ingrel, but only if you let me where your sapphires to the festival.”

Ingrel laughed, knowing Arwen’s fascination with the jewels her cousin had crafted. “Of course, they are in mywer wer on the dresser.”

Arwen opened the drawer and rummaged around for the case of jewelry. She set the velvet case on the dresser when a glint caught her eye. Reaching in, Arwen pulled out a crystal bottle, filled with a glimmering substance.

“Ingrel, what is this?”

The elleth in question looked up and her eyes widened. “Why, I had completely forgotten about that.”

She stood and came towards Arwen, gently taking the bottle from her hands. “It was a gift from Yavanna be I e I departed. I do not exactly what is in it, but according to Yavanna it has the power to heal all wounds. I never thought that I would need it so I tucked it away for safekeeping.”

“A priceless gift to be sure,” Arwen murmured, gently returning the bottle to its original place. Ingrel shrugged. “I thought Yavanna was just trying to be mysterious. Sometimes I think she’s jealous that Mandos and Vairë know all.”

Arwen glanced sharply at Ingrel, slightly askance that the Vanyarin was speaking so casually of the Valar. “You will see someday, Arwen,” Ingrel promised. “The Valar will squabble like children at times. It is really quite entertaining.”

“I will just take your word for it,” Arwen replied.

Ingrel sighed, taking a seat again. “You will love Valinor, Arwen. It is so beautiful and peaceful. You will find it very different from here. In this place the beauty is wild and untamed. In Valinor, the wonders have been carefully cultivated, but I think that makes them all the more beautiful. They were created for our pleasure.”

“I must say, I am eager to see this land beyond the sea. I will see my mother again.”

Reaching over, Ingrel clasped her friend’s hand in comfort. “I will see my mother again, too.”

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The festival was a success, but Ingrel found herself escaping the gaiety for the quiet of the gazebo. She was not surprised to find Elladan there, waiting. He looked down into her face when she joined them, and his eyes were sad.

“What is wrong?” Ingrel asked, grasping his hands.

“For the first time in my life, I do not wish to join the hunt. My father said there have been sightings of Orc. The human villages will be in danger soon if we do not patrol.”

Ingrel felt a sinking in her chest and realized it was her heart. “I do not want you to go,” she whispered, clutching him in worry.

“I do not want to either, but I must. I owe it to those who rely on my protection.”

Nodd Ing Ingrel hugged him tighter, trying to capture his very soul. “For how long will you be gone?”

“For as long as it takes,” Elladan said gently. “I will return, Ingrel. Nothing will keep me away.”

Looking up, into his eyes, Ingrel accepted his gentle kiss, imprinting the feel of his lips into her memory. Pressing one last kiss to her brow, Elladan pulled away and departed for his rooms to pack. Ingrel took a seat on the bench in the gazebo, her thoughts far away and sad.