No Road Home

Part the Ninth (R to NC-17)

Later that evening, Elrond knocked on the door of Windwalker's room. "Unole," he called softly, "have you retired yet?"

"No, Elrond," came the answer, and moments later, she opened the door to him, wrapped in the lovely rose silk embroidered Elven garment she had been gifted, long, shining dark hair spilling loose about her shoulders. The sight of her in the Elven-robe nearly took his breath away. She saw his look and blushed. "I...I was just trying it on. It's pretty."

"Yes, it is."

"What did you want?"

"I thought perhaps you might like to walk with me in the starlight."

Wind's eyes widened. "I...Elrond, my eyes are good for a human, but...I can't see like you can."

"Valinor's stars are bright, Unole. And I would be a churl were I to let you come to harm." He stepped through the room to the door leading onto the terrace, then turned and held out his hand with a smile. "Come. The evening is beautiful."

Shyly, Windwalker took his hand and let him draw her into the night.


True to his word, Elrond led her safely through the darkness, away from the house, until her eyes adapted. Little by little, Wind was able to see around her: the silver bark of the trees, the golden rustling canopy overhead, the deep blue-black of the sky, the stars sparkling within it...and Elrond's face, smiling and content. He held her hand lightly but firmly in his own, aware that she was now able to see but maintaining the contact nevertheless. "Is it not beautiful, Unole?" he murmured softly, his voice like a breath of wind in the trees.

"It is the most beautiful place I have ever known, Elrond," she said, equally softly. "It's...magical...by starlight."

"The Eldar love starlight."

"I understand why."

"Do you?"

"Mm-hm. It's as if..." Wind's voice tapered away as she strove to put it into words. "As if, somehow, everything has been transformed. You can see beyond the physical...into the spirit of things."

Elrond stared at her, delighted and amazed at once. "You do understand." He paused, thinking. "It has been many an age since I knew any human who...either understood, or expressed that understanding, so directly and completely."

"Thank you," came the timid reply.

"I believe that would be, 'wado'?" Elrond ventured.

"That's right." Windwalker's laughter was like the sound of bells on a summer breeze, warm and melodic.

"So I should answer, 'Gvlieliga.'" The Elf-lord grinned. (you're welcome)

"You pick up on Tsalagi a lot faster than I do Sindarin."

"Give it time, Unole. Sindarin is a complex language."

"I don't have time, Elrond." Her voice had grown very quiet.

Elrond stopped, as pain flooded through him, momentarily blinding him. He pulled Wind close, holding her tenderly. "Unole, do you trust me?"

Windwalker stared blankly at the question, and at the intensity of his reaction. "Of course. I've always trusted you, even when you hated my guts. You're...that kind of person."

This time, a soft grunt of pain escaped Elrond. He tilted her face back, to gaze into it. "I never hated you."

"I know. I shouldn't've said that. Seemed like it at times, though."

"I --"

"Shhh," she put her finger to his lips, silencing him. "I already know what you're going to say. I know that I'm a reminder of everyone you've lost. You don't have to worry. You won't have a reminder much longer."

"AaaaAAAAH!" Elrond exclaimed in frustration. "I am asking you to fight, Unole! I...am trying to buy you the time you need."

"How?"

"Trust me." He released her, taking her hand again and drawing her forward.

Ahead, a small structure in a clearing became visible through the trees. As Elrond led them into the clearing, the building resolved itself in Wind's sight to a small gazebo-like house, remote yet open, private yet airy. 'A perfect little Elven-house,' Windwalker smiled to herself, delighted. 'I could live here happily.'

"Yes, you could," Elrond answered, smiling.

"Wha -- you...you..." Wind stammered, shocked.

"I did not mean to eavesdrop on your thoughts, Unole," Elrond said softly, apologetically. "But that one was so strong, I could not miss it."

He led her up into the little gazebo. Open on all seven sides, the openings framed in graceful, sweeping gingerbread latticework, it seemed somehow to collect and amplify the starlight, without ever diminishing the darkness, so that Windwalker could see perfectly and yet feel the magic of the night enveloping her. Elrond stood quietly, watching, as she looked around in wonder and delight. Then he stepped up behind her.

Windwalker felt long, slim hands grip her shoulders in a gentle but strong hold. "This is a very private place," he whispered into her ear. "Few have ever seen it. It has not been visited in many a long year. I wanted to show it to you." Firm lips nuzzled her rounded ear -- so unlike his own -- then moved to her neck. "Do you like it?"

"I...I do..."

"Do you like this?" He pushed aside the silks covering her shoulder to place a tender kiss there.

"Vv." (yes)

"Osda," Elrond murmured mischievously against her shoulder. "Good. Will you stay here with me tonight?" (good)

"You...you want me?" Unole was suddenly having trouble breathing. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

"Yes." His lips continued along her shoulder, toward her arm. The silken robe slipped further down.

"No...nobody has ever...wanted me..." Pleasure seemed to be left in the wake of his lips, and it spread throughout her body.

"You are wanted now, dear one." Elrond turned Wind to face a corner of the gazebo; a bed, clothed in satins and brocades, awaited there. "Come." And with that, he pushed her robes aside, and they slithered to the floor. Windwalker's blushing body stood revealed to his gaze, in all its human glory. She did have curves, he noticed, despite the wasting effect of her disease, and he relished the fact, anticipating caressing them. He marveled as her pale skin took on a pearlescent sheen in the starlight. Then he picked her up and carried her to the bed, placing her on it. "There." He unfastened his own robes, letting them fall away, revealing a long, lithe, strong warrior's body, already aroused, and shimmering in the starlight as if his skin were possessed of tiny stars of its own.

Windwalker's eyes went wide, then she covered her face with her hands, turning away from him with a moan and curling into a tight ball. Elrond stared, shocked; he had not anticipated this reaction.

"You...you do not find my form...pleasing?" he whispered, something inside him threatening to break.

"Elrond, you are the most beautiful man I have ever seen." Wind's voice was muffled behind her hands. "I don't know how you can stand to look at me, let alone want me."

"Why?"

"I'm...I'm so dumpy, and clumsy, and awkward, and...and ugly, beside you. You're tall, and elegant, and graceful, and...beautiful..."

"I am no angel, Unole."

"I know. But it doesn't help, knowing."

"Sshh," he whispered, easing into bed beside her, wondering how to overcome her terrible sense of inferiority, borne of a lifetime of neglect and mistreatment. "You are neither 'dumpy,' nor awkward." He gently turned her toward him. "And never ugly. You are beautiful in your own right, Unole. You are of my household now, and you will remain so."

"At least until I --"

"There will be no more spoken of that tonight." Elrond pulled her close and kissed her hungrily, feeling her body melting like beeswax in the flame of his ardor. She was in his arms, against him, and he recalled to mind all of the techniques he knew for intensifying and prolonging love, determined to prove to this woman that there was indeed pleasure and happiness in the world for her. She would benefit from his long ages of experience this night. Sensual Elven hands caressed human skin, wonderfully pearlescent skin, leaving star-spangles in their wake. 'Moon and stars,' the thought floated across his mind, 'we are moon and stars.'

After a time, it occurred to him that, although she was shyly returning his kisses, she was not caressing him. "Beloved," he whispered against her mouth, "do you enjoy my touch?"

"Oh, yes..."

"Then...why do you not touch in return?"

He saw her blush deeply, even in the darkness. "I...Elrond, I...have no idea what to do."

"You have never...?"

"No." She hid her face in his chest.

"How did you live on the streets without..." He gazed down at the top of her head in puzzlement.

Windwalker sighed, and he felt the warmth of her breath on his skin. "I did almost get raped a few times. But...I have some special medicine, and I managed to protect myself."

"What is this special medicine?"

"Umm...it's a spirit thing. Maybe...something like what Gandalf does? Only not nearly so strong as his, I think. See this?" For the first time, he noticed the delicate necklace she lifted from her breast. It was composed of semiprecious stones, bone, antler, and glass beads, intricately worked together.

"It is lovely," he said softly, admiring it.

"Put your hand close."

Elrond spread his palm over the necklace, being careful not to touch it. The tips of his sensitive healer's fingers tingled with an almost electric sensation. "Ah," he exclaimed, "there is power there."

"Yes. That's medicine."

"So...no man has ever had you." Elrond's gaze was ardent as he understood the treasure which lay in his arms.

"No." The blush returned.

"You would give yourself to me?" he asked tenderly, hopefully.

"You care enough to have me." Her head bowed. "It isn't as if anyone else will mind. Or have a chance, for that matter." Instinctively she put out her hand, letting her fingertips slide lightly down his cheek, caressing the smooth, sculpted cheekbone. "I've never been able to imagine letting anyone touch me like this before. But, when you do it, I don't want you to ever stop."

Elrond gathered her close at that. "Here," he murmured, taking her hand and placing it on the side of his hip, "just as you touched my face...explore me. Do not be afraid."

"I...oh, Elrond, I'll just look foolish. I don't know what I'm doing."

"Ssh," he hushed her again. "If I am enjoying it, how can you look foolish?" He lightly moved her hand, sliding it down his thigh, then bringing it back up to his waist. He gave her an encouraging glance, and she repeated the movement on her own, her touch even lighter, indeed feather-light, and he sighed, pleased. He bent his head to hers, and she slipped her arms around him, letting her hands explore the muscles of his back before slipping down shyly to take note of his hips and buttocks. Dimly, through the kiss, Elrond wondered if her hands left moonbeams in their wake.


Elrond tenderly introduced Windwalker to the delights of lovemaking, being careful to assume nothing. When it came time to take her maidenhood, he whispered, "It will hurt, a small hurt, for a brief moment. I will make it as quick as I can. After that, there will be pleasure. You will feel the excitement build, and then it will release in intense ecstasy." When he saw her nod her understanding, he kissed her softly, then delivered a single swift thrust. He felt the momentary resistance, then the tearing of her maidenhead as she gave a sharp cry. He gathered her to him, and held her as she recovered from the pain, cradling her, whispering comfort.

In a few moments, she raised her eyes to him. "That is over," he told her. "There will never again be pain in my arms." In demonstration, he made a slight move of his hips, watching as her eyes widened at the delicious sensation.

"Do it again," she whispered, and he laughed.

"I will do it many times tonight," he told her, commencing the fulness of lovemaking with her.

Windwalker felt as if she were finally living up to her name. In Elrond's arms she was flying, floating on a cloud, up among the stars, as he delivered stroke after powerful stroke into her body. She had never known it was possible to be so close to anyone, to feel so loved, so at one with another being. She would do anything for this man, this Eldar, if only he would make her feel like this always. 'But,' she thought with anguish, 'this will be the only time...'

Suddenly she felt her loins ignite, a surge of heat that spread from Elrond's member deep inside her, rising up and outward through her body, making all other thought impossible. She screamed her joy aloud, clutching at him instinctively, desperately trying to pull him deeper inside.

In response, Elrond deftly flexed his hips, giving her what she wanted, as he slid deeper between her thighs, burying his flesh-sword in her sheath to the hilt. Another scream of joy was his reward, and as her climax increased in intensity, he was powerfully reminded of her virginity, her tight body gripping him as in a velvet-lined steel vise.

Elrond gasped with the sensation. Suddenly the long years fell away, and it was as if he were a young hot-blooded Elf again, all the passion of his being rising up in a response to Windwalker's desire that would not be denied. He drove into her unstoppably, yet with something still in the back of his mind preventing him from being too rough with his inexperienced beloved. He heard her shrieks of passion and reveled in them, taking her to the realm of multiple ecstasies.

He felt it coming before it arrived. The long agony of expectation, the suspension of time right on the verge, and finally, finally, the explosion of ecstatic joy, as his body completed the joining. In the throes of his passion, he cried out in Sindarin. "Gwaepadir, Im melthithon cin ni teleth-en-Enrynd!"

The Elven-lord collapsed in his lover's arms, full of wonder at the beauty of her. "Nach o nin," he murmured, again in Sindarin. (lit. you are of me)

"Am I?" she asked softly.

He laughed, realizing that she had understood him. "Yes, you are. You are mine."

"Osda. Good." Her voice was very low. "It makes me happy, belonging to you. You said something else..."

"What did I say?"

Carefully, she repeated the phrase she had heard him cry in his passion. He closed his eyes, shaken, knowing that his heart had spoken.

He opened his eyes and gazed deep into hers. "It means, 'I will love you to the end of the Ages,'" he said quietly.

"Oh, Elrond. This is what love feels like?" she said faintly. Her arms around him lay loosely.

"Yes." He wondered at her subdued replies.

"Here," she said, slowly removing her medicine necklace. She reached up to place it over his head, and he helped guide her hands. "I always knew that someday, I would give it to another. Someone deserving. Someone special. You're the someone."

"I...am honored." Elrond was deeply touched. He gazed at the necklace, then carefully settled it over his heart, feeling the warmth of her body still in it.

"I love, and am loved," she breathed then. "Do not grieve, Elrond. You've shown me what happiness is." She blinked slowly. "I can...go, now...I am...loved..."

Elrond paled, horrified, finally understanding what was happening: She was slipping away from him, letting go her fragile hold on existence. "Baw," he whispered urgently. "No, not now. Meleth nin, fight. Please." (no, don't; my love)

Her eyes slid closed. Her breath became labored. He sat up, reaching out with his mind. 'Mithrandir,' he called desperately, 'hurry! Where are you?? The bonding has occurred. But...she is dying in my arms...'

'I am coming, my friend,' came the reply. 'I am quite near. I will bring the others. I have news, important news.'

By the time Mithrandir arrived only moments later with Galadriel, Celeborn, and Cirdan, Elrond had managed to wrap Windwalker in a sheet to cover her nakedness, and had thrown on his over-robe, tying it hastily around his nude form. They found him sitting on the bedside, cradling Windwalker close in his arms.

"She still lives," Elrond lifted agonized eyes to the Council members. "But not for much longer, unless..."

A weak hand fluttered up to his face, brushing his cheek like a butterfly's wings. "I told you...do not...grieve..."

Gandalf bent over the pair. "He must grieve, milady," the wizard said softly. "He has lost most of his family long hence. I greatly fear for him, if he loses you as well. Indeed, all Valinor would grieve at the loss of one of regal blood, once lost, now found at last."

"Wh-what?" Windwalker murmured, confused.

"Explain, Mithrandir," Galadriel commanded softly.

"Gladly, Lady Galadriel. Immediately I met her, I sensed something...unusual...about Unole here, and set about to find out the truth. Why, if she were 'merely' human, would she even be able to see one of the grey ships, let alone board it? Those vessels are set round about with powerful spells of protection, as I myself know, since I cast them; since the ending of the Third Age, no human should be able to get close without special dispensation. Unole, by her own admission, was instead drawn to it, seeing it from afar. Why would she be able to set foot on Valinor, uninvited, indeed, wholly unsuspected? No, this could be no ordinary human. And she is not," Gandalf proclaimed. "I tell you, Unole Aisvi, the Windwalker, is Dunadan. The blood of the Eldar runs in her veins. It is greatly diluted, but it is there."

"How can this be?" Elrond whispered.

"I have, with great effort, traced her lineage, far, far back," Gandalf explained. "It took much wizardry, and much research. And she is directly descended, on her mother's side, from the very brother of Isildur, Anarion himself. And on her father's side...I was able to ascertain that one of Cirdan's captains, Galdor, upon a time found love with an inhabitant of Middle Earth, when they discovered North America in their explorations." He chuckled. "The human scientists think they were Vikings, the fools. But the line of Chiefs is true, and descends directly from his offspring...down to Unole."

"So she is Eldar on both sides," Celeborn mused.

"She is," Gandalf replied. "The kinship is far distant, but direct."

"This explains much," Elrond murmured thoughtfully.

"And moreover, I believe she is now bound to Elrond," Gandalf added, and Elrond nodded a silent affirmation. "I put it to you that she deserves the Choice."

"It is...too late," Galadriel said gently, watching Windwalker. "Her life fades."

A soft sound of grief came from Elrond.

"Who...is that?" Windwalker breathed, weakly waving a hand in Gandalf's direction.

"Who is what, melmenya?" Elrond asked tenderly of his dying beloved. (beloved, loved one)

"There." She waved again at Gandalf.

"That is Mithrandir, my love," Elrond whispered, agonized that she did not recognize the wizard.

"No...beside him."

Elrond looked up at the others, puzzled. "There is...no one beside him. Galadriel and Celeborn stand at your head, and Cirdan stands by me. But no one stands beside Mithrandir."

"No...he's there. He...shines...starlight and moonlight and sunshine..."

The members of the Council stared at one another in shock. "It cannot be," Cirdan murmured.

"It is," Gandalf replied, kneeling. "He Himself has come. And Mandos with him."

"Very Eru Himself would take her from me?" Elrond whispered, holding Windwalker close as the others knelt as well. It was then that he saw Namo appear for a brief moment in his true form, gazing wordlessly at them, pity in his eyes.

"No..." Wind breathed, struggling for air. "They say...choose..."

Suddenly the entire Council could hear a Voice.

The White Pilgrim is correct, child. You are human, and you are Elf. Yours is the Choice. To be Edain, or to be Eldar.

"But..." Windwalker gasped weakly.

I created both Men and Elves. You are My Child regardless of your Choice in this matter. You have always followed Me. That will not change. I will be with you, and you with Me, always. You were ever Loved.

Windwalker nodded against Elrond's chest. "Then...I cho-ose." She tried to look around at the Council members, but was too weak to hold up her head. "I ch-choose...E-Elron...d..."

All present heard the breath leave her breast. Windwalker's form slumped in Elrond's arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder.