In The Light of the Valar (LOTR) (ELROND

16: The Road to Khazad-dûm

The soft amber light of the morning filtered through the leaves as Lúthien, still known as Liv to Elrond, stood in the courtyard of the royal palace. The autumn air carried a chill, but she hardly noticed it. Her heart was beating faster than usual, an unfamiliar tightness in her chest. She had always craved adventure, but now something else stirred within her, something she had not anticipated.

Elrond was leaving.

She had sensed something was on his mind when they last met at the festivities. There had been an unspoken tension between them, a tension that neither could acknowledge yet both felt. The way he had looked at her during the dance, the way his hand lingered on hers—it had been electric. Yet, underneath the warmth of their connection, there was a weight she could not ignore. He had responsibilities, as did she, and now those responsibilities were pulling them in opposite directions.

Lúthien heard footsteps behind her and turned, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Elrond walking towards her. His expression was serious, but his eyes softened as they met hers. She could see the conflict in him—the duty pulling him one way, the desire pulling him another.

"Liv," he called, his voice quiet but filled with emotion as he reached her. He took her hands in his as if to anchor them both to this moment.

"Elrond," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. She squeezed his hands, sensing the urgency in his touch. "What's wrong?"

He exhaled deeply, as if bracing himself for the words he was about to speak. "I have come to say goodbye."

Lúthien blinked, her heart sinking. "Goodbye? Where are you going?"

"I must leave for Khazad-dûm," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "To meet with the Dwarves. And then, I am to go to Eregion. Lord Celebrimbor needs my assistance for something... significant. I don't know how long I will be gone. Weeks, perhaps months. Perhaps longer."

The news hit her harder than she had expected. Her chest tightened, and her pulse quickened. She had known Elrond would be busy with his duties—he was, after all, the High King's herald and a steward of Lindon. But this felt different. He wasn't just going on a brief errand; he was leaving for an uncertain amount of time. The thought of being separated from him for that long was unbearable.

"When will you leave?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Soon," he replied, his expression softening. "I wanted to tell you in person before I left. I didn't want you to wonder where I'd gone."

Lúthien swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. She had never been one to cling to anyone, least of all someone who had no idea who she truly was. But Elrond had become more to her than just an acquaintance or a fleeting romantic interest. He had become someone she deeply cared about, even if she hadn't fully realized it until this moment.

"I don't want you to go," she said quietly, surprising even herself with the vulnerability in her voice.

Elrond's eyes darkened with emotion. "I don't want to leave you," he confessed, his voice low and rough. "But I have a duty to fulfill. You understand that, don't you?"

Lúthien nodded, though it didn't make the ache in her chest any less painful. She understood duty more than anyone. She had spent her whole life living under the weight of it—being the daughter of the High King, the princess who was expected to follow a certain path. But this time, her heart rebelled against the constraints of duty. She didn't want to be separated from Elrond, not when something so special was growing between them.

He took a step closer to her, his hands sliding from hers to gently cup her face. "Liv, I don't know when I'll see you again," he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that nearly unraveled her. "But I will think of you. Every day."