The Shadow Walker

33. Uncontrollable Variable

Lord Elrond sat on his throne, visible only by the torches lit throughout the room. Curtains had been drawn to cover the massive windows. Elrond's dark eyes glinted in the firelight as they rested on me. At his feet lay my sword belt. In his lap sat my knife.

"You do not enter ignorantly," he said, "yet you could have departed without resistance."

"I won't leave without my knife," I replied, my voice surprisingly strong.

"You will not leave at all," Elrond replied loftily.

"Why not?"

"The future is uncertain," he replied wearily, rubbing his eyelids. "You are a variable we cannot afford."

"A variable?" I snarled. "Is that all I am to you?"

Elrond stood, his face betraying his frustration. "This is not about you, Amariel! This is about all of Middle Earth—everyone."

Tears stung at my eyes, but I blinked them back. I could hardly argue against Elrond's foresight—but did his foresight justify him controlling my future?

"Amariel," Elrond sighed, sinking onto his throne once more. "Not all that I see in your future is evil. I have foreseen happiness, as well. Here, in Rivendell."

My eyes narrowed. "How?"

A shadowy figure emerged from the darkest corner of the room. "Eda."

My stomach dropped as Elladan came into view. His dark eyes were full of longing and sincerity. The last word he'd spoken to me immediately came to mind, and I flinched. "What are you doing here?" I demanded, the hurt audible in my tone.

He moved closer, hesitantly, as though trying not to spook a wild animal. "I am here to beg your forgiveness."

I scoffed, but my heart was throbbing. This was what I wanted. Someone.

"Please, Eda," Elladan pleaded. "Father told me of my mistake. I knew not that the creature Gollum had attacked you. If I had known, I would have—"

Elrond cleared his throat, and Elladan bit his lip. A flush crawled up his neck, barely visible in the low light, but there nonetheless. "My behavior toward you was also inappropriate. My desire is to start over—to court you properly, with the intention of getting married."

My heartbeat stuttered, then began to race. This couldn't be happening. Not to someone like me.

Elladan strode over and took my hands. Then he knelt, so that we were roughly the same height. "Eda," he said, looking deep into my eyes, "will you marry me?"

My lips parted in shock. "I—" How was I supposed to answer? My heart was rejoicing in the metaphorical streets, but my gut told me this was wrong. All wrong. Elladan was, as best I could tell, being sincere. But Elrond had made it clear his primary goal was to keep me in Rivendell.

At the same time...Elrond said he'd foreseen my happiness here in Rivendell. And Lord Elrond wouldn't lie.

Would he?

"Eda," Elladan whispered, his wide eyes looking deep into mine. "Please, say something."

I bit my lip, and finally made my decision. "Elladan, do you remember when I said you would owe me?"

"Yes," he answered, frowning a little.

"I had it all wrong," I whispered, looking up at him through my eyelashes. "I owe you."

He leaned in, his eyes closing. "You don't owe me anything, sweetheart," he breathed.

I placed a finger on his lips, stopping him. "But I do," I answered. I pulled my leg back, and took a deep breath. Then I drove my foot into his groin with all the power I could muster.

Elladan grunted, and his body went rigid. I grabbed his shoulders and shoved him onto the floor. "I would rather marry a Dwarf," I snarled, launching another blow at his stomach.

Lord Elrond's hands took my shoulders and pulled me away from his son. "Enough."

I wasn't finished. "I would insult you," I spat at Elladan. "But Nature did a far better job than I ever could."

"Elladan," Lord Elrond said, "as soon as you're able, please leave us."

Elladan nodded, and slowly, agonizingly, peeled himself off the floor and stood. Then he stiffly exited the room.

"Admit it," I said, smirking, "he deserved that."

"He did," Elrond responded. "But I hardly appreciate you abusing my heir. Nor does this earn you your freedom."

I winced. Darn it. Wait...where was my knife? My gaze wandered to the throne. There it was, sitting on the seat. If I could just grab that...and run...

I wrenched free of Elrond's grip and made a dash for the throne. A hand snagged my wrist, yanking me around the other way. I staggered and fell, striking my cheek on the tile. I blinked a few times, and grimaced. Then I slowly pushed myself to hands and knees.

Elrond walked to the throne and picked up my knife. Then he slowly returned to me. "Please," he said, his eyes full of sorrow. "Do not resist. Stay in Rivendell."

"Can you not see?" I cried. "I do not belong in Rivendell!"

"Where do you belong, Amariel?" His voice was quiet, but challenging.

"With shadow," I replied in a whisper. "And wherever my traitorous heart leads next." Meeting his gaze, I said, "I cannot stay in Rivendell."

"Nor can you leave." Elrond grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back, then forced me onto my stomach, on the floor. Then he took a handful of my hair and pulled my head back, drawing my throat taut. "Forgive me," he said, his voice cracking. Then he placed the blade of my knife on my throat.