The Shadow Walker

34. Releasing Fate

"My lord!" I cried, helpless in his grip. "Please, hear my words."

A hesitation. Then, "Speak."

"I do not believe you are evil," I said, unable to hide the quiver in my voice. "Nor do I think you have ill intentions. And you are very powerful, with your gift of foresight."

The blade pressed against my throat. "Flattery will not spare your life," Elrond growled.

My words tumbled out in a rush. "But only Illùvatar has the right to control Fate. Foresight does not give you the right to choose my path. Nor does it justify your attempt to deliver judgment. My lord—you overstep your authority."

Elrond hesitated. The hammering of my heart was audible. Practically echoing in the silence. Finally, he removed the knife from my throat and released me. Gently took me by the arms and pulled me to my feet. Then he turned me around to face him. His expression was lined with sadness—but also relief.

"You speak with wisdom far beyond your years, Amariel. And while I act on behalf of all...I stand corrected." He held my knife out to me, hilt-first. "You are free to leave." He met my gaze, looking as though he wanted to say something else, but he apparently opted not to.

I took my knife without a word, then strode over to the throne, where my swords were still waiting for me. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Elrond wasn't bluffing, but he made no move to stop me. I quickly hid my knife in my sleeve, then strapped my sword belt on. With one final glance at Lord Elrond, I moved to leave the room.

"Eda," Lord Elrond said quietly, almost meekly, as I reached the door.

I stopped, and reluctantly looked back. "Yes?"

Elrond's eyes were full of regret. "As a father would love a daughter, so love I you. Should you ever choose to return...you will be welcome. And you have my word—never again will I attempt to restrain you so."

I was torn. I wanted run to him, wrap my arms around him, tell him that I loved him as well. But my pride was stronger. He'd almost killed me. I lifted my chin, gritting my teeth and forcing back the tears trying to weasel out.

"Goodbye."

The single word came out colder than I meant for it to. Colder than I wanted. But I wouldn't take it back now. So instead, I turned away and left the throne room. Then I flew down the stairs as fast as my feet would carry me.

Rivendell was a dark place that night. Shadow concealed me the entire way to the front gate, yet I found the darkness oppressive. A few tears slipped out before I could stop them; already, I was ashamed of my behavior following Lord Elrond's course correction. He may have been in the wrong, and he may have tried to kill me—but he didn't mean it against me, and he didn't deserve the treatment I had given him.

Thank Eru, there were no guards at the front gate, and I made it out of the city unnoticed. Right away I was met with a fork in the path. The road to the left would take me east, toward Mirkwood, Dale, and Erebor. The road to the right curved south, toward Moria, Isengard, and eventually the kingdom of Gondor.

I looked left. I could go home, if you could call what awaited me a home. I could be mature and accept my wretched inheritance.

I looked right. I would doubtless find adventure in this direction. Old enemies, waiting to jump out and haunt me. New enemies to be made. That sounded like a lot more fun than what awaited me in the northwest corner of Middle Earth.

I went right. My feet immediately felt the unevenness of the dirt in the road, and I paused to examine. Footprints of all sizes and shapes littered the ground—I distinctly picked out three, no, four sets of prints belonging to Hobbits, one Dwarvish set, one Elvish, two Men, and what could have only been Gandalf's footprints—intermittently marked by the butt of his staff.

I paused and bit my lip. Where would nine of Middle Earth's most diverse agree to go together? And why?

Adventures, beware. Because here I come.

End of Part One