(T/N : Double Update Today)
On the Rivendell's training ground, the air thrummed with the clash of steel as Luke and Elrohir engaged in a fierce duel. From the sidelines, Elladan and Arwen watched intently.
Luke, clad in an elegant, waist-cinched Elven battle robe custom-tailored for him by Arwen, wielded the divine spear Aeglos with astonishing reflexes and agility. He moved with a speed that defied mortal limits, expertly dodging and parrying Elrohir's relentless attacks. Though still slightly outmatched in their intense exchange, Luke now held his ground, trading blows without being swiftly overwhelmed. Elrohir, his own movements a testament to the effortless grace and beauty inherent to his Elven kind, wielded a gleaming Elven blade. His expression was relaxed, yet filled with open admiration for his opponent.
Through countless hours of training with both Elrohir and Elladan, Luke had unconsciously absorbed the Elven style of combat. Indeed, were it not for his rounded ears, one might easily mistake him for one of their own. His remarkable physical prowess, a gift from the Ent-draught given by the Tree-herders, now matched that of the Elves. This was the secret to his rapid advancement in martial skills, allowing him to contend with Elrohir, a warrior with millennia of combat experience. Arwen and Elladan, observing from the sidelines, exchanged approving glances.
"Luke's skill has improved remarkably," Elladan remarked, admiration clear in his voice. "Given more time, he could undoubtedly become a formidable warrior."
Arwen's tender gaze followed Luke's every move as she gently shook her head. "He needn't become a warrior. Magic is his greatest weapon."
Elladan chuckled, nodding in agreement. "True. Compared to his novice-level swordsmanship, magic is where he truly excels, after all, he is the renowned Black Wizard of Middle-Earth. If he were allowed to use magic, it would be Elrohir and I on the defensive!"
The duel soon drew to its expected conclusion: Luke, once again, lost.
Elrohir gracefully sheathed his Elven blade and, with a warm smile, returned the seized Aeglos to Luke. "Your martial prowess has reached a commendable level. You could now best many Elven warriors, you've proven yourself well. Further improvement will require true battle, not mere sparring."
Accepting the spear, Luke nodded, catching his breath. "I understand. And thank you, both you and Elladan, for your tireless training these past years. I've learned so much." He knew that despite their playful claims of "teaching him a lesson," the twins had selflessly imparted their combat wisdom, pushing him relentlessly to grow beyond being a mere "squishy spellcaster." Of course, there might have been a hint of lingering resentment over him "stealing" their beloved sister, but that was hardly consequential.
Elrohir's eyes softened at Luke's sincere words, his lingering good-natured grudge fading slightly.
As the two descended from the training ground, Arwen approached Luke, gently dabbing his sweat with a soft handkerchief before offering him a cup. "You must be tired. Here."
Luke bent slightly, his gaze tender as he allowed her to minister to him. He took the cup and drained it in one go, instantly feeling refreshed, his fatigue melting away.
Seeing his pleased expression, Arwen smiled. "It's dew gathered from the leaves of the White Tree, sweetened with honey. If you like it, I'll make more for you in the future."
Luke's eyes sparkled as he nodded eagerly. "Yes, please!"
Nearby, the two brothers, now thoroughly ignored, radiated palpable jealousy, their previously soothed resentment flaring anew. Damn that golden-haired upstart, seducing our sister!
Elladan quickly interjected, breaking the spell. "Luke, Arwen mentioned you recently forged an extraordinary sword, one of exceptional craftsmanship. Won't you show us?" Elrohir nodded in eager agreement.
Exchanging a resigned glance with Arwen, Luke relented. His brothers-in-law always knew how to ruin a perfectly good moment. Arwen offered him an amused, consoling look before stepping back, wisely choosing not to provoke her brothers further.
At their insistence, Luke raised his hand and called out, "Glamdring!"
In an instant, a resplendent silver longsword materialized in his grip. The ruby embedded in its hilt pulsed with fiery light, noticeably raising the surrounding temperature.
Staring at the blade, Elrohir and Elladan were awestruck. "I can feel its scorching heat from here! Touching it barehanded would surely burn skin," Elrohir marveled, leaning back slightly as if repelled by the heat.
Luke grinned and offered the hilt to him. "Here, try holding it."
Elrohir flinched at first, the sword's radiant heat should have been unbearable. Yet the moment his fingers closed around the grip, he felt only a comforting warmth, not searing pain.
Amused by Luke's teasing, Arwen explained, "Glamdring burns fiercely, but it will not harm those whom Luke permits to wield it. There's no need for concern."
The twins exhaled in relief, marveling at the weapon's apparent sentience.
Just then, Lord Elrond arrived, accompanied by his steward, Lindir. "Father," Arwen and the twins greeted.
"Lord Elrond, Lindir, what brings you here?" Luke asked, surprised.
Elrond's gaze immediately settled on Glamdring in Elrohir's hand. "I sensed an unusual heat from afar and came to investigate," he said warmly. "Is this the reforged Glamdring? May I examine it?"
"Of course," Luke agreed readily.
Elrohir passed the blade to Elrond, who studied it intently before praising, "An entirely novel forging technique, it pushes the very limits of metallurgy. The blade possesses self-repairing properties, unparalleled sharpness, and even the ability to absorb beneficial elements to strengthen itself. This is a craft beyond even Elven or Dwarven smiths. Once again, Luke, you've astounded me."
Luke blinked in surprise. Elrond's discernment truly lived up to his reputation as one of Middle-earth's wisest; he'd deduced the sword's most intricate properties in mere moments.
Then, Vilya, the Ring of Air, materialized on Elrond's finger, its sapphire gleaming like captured starlight. Channeling its power into Glamdring , he infused the blade with enhanced energy.
"Lord Elrond, what are you-?" Luke began, startled.
The sword's glow intensified, its aura visibly magnified. Elrond returned it with a gentle smile. "Try it now."
Swinging the blade, Luke found it moved swifter than before, as if air resistance had vanished, replaced by an ethereal propulsion. His strikes left shimmering afterimages in their wake.
Testing its newfound power, he slashed toward a distant boulder. A crescent of fiery energy shot forth, splitting the rock cleanly in two, the severed edges glowing molten.
"Wah?!" Luke's eyes lit up. Had he accidentally unlocked powers straight out of a wuxia novel?
The others gasped at the display, astounded. Luke was overjoyed, Glamdring now boasted potent ranged attacks alongside its formidable melee prowess!
"I don't know how to thank you, Lord Elrond," he said earnestly.
Elrond shook his head gently. "Focus on returning safely from your journey. Do not let Arwen worry."
Meeting Arwen's gaze, Luke's expression softened. "I will. I'll come back unharmed."
Knowing Luke's departure was imminent, Elrond and the twins tactfully withdrew, leaving the couple to their final moments together.
Strolling through the winding paths of the valley, Arwen, ever the embodiment of Elven restraint, did not cling or beg to accompany him. Instead, she said gently, "While you're away, I'll reside in Hogwarts, tending to your allies and subjects. Focus only on your safety, return to me whole."
Unclasping the Evenstar pendant from her neck, she pressed it into his palm. "Let it guard you in my stead. No matter where you are, my heart stays with you."
Gazing at the starry gem, then at her steadfast love, Luke's throat tightened. Inhaling deeply, he pulled her into a fierce embrace, burying his face in her hair. "You're my greatest blessing."
Arwen, though startled, smiled against his shoulder, her arms encircling him as she traced comforting circles along his back.
In the days that followed, Luke remained by Arwen's side until their return to Weathertop. There, she lovingly gathered morning dew from the White Tree for enchanted draughts and harvested mallorn fruit for lembas, carefully preparing provisions for his journey.
When the time came, Arwen stayed behind as Luke mounted the Great Eagle Sulond, soaring westward toward the Grey Havens.
His first destination lay north, the ruins of Fornost in the North Downs. Though his primary quest was to gather materials for the Philosopher's Stone, he also intended to "check in" at key locations along the way. Thus, instead of taking the direct route via Floo to Bilbo's home, he charted a deliberate detour, beginning his pilgrimage at the northern edges of Eriador.