Kurt was stunned when he left the hall of Lord Elrond, unable to speak, unable to breathe, unsure of how he was expected to go on. He felt his entire body begin to dissolve on the inside, while just a shell of him remained. He allowed Blaine to lead him along while his brain fought to come to terms with his grief – but there were no words for it. There was nothing in his mind that knew how to deal with this sort of pain.

So, his mind tried denial.

No. Finn couldn't be dead. He just hadn't come home yet. If Kurt waited long enough, if he was patient, Finn would bound up to the stone gates and grab Kurt around the stomach the way he always did, spinning him around and threatening to toss him like a boomerang.

Kurt didn't want to live in a world without Finn in it, so this could not stand.

The denial wasn't strong enough, however, to overturn the truth.

Lord Elrond didn't tell Kurt how his brother died and Kurt didn't care. The how wasn't important. Knowing wouldn't make handling his death any easier. Regardless of what happened to Finn, he was gone, and there was no bringing him back.

Kurt didn't return to his father's house after receiving word of his brother's untimely death, opting instead to go with Blaine to the rooms that had been arranged for the Dwarves to occupy upon their arrival. He knew his father and stepmother wouldn't be at home, as Lord Elrond said they were still making arrangements for Finn's body to be sent to the Undying Lands, but his father's presence wasn't what kept him from his home.

Kurt simply couldn't bear going there.

He couldn't bear to see the room that he and Finn had shared, to see all of his clothes and all of his belongings lying around the way he had left them. He couldn't bear to see their little make-shift archery range, and all the places they had played.

He couldn't bear to see the ring Finn had been carving for the Elf he had so wished to marry.

There were too many ghosts waiting for Kurt at home.

No, he couldn't go back there.

He wasn't sure if he would be able to return home ever again.

The Dwarves of Blaine's clan were already in their rooms, talking and laughing, making excited plans for their upcoming journey back to the Blue Mountains. Blaine left Kurt to rest in his room while he went to talk to his kin, but Kurt could not sit still and wait. Instead, he went down to the waterfall to bathe. He let the cold, violent water beat away the dirt from his skin, the exhaustion from his muscles, and the ache from his heart. He wept beneath the water where no one could see. He wept for himself and for his stepmother. He wept for Blaine and for Cooper. He wept because, even if before arriving home he felt unsure about his feelings for Blaine, right now, without his big brother to talk to, he felt utterly lost.

Blaine bathed with his brother and his clan at a different end of the river, knowing that Kurt needed to be alone. The visiting Dwarves from the Blue Mountains had brought with them garments in the hopes of their friends' return, and Blaine retreated to where those garments were kept to dry and dress. When he returned to his room, he found Kurt standing on the balcony, looking over the water, the walkways, and the lines of trees, watching the visiting dignitaries arrive, watching the lanterns all around being lit in preparation for the feast. He wore a tunic and pants of shimmering ice blue – a shade that complimented his own clear blue eyes - and a gold chain around his neck with a glittering golden charm hanging from it. It swirled in the creation of a foreign symbol that Blaine did not recognize, wrapping around a small jewel that glowed from within.

Blaine had never seen Kurt dressed so regally.

It suited him.

Blaine sighed.

This was where Kurt belonged - in a grand home with fine clothes and jewels.

As a Blue Mountain Dwarf, could he give Kurt that?

Could a Rivendell Elf be happy living in a Mountain?

Would it be fair of Blaine to ask?

“You are staring, Master Dwarf,” Kurt said without turning his head, a smile curling the corner of his mouth.

“I apologize, Master Elf,” Blaine said, “but it is not often that I get the chance to see a view…so glorious.”

Kurt ducked his head and blushed high on his pale cheeks.

“Is it the moonlit sky that you refer to?” he asked. “Or the lanterns lighting the water? Or maybe the splendor that is Rivendell, The Jewel of the River?”

“All of those things are glorious, Kurt,” Blaine said, walking over to where the Elf stood, “but none of them are quite so glorious as you.”

Kurt's cheeks became darker, his smile wider.

“Are all Dwarves as charming as you?” Kurt asked.

“Maybe Puck,” Blaine replied, shrugging his left shoulder as his right shoulder still stung when he moved it.

“Oh, I don't believe that,” Kurt chuckled.

“He can be quite charming when he wants to be,” Blaine divulged.

“Be that as it may, your flowery words are still wasted on me,” Kurt said sadly, staring down at the railing of pearlescent stone beneath his hands.

“I never thought so,” Blaine admitted, putting a hand over Kurt's. “I still don't.”

Blaine reached out his right hand, shaky as it was, and lifted the charm from Kurt's chest.

“What is this?” Blaine asked, turning the charm over in his hand, seeing how the gem caught the light and reflected a multitude of colors.

“It is a medal,” Kurt said, “Lord Elrond left it for me with this fine suit. The symbol means protector.”

“And the jewel?” Blaine asked, marveling at its beauty.

“It contains the light of Eärendil, our most beloved star,” Kurt said. “It is said to shine brightly in the presence of an indomitable spirit.”

“Eärendil?” Blaine repeated, mesmerized by the brilliant gem.

“Yes,” Kurt said, “the father of Lord Elrond, so receiving this…it is a great honor.”

Blaine nodded, resting the charm and its gem carefully back against Kurt's chest.

“Kurt…” Blaine had left something unsaid that he shouldn't have and he regretted it. He couldn't help it. At the time, the pain was still too new. “I'm sorry about your brother.”

Kurt's smile faded; Blaine regretted that more.

“Thank you,” Kurt replied. “He was very dear to me.”

“Will we see your father at the feast?” Blaine asked. “He must be proud of you.”

Kurt didn't want to be bitter with Blaine, especially considering that this might be the last night they had together.

“I don't know,” he said, keeping his voice even and empty, bereft of feeling.

Kurt turned to the Dwarf and laid eyes upon him for the first time that night. He was cleaned of the dirt of their journey and dressed in a fine tunic of emerald green cloth, with a tooled leather belt hanging around his waist over a pair of brown leather pants. Kurt smiled at the sight of his handsome Dwarf dressed like the heir he was – like a Dwarf Prince.

“You clean up rather well,” Kurt commented, raising a palm to Blaine's face and caressing his cheek. Blaine turned his head to place a small kiss in Kurt's hand. “Why did you lie to me before, by the way?” Kurt asked. “I am not fond of lies.”

Blaine looked up at Kurt with a furrowed brow.

“When did I lie?” Blaine asked.

“When you told me you were not a Prince of your people,” Kurt said. “You are a Dwarf Lord's son. You are the heir to the Missing Mountain.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, looking up at the Elf through dark lashes, “none of that makes me a Prince.”

“Well…” Kurt leaned low and looked into Blaine's eyes, “you look like a Prince to me.”

Kurt kissed Blaine gently, stealing a moment to strengthen his nerve with a kiss from Blaine's lips before he was paraded before all of Rivendell.

“Hey, guys!” Sam's voice called in through the door before the Dwarf burst in. “We're ready to head down if ooooh!”

Blaine chuckled and Kurt sighed against his mouth, not willing to break the kiss to express his annoyance.

“I hate him,” Kurt slipped, and Blaine laughed long and loud.

“That's such a shame,” Blaine whispered, pecking another kiss to Kurt's lips before stepping away, “because he adores you. They all do. Especially Dave.”

“That's great,” Kurt said dryly.

“Come,” Blaine said, tugging on Kurt's arm. “Lead me to the Great Hall, Master Elf.”

Kurt threaded his fingers through Blaine's and led him to the door, where he could hear Sam whispering loudly (in a way that was not really whispering) about catching Kurt and Blaine kiss. They all muttered among themselves, throwing questions back and forth.

“Do you think he'll come with us?”

“Do you think Blaine's going to stay?”

“Would an Elf even agree to live in a Mountain?”

“Do you think they're going to have any pipe weed at the feast?”

The last question was Puck's, completely unconcerned with the romantic dalliances of Blaine and his Elf.

“I dare say not, Master Dwarf,” Kurt said as he exited the room with Blaine in tow, “but who knows. There is many a face walking through the gates of Rivendell that I do not recognize. Maybe someone will have some.”

The Dwarves' eyes went wide when they beheld the Elf leading their friend from the room.

“Do all Elves look like Angels?” Dave whispered to Mike.

“From what we've seen so far, probably,” Mike said, pushing at Dave's shoulder to get him to move along. “But I would recommend keeping your eyes to yourself,” Mike suggested, “especially where Kurt's concerned.”

***

The Great Hall of Rivendell was filled with Elves and Dwarves and Men – even a Wizard or two - all talking in groups of their own kind when Kurt and the Dwarves of the Andurinin Clan entered. Kurt heard strange snippets of conversations, mention of Orcs and the battles of the Rohirrim, and some more about the nameless, faceless Evil that Lord Elrond had feared. Kurt yet had the opportunity to tell them all what he and Blaine had seen on their journey, but there would be time for that. Tonight was a celebration, and Kurt hoped that this feast might help him keep his mind off of his troubles – at least for a while.

The room silenced immediately at their appearance and Kurt began having second thoughts, not accustomed to being the center of attention.

Out of all in attendance, it was Lord Elrond who approached the party, standing anxiously in the doorway, arms outstretched in greeting. He smiled at one and all, but focused in on Kurt and embraced him.

“Cormamin lindua ele lle, Kurt,” he said.

Kurt was taken aback by the greeting.

“My heart sings to see thee.”

It was something he would have expected from his own father if he was willing to offer Kurt any form of affection.

Kurt looked to him in question, but Lord Elrond's eyes drifted to a point over Kurt's shoulder, past the Dwarves to the doorway where they had just come. When they returned to the young Elf's face, they were sympathetic and weary.

“Remember always, dearest Kurt, that you are a proud son of Rivendell. Your name will hold a place of honor here in these hallowed halls.”

This struck Kurt as even more bizarre than his greeting, but to be an honored son of Rivendell was a high accolade, and Kurt would be an abysmal ass to take it for granted.

“Thank you, my Lord,” Kurt said. He bent to bow low, but Lord Elrond stopped him.

“There is no need for you to bow to anyone tonight, Kurt,” the kind King said. He raised a hand to Kurt's cheek, and with a sad smile he turned and walked away. Kurt looked down at Blaine, who looked back at him with awe.

Then Kurt turned to address the Dwarves, to invite them to join the multitude of their friends and enjoy the celebration.

That's when Kurt saw him.

Standing in the doorway, waiting – not to enter, not to join the celebration, just waiting.

Kurt's father, dressed in a plain brown tunic and cloak, his eyes red from crying, but his expression blank, as if all emotion in him had gone and he had none left to offer his son.

Seeing his father brought Kurt's own pain back. It flooded through him. It filled him from the center of his broken heart and spread out to every limb, every muscle, every pore. There was no kindness in his father's eyes, but Kurt felt the need to go to him and try to comfort him. He broke away from Blaine and the party of Dwarves, and went to him. It took ten short steps to get to him, and all the while Kurt hoped he would open his arms to him and embrace him, the way Lord Elrond did. Then they could put the past behind them and start anew, bound together by this great pain of his brother's death.

It would be something they had in common. They could share it like a bitter drink, comforted by the fact that each mourned the same.

Maybe if they couldn't be father and son, at least they could be friends.

But his father didn't open his arms to him. He stood in the threshold as if he were made of stone. His face remained expressionless, but his eyes were accusing, following Kurt's every step until he stopped in front of him.

“I did it, father,” Kurt said, trying not to sound too proud. “I completed the quest set out for me.”

Kurt's father stared at him, his eyes not moving from his face.

Kurt swallowed hard.

“A-and I realized that you were right,” Kurt stuttered, his confidence slipping beneath his father's glare. “My place is here...in Rivendell. No more adventures for me.”

His father's eyes finally moved, raking down Kurt's body – at the clothes he wore, stopping on the jewel around his neck. His father's face crumbled when he beheld it, the way it glowed with the blessed light within.

“You are here,” his father said slowly, his voice laced with animus, “and your brother is dead.”

Kurt fought the urge to take a step back, but he couldn't stop his hands from shaking. He clasped them together in front of him to still them, but the quaking in his arms was just too strong.

“I'm-I'm sorry,” Kurt said. “I didn't mean…”

“You are here,” the elder Elf repeated, “and your brother is dead!”

The music stopped, and the crowd in the room ended their conversations to stare at a father berating his son.

Kurt didn't care about their attentions now. He gasped, bringing a trembling hand to his lips when he finally understood his father's meaning.

“You…you wish that it had been me, don't you?” Kurt whispered. “You wish that I had died in his place.”

His father didn't have the decency to look guilty or ashamed, his eyes hard and cold as the silver starlight streaming in through the window.

“Yes,” he said - a whisper but a clear one. “That is my wish. To have my brave, beloved son here by my side while my wretched by-blow died in the wild.”

Kurt heard another gasp, but not his own. It came from behind him, where one Dwarf stayed to insure that Kurt would be alright.

Kurt's blue eyes burned with embarrassment, with hate, with agony.

In one day he had lost a brother, and now he was about to lose his father.

Kurt approached his father until they were nose to nose, and his father flinched at the thought of his son touching him.

“Well, since you have been denied the son that pleased you, and you are so eager to be rid of the one you despise, then I will not bother you any longer,” Kurt said with as much malice as he could conjure. “You may consider me dead as well. A victim of the Spiders, perhaps, or of the Orcs. Tell our kin whatever story suits you best.”

Kurt didn't bother waiting to see if his father would have a change of heart. He turned and left the room. All in the room remained quiet when Kurt left, unsure what to do now that one of the guests of honor had walked out of the feast. In a time, Kurt's father left as well, taking a different path than his son and returning home to his distraught wife.

Blaine made to leave, too, to follow Kurt in hopes of soothing him, but Cooper caught his arm and stopped him.

“Give him time to grieve,” Cooper said. “You cannot help him with this. Not yet.”

***

Kurt did not return for Lord Elrond's speech. He was thanked briefly and in absentia, and then each Dwarf was acknowledged in turn. Blaine almost missed his moment, staring, as he was, at the doorway to the hall, waiting for Kurt to return.

Blaine waited for the feast to officially begin, and as soon as it seemed proper – as soon as he had shaken all the appropriate hands and been reunited with Artie for a spell – he snuck away out of the hall and into the night, hoping that Kurt hadn't gotten too far away. He knew that Kurt probably knew all of Rivendell like the back of his hand, and with all of the rocky cliffs and waterfalls, he could escape away to a place where Blaine wouldn't be able to follow.

But as luck would have it, he found Kurt standing on a hill overlooking houses beyond the hillside, one small one in particular in his line of sight with no lights in the windows standing like a blight against the verdant green.

Blaine knew that Kurt heard him even though he didn't turn to watch him approach.

“Why have you left the party, Blaine?” Kurt asked in an offhanded, conversational way. “Tonight is for you and your kin.”

“And for you as well,” Blaine said. “You did not return for the feast, and I became worried that you may have left…without saying goodbye.”

“I would never do that,” Kurt whispered, sniffling slightly.

Blaine walked up to Kurt's side and stopped - not fighting for his focus, just standing beside him.

“I have been given the title of Elf-friend,” Blaine said, puffing up his chest with pride. Kurt looked down at him, posing ridiculously, and even though his eyes were swollen and red from crying, he laughed at the sight.

“It is a title well given,” Kurt agreed, his smile wavering. “In fact, I know few who deserve it more.”

Kurt sighed, lifting his head and looking back at the hillside.

“Where will you go?” Kurt asked. “When you and your clan leave here, will you return to the Blue Mountains?”

“Aye,” Blaine said sadly, not wanting to be reminded that, without any declarations or reassurances from the Elf, he most likely would be leaving Kurt behind. “We will have our supplies, and Artie is ready to be moved now, so I guess I'll return to the Blue Mountains.”

Kurt nodded.

“I thought as much,” he said, turning away from the house with the dark windows and looking instead off to the distance, in the direction of the Blue Mountains.

“What will you do, Kurt?” Blaine asked. “What are you planning for your future?”

“I…” Kurt hadn't expected that question. He actually hadn't planned for any conversation with Blaine after the feast. Even with the burden of his father's hate bearing down on him like the Mountain itself attempting to crush him, trying to push him underground, he still imagined he would have to return to his father's house and endure his anger and his indifference - that he would have to live with the ghost of his brother hanging forever over him, along with the idea that his father will always be thinking that it should have been him dying on his quest in the place of Finn.

Kurt turned to Blaine with his mouth hanging open, trying to find an answer, but the only answer he had was that he had consigned himself to a life of being nothing, and to Kurt it sounded more like a death sentence.

“Blaine, I…I can't go back. I just…I can't,” he stammered, and once he started, he was unable to stop. “I can't live with my father's hate. I can't live here without my brother. I need to go…I don't know where. And I know that I can survive on my own, but I'd rather…” Kurt took a deep breath to steady himself. Kurt had never really confessed to needing anyone before, and he wouldn't be able to handle it if Blaine turned him away.

But being with Blaine could be the start of an amazing adventure, and all adventures began with a single step outside of one's door.

“I would rather stay with you, if you don't mind.”

Blaine seemed dumbfounded by Kurt's confession, and the speed in which he received it, but that expression of bewilderment soon made way to a huge grin. Blaine reached a hand out for Kurt's and took it.

“I'll follow you, Kurt,” Blaine said, pressing a kiss to the back of Kurt's hand, “wherever you lead.”

Kurt nodded at Blaine's answer, relieved more than he could show that Blaine accepted him. That, despite all of his objections to the contrary, Kurt would be starting another adventure.

Kurt held Blaine's hand, and led him away from the hillside…back to his room

***

The following morning, Blaine and Cooper met with Lord Elrond and prepared for the trip to the Blue Mountains. The Elves generously supplied the Dwarves with all they would need. They had planned to travel with the other Blue Mountains Dwarves, as they had offered to help with Artie.

Lord Elrond was not surprised when Kurt said he would be leaving with them…and that he would not be coming back.

The Dwarves stayed one more day and night, which gave Kurt's stepmother a chance to stop by and say her goodbyes.

“You know, I always thought of you as my son,” she confessed as she held him tight in her arms, “and your brother would be so proud of you. So proud.”

Kurt spent the day shouldering his stepmother's sobs and the night crying with his head against Blaine's chest, wishing that morning would hurry up and come.

The Dwarves left at sun-up, quietly, to no fanfare or outlandish celebration. With Kurt among them, they needed no escort to the border of Rivendell, which was fine by most of the Dwarves, who had had their fill of Elves for a while.

Kurt watched them talk among themselves and hoped that whatever had been gained by his and Blaine's adventure with regard to renewing friendships among the Elves and the Dwarves had done its part…but one look at these other Dwarves and Kurt seemed to doubt it.

“Are you ready, Master Elf?” Blaine asked, extending a hand to Kurt, hoping he still had a mind to take it.

Kurt looked at Blaine's offered hand and smiled.

“Lead the way, Master Dwarf,” Kurt said. “Lead the way.”

Lord Elrond watched from his balcony as Kurt took Blaine's hand and walked away, out of the Elf Lands and into the Forest. He would miss the young Elf, but he hoped that this new journey would end, as all journeys should end, by showing Kurt and Blaine the road to a home they could call their own.

Lord Elrond would not set eyes on either Elf or Dwarf again for almost an entire age, when the Evil he had feared would make itself known, when the One Ring had been found, and the battle for Middle-earth had been fought and won. It was not until he set out from the Grey Havens in his boat to sail for the Undying Lands that Lord Elrond would look over the stern of his ship and see the Elf and his Dwarf companion one last time. Blaine looked older, so much older than his original thirty-five years, with a proper Dwarf beard, and his head of black curls going silver, but Kurt looked ever the same. Kurt watched his kin leave the shores in their many ships. When he saw Lord Elrond, he smiled sadly and waved goodbye. With a heavy heart Lord Elrond knew that he had lost another Elf to mortal love. Like his daughter, Arwen Undómiel, Kurt had decided to give up his claim to the Grace of the Valar.

Kurt had chosen a mortal life - to live and die for the sake of love - with Blaine on Middle-earth.

And they remained very happy to the end of their days, and for both Elf and Dwarf, those days were extraordinarily long.