Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or places in this fanfic; they belong to Tolkien. I don't mean to make any profit from this. Thanks to: Jen Littlebottom, for the beta read. A/N: This was made for a challenge at the PPC boards, and it's a small account of Elrond's feelings when the One Ring was destroyed. Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to review! A fading spring The moment of the destruction of the Ring from Elrond's POV

by Aldarwen

I sit here, lonely in my room, watching the gardens outside. The beautiful gardens of the grand Rivendell, once a shelter for Dúnedain and Elves alike; the Rivendell that now feels empty like a tree without any flowers or fruits. And although it is the season of coirë, no new seeds grow and no flowers bloom in my gardens despite the small symbelmynës in the ground. The leaves fall from the trees like a typical day in quellë; Anar lurks in the middle of the sky, but hides under the shadow, the same shadow that threatens my mind.

It comes slowly, still far from my horizon for my eyes to see, but clearly enough for my heart to feel. And it is heavy. My Ring becomes a burden; it no longer creates beautiful things, it is slowly corrupted as the evil of Sauron grows larger. It is dark just like this last Súlimë in Rivendell. In my observations, I notice that even the wonderful heavenly white of the symbelmynë has been spoiled and becomes a pale shade of grey.

Suddenly, I feel something tighten on my finger. I raise my hand and see Vilya shining brightly in the middle of the pale darkness. It tightens even more; so much it leaves a mark in my finger, the pain unbearable. My other hand moves immediately to my burning finger, hoping to take off the Ring, but as it touches it, I see something flash before my eyes that leaves me terrified.

The Eye. I had received visions of it before, but never with the fury and pure hate of now. Hate for anything beloved by the grace of Ilúvatar. The fear that he might have caught the One Ring gets hold of me. I don't even notice that the Ring is no longer tight, but has enlarged and fallen to the ground.

I look down. The blue of the jewel on it looks now like a starless night; I no longer feel the power inside it, nor the corruption; but I don't feel the beauty of it either. The dark shadow slowly disappears from my mind and a great sensation of relief invades me. I pick up the Ring again, and look outside.

A gracious elf runs back away home, through the grass and fallen leaves. The symbelmynë is still grey; and suddenly, I realize that my time in Middle Earth has finally come to an end. The quellë of the Elves will turn to an endless hrívë in this land; the time of Men has come.

And so has the time of the one that runs, the only star that hasn't faded in this place. I foresee many partings in the near future. And I am aware that the fates of those I love are not in my hands anymore. Just like all elven things in Middle-earth, the Evenstar will fade in the hands of the mortals.

Glossary:

Anar: Sun

quellë: 'fading' (between autumn and winter)

coirë: 'stirring' (between winter and spring)

Súlimë: March

hrívë: winter