Greetings, fellow readers.
This is formally my first foray into Lord of the Rings (LOTR) fanfiction, so forgive my mistakes, if any. Please feast your eyes on my humble offering, and review it if you enjoy it, or think there is room for improvement. I shall strive to better myself next time.
Disclaimer: Can I at least keep Faramir? ... Apparently not. So, LOTR legally belongs to JRR Tolkien and his estate, New Line Cinema and other affiliates. I merely borrow the characters to vent my creativity – which isn't much. There is no point in suing me, unless you want my LOTR sketches.
Elrond Peredhil, Herald of Ereinion Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor Elves in Middle Earth, sat at the edge of his as yet unmade bed. His eyes were closed and he frowned slightly in concentration, a habit he had practised since four centuries past whenever he had the time to do so. He quietly let go of the breath he had unknowingly been holding as his feä once more touched the faint singing bond of his twin brother, something he had not consciously felt for days due to his constant business.
He smiled thinly in relief, reassured that his brother still lived, still the ruler of the Edain in the mortal haven of Numenor. Even though they had not seen each other since Elros Tar-Minyatur sailed West to his new lands, and the elvish bond that naturally existed between them diminished since their irrevocable choices were made in the First Age, there was not a day that he had not missed him. Letters they had exchanged during the years, and the knowledge that Elros was content in his human life gave him a measure of comfort.
Secure with the knowledge, he eventually rose to tidy up the bed and make himself presentable, for Gil-galad would be calling for a conference after breakfast about planning for new settlements. As he gazed into the looking glass before him though, he suddenly beheld a strange sight. Instead of his own reflection, he saw that of another: an aged man, his once raven hair now streaked with gray and silver, his bearing proud as a lord or a King, with a grave look and a sad smile on his lips. Elrond gazed for a moment into dark eyes much like his own and gasped in recognition. Before he could cry out, the voice of the King's messenger summoned him, and the image dissipated as silently as it had appeared. Shaken by the vision and troubled by its probable meaning, he left the room with a disturbing sense of foreboding weighing heavily upon his heart.
The meeting was adjourned, and after the rest of the advisors departed, Gil-galad rose gracefully to his feet and motioned towards his most trusted herald. Together they made their way out of the courtroom in the direction of the King's personal study, talking in low voices, discussing what they have learned and decided upon just then. A few steps away from the door however, Gil-galad rested a fatherly hand on Elrond's shoulder.
"Are you all right, Elrond?" he asked with his usual directness.
The younger elf glanced at his liege-lord in surprise. "My Lord?"
The King sighed. "I noticed you, mellon nin. There is something bothering your mind this morning, and it is not about what we were discussing. What is it, Elrond?"
Elrond bowed his head in aghast. Had he really appeared that agitated, and in front of the court no less? Gil-galad seemed to perceive his herald's thought as he squeezed the shoulder in assurance. "Do not fear, mellon nin. None saw what I have seen. You have always been good at shielding your thoughts and emotions from most, but I have known you for far too long to fell for it. Speak, Peredhil. Tell me what upset you so."
Elrond stubbornly shook his head. "It is nothing that you should be concerned of, my King," he mumbled.
Gil-galad stared at him a moment longer before sighing again. "So stubborn. Very well then, let us enter."
"Of course, the construction of the southern bridge cannot start until next week, since the materials we need will arrive only then," Elrond replied thoughtfully as they all pored over the detailed map.
"Can the delivery not be hastened?" the leader of the construction asked anxiously. "We are already behind schedule as it is, and there is still much to do before winter approaches."
"Do not worry, Farthrad," Elrond assured him. "I have already enlisted more workers to help with it, and I am sure that the project will be completed on time."
"How is the progress of the southwestern walls?" Gil-galad inquired.
"We are doing much better than we have previously anticipated, my King," another elf answered. "The foundations have already been set, and the next stage is well underway."
Elrond nodded absently as the elves continued their deliberations of various other administrative issues. The initial unease he had experienced this morning was gradually increasing as the sun continued its journey, and he was hard-pressed to conceal his turmoil and forcing himself to focus on his tasks. Several times he noticed Gil-galad's eyes watching him intently, although he said nothing.
"If that is all, I thank you both for your time and I expect to receive reports on each stage completed," the King's voice broke through his consciousness, signalling the end of the council. The elves bowed in respect and silently glided out of the study. The Peredhil saw to their departure before turning towards his Lord and dipped his head. "If there is nothing else you need of me, I wish to retire to my rooms."
Just as he was about to step away, his vision inexplicably darkened so suddenly that he stumbled forward with a cry of surprise and alarm. When he regained his senses a few moments later, he was half-slumped on one of the chairs with Gil-galad hovering in front of him, shaking him to awareness and calling his name.
"I—I am here," he managed to blurt out, stilling the other's arm with his own and straightening on his seat.
"What happened, pen-neth? You were swaying on your feet and calling out for your brother..." Gil-galad explained, looking worriedly at the instantly pale face of his younger charge.
Elrond blinked. He called for Elros? Feeling a cold fear gripping his heart, he quickly closed his eyes and reached deep inside for the faintly thrumming bond , but to his horror he found none. Ignoring the older elf, he searched frantically for any sign of his twin's feä, but the link was no longer there. He swallowed as he finally realised the day he had been dreading for all these years was finally upon him.
"Elrond!" the sharp tone forced him to open his eyes to gaze into Gil-galad's concerned features.
"Ereinion..." he whispered weakly, stunned by the reality of the image he had witnessed earlier. "It is empty... I—I cannot feel him anymore..."
The High King's expression registered first confusion, the sudden comprehension and deep sorrow as the one he claimed as son hung his head, the long braids hiding his face as he trembled with suppressed emotion. He knelt before the bereaved half-elf, then gently drew him into a comforting embrace, and felt Elrond's self-control broke as he sobbed on the proffered shoulder. His own eyes streamed tears as they mourned together the passing of Elros Tar-Minyatur, brother of Elrond and the first King of Numenor, from the circles of Arda.
mellon nin – my friend
pen-neth – young one
Peredhil – Half-elven