A blank wall in Imladris is missing something. This is a little idea that refused to go away until I had written it out, starring an OC of mine. Set after the shards of Narsil are brought to Imladris and Valandil becomes the third King of Arnor.
I own nothing but Erfaron.
Imladris was built many, many years ago. But now, after the War of the Last Alliance, many Elves are flooding into the Hidden Valley, and Lord Elrond has been obliged to expand the Last Homely House. Construction has been going on, hammers ringing, stone quarried. A whole new wing has been added to the house of Elrond, and several small, family-sized houses built as well. A new forge, another stable. Everyone has been busy. The newcomers, the refugees of the Last Alliance have swelled Imladris, requiring more housing.
Erfaron is one of these Elves. Still young in the reckoning of the Eldar, he is from Eregion, and fled with his family just in time, right before Sauron took over Eriador. His father was wise to get them out of Eregion when they did.
Most of the main construction of the Last Homely House has been finished. The stables and forge are completed. The houses are halfway done. It is summer yet, so there is plenty of time left before winter settles in.
But there still are blank walls left in Imladris. Some are painted white, or sage green, or light lavender. Those are the walls of the hallways, the bedrooms.
Erfaron comes upon one of these blank walls. On the other side is a banister, looking into several trees. An excellent place to escape from the House. He has seen the Lord Glorfindel clamber over the banister and climb down one of the trees in an attempt to hide from a furious Erestor. But, unfortunately for Lord Glorfindel, Erestor knew all too well the former's escape plans.
A statue of an elf-maid is placed next to the banister. She is carrying a platter, in which is gently laid to rest the shards of Narsil on a silken cloth. Ohtar, the squire of Isildur, brought these fragments of steel to Rivendell several years ago, after the Disaster of the Gladden Fields. Erfaron remembers Valandil, the youngest son of Isildur, very well. He can even now see the young boy begging for a muffin from Rithloth, or climbing one of the trees. Now Valandil is the King of Arnor, and rarely visits Imladris now. He decided to leave the shards in the care of Elrond, why, Erfaron did not know.
He looks at the shards, and remembers.
Darkness, threatening to take over Ennor. Marching, preparing to go to war. Forging swords. During that time his talent was overlooked, for what use would an artist, one who was skilled with paints and brushes, not metal and fire, be in a time of war?
Somehow, he had survived the Battle of Dagorlad. He still did not know how. Throughout the long siege, the longest seven years of his life, he had carried out various tasks for Lord Elrond and been part of the companies that had laid siege to Barad-dur, hoping to seize the tower at last. There was no time to paint. No time for joy then. Just laying battle plans, running errands, killing orcs. There had been no time to mourn the death of his father.
He was there, at that last stand of Sauron, when the Dark Lord had been forced to come out of his fortress and engage in direct combat. He had narrowly missed death many times that day. But strong will had carried him through. He would not see his mother and sister bereft of both of them.
And when Elendil and Gil-galad were felled by Sauron, when Narsil broke, when Isildur cut the Ring from Sauron's finger, he was there. He had seen it. He had seen Sauron tower over Isildur, Isildur desperately grab the broken sword, swing it out in a brave attempt. The shriek and pale explosion as the spirit of Sauron dissipated, scattering his hosts in fear. Dust and ashes choking the air, the fires of Mount Doom behind.
Quite different from the wholesome, peaceful air of Imladris.
There are buckets of paint and several paintbrushes situated by the banister. Some careless Elf left them here, but Erfaron looks upon them and smiles wanly. Certainly the Lord Elrond will permit this. He has no doubt. He will not let the Siege of Barad-dur and the stand of Isildur be forgotten.
Erfaron picks up a paintbrush, dips it in paint, and begins.
As always, please review!