"When do we depart, my lord?"

Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor looked up into the face of the Lord of Imladris. "The next morn, your hospitality is well needed; however we have lingered far too long. Elendil and his sons are already impatient, sensing that the defeat of the Dark Lord is nigh."

Elrond nodded in agreement. The marshaling of a sizable force had nearly taken four years, and the three years spent in Imladris had been for the forging of spears, swords and armor. A sense of anticipation had slowly covered the Elves and Men. They will bring the Dark Lord's reign to an end.

The memories of Eriador were still fresh within the half-elf's mind. He would have surely been routed by Sauron's forces if not the aid of Durin's Folk had distracted Sauron long enough for the Elves' retreat to what was now Imladris. Now, he was venturing to war again, with a force more than thrice the size of his original army.

"What then, my lord?"

Gil-galad looked down at the map that was sprawled across the table. His finger tapped the rigid line that marked the Misty Mountains. "We will cross the mountains, then down to where the River Anduin flows. We will meet Amdír and his host from Lórien, and Oropher from Greenwood. It will be when we are fully mustered; we can take on the Dark Lord's forces." The High King fell silent, eyeing Elrond warily to discern any reaction that might emit from the Lord. He then stood and moved around the table to place his hand on the half-elf's shoulder. "Are you ready for this, Elrond?"

Elrond looked up into his lord's eyes. "Aye, my lord, I am."

"Do not think that I do not know what happened in Eriador," Gil-galad said sternly. "This will be different, I promise. I have trust in you, Elrond. Your valor is what makes you a good leader. I will need you by my side."

"Beg your Pardon, my lord?"

"Your forces are to join my own, and I appoint you as my herald on the march," gripping Elrond's shoulder tightly, Gil-galad's voice dropped into a low whisper. "When my men see you bearing my standard, you will bring honor to them. Let them see who marches beside their King, as we take on the shadow."

Elrond adverted his eyes to the polished flagstones at his feet. "I…I am honored, my lord," he muttered. "It has only been my wish."

"I am afraid, I have one more request from you," a smile twitched at Gil-galad's lips. "I appoint you as my second, if I should fall ere the end." He lifted his free hand, and unfurled it. Resting in his palm was a gold band, with a sapphire jewel set in a netting of Mithril. Elrond gasped at the sight of it; the most powerful of Elven rings being offered to him. "Take it," Gil-galad said. "I can hear the sea calling for me; however I cannot reach it yet. If my death comes, so be it, and let the world know that the High King of the Noldor gave his life for his people, and the free peoples of the world. However, Vilya must strive on, to elude the Dark Lord's ravenous grasp. I do not know your fate, Elrond, but I feel that your fate will not end with mine."

Tears brimmed Elrond's eyes. Gil-galad was a fatherly figure to the half-elf, especially when his own had passed over to the Undying Lands. He felt Gil-galad's hand pressed the ring into his own, and he looked up to the High King's smiling face.

"It will be an honor to fight alongside you, my lord." He whispered weakly.

"Nay," Gil-galad said, walking away back to the map. "The honor will be mine. Swiftly, take up Hadhafang, and let the Dark Lord know that Aiglos and Hadhafang fight side by side. May the Valar grace us!"

The Elven lords did leave the sanctuary the next day, leading a host of elves in brilliantly gilded armor that sparkled in the morning sun. Gil-galad was at the head of the host, looking as much as a god as any in his brilliant armor, with the great Aiglos in hand.

But those who had forgotten the history of the Elves had forgotten the herald who marched alongside the High King. The herald was to bring great changes in the world; however, he did not know what his destiny would bring.