Author: Ereinion (lord-of-lindon@juno.com)
Rating: PG
Pairing: none
Disclaimer: This work of fiction is a celebration of the multi-faceted characters and world created by J.R.R. Tolkien, written by fans, for fans, for no gain other than the satisfaction of writing it and receiving feedback. Infringement upon the copyrights held by the Tolkien Estate and New Line Cinemas is not intended.
Summary: Elrond explains why his epesse is plural.
Warnings: Death scene, fraternal kissing.
Notes: Thanks to Meri for beta reading and reassuring me that my point was indeed clear. Feedback is welcome at the above email address. Archiving is appreciated, but please tell me where you're putting the fic before you actually put it there. For more information about upcoming fics, see my LiveJournal (linked on my Author Page).
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The choice of mortality or immortality does not change the fact that a peredhel is a hybrid. Despite the fact that elves do not succumb to illness, I've been well and truly sick a total of seven times in over six-thousand years of life. By contrast, Elros -- I should call him Tar-Minyatur -- was ill only once in his life, in childhood, and then I was sick alongside him. Even on his deathbed, Tar-Minyatur suffered no ailment, only the fatigue and difficulty associated with a worn-out body.
He had summoned us both, near the end, and Gil-galad and I secreted away from our duties to go to him. It was painful for me, and they both knew it, but neither of them would let me run away and hide from death. In the last days, Tar-Minyatur said his goodbyes to his mortal family, speaking at length with each of them. Then, all but carried by his eldest sons, he retreated to his chambers, and there he stayed, and we three waited for the end.
And
when it came, we were resting in Gil-galad's arms, he on one side and I on the
other, our hands clasped together in imitation of how we, as much younger
creatures, had spent the first nights after our rescue from the wilderness. I had been resting; Gil-galad had been
keeping the vigil. But I woke, and
found my twin gazing softly at me. I
could tell immediately that there was something gone in his eyes, that he would
not live but a few minutes more.
Against my will, I began to cry.
"Please don't leave me," I whispered to him. And then he told me his secret, which I have
clung to for all these years.
"You are my twin," he whispered to me. "Naught can change that we share one soul. I will always be with you, Elrond, for as long as you endure. This body will die soon. Tar-Minyatur has already passed beyond the stars, and yet he remains with me, and I shall remain with you. We are destined always to walk in two worlds, onona; just as our bodies are peredhil, so too is our soul."
It was then that I realized that this wasn't the King of Numenore who spoke to me but my twin brother as he had been before we made our divergent choices: a prince of the Eldar and the Edain. But before I could respond, his lips closed over mine in the chaste caress we'd shared since childhood. He whispered our name, the name we had secretly chosen for one another, the only name we recalled from our lives at the Havens of Sirion.
"I
love you," he said softly to me, and I smiled despite my tears.
"I love you too," I replied.
And he smiled back at me as he gave up his last breath, never breaking eye-contact as what remained of his fea departed its physical dwelling for the Halls of Waiting -- for that is where I'm sure he's gone, however partially. For we are destined always to walk in two worlds, in life and in death.
I expected to feel empty, incomplete, at his passing. Strangely, I felt only peace. I didn't know then why that was; it was only later, when Gil-galad spoke to me of changes in my personality, that I began to truly consider Elros's words to me. And I have decided that he was -- and is -- correct: when we made our choices to embrace one heritage over the other, it did not change the fact that our bodies and our soul are hybrid. My consciousness is Eldarin, just as his was Numenorean, and yet we remain Peredhil. I shall walk the bright path, living as an Elf yet understanding things that no Elf can. And he will tread the darker path, soaring in ecstasy beyond the stars while still remaining bound to Arda in a way no human can be. And we shall walk hand in hand, for we are twins and cannot be separated.
Thus it was that the day Elros Tar-Minyatur departed this world, I stopped writing my epesse "Peredhel", singular, and started writing it "Peredhil", plural.