The gardens of Rivendell were cold and gray. No longer was laughter heard, nor was a voice raised in song. The hidden valley was deserted, save for two figures, who stood together, gazing at the stars twinkling overhead.
So alike were they, that one might have mistaken them for mirrors of one another. Raven haired and gray eyed, tall and proud: They were warriors, friends and brothers: The last of the great lords of the West, and the last occupants of Rivendell. They had stayed long past the time when most had sought the , not yet ready to make their choice.
Yet that time was upon them, for a week earlier a messenger had come from the Gray Havens. Telling them: "The last ship sails, if you wish to depart my Lords, the time is now." The messenger had stayed only briefly, not wanting to remain for long in the empty valley. But now, with the last ship sailing, the twins of Rivendell had to make their choice:
To depart into the West, or to choose the doom of Men.
"What will they think when we do not come?" asked the twin on the right.
"They will know the choices we have made Elrohir, and they will respect it," answered the other.
"Will they delay the ship and wait for us, or will they sail when we do not come at the appointed time?" Elrohir asked.
"Nay," answered Elladan, "They will not delay, too long have the last elves lingered in Middle-earth. Their time is over, as is our own."
Elrohir let out a long breath, "Just think Elladan, soon we shall see our Evenstar again, and Estel."
"Yes, also Beren and Túrin, and other great lords of the First Age. Perhaps also Aegnor if he chose to follow fair Andreth to her Doom," Elladan whispered sadly.
"Not Doom, my twin. The death of a mortal is not a doom such as the elves think. It is a release from the confines of this world and to the stars above," Elrohir answered gravely.
"You are right my brother. I was only thinking of how mother and father will mourn when we do not come," Elladan's voice broke.
Elrohir nodded, then looking up at the stars, he whispered, "It is time". Turning to look at his twin he asked, "Are you ready?"
"Yes, I am ready," Elladan answered.
Together they walked to the river, long had it guarded the valley. But since Lord Elrond had sailed, it had become more wild. The twins clasped hands as they steps to its brink. Raising their eyes to the stars, the twins of Rivendell reached deep within themselves. Finding the light of the one within their spirits, they asked to be numbered among Men, and to have their fates joined with that of their sister.
"Namárië," whether it was spoken by one voice or two, none shall ever know. For in that moment the spirits of Elladan and Elrohir forsook their bodies for the stars silver lights.