A/N: I have chosen to list this story in the Silmarillion section because I
believe it deals with themes and motifs more familiar to that genre than
general LoTR interest stories. Many thanks to Larian Elensar for the beta
read.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
S.A. 25 - The Great Library, Palace complex of Gil-Galad, Lindon
~~~~~
Elrond shook his eyes from the prepared parchment leaves set before him and happened a glance in the direction of his twin, who was seated at the long wooden trestle table some distance from him. Elros' offer to join him in the library today had come as a welcome surprise, as they seldom had time alone now. Not long after the founding of Lindon the Edain had separated themselves from the elven communities, taking up residence further in along the bay, close by the Falathrim who were aiding in the construction of new ships to ferry them westward. Elros lived there, the grace note within a motley group of Secondborn who had survived the final wars and destruction of their homeland. For the first time in their unsettled lives, Elrond did not live with him, residing instead at the burgeoning elven court. Despite the fairly short physical distance separating them, the brothers seldom saw one another aside from official meetings called by the elven high king.
"What tale holds your attention so steadily, brother?" Elrond questioned. Elros was the less studious of the two, preferring active determination to contemplative reflection, and any book that so engrossed his thoughts was worthy of some note.
"It is a little account of Finrod's first meetings with the Edain, his conversations with them and thoughts upon the coming of humans into Beleriand," Elros replied, looking up and smiling at his brother as he answered.
Elrond gave his brother a long look. The countenance that met his was the same, the piercing gray eyes his own. But there were differences, ones that had become more pronounced since their paths had diverged, and making Elrond all the more conscious of their dissimilar decisions. Small lines had begun to show themselves at the edges of Elros' eyes, especially when he smiled, and light furrows had begun to crease his brow. The differences were slight, to the eyes of any except an elf, but they seemed to become more apparent each time he saw his brother.
"What, you do not have enough first hand knowledge now to satisfy your curiosity?" he replied teasingly.
Elros smirked but did not laugh in return. "Nay, the perspective is different, like seeing the moon from a distant land. It is strange now to read such things, when I find I would now be the subject of such thoughts."
And there it was, the chasm that now stood between them, so casually brought to the fore by his brother's remarks. A sudden bitterness leapt into Elrond's throat, the continued remembrance bracing in its ability to make him feel at a loss. His consciousness shied from it, not wanting to turn this precious time into yet another argumentative debate that would achieve nothing except discordant silence.
"You are lucky to find that book here. I believe Círdan brought it to us, as part of the books he kept on Balar. So many things were lost, and now must be rewritten from memory. Pengolod and his scribes will have enough work to keep them busy for centuries yet to come," he replied.
"And is that what you do there, brother?" Elros indicated the parchment leaves before Elrond as he spoke.
"Yes, in a way. I'm writing down some songs that Maglor taught me, while the memories are still fresh."
Even as he said it, he knew he should not have. It would have been better to have lied to his brother, rather than mention Maglor, to raise again that spectre of ruination. His brother grimaced, lips drawn into a fine line and eyelids lowering. The intensity of the look seemed more exaggerated than any Elrond remembered his twin evincing before. He wondered briefly if this were another effect of his brother's newfound mortality.
"Elros.."
"Do not apologize, Elrond. You simply stated what you were doing, that is all. There is no harm in it; we are bound by the memories that shape our decisions," his hands clutched at the edge of the table as he answered, and he lowered his eyes back to the book before him with apparent effort. "Leave it, Elrond. Return to your work."
There were matters the twins did not speak of, memories and feelings that left both adrift in currents of conflicting emotions. That last night as the foster sons of Maglor and Maedhros was chief amongst them. It had not been Elrond's decision to allow the silence to grow between them, but he had found the subject impossible to broach, like deep water one must try to traverse without benefit of boat or oar. He had been stranded on one side of that changing shore, his twin on the other, and neither could communicate across the void betrayal had opened before them.
There was truth in Elros' words that memories had shaped their decisions. With fates shaped by murders and disappearances, the twins had clung to one another: as their captors became their fathers, as evil slowly tore apart their world, as a star appeared, as the gods stepped upon the lands, as a final deception transpired before their eyes. And what decisions would be forced from that moment, the last time Elrond had felt part of a whole. Too emotionally bereft himself to make much of a difference, Elrond had watched as denial and hatred warred within his brother, anger breaking apart a soul and reforging it in the heat of disregard, as surely as a Silmaril was burned and tempered by eternal flames.
Elrond knew it had been that moment which had decided his brother's fate, even if Elros would never acknowledge such a theory. It had been the pale reflection of that moment he had seen in his brother's eyes within Eonwë's tent, that memory which loosened his brother's tongue and bought his mortality. They had been called separately, and Elrond had been brought in first. There had been no question in his mind over his decision, because, as far as he was concerned, the twins were elves - had always been treated as such, even by Maedhros in his most indifferent moments. So he had no fear over his brother's decision, for how could twins be parted? He had no fear; not when Elros was brought before the maia, nor when Eonwë once again spoke the challenge, or even when his brother opened his mouth to speak.
"A choice? But what choice is it, in the end. This life seems nothing but leavings, until one is only the sum of the many which have departed. What joy would one have of an eternity of such disappearances? Nay, I would rather only the one small lifetime, and then it could be said that I did the leaving." With that, Elros turned and departed, the first and greatest leaving he would take from his brother, for with it their fates were forever sundered.
The intervening years had been a strange loop of the same kinds of encounters between the brothers. There would be an argument, and tears and curses, and finally cold and diffident silence. Without a full explanation for his oblique reasoning, Elros had departed for the Edain camps and Elrond had found some measure of solace in being welcomed within the entourage of the high king. There were times when he missed the closeness he and his brother had once shared, as he found the years piling secrets within his heart he could share with no others. These were the times when he despaired most, and found some truth in the bitterness of Elros' words against eternal life.
Elrond pulled his mind from his reverie and returned to the work set before him, his actions mimicked in Elros' recommenced reading. Twins they may yet be, but Elrond felt the staggering weight of the different fates passing between them. Soon it would be time for Elros to return to his own encampment, and the separation would pass like a little death between them. Each time they parted caused Elrond to consider the permanent sundering that was approaching, as swift as tide's turn. His heart grieved the future, and each day seemed like a new refrain in the dirge of his secret regret.
S.A. 25 - The Great Library, Palace complex of Gil-Galad, Lindon
~~~~~
Elrond shook his eyes from the prepared parchment leaves set before him and happened a glance in the direction of his twin, who was seated at the long wooden trestle table some distance from him. Elros' offer to join him in the library today had come as a welcome surprise, as they seldom had time alone now. Not long after the founding of Lindon the Edain had separated themselves from the elven communities, taking up residence further in along the bay, close by the Falathrim who were aiding in the construction of new ships to ferry them westward. Elros lived there, the grace note within a motley group of Secondborn who had survived the final wars and destruction of their homeland. For the first time in their unsettled lives, Elrond did not live with him, residing instead at the burgeoning elven court. Despite the fairly short physical distance separating them, the brothers seldom saw one another aside from official meetings called by the elven high king.
"What tale holds your attention so steadily, brother?" Elrond questioned. Elros was the less studious of the two, preferring active determination to contemplative reflection, and any book that so engrossed his thoughts was worthy of some note.
"It is a little account of Finrod's first meetings with the Edain, his conversations with them and thoughts upon the coming of humans into Beleriand," Elros replied, looking up and smiling at his brother as he answered.
Elrond gave his brother a long look. The countenance that met his was the same, the piercing gray eyes his own. But there were differences, ones that had become more pronounced since their paths had diverged, and making Elrond all the more conscious of their dissimilar decisions. Small lines had begun to show themselves at the edges of Elros' eyes, especially when he smiled, and light furrows had begun to crease his brow. The differences were slight, to the eyes of any except an elf, but they seemed to become more apparent each time he saw his brother.
"What, you do not have enough first hand knowledge now to satisfy your curiosity?" he replied teasingly.
Elros smirked but did not laugh in return. "Nay, the perspective is different, like seeing the moon from a distant land. It is strange now to read such things, when I find I would now be the subject of such thoughts."
And there it was, the chasm that now stood between them, so casually brought to the fore by his brother's remarks. A sudden bitterness leapt into Elrond's throat, the continued remembrance bracing in its ability to make him feel at a loss. His consciousness shied from it, not wanting to turn this precious time into yet another argumentative debate that would achieve nothing except discordant silence.
"You are lucky to find that book here. I believe Círdan brought it to us, as part of the books he kept on Balar. So many things were lost, and now must be rewritten from memory. Pengolod and his scribes will have enough work to keep them busy for centuries yet to come," he replied.
"And is that what you do there, brother?" Elros indicated the parchment leaves before Elrond as he spoke.
"Yes, in a way. I'm writing down some songs that Maglor taught me, while the memories are still fresh."
Even as he said it, he knew he should not have. It would have been better to have lied to his brother, rather than mention Maglor, to raise again that spectre of ruination. His brother grimaced, lips drawn into a fine line and eyelids lowering. The intensity of the look seemed more exaggerated than any Elrond remembered his twin evincing before. He wondered briefly if this were another effect of his brother's newfound mortality.
"Elros.."
"Do not apologize, Elrond. You simply stated what you were doing, that is all. There is no harm in it; we are bound by the memories that shape our decisions," his hands clutched at the edge of the table as he answered, and he lowered his eyes back to the book before him with apparent effort. "Leave it, Elrond. Return to your work."
There were matters the twins did not speak of, memories and feelings that left both adrift in currents of conflicting emotions. That last night as the foster sons of Maglor and Maedhros was chief amongst them. It had not been Elrond's decision to allow the silence to grow between them, but he had found the subject impossible to broach, like deep water one must try to traverse without benefit of boat or oar. He had been stranded on one side of that changing shore, his twin on the other, and neither could communicate across the void betrayal had opened before them.
There was truth in Elros' words that memories had shaped their decisions. With fates shaped by murders and disappearances, the twins had clung to one another: as their captors became their fathers, as evil slowly tore apart their world, as a star appeared, as the gods stepped upon the lands, as a final deception transpired before their eyes. And what decisions would be forced from that moment, the last time Elrond had felt part of a whole. Too emotionally bereft himself to make much of a difference, Elrond had watched as denial and hatred warred within his brother, anger breaking apart a soul and reforging it in the heat of disregard, as surely as a Silmaril was burned and tempered by eternal flames.
Elrond knew it had been that moment which had decided his brother's fate, even if Elros would never acknowledge such a theory. It had been the pale reflection of that moment he had seen in his brother's eyes within Eonwë's tent, that memory which loosened his brother's tongue and bought his mortality. They had been called separately, and Elrond had been brought in first. There had been no question in his mind over his decision, because, as far as he was concerned, the twins were elves - had always been treated as such, even by Maedhros in his most indifferent moments. So he had no fear over his brother's decision, for how could twins be parted? He had no fear; not when Elros was brought before the maia, nor when Eonwë once again spoke the challenge, or even when his brother opened his mouth to speak.
"A choice? But what choice is it, in the end. This life seems nothing but leavings, until one is only the sum of the many which have departed. What joy would one have of an eternity of such disappearances? Nay, I would rather only the one small lifetime, and then it could be said that I did the leaving." With that, Elros turned and departed, the first and greatest leaving he would take from his brother, for with it their fates were forever sundered.
The intervening years had been a strange loop of the same kinds of encounters between the brothers. There would be an argument, and tears and curses, and finally cold and diffident silence. Without a full explanation for his oblique reasoning, Elros had departed for the Edain camps and Elrond had found some measure of solace in being welcomed within the entourage of the high king. There were times when he missed the closeness he and his brother had once shared, as he found the years piling secrets within his heart he could share with no others. These were the times when he despaired most, and found some truth in the bitterness of Elros' words against eternal life.
Elrond pulled his mind from his reverie and returned to the work set before him, his actions mimicked in Elros' recommenced reading. Twins they may yet be, but Elrond felt the staggering weight of the different fates passing between them. Soon it would be time for Elros to return to his own encampment, and the separation would pass like a little death between them. Each time they parted caused Elrond to consider the permanent sundering that was approaching, as swift as tide's turn. His heart grieved the future, and each day seemed like a new refrain in the dirge of his secret regret.