"It's time, Talion."
He heard the Wraith's words; knew them to be true. As Talion stood upon the high parapets of the Black Gate, looking down upon the ruins of Barad-dur and the sun streaming upon the grey face of Orodruin, he knew their tireless work was over. The One Ring had been destroyed and Sauron was no more; the Free Peoples of Middle-Earth were liberated from the shadow of Mordor forever.
"The Hither Shores call to us," Celebrimbor said, his voice soft. "It is time I release you from our curse."
Talion knew he wanted to go – his heart ached for the release of death; and yearned for the possibility of seeing Ioreth and Dirhael again, beyond the twilit shores of this world. He knew there was no reason to stay tethered to the world of the living any longer. Yet, something held him back. And he knew Celebrimbor could see his reluctance.
"And you, my friend?" Talion asked. "Where would you go, once I am released?"
Celebrimbor hesitated. "I do not know," he admitted. "The Eldar cannot truly die - we were not granted the gift of death, as the Secondborn are. Talion, where you may go, I will not follow. That much is certain."
That's what I was afraid of, Talion thought to himself. His heart grew heavy; and at first, he did not know why he came to dread this day as much as he had come to anticipate it. But he had a long time to think it over.
For sixty long years, ageless and deathless, Talion and Celebrimbor travelled the accursed land of Mordor together, striking Sauron's forces from the shadows and weakening his army. They shared each other's griefs and worries; every small victory was savoured together. In quiet moments, they shared memories of their lives with each other.
Talion was there that night, when he felt a cold, paralyzing quaking in his heart, and Celebrimbor had told him, "The One Ring has entered Mordor."
Miles away, two Hobbits from the distant Shire had come across the Mountains of Ash to destroy the One Ring in the depths of the pits from where it was forged. "Help them, Talion," he had heard Celebrimbor say, though he knew the Ring-maker was loathe to destroy the treasure he had co-created. "Help them reach the slopes of Orodruin. But do not approach them; do not be seen. For I fear if we get too close, the Ring would call out to me and I would be consumed."
What happened in the heart of Orodruin they could not tell. But the moment the Ring was swallowed up by the fires from which it had been born, Talion felt Celebrimbor's pain and loss strike him as if they were his own. The pain was a like a burning as if they were consumed by fire; but when it was over, he felt Celebrimbor's freedom and relief – as if they had been reforged.
"I have been with you since the beginning," Talion told him, slowly. Celebrimbor materialized into his view – a pale phantom of silver-blue, with a fire in his eyes like white-hot stars. "It is only fitting that we are together until the end."
Celebrimbor shook his head – "Talion," he began, "my friend. My blood is cursed. I am of the line of Feanor, my grandfather, who led our people into doomed exile, and I will not be so easily forgiven by the Lords of the West. You must go. And I cannot follow."
Talion knew this time would come. He thought he was prepared – but even as he steeled his heart, a cold numbness flooded his body, and he suddenly felt overcome by paralyzing loss. Trembling slightly, he dropped to his knees. He drew his sword and held it before the Elf-lord. "Celebrimbor, Lord of Eregion," he implored, "all these years I have served you. You saw me unwilling, at first – you felt as if you kept me as your prisoner, a vessel held from the release of death. Yet now I see differently. I would stay with you, even til the darkening twilight of the world. I would stay with you, even chained in exile. I would stay with you, even if I would deny the gifts of Illuvatar –"
"Stop," Celebrimbor commanded suddenly, his voice a harsh whisper. Then he placed a gentle hand on Talion's shoulder. "Do not cross the wills of the Allfather and the Valar, my friend. My grandfather and father and all my uncles made that mistake once – and my entire kin suffered for it. The grief of the Noldor is not yours to bear."
"It is not yours alone to bear, either," Talion said, rising. He met the Wraith's eyes and held his gaze. "You came to me for a reason - perhaps it was to redeem you, Ring-maker. I promise you, I will not rest until I see your burden lifted; and we see the white shores of the Blessed Realm together."
He held Celebrimbor's gaze for the longest time. Both of them were silent. In their shared visions of the past, Talion had seen Celebrimbor in his prime – a tall, noble Elf-lord with a crown of white-gold and silver upon his dark hair, decked in fine Elven-mail, powerful and graceful in combat. Talion had never see anyone so noble or so beautiful. A King may now sit on the Throne of Gondor, Talion thought, but I know whom else I would follow.
"I would go with you to the end," Talion whispered, his voice soft and sincere. "My brother, my Captain, my King."
Celebrimbor drew closer. And though he was a wraith and they were separated by the veil of the living and the dead, he seemed to lay his head tiredly on Talion's shoulder. And he seemed to tremble slightly, though Talion thought he was just imagining it.
"I am both pleased and terrified you said that," Celebrimbor admitted, with a small laugh. And it seemed Talion caught a glimpse of the Elf-lord in his youth; bright and full of mirth, untouched by the horrors of war. "No, Talion – I feel it is the other way around. Where you go, I will go with you. Though I'm not so sure how we would approach the borders of Valinor if they are closed to us."
Talion shrugged. "Well, we don't exactly play by the rules, now, do we?" he said, with a slight smile. Celebrimbor smiled back, before once again return behind the veil into the wraith-world. Talion turned his eyes beyond the Black Gate, into the wide open wilderness beyond.
"Let's go West."