Chapter 2

Elrond was not there the day Ereinion was crowned. Erei was already king when Maglor returned the twins to Sirion by the sea. A young king, of course; the youngest ever amongst the Eldar, but a king nonetheless. And a good king, Elrond was told, in those first years. He was too young yet to understand rulership, born of a line that had no reason or expectation of such a throne. He knew Gil-galad's history, or learned it soon enough, and Elrond was impressed that the young High King seemed to come so naturally to a role that should not have been his for many yéni to come. But in those first years, Elrond was less aware of court and rule than he should have been, distracted by a life that had not settled since he was born and a brother who was making a decision Elrond could not comprehend.

Elros has been gone several decades before Elrond became an official member of the king's court. Why he was included at such a young age, Elrond did not understand and no one could explain. Círdan had professed that it was because Gil-galad wished someone in his confidence closer in age, and Elrond was at least a relative.

Gil-galad was dead in Mordor before Elrond learned the truth from Círdan. Ereinion had known, even then, that every king needed an heir and he had chosen Elrond, in all but name. And the rest of the court had accepted it too, though it had never been spoken of. Elrond could not understand how he had missed such an obvious political move. And yet, the intricacies of kingship and the court at Sirion went beyond his purview most days. And Elrond would be the first to admit that, at first, he had had other things on his mind then justifying why Ereinion was naming him a councilor.

It made sense now. In some way it frustrated Elrond more, because it meant that Ereinion had wanted this since Elrond was still a child. And 3000 years later who was Elrond to question it?

They had been back in the old palace across the harbor from Mithlond for only two days when Círdan had approached him with this news. Elrond felt it late in coming, but at the same time he understood that Círdan had had no reason to share the truth before now. It was all, however, starting to feel like proscribed fate to Elrond. His path had been chosen for him, he had just never understood what path that was until now.

'You may believe otherwise Elrond, and that is your right, but you will make a good king. You have always been meant for this. And your rule, I think, shall be less full of hardship than Ereinion's.'

A half truth, Elrond thought uncharitably, as his rule had begun with the death of the one he cared most for in the world. Still, what was done was done and Elrond had already had nearly a year to come to terms with the war. It felt like an age ago already, for indeed it was, and yet the last days of the battle replayed themselves like pictures in his mind whenever the night was darkest.

'Time will only tell. Still, I acknowledge that this must be, which no doubt Galadriel sees as a victory.'

Círdan's mouth twitched into a smile. 'She means well.'

'Does she?' Elrond asked, still unsure.

'She will not interfere with your rule, you realize? She wishes only for the stability of the kingdoms and, I think, the day when she can retreat to lands she can rule of her own and worry less about the rest of us.'

And that was probably the crux of it, after all. It made a certain amount of sense, especially where Finarfin's daughter was concerned.

'If that is all this is, I will be grateful for it.'

'And I will ever be here, Elrond, when you need council. As I was for Ereinion.'

Elrond paused in his stride and gazed out at the harbor. There were already ships making ready to depart for the circling seas. By the end of the year, Lindon's population would be nearly halved. Many of those sailing were the survivors of the war. Elrond could not blame them.

'And as Erei always did, I too will be grateful for your council. I cannot do this alone.'

Círdan raised an eyebrow. 'Alone? Whatever gave you such an idea?'

Elrond sighed. 'A king is always alone.'

Círdan turned to gaze back along the balustrade they were strolling upon, back towards the city. 'In some ways, yes. In others, however, you will never be alone. But if you will take my first piece of council?'

Elrond nodded.

'Do not make the mistake Ereinion did. Do not leave yourself alone. Share this burden with another, one you find worthy. Marry.'

Yes, marry. Galadriel had already been making intuitions about doing just that, and soon. It was not a problem to Elrond, but he was in no hurry. It would take time to become comfortable in this role, before he could think to share his life with a queen.

'I will marry, Círdan. I have no desire otherwise. But it will not be immediately. We must recover first, as well as we can. And I must decide exactly what I am going to do with my life now. It is not a simple matter of taking over from Erei. We need a different type of king now, I feel.'

Círdan nodded thoughtfully. 'You are more suited to this role than you think. Come, let us return. There is, as you say, much to do.'

Not the least of which was the crowning. Galadriel had appointed herself to organize it before the month was out. The sooner the better, she felt, before the first of the ships departed. It made enough sense that Elrond had decided not to fight her over it. Crowned now or next year was still crowned and getting on with it made a certain amount of sense. There were some powers he could not exercise until the weight of that gold rested on his brow.

Mithlond did not have a throne room, at least not such as the men from Númenor counted such things. There was certainly a large room for official ceremonies, but nothing large enough for even a fraction of the city to turn out for the coronation.

Instead, Galadriel deemed it best to hold the ceremony outside, on the steps down to the harbor. It was not quite large enough for all to view, but it would be enough for those who wished to come. No one was under any assumption that every elf in Lindon would. Some were still too grieved by loss and thought only of the sailing ships. They had no need to see the crowning of a king of a new age they would not be part of.

Galadriel had had new robes made for Elrond, in the deep blue and black and gold of the royal house. They were colours Elrond had never worn in combination before, but if Círdan had spoken true, they had always been his to wear. He felt like a stranger amongst his own kin, decked in layers of silks and velvets on a too warm day. And he a felt like an imposter too. That doubt, Elrond thought, would never quite leave him. This was never meant to be his life, no matter what Ereinion had decided for him.

The ceremony was, at least, short. It was Círdan who set the twining gold crown upon his head that had been brought back with care all the way from Mordor. Of the body, there had not been enough left to warrant it and all of their dead, not just the High King, had been burned. Círdan had already spoken with Elrond about a memorial stone in Mithlond by the sea, but the soon to be crowned king had thought Rivendell a better place. Erei had always been happiest there, on too brief visits.

Elrond felt as if the breath was stolen from him when Galadriel proclaimed him king. Many clapped. Many others were silent. This was not a celebration; they all knew that. Too much had been lost to celebrate the start of a new beginning. A beginning bereft of far too much.

Elrond caught Celebrían's eye in the audience. She had arrived from Rivendell but two days previous, at her mother's request. So far they had not had the chance to speak, but Elrond hoped to seek her out soon. He had much to explain to her, though he worried what her mother had already told her.

Ereinion was dead. The second father and brother he had lost, for the King had been both when needed. And a good friend too. Elrond had so few of those left. The Eldar were fading from Middle-earth. He could feel it already. And yet here they were, crowning a new king and beginning a new age of rule. It would be long, Elrond feared, before he would be free to sail as well.

They did not celebrate after the crowning. There was a small private dinner of the immediate court, but no toasting long into the night. There was too much still to do and Elrond retired early and rose earlier. He was king now and he had responsibilities he could not ignore. The first was to see those who wished to sail on their way, and provision for more ships to be built for those who would sail in the next several years. And a new court to organize. Half of their lords had been lost in Dagorlad, and still others were departing west. A smaller court was called for, but positions would have to be determined and Elrond was now responsible for such decisions.

Before he retired to his rest the first night, he stood upon his balcony, in his old rooms. Despite Círdan's suggestion, Elrond could not bear to take Erei's. Gazing up at the night sky he saw Eärendil burning bright as ever. The sky had rarely been clear in the dark shroud that lay over Mordor. Too infrequently could Elrond gaze up and see his father's ship. It was, as it had always been, a comfort to see it now.

'What must you think of me now father? In this new life I now lead? I wonder if perhaps you would not sympathize with me.'

One day, Elrond still hoped, he would be able to ask his sire that very question. But he knew, with no need of foresight, that such a day would be many yéni away.