3. First Dream
The dream first came as a blurry image.
In it, a figure all in black sat amidst lush foliage darkened with looming shadows.
Come closer, it would beckon but not a single word was uttered.
Yet, try as he might, Elrond could not get any closer. And when he awoke, he would not remember a single thing of what he saw. The only thing remaining would be a niggling feeling that stayed with him throughout the day.
Then night would come and with it, the same dream.
Always the same.
He couldn't see the features of the being that beckoned him.
Closer, it continued to echo within his mind.
As the dreams begin to gain clarity, Elrond was finally able to glimpse the being that summoned his arrival nightly.
At first, Elrond thought the creature was a human child but even through the haziness, he could see an unearthly glow about this small being.
It would take nearly another week before he would fully capture the details of this fey creature's appearance.
The ethereal being had hair as dark as the night of the new moon, long and unbound, tumbling down over small shoulders to the waist. Coupled with the pure black silk robes that the androgynous creature wore, the darkness that surrounded the pale features only seemed to highlight the fair face that shone with the light of Aman. The face was beautiful but the eyes upon it would always take Elrond's breath away.
But always, always, in the beginning of the dream, those beautiful orbs would be closed, long dark lashes fluttering against high unblemished cheeks.
'Why did you summon me?' Elrond would asked.
Eyes so green that they rivaled only the most lush of forests would snap open.
And the dream would then end.
It wouldn't be another three more days before the child-like being would say anything to him.
For those three days, he remembered nothing but glowing green eyes. He consulted his mentor and lord, High King Gil-Galad about the dreams and they came to the conclusion that maybe it was a foretelling of a future arrival that may turn the tide for their war against Sauron. But until they knew what the wraith-like creature wanted, they could not decipher the meaning of the visions, if indeed those dreams really were visions.
Something was different that night, when he finally spoke. Elrond could feel it, even in his dreams, as he wandered through the shadowy forest towards the creature that beckoned him night by night.
This time, when he arrived at the clearing where they always met, the fey child was staring at him with those lustrous emerald eyes. Then those pink lips opened.
'I am the Master of Death.'
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Elrond awoke.
Startled by the intensity of his dream, the dark-haired elf jolted from his bed, reaching out for the sword he kept by his bedside. When his fingers touched the hilt of his sword, he stopped, finally snapping out of the shock that the dream had wrought. He thought through his dream hard as he tried to gather his wits about him.
The Master of Death?
Why would Death show itself to him?
Was he going to die in the war with Sauron?
Too shaken by the knowledge wrought from his dream, he did not tell his monarch what he had dreamt. They did not need such an omnious sign brought to light. It would only serve to bring down the men's spirit.
But the intensity of those brilliant green eyes that held all the knowledge and sadness of the world remained in his mind, haunting him.
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Elrond dreamt no more of the petite spirit until weeks later, when in the midst of the battle against Sauron, he caught sight of the black-clad Maia.
At first, Elrond could not believe what he was seeing.
The only thing that registered in his mind was that the dream wasn't a dream after all.
High above the battle site, a small dark figure sat, legs dangling from the cliff like a little child. The expression on that unforgettable face however, was not child-like. Tears of despair trailed down from those emerald eyes as the Master of Death watched both mortals and immortals killing and dying.
Elrond was frozen in shock, till a shout broke his reverie.
"ELROND! LOOK OUT!"
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Moments after his close shave with death, Elrond braced himself to look up to find the black-clad figure gone.
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That night, after the war was won and loved ones were lost, he had a dream.
The ancient forest that was previously filled with shadows and danger now glittered with light and life. Assorted creatures could be seen grazing, birds were serenading from treetops as butterflies of rainbow colours fluttered merrily from one cluster of flowers to another.
'Why do you seek me?' a quiet voice inquired.
Elrond turned to see the child who claimed to be the Master of Death. He sat within the clearing as always, in the same place. But this time, as opposed to shadows, forest companions surrounded the petite Maia, nuzzling the fey being as if trying to comfort the spirit with their affections.
Elrond scanned the fair face which was now expressionless, completely devoid of the pain and grief that it held previously. The brilliant green eyes that captivated the elf was now closed, which was both a disappointment and a relief to Elrond. Cautiously, the dark-haired elf asked: 'What do you mean?'
'At every junction of your life, you come calling upon me,' the fair Maia answered, so soft he was almost whispering.
'I...I do not understand…' Elrond frowned in confusion.
'Years ago, you and your brother came to me. Can you remember now?' the shorter of the two then opened his bottomless emerald eyes.
Elrond to gazed into Death's pupil-less green eyes and the memories begin to flood into his mind. When he had been given the choice between joining the kin of man or to remain an immortal, he had been approached by a small figure cloaked in black, hooded and concealed. In that dream, Death showed him the things he might see as an immortal elf, both beautiful and ugly, the cruelty of the world and it's ever poignant kindness. He also showed them the peace that they may receive as a mortal, when the time came to rejoin all those who have passed on before them. Now, he wished that he had not made the choice to remain an immortal.
As if knowing his thoughts, the Maia tilted his head in curiousity. Snapping out of his thoughts, Elrond bowed in apology.
'I do now. I did not know that I have interrupted your peace.'
'You did. But it matters not now. You seek something, do you not?'
'No, I… ," surprised by Death's candidness, Elrond floundered for just a moment before pausing.
'Yes, I do,' he finally answered, knowing now that it was him who had sought the child-like Maia and not the other way round. It was then that the forests around them melted, into wondrous golden halls that stretched on and on. Elrond watched in awed amazement as all around them, every single tree turned into great shining pillars and their branches morphed into high beams where yards of fine tapestries hung, all the way down to the gleaming floors.
'Elrond.'
The dark-haired elf turned at the familiar voice calling out his name. The High King Gil-galad stood, not too far from where he was, smiling wondrously at him as if all burdens had been lifted from his shoulders. Behind him, various other elves stood, rejoicing and laughing. They were elves that had perished that morning in the battle for Middle Earth.
Elrond stepped towards them, wanting to know if something this beautiful was truly a dream but the Master of Death moved in front of him, halting his progress.
'Wake up, Lord Elrond,' the diminutive being said, 'You do not belong here.'
'But I need to speak to them-'
'In time, you will see them again,' the other being said, gently and soothingly. All around them, the halls melted and the blissful elves disappeared as darkness bled across his vision till he saw no more.
'And when you do, I will be beside you.'
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When Elrond awoke, his cheeks were wet with tears.
He wished all he could that he could join those that he had seen at the Hall of Awaiting. He wished that he would no longer have to continue on without them. And most of all, he wished that he could not feel this pain of great loss.
"It is difficult to be left behind, isn't it?"
Elrond jolted up from his reclining position to stare at the Master of Death, who was standing at the foot of his bed.
"Your life, there is more to see and more to learn. It is not time yet for me to guide you to the Blessed Realms," the child-like Maia smiled softly. For a moment, Elrond was breathless, amazed by the simple beauty brought upon the fair face by that little smile.
"You have yet to complete your role as a ring-bearer, Elrond, son of Earendil," the green-eyed Maia continued, "Until then, you will live. And the emptiness within your heart that you feel now will be filled with wisdom and love."
With that said, the diminutive Death was enveloped in darkness and disappeared from his sight.
Elrond would learn, with time, the truth the petite Maia had spoken. He learned to wield the power of Vilya, the Ring of Air, as he gained knowledge and wisdom along the way. Most of all, he gained loved ones that filled his heart with joy everyday of his immortal life. His wife, his sons and his beloved daughter as well as his dear friends.
From the last time he laid eyes on Death, whenever he thought of the Maia, he no longer felt wariness he initially felt whenever he thought of the spirit. Now, Elrond could only think of the other ageless being with something akin to gratefulness for giving him an insight on how wondrous life in Middle Earth could be. He wondered sometimes whether he would meet the ebony-haired Maia again.
For Elrond, centuries would pass before he would ever see those evergreen eyes again.
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And it wouldn't be until years later, in a moment of chance, that Elrond would find that he was not the only one who knew of him. However, in retrospect, he should have known or at least, suspected. Though in reality, he could never have imagined, how intimately this golden elf would know of the Maia.
That day, after a particularly long and tiring escapade involving his illustrious twin sons, he was nursing a cup of tea with his beloved friend, Glorfindel and his advisor, Erestor, that he accidently mentioned the child-like being clad in death.
He couldn't remember the exact words that he had uttered for his mind was hazy from fatigue, but he said something along the lines of his children being the reason to drive him to an immature death. Then, he said:
"And the poor fey child of Death would have to come and retrieve me."
Glorfindel, the Chief of the Golden Flower, actually jerked and stared at him as if he had unerringly uncovered a life-long secret.
And he did, as a matter of fact.
End of First Dream
I'm updating this today because I unexpectedly got a free break from being stuck in that stone-age island. Came back for the weekend to escape the monotony. ;op
This time, for real, the next update will be in June. And yes, it'll be on Glorfindel/Harry.