Elrond Part 7
The cool morning air pressed against Elrohir, a strangling force. The early morning sun was already casting light and heat to kill off the drops of water that settled over every leaf and rock each night.
So, this is what the end feels like, Elrohir thought bitterly. The end of a war that hardly started before the commanders surrendered.
He should've fought, Elrohir thought. He should've at least tried.
Every ounce of bitterness was replaced by sadness as he found himself standing on a small platform at the foot of the graves. Beside Elrond was Elladen and Arwen, each just as much sleeping in the soft dirt.
Dozens of pale, expectant faces stared at him, waiting.
The only problem was, Elrohir wasn't sure that he could actually give them what he wanted.
"Elrond, lord of Rivendell. Once upon a time, he was a husband. Once upon a time, he was a father. He was a soldier and a scholar and a healer, all once upon a time. Now is not that time, for now cannot be called "once" unless it is the past.
"Now is not the past, no matter if that is where Elrond, lord of Rivendell, now dwells.
"And just because he is my father, it does not make it my duty to dwell where he should, for he wants me to move forward.
"Elrond is dead, and moved on. All that is left for us to do, is move on.
"And though it is the last thing I want to do, it is my duty, so I shall."