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Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past
by: DLR 2002

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Chapter 22

"I am at your disposal, O golden haired one," said Gil-galad with sarcasm, between bites.

Glorfindel waited for the high king to finish chewing.  "When Elrond was sent away to school, some years ago, what precipitated this event?"

"You wish to know if there was a specific reason for this decision?"

"I wish to know what happened between Elrond and a chamber maid," responded Glorfindel.

"Ah," said Gil-galad.  He paused a minute before answering.  "Elrond raped her."

Glorfindel sat in stunned silence for a few moments.

"Nay, I am not talking violence, or anger, or intent to hurt, mind you," Gil-galad amended, "but she was unwilling and Elrond pushed it to completion."

Glorfindel found his voice.  "He mentioned this encounter to me once, and described it in positive terms."

Gil-galad's face took on a pained expression.  "Elrond had no idea, at the time, he was doing something wrong.  It would not surprise me if he still did not realize all the implications of his actions."

"Well," said Glorfindel with a sneer, "he did not have the best instructor in morality, did he?"

"Nay," said Gil-galad quietly, looking at his plate. "He did not."

There was an uncomfortable pause.  "So, why do you ask?" inquired the high king.

"She is here, in Lindon," responded Glorfindel.

Gil-galad looked worried.  "Elrond has seen her?"

"Indeed yes," said Glorfindel.  "He has seen her, she has seen him, emotions erupted, she struck him across the face and he has no idea why."

"So he does not remember that encounter either?"

"Nay, he does not," said Glorfindel.  "Even her presence does not stir memories."

"That is not surprising," said Gil-galad.  "My presence does not stir memories either."

"Thank Eru for that," Glorfindel muttered.

Gil-galad looked at him darkly.  "I will spend the rest of my life trying to make that up to him.  You have no idea how I have suffered for past mistakes."

Glorfindel returned Gil-galad's dark look.  "You do not know what suffering is," he said with some heat.  "Perhaps you should experience some of Elrond's nightmares, should you care to learn about suffering."

"I was young, I knew nothing about being a parent." 

"Parents do not lust after their children," said Glorfindel through clenched teeth.  "Youth is no excuse.  It was wrong and you knew it."  He held Gil-galad's eyes for a long moment.

"You are correct," the high king said quietly.  "For what it is worth, I do not know the person who committed those acts.  He is a stranger to me, an alien being, a demon perhaps.  I hope and pray that he is banished, now, forever."

Gil-galad closed his eyes.  "That last time," he whispered.  "It seemed so harmless.  And then Iraldë, covered in blood.   Elrond's blood.  My dreams will be haunted by that sight through all eternity."

Glorfindel snickered.  "And well they should be, Sire," he said with a sneer.  "Tis no less than you deserve."

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"Do not fret so," said Glorfindel gently.  "She has obviously mistaken you for someone else."

"Nay," said Elrond.  "There is more to it than that.  I most definitely feel a lapse of some sort.  There is something here I should know, but do not."  He pondered it a moment.  "Perhaps I should seek her out and explain."

Glorfindel closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath.  "Let us speculate here for a moment.  Suppose her to be correct and you have done something hateful to her, yet you do not remember it, for whatever reason.  If you were she, would you really want to talk to you?"

"I suppose not," said Elrond, troubled.  "How else do I find out what has happened?"

"You do not know that anything has actually happened," said Glorfindel, "not for certain.  I see no reason to antagonize her any further.  If there is something there, better that you remember on your own."  He paused for a moment.  "So, I do not give good advice?"

"Nay," said Elrond.  "You said 'do as you will' and look at the trouble it landed me into.  You should have told me to let it be."

Glorfindel stared at Elrond in bemused astonishment.  "Tis a good thing you are my friend.  If you were my enemy, you would be dying a very painful, slow, lingering death right now."

"If I were your enemy," said Elrond, grinning widely, "you would not be still alive to watch my slow lingering death."

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The Second Age of Middle-earth, 442
Lindon

He could see him clearly in his mind's eye, as he had many times during the last four hundred years.  There was a difference to this gathering at his bedside, a finality.

He lay prone on the bed, his family attending him, sons, daughters and grandchildren.  Elrond knew many of them, having watched them grow through Elros' eyes. 


Four hundred years of observing his brother's joys and sorrows, the pleasure he took from having a wife and family, the satisfaction he received from ordering his kingdom about in a manner of his own liking.

Four hundred years of completing his own education, studying, transcribing and amassing knowledge, learning the nuances of the administration of a city under Gil-galad's tutelage.

And now . . .  this was it.  This was the end.

As Elros inhaled his last breath, he directed his thoughts toward his brother.  Elrond closed his eyes and received the vision, opening his mind as though it were a receptacle to be filled.  His breathing grew heavier as the connection deepened, matching the labored breath of his twin. 

Elrond slipped into a trance, soul to soul with the one closest to his heart.

I leave you now, gwanunig-nîn, said the voice of Elros.  Sundered in body we have been, this last half century, now to be sundered in spirit as well.  I love you, Elrond, and pray to be able to maintain our connection, if not in this world, then perhaps in the next.

The vision grew dim and as the life went out of the tired, aged body, a light went out inside of Elrond.  He opened his eyes to a black aching void, his soul-mate gone forever.

His throat constricted and he could not breathe.  He made a choking, gasping noise as he rose from the dining hall table and fled the room.

Someone pursued him, but Elrond ran faster, winding his way through the darkened, empty streets of the city.  He reached the edge of one of the many rivers that flowed through Lindon, feeding into the sea, and without hesitation, jumped into the water.

Although he was a strong swimmer, he was winded from running and totally unprepared for the swiftness of the current and the strong undertow, swelled by the melting snows of the mountains to the east. 

He was pulled beneath the surface and his strength waned, his struggles to emerge, fruitless.  He managed to grab onto a protruding rock and hold on for a while, but eventually felt his fingers sliding away, unable to maintain their grasp, numb with cold.

He started to choke, but not from drowning, someone had him firmly by the collar, pulling him out.  Elrond felt dry land beneath his hands as he coughed and sputtered.  He closed his eyes and vomited, expelling the river water from his body.

"Good, good, get it all out," said Gil-galad with encouragement.

Elrond obliged him by vomiting once more.  He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and sat panting next to the fast-moving water.  Gil-galad pounded his back a few more times as an added measure.

"Stay, I will be fine," gasped Elrond.  They sat in silence for some time while their breathing returned to normal.

"Elros?" the high king finally guessed.

"Yes," said Elrond, the anguish returning to the forefront of his mind.

"Tell me."

Elrond closed his eyes tightly and gripped his knees with white knuckled fingers.  "He is gone, Ereinion," he whispered, "totally gone.  He is not on Arda, he is not in Mandos, he is gone completely.  I feel no sign of him any more."

Gil-galad showed a small smile at the use of his private father name, Elrond had never addressed him so personally before.

"Perhaps that is the way of the Atani," he said gently.  "I would not know, never having had a deep connection to any."

"I had not realized mortality would be so final," said Elrond.  "Why should the immortal only be able to reincarnate and not the mortal as well?  We live long enough as it is, tis the mortals that need another chance."

"I am in complete agreement with you," said Gil-galad, reaching out to touch Elrond's shoulder, but pulling back hastily before his foster son could note it.  The light wind had dried the dripping water from their bodies, somewhat, but Elrond's face remained wet.

"I should not be sorrowful," he said.  "Elros lived a very full life; he experienced every thing I still hope to, someday, he merely did it at a quicker pace."  Elrond wiped his sleeve across his face once more.  "He died happy, with no regrets.  In many ways I envy him."

"You spend too much time alone in the library, brooding," said the high king.  "You need to get out more, meet people, fall in love, perhaps?" His eyes twinkled.

"I am in love with my studies," said Elrond seriously, but with a glint growing in his own eye.  "There will be plenty of time to pursue each interest to its finish."

"I perceive in you a true immortal, neth istul nosse,"* smiled Gil-galad.  "You will have all these joys in time, in a manner of your own choosing."

"Aye, indeed," said Elrond, suppressing a shiver.

"Dry clothes may be of some help to improve your spirits," suggested Gil-galad.

"Did you mention spirits?" asked Elrond, brightening.

"A mug of hot mead sounds appealing?" asked Gil-galad with a lifted eyebrow.

"Indeed yes," said Elrond with a sigh.  "Quite possibly several."

The high king helped him to his feet and they walked silently back through the city, each preoccupied with his own thoughts.

Is it truly for the best, Gil-galad wondered, that he does not remember?

That is what you wish, is it not? said a voice in his head.

I know not, he responded.

His absence of memory has been a blessing for you, no confrontations.

Except from Glorfindel . . .

Glorfindel!  What do you care of Glorfindel?  He has no power against your office.

He is always there, though, a constant reminder, an irritant.

If that is all the penance you do, you can count yourself lucky.

Gil-galad sighed.  But what of Elrond?

What of him?  What do you care for Elrond?

I do care, I love him.

Love him?  Better for him if you hated him, perhaps.

I do love him and not in that way anymore . . . .

The voice smirked.  You do not know what love is, Ereinion King, you are truly a flawed being.

Please, cease this endless torment . . . .

Nay, this is only the beginning, my Lord High King, when you consider the depth of the wrong you did to that child.

He is fine, look at him.  His distress over the death of his brother is unrelated.

Fine you say?  You wish to look at him?  Let us do so.  He is nearly five hundred years old.  Most are married with families at that age.  Not Elrond.  He hides himself away in the library.  Nay, do not talk about thirst for knowledge, he hides.

He is shy of physical contact; he flinches if anyone touches him.  He has nightmares.  He has no interest in intimate relationships of any kind.  He has few friends . . .

He does have Glorfindel.

Thank Eru for Glorfindel; he is able to adapt his friendship to be whatever Elrond needs, without strings or judgment.

So, is it better he should remember?  Or not?

He will remember when he is strong enough to deal with the pain; you do him no favors forcing it upon him.

Gil-galad sighed once more.

"Ereinion," said Elrond, pausing in his stride.  "What is all of this constant heaving of your chest?  Whatever are you thinking about?"

The high king was startled out of his thoughts.  "Nothing," he said quickly.  "I am merely endeavoring to expel some water left from my own foray into the river."

"Ah," said Elrond.  "Are you in need of assistance?" he asked, and he began to pound his king and cousin on the back.

"Indeed," said Gil-galad with a grimace, enduring it.

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*Young learned kinsman