Chapter Twenty: Epilogue.
Second Age 442. The City of Lindon.
Elrond and Ereinion were sitting in the council chamber, dealing with a petition from Celebrimbor, the last remaining descendant of the House of Feanor. His request was that he be allowed to set up a guild of craftsmen within Lindon, as he had many followers that enjoyed smith-work and craftmanship, but had no official standing within the guilds that already existed. Ereinion was hesitant to allow this, as many would not appreciate a descendant of Feanor holding a position of authority. Celebrimbor's House was still mistrusted, even after all this time. Elrond understood his misgivings, and, given that he hardly knew Celebrimbor, elected not to offer his opinion. At that moment, Taurewen, a scholar attatched to Ereinion's court, and a close friend of Elrond's, walked quickly into the room, and curtsied before Ereinion.
"I beg your pardon, your Majesty," she began, "but a small ship of the Numenoreans docked a few minutes ago. The lone sailor claims to bear an urgent message for Lord Elrond, and insists on speaking with him immediately."
Elrond felt uneasy at her words, and silently looked at Ereinion, his eyes asking his long-time friend for permission to leave. Ereinion nodded his acquiescence, and Elrond followed after Taurewen as she led him to the messenger, who waited outside in the courtyard.
"Do you have any idea what this is about?" Elrond queried as they walked. Taurewen opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment, they reached the courtyard, where the Man was pacing back and forth, a tightly-sealed scroll in his hand. Taurewen merely placed her hand on Elrond's shoulder, and left quickly without meeting his eyes.
Elrond frowned, but walked towards the Man, preparing to greet him. He did not get a chance. The Man bowed upon catching sight of Elrond, then handed him the scroll silently, keeping his eyes upon the ground.
Elrond unrolled the scroll with a growing sense of trepidation. His face went utterly white as he read the words. Foregetting about the Man standing before him, he ran from the room, still clutching the scroll tightly, and ran towards the docks. Halfway there, he ran into Erestor.
"Slow down, Elrond!" Erestor protested. "What's your hurry?"
"Has the ship bearing the latest supply of books departed for Numenor yet?" Elrond asked in a rush.
"The one that arrived three weeks ago? No, I believe they were still loading when I left. They will be departing any minute now. Why do you need to know- Elrond!" Erestor shouted after him as he continued his desperate pace towards the docks. Elrond did not look back. Erestor frowned in puzzlement, then bent to pick up the scroll that Elrond had dropped in his haste. He read it, and a sorrowful look crossed his face. He sighed, knowing Elrond would be gone for some time, and went inside to bear the tidings to Ereinion.
Elrond reached the dock in a matter of minutes, and found, to his relief, that the ship returning to Numenor had not yet departed. He did not slow his pace until he reached the ship, and raced across the gangplank without even pausing to catch his breath. He knew he should have waited for a while, and gained permission from Ereinion before departing Lindon, but he was afraid to wait, afraid that even now, he might not reach Numenor in time... The ship raised anchor and wind caught the sails, less than a minute after Elrond had boarded. He gazed back at Lindon as it faded into the distance, unsure of how long it would be before he set eyes upon the city again. He sighed heavily, and turned around...only to find that every member of the crew on deck was staring at him. He had utterly forgotten to ask permission to accompany them! His eyes glanced round until he recognised the ship's captain, and he approached him swiftly.
"I am sorry for my unannounced arrival," he began, "but I received tidings but a few moments ago that my presence is requested in Numenor. I can reimburse you for my passage, if it is required."
The captain frowned, his weathered, lined face showing puzzlement. "May I ask who you are, m'lord? T'is not often that elves from Middle-Earth seek to travel to our land, much less be invited there, yet you look strangely familiar..."
"My name is Elrond, son of Earendil, and brother to Elros."
There was a chorus of shocked gasps, and frantic muttering among the ship's crew at Elrond's words, and the captain looked flustered for several minutes before managing to speak again, bowing deeply.
"Welcome aboard, my Lord." He said, his voice almost reverent. "It will be an honour to bring you to Numenor. I apologise for my harsh words. No payment will be necessary, I am always willing to serve members of the King's family." He examined Elrond more carefully. "It is no wonder you look familiar to me. You are nearly identical to Tar-Minyataur* himself in his younger days. Or what I remember of them anyway..." the captain ended in a mumble.
Elrond manged to smile his thanks, but was inwardly stunned. 'In his younger days? How much has Elros changed?' He did not dare to ask that question, however, and the ship sailed onward in silence, the sound of the waves the only audible noise.
The journey to Numenor would normally take a week. This thought horrified Elrond, as he feared there was no time to waste, but the winds blew unnaturally strongly during the journey, and the tides of the sea were also moving faster than was normal. Elrond sent silent prayers of thanks to Manwe and Ulmo, the two Valar who controlled the Winds and Seas, when the coasts of Numenor became visible after two days. He paced impatiently while the ship docked, and was the first to set foot on shore. Then, of course, he was at a loss, for he had never before travelled to Elros' realm, and did not know how to find his way around. A well-dressed Man caught sight of him, and approached cautiously.
"Lord Elrond?" He asked hesitantly.
Elrond nodded, staring in wonder at him. He looked just like Andreth! The honey-brown hair, green eyes, the light tone of his skin...it was unbelievable.
The Man smiled, although there was sorrow in it. "Well met, at last, Uncle. I am Atanalcar, youngest son of Elros. Atar bid me wait here once the message had been sent. He knew you would come. If you would follow me, I will lead you to him."
Elrond followed, contemplating Atanalcar's words as they walked. Elros had told him of his family in his many letters, but he had never sent any images of them. He spoke suddenly.
"You bear a great resemblance to your Mother. Do your brothers and sister also walk in her likeness?"
Atanalcar shook his head. "Vardamir and Manwendil both favour Atar in looks. Tindomiel has Mother's green eyes, but she is dark-haired. I alone carry the looks of Mother's side of the family." Atanalcar's expression saddened. "We all miss her...and now Atar..." He swiped tears from his face roughly.
Elrond jumped, startled. "Andreth passed? When?" He swallowed heavily, trying to accept yet another loss.
"Nearly a month ago. Mere days afterward, Atar's age began to show, more drastically than it ever had before. He arranged for the message to be sent to you almost immediately. My siblings and I have already said our farewells to him. I think..." Atanalcar took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. "I think he may have been waiting for your arrival."
Their route had led them through the city as quickly as possible, and Elrond quickened his pace at his nephew's words, dread twisting in his stomach. The palace was in sight in a few moments, and at any other time, Elrond might have stopped to admire the majestic building. Now, however, he needed to find his way inside, as quickly as he could. He followed Atanalcar up a flight of polished marble stairs, some part of his mind noting that he must be in the royal quarters. Three other Men and a woman stood in silence outside a set of closed doors. All four of them bore some resemblance to Elros, and Elrond guessed that two of the Men must be his other nephews, Vardamir and Manwendil, and the woman had to be his niece, Tindomiel. Those three were standing in a line, on the right hand side of the ornate metal doors. He wondered who the younger Man leaning against the opposite wall could be. All three looked up as Atanalcar cleared his throat.
Elrond stifled a gasp as he caught his first clear glimpse of Vardamir, whom he assumed would succeed Elros on the throne. His eldest nephew already looked like an old man! Manwendil appeared only a few years younger, and neither looked young enough to accept the burden of a throne. Ignoring his doubts, he stepped forward to greet them.
"I am pleased to finally meet you all, though I regret the circumstances. I am-"
"Uncle Elrond!" Tindomiel exclaimed, stepping forward quickly and embracing him. He returned the hug, feeling somewhat nostalgic- she was as impetuous as Elros had been, in his youth! Vardamir and Manwendil exchanged exasperated looks, before stepping forward and greeting Elrond themselves. Vardamir then beckoned the younger Man forward.
"This is my son, Amandil, the heir to the throne." At Elrond's puzzled look, Vardamir explained further.
"I am old now, and in all honesty, have no desire to rule. Amandil will take the Sceptre of the kingship when..." Vardamir faltered, seeing Elrond's pained expression. "When it is necessary." He concluded softly.
Elrond nodded, looking at the floor for a few minutes as he struggled to keep his composure.
"Is Elros willing to see me now?" He choked out, though his voice sounded as though he were being strangled.
Tindomiel nodded, though her expression was grave. "He is awake," she placed her hand on the doorhandle, "but I feel I must warn you, he will not be as you remember him." She opened the door quietly, and Elrond took a deep breath before walking into the bedchamber.
It took a few minutes for Elrond's eyes to adjust to the dim light. The room was dominated by a canopied, four-poster bed. The curtains were drawn back, and an old, old man sat half-upright in the bed, leaning heavily on the pillows that supported his back. What little hair he had left was white as snow, and fell wispily down to his shoulders. The skin of his face was sunken, and lines of age covered every inch. He was wearing a red velvet robe that covered his arms, but it was obvious that they were incredibly thin. His hands were wizened, covered with spots of age, and curled in unnatural positions, as though he could not straighten them. Only his startling silver eyes remained unchanged. If not for them, staring keenly at him, Elrond would not have recognised Elros. As it was, he stared in shock, unable to truly comprehend what he was seeing.
Elros smiled when he saw his brother. "Elrond. I knew you would come." He looked at his twin's face, and let out a wheezing laugh. "And for once, you won't be lying when you claim to be the better-looking twin."
"Elros!" Elrond shook himself out of his shock, and rushed to Elros' bedside. He knelt there, looking up at Elros.
Elros gazed at him fondly. "Were you expecting someone else?" He asked wryly.
"I was so worried that I would not reach here in time, that you would..." Elrond shook his head, unable to finish.
"You really think I would go without saying goodbye?"
"I don't want you to go at all." Elrond's voice was a whisper. Elros was reminded of the much younger Elrond who had feared losing all his family. He wished there was a way to comfort his twin, but all that could be said were cold, hard truths. Elros was Mortal. All Mortals died. Nothing could change that.
"Are you afraid?" Elrond asked softly.
Elros shook his head. "No. I thought I might be, but all I feel is weariness. I will be glad to sleep soon, and see my Andreth once again."
Elrond bowed his head, tears flooding his eyes.
"Elrond."
He raised his head to look at Elros slowly, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Elros struggled to sit up fully, though the effort was exhausting.
"Promise me something."
"Anything." Elrond vowed, a intense expression on his face.
"If any of my descendants ever require anything of you, no matter what it might be, promise me that you will at least try to aid them. For my sake."
Elrond could no longer hold back his tears, but he nodded nonetheless. "As long as I remain in Middle-Earth, I will use any resources I have to support your family. Our family. I swear this in the name of the Valar."
Elros raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought you would hesitate before invoking Their names in an oath. The last family that did that came to ruin."
"My oath to you can do no harm to others. And I intend to keep my word, always."
Elros lay back down on the pillows, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Now I would ask you to not linger here overlong after I have departed. Grief really is not productive. Mourn me as you will, but do not halt the course of your own life to do so. There is much you can do to improve this world, as I know you will. Live as fully as you can, raise a family of your own, and someday, reconcile with our parents in the West. Forgive them, as I have, and make sure they know that."
Elrond was weeping silently now, clasping one of Elros frail hands in his tanned one. Elros stretched his free hand, and laid it atop Elrond's heart. "Remember me, Brother, and then I will always be with you, in here." He closed his eyes, and his breathing became softer, harder to hear. He spoke again. "We will meet once more, at the Remaking of the World. I love you, muindor." Elros' voice was barely audible. "Andreth...?" His eyes fluttered as he spoke his late wife's name, almost as if he saw her.
Then his chest ceased to rise and fall, and his hand went slack in Elrond's grasp.
Elrond glanced up at Elros' face at that point, and saw peace. Part of him envied Elros that, for, despite the fact that he had known, for centuries, that this day would come, the pain of Elros' loss tore into him as though it were unexpected. He remained in his brother's room for hours, alternately sitting still as a statue, staring at Elros' unnaturally still form, or weeping as though he would never stop.
Eventually, he rose to his feet and made his way out of the room and down the stairs, out of the palace, paying no heed to anyone he passed. Vardamir did try and reach out to him, but he barely noticed. He felt as though he was encased in ice, like his every sense and emotion was numb.
Elros was dead.
Elros, his twin, was dead.
How had he ever thought he could recover from this? Half of his soul had passed beyond this world, forever.
He walked aimlessly, unable to see the point in going anywhere. He found himself back at the docks, only, he realised, not the same port his ship had docked at. This port must be for ships coming from Valinor, as he knew that elves from there frequently visited Numenor. Not that it mattered. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. He stared into the West, seeing nothing. Earendil's Star began to rise, as it always did when the sun began to set. 'How can the world just carry on?' Elrond wondered. He felt as though everything had ended. His Father's star seemed to glow more brightly as it passed directly into his line of sight, though he was too heartbroken to really notice.
"Star of Hope." He spat mockingly. "And what 'hope' can you possibly bring me now?! Elros is dead!" His voice grew increasingly louder as he spoke, until he was nearly shouting. Obviously, the star did not answer, and Elrond collapsed in a sitting position, his fury spent as soon as it had risen. He stayed there on the dock, unable to summon the will to move.
As Earendil journeyed higher in the sky, its light glimmered on something in the sea, some distance away, moving closer to the dock. The flickering light eventually got the distraught Peredhel's attention, and he looked towards the West. A ship was approaching. Elrond's tear-stained eyes widened, and he stood. The light of Earendil's Star remained on the approaching ship, even as it drew closer to Elrond. He could see that there was a lone elf aboard, presumably newly arrived from Valinor. Elrond was in no mood to greet a visitor to Numenor, and he intended to walk away. Something kept him where he was, however, though he could not say what or why. The small ship reached the dock, and its passenger disembarked. The tall golden-haired elf tied his boat off quickly, then walked towards Elrond without hesitation.
"Elrond, son of Earendil?" He called, in a clear, lilting voice.
"Yes." Elrond answered dully, automatically, not really caring how this stranger knew his name.
The golden-haired elf eyed him sympathetically for a moment. He had been sent here to serve Earendil's son, the last heir of the Elven King Turgon whom he had once served, and he had been told that the loss of Earendil's younger son was imminent when he left Valinor. From Elrond's behaviour now, he would guess that it had already happened. His soon-to-be liege lord did not speak again, so he decided to introduce himself.
"I am Glorfindel, once Lord of Gondolin, Captain of Turgon's warriors. My Lord Earendil requested I come here, and join the service of Turgon's last heir in Middle-Earth. Will you accept my service?"
Elrond's mouth had dropped open when Glorfindel announced who he was, and he felt somewhat lost for words when Glorfindel asked his question.
"I- I don't- I mean, of course I will, but..." Elrond struggled to put his feelings into words. "I am sorry, my Lord-"
"Glorfindel. You do not need to address me as Lord."
Elrond swallowed. "Glorfindel. I hope you will understand that I am not in the best of temperaments at this time."
Glorfindel's bright expression faltered. "Yes...your brother. Your father told me his time was nigh. I had hoped to reach here in time to meet both of you. I regret that I could not."
Elrond realised he was starting to feel interested, though his mind screamed that he should not, that Elros' loss was the only important detail at the moment. "Father still watches over us- over me, I mean?" He blinked back tears, remembering that there was no 'we' and never would be again.
"Yes." Glorfindel said softly, knowing his young Lord was still suffering- the loss of his twin must have been very recent. Acting on impulse, he placed a brotherly arm around Elrond's shoulders, hoping to comfort him. Elrond relaxed slightly, though he was still weeping. Glorfindel decided to take charge for the moment. He began leading Elrond back into the city.
"Would you prefer to return to Middle-Earth today, or do you wish to spend the night here?" he asked kindly.
"...I do not think I can bear to stay here." Elrond admitted softly, feeling glad of the security Glorfindel's presence provided.
"Then we will take ship tonight." Glorfindel smiled. "I am quite looking forward to meeting King Ereinion. His reputation precedes him in Valinor, as does yours'." He gave Elrond's shoulders a squeeze, and Elrond actually smiled. He remembered some of Elros' last words to him: ' Mourn me as you will, but do not halt the course of your own life to do so'. He still had a life to lead, and he would honour Elros by doing so. He would always miss his twin, but life had to continue. And he would never forget Elros. Ever.
Some time later, he and Glorfindel were sailing back towards Lindon, with Elrond telling many tales of his and Elros' lives together. He found that the pain of loss eased as he spoke, and Glorfindel listened avidly to every word. He thought, in time, that Glorfindel could become a valued friend. The thought made Elrond smile. He glanced skywards once. Earendil's Star still shone down on them. 'Star of Hope, indeed' he thought. His father had sent means to restore his hope, in his darkest hour. "Thank you, Adar." Elrond whispered fervently, unknowingly echoing Elros' words from centuries before. The star twinkled several times, as if answering. Earendil smiled wistfully down at his son, hoping he would find peace now.
The End.
AN: Special thanks to: Vermillion Lynn, Myth Queen, Lalaith-Elerrina, Oleanne, and Certh, for all your help with this story. And thanks to everyone else who has taken the time to read and review this story. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did!
(Tar-Minyataur is the name Elros took when he became King, and the names I used for his children are canon, as is the date I gave for his death, according to the Tolkien Gateway website. Taurewen is an OC.)