Victory had been won in the war between Gondor and the dark empire in the lands of Harad; Ciryaher celebrated in the streets of Umbar as his men called out to him in celebration calling him Hyarmendacil, Conqueror of the South. The Haradrim and Ayab-Mamuk gathered the bodies of their dead and rode into the East seeking word of their allies in their battle upon Khahalazul. The Haradrim and Khand that followed under Khamul fell to their knees in supplication and made peace with the King of Gondor. A few days later Celebrin sent word to Ciryaher that Khahalazul was taken and its inhabitants exiled from Harad and Khand; he also sent word that Queen Ashthera and the rest of the council awaited his entrance into the city in a march of victory, when treaties would be made and peace at long last enshrined between the men of the West and the peoples of the East and South.
And so Ciryaher Hyarmendacil rode in a great procession along the fragments of the old Harad road that led to the Khavul valley and the city of Khahalazul. Beside him rode Narmacil who had ridden out to meet his King along with his garrison that had grown and swelled in the 35 years since the inception of the war. The men of Narmacil's garrison were darker than their kin from Gondor for in them resided the blood of the Eastern peoples, their hair grew in curls or straight depending on if they were descended from Harad or Utashtegu women. Some in this garrison also were women though they were broader of shoulder and harder of face than women of Gondor and some of the men made jests at their expense, at least until they were sorely beaten by them. Ciryaher at this time wore a shimmering silver suit of armor and a great blue riding cape descended from his shoulders, covering the hind quarters of his white horse, embroidered with brilliant silver, gold and bronze stars. His crown was tall and high, the white swan feathers catching the bright light of the sun; his face was cleanly shaven, his hair shorn to the nape of his neck and the smile upon his face made him seem like a young man again. As they approached the city he saw great banners of several colors draped over the walls of Khahalazul, they each bore the insignia of the Seven Nations and beneath that was embroidered the sign or crest of each individual nation. For the Ayab-Mamuk, there was bright red banner with the symbol of two tusks crossed over a spear that pointed toward the sky; for the Khand there were two banners one bore a great lion and another was a great dragon embroidered upon white and green silk. These three hung over the right side of the city's entrance, to the left hung three others, two for the Harad: one was colored sable with a white outline of a horse riding upon the crescent moon and the other was red with a hand set in a blazing red sun. Beside those was a banner emblazoned with the symbol of the Hamadjon warriors, it was set on a purple banner and its insignia was a crescent moon beneath a five petal rose that stood before a standing labrys. And above the gate to the city of Khahalazul hung a bright blue and green banner upon which was hung the symbol of the Utashtegu, a simple circle that was separated into four quarters, and the circle was surrounded by a great feathered serpent that ate its own tail. From the walls of the city Ciryaher Hyarmenacil and his retinue were greeted by shouts of joy and victory uttered in many different tongues; those who greeted them threw from the heights of the walls a flurry of small pink and yellow flowers. As he passed through the doorway of the city he was struck in awe for upon every building that still stood was a huge gathering of people waving at him and cheering and along the streets were gathered a great multitude of women, children and elders who wore the ceremonial garb of their people.
The main course-way was lined by the warriors of the Seven Nations, beginning with the Ayab- Mamuk arrayed in resplendent red garb which was in stark contrast to the black of their skin, then next came the Khand who wore their silken dress and then the Harad who wore crimson and black robes. Then came the Hamadjon who wore their warrior skirts and a tight leather jerkin about their chests, their capes flowing toward the ground, and their helmets gleaming in the daylight. Finally the soldiers of the Utashtegu lined the course-way as it led to the hill upon which the tower of Khamul once stood. They wore no longer the black garb of their stealth but a full range of costume that highlighted their amalgam history: some wore loin cloths with red and turquoise capes hanging from their shoulders, others wore buck skin pants and high flat footed boots with white linen shirts. And others wore richly embroidered garments or hung feathers from braids in their hair, or great stone necklaces about their necks. Ciryaher Hyarmendacil admired their welcome and was glad that he had brought the other Lords of Gondor to witness the full might of the allies he had made. He looked back at them and they were astonished or wore looks of fear or incredulousness.
At the zenith of the hill standing upon the broken foundations of the tower stood Queen Ashthera surrounded by the other masked figures of the Council. Behind the queen stood Celebrin, the elf, almost blending in with the other mortals save for the beauty that one could see in his face. Ciryaher dismounted his steed and began to climb the hill, when he reached the zenith he made a gesture to move toward where the council stood but the Queen raised her hands and a silence fell over the people gathered there.
"Welcome to the city of Khavul, King Hyarmendacil of Gondor, for no more shall its former accursed name be uttered. Now is the time for renewal and rebirth; now is the time that we begin our world again for victory has been gained by Gondor and OUR PEOPLE!"
At this the people cheered and the stomping of their feet seemed to shake the walls and the ground Ciryaher stood upon. He looked upon the Queen and was amazed, for she wore a sable gown that shimmered as though it were a deep velvety blue or regal violet hidden beneath a black veil. Upon the gown were embroidered silver stars and her hands which stuck out of the long sleeves were deeply tattooed with ochre drawings. She wore a crown now, that seemed to form a half-moon shaped coronet over her head and her head scarf flowed from her crown to the ground trailing behind her. Still she wore an opaque veil and her brilliant eyes shone out through the haze giving only a slight inkling that she was human. She began to speak again, her voice carrying over the silent crowd,
"Now also is the time to make oaths fulfilled… take out the axe I once gave you, king and conqueror of Khamul's lands."
Ciryaher Hyarmendacil hesitated, his palms sweating; he did not think they would ask him to fulfill his vows in public but he should have expected it- it was the only they could ensure that the oaths were truly taken and not set aside. Behind him the Lords of Gondor and his royal counselors began to mutter among themselves, amongst them stood Saruman, dressed in resplendent white and behind him was Mithrandir who whispered into his kinsman's ear,
"Oaths? I have heard of no oaths."
"Many things the young king kept in his heart Mithrandir, but I guessed as much when he returned to Gondor from his trip to visit the Queen of the East. It seemed as though other things were on his mind and he long examined the laws of Gondor, especially those concerning marriage."
Ciryaher took the great axe, which hung from the saddle of his horse and that shone out brightly in the noon sun, with a wave of her hand the Queen said,
"Guardians of the East, now is no longer the time for secrecy reveal your faces to your friend and ally in true bonds of trust."
The council removed their veils and revealed many different men and women who stood in the ceremonial garb of their people. The only one that remained veiled was the Queen, at this the unsteady voice of Ciryaher reverberated into the open air,
"What about you oh great queen of the East, shall not your people set their eyes upon you as well?"
There was silence and Saruman smiled shaking his head,
"The young king wants this ceremony on equal ground, he is pressing his advantage."
A light laughter came from the queen and she opened her hand to request the axe of Hipholuta, once she held it in her hands she raised her face to the sun and said,
"Those who stand before you are mortal men, driven by the desires of mortal men, but I…I, King of the West, am not a simple mortal man. I am the voice of my people, the mind of their mind… the heart of their heart. Turn around King of Gondor and see my true face."
He turned and there saw the great multitude that gazed upon him, some with smiles of joy and hope, these mostly came from young ones, men and women in the prime of their lives; others had tears flowing down their cheeks and some even hid their faces as they broke down, these were the old, who longed for the end of Khamul's tyranny. Humbled Ciryaher turned to the Queen and nodded,
"Your face is indeed beautiful Lady…To my oath I hold myself and all the men of Gondor."
The Lords of Gondor and the king's counselors began to grumble as Ciryaher spoke, kneeling upon the ground,
"I henceforth vow that all the lands East and South of Umbar, including the vales and lands of Khavul and Khand shall henceforth belong to the Seven Nations of the red Mountain and their descendents as long as my blood sits upon the throne of Gondor. And I vow that Khavul shall know no king, lord, vassal or tyrant of Gondorian blood as long as my life endures."
At this the Queen spoke, the tense anger brewing among the Lords of Gondor began to creep up Mithrandir's neck,
"And to our oath we hold…That while the Seven Nations and our allegiances hold true, no force of darkness shall return to these lands or muster a force against the land and king of Gondor. That to Gondor we give the rule and order of the Eastern lands North of the Harad road until the borders of Khavul. To Gondor shall also go the lands of Umbar and the coastlines to the South shall be under the domain of Ciryaher Hyarmenacil, lord of the Southern Lands.
At this the queen raised the axe to the sky and said aloud,
"The blood of Gondor and our people has been spilt in sacrifice to save our lands and to free our people from bondage. The river shall once again run through these lands and to seal this great pact, East and West shall be joined in that eternal bond that unites strangers in all lands, the bond of marriage."
A cry went out through the city as Ciryaher rose and taking the hand of the queen said,
"And for my bride I choose the woman beneath this veil, for I shall be wed to the people of the Seven Nations and to her my heart belongs."
Silence followed, both from the people and from the retinue from Gondor; breaking the silence the queen said,
"Are you sure of this?"
"I am."
"Then so it shall be. Tomorrow at the appointed time it shall happen."
The queen walked away and the preparations for the wedding feast began in earnest. Immediately the Lords of Gondor surrounded the king, uttering words of protest, saying that he had no right to surrender Gondor's claims to the East much less to marry an Eastern woman or deny his own children the right to sit upon Khavul's throne. He listened to them silently and Mithrandir, for a brief moment saw a look of worry upon his face, but with a firm hand and voice he spoke to them saying,
"I am King of Gondor and it is my right and privilege to sign whatever treaties I will…The victory over Khamul and his dark empire belonged to me and to the men of Gondor's armies not to you. If it were not for their aid Gondor would have been lost without king, and you would be fighting the war at the very borders of Gondor itself!"
At this he walked away and Mithrandir sighed, turning away from the scene he saw Celebrin the elf standing silently observing what was happening. With a gentle nod the elf turned upon his heel and left, following in the direction that Queen Ashthera took.
The next day the ceremony was to begin and many people, men, women and children filled the central plaza and surrounding areas, much as they had with the procession but instead of a military appearance to it, there were garlands of desert flowers and green boughs from the river trees wound in wreathes. The banners had been removed from the wall and a great hearth was lit in the center of the city. For the morning there were different entertainments, dancers and acrobats as well as a great feast of many different aromas, tastes, colors and textures. Mithrandir was astonished at the size of the feast given the relative sparseness of the food he encountered when he journeyed through the encampments within the Orocarni. Finally at the hour of twilight the marriage ceremony began, it was in the custom of the Utashtegu as Mithrandir was told and all these things that he observed were alien and foreign to him.
The queen was dressed in a red linen robe, simple compared to what she usually wore and she wore a white veil under her crown that draped over the top of her head, over her shoulders and fell like light sea foam to the floor. The white veil was thin and embroidered with delicate red and pink flowers. The red ochre tattoos flowed from the tips of her fingers and covered her entire arm and seemed to cover her torso for a fine line of them could be seen coming out of the collar of her robe and dancing up her neck. The tattoos were made of fine flowing figures and seemed to weave around her body like flowering vines, here and there blossoming into full five pointed roses. Ciryaher wore a resplendent blue tunic and fine velvet leggings which he had brought from Gondor, the fine craftsmanship simmering in richly embroidered dragons and stars that lined his sleeve cuffs and collar. At the beginning of the ceremony another woman stood before a great hearth, dressed in black and blue garments, dotted with silver and gold stars, the same ochre tattoos lined her hands and her sandaled feet. As the Queen approached her, she rose her hands to the twinkling stars and spoke words to the sky in a strange tongue which Mithrandir could not interpret, then bowing to the kneeling woman she removed her crown and placed it on the woman's head, passing on the mantle of Queen to her.
The ceremony continued as Ciryaher and the veiled woman began repeating what appeared to be vows in Alamb-Harad, read by Pallando who stood before the great fire. A red ribbon was then wrapped around their wrists, connecting them hand-to-hand; unlike the western wedding ceremony there was no exchange of rings but an exchange of necklaces. Upon Ciryaher's neck she tied a simple leather string, from which hung a small turquoise stone; he in turn placed upon her a intricately carved necklace made of shell, the handicraft of the elves of Mithlond or Edhellon, Mithrandir could not discern which it was. Finally the twain walked around the great fire and in four moments stopped, took incense from a small clay bowl and threw it into the fire releasing a sweet smell and light hued smoke into the sky. Then they stood before all sealing their vows with a kiss; at this moment the queen slowly removed her head scarf, and handed it to an attendant. As she removed her embroidered veil from her head, shimmering jet black hair, curled in undulating waves, cascaded down her shoulders. She removed her enveloping veil and revealed to all a dark olive skinned face that smiled regally with the full wisdom of the ages and who, through brilliant gray eyes, looked lovingly at the King of Gondor. Anatse, dressed in the garb of Queen Ashthera, placed her hands in Ciryaher's and he spoke in a whisper that only they could hear, his voice quivering with exultation and happiness,
"I knew…I hoped…I had such hope it was you."
"Then your wish was granted."
At this the pair embraced each other and their lips touched as a great cheer erupted from the crowd and from the council upon the hill. The Lords of Gondor begrudgingly clapped their hands though they wore faces filled with shock or slow-burning anger. The rest of the night was filled with entertainments such as dances or expositions of battle skill. Clouds covered the sky the next few days and in these days the Council prepared for the rebuilding of the city; Narmacil's garrison was permanently stationed in Khavul and Narmacil received the rank of Sergeant of the Eastern Regiment. The men and women under Narmacil formed a standing armed guard and began rebuilding the old Harad road which led from the gates of Khavul to Osgiliath. The Ayab-Mamuk, in gratitude and pledge of allegiance to Ciryaher and Anatse, gave fine ivory jewelry, statues and sword hilts, carved from the tusks of the fallen Mumakil. They in turn received the land of their heritage and governed the lands south of the Haradwaith which was Gondor's claim. The Harad loyal to the Seven nations were given one third of Khavul to make their own and their caravans were given special license and documents which allowed them unquestioned access to the Harad Road and trade in Osgiliath and Khavul. The Khand, who aided Ciryaher, received no land from Gondor or Khavul for their lands were in the farthest reaches of the East, yet in the years to come Ciryaher Hyarmendacil sent his armada to the coasts of the far east to make peace there on behalf of his new allies. The Khand loyal to Khamul, however were removed from their lands near Umbar and taken to the lands south of Ithilien, next to the southern border of Mordor. The Utashtegu and all their people received the largest of the treaty, for their lands reached from Khavul to the roots of the Orocarni and eastward to the lands of the Easterlings encompassing the Talath-Anorui and Eastward to the golden river which was deemed the land of the Khand. Khavul itself was to be inhabited by many people though it mostly fell under the stewardship of the Harad and Utashtegu who ruled it through two main chieftains. The Hamadjon asked of Ciryaher that they be given their ancient homelands of Harandor and Lebennin yet at this the Lords of Gondor spoke harsh words and one among them said to Ciryaher,
"Surely you will not relinquish these lands to them? Long have the men of Numenor and their descendents lived upon these lands and their blood defended the coasts from Khamul's navies! Or do you wish to give the land of Gondor to a band of roaming she-devils?!"
At this Ciryaher set his jaw firm and spoke to the offending Lord,
"The Hamadjon have fought fiercely for their freedom, more so than any soldier of Gondor…yet I must agree…"
Turning to the Hamadjon chieftain, who stood tall before him, carrying the axe of Hipholuta, he said, conciliatory,
"I am sorry, Penedhislea, in the long years you have been gone from these lands, the men of Gondor have lived and built their settlements upon the shores by the bay of Belfalas. It is their land by ancient rite, I cannot take that land from them."
The chieftain ripped a piece from her cloak and let it fall to the floor by her feet,
"My mother's people will not concede this matter! It matters not to us what men may have settled there, my foremothers and ancestors made that land their home, long before the men of Numenor came with their ships. It was my fore-mothers who allowed your Elendil to sail up the Great River and found Osgiliath! By their generosity did your first steps on this land prove firm…does that mean nothing!"
Ciryaher was silent at first, worry written in his brow, suddenly a firm voice came from the corner of the room in which they stood debating these matters. Anatse walked toward them and placed a calm and soft hand upon her husband's shoulder,
"Husband, there must be some way that the men of Gondor and the tribes of the Hamadjon can live upon that land in peace? Is there another land to which you can move the Gondorians who have settled in Lebennin or Harondor? Or another which you can more freely give to the Hamadjon to make as their own?"
The same Lord of Gondor who spoke at first said in an even harsher tone,
"See! Already the Queen of the East need but lay her hands to influence our King! You may have given up the lands of the East to her, but you cannot give up the lands of Gondor itself, that your father and father's fathers ruled since time immemorial! My King you cannot be swayed by this…"
At this the King rose to his full height and said in a strong and angry tone,
"Be wary of where you open your serpent tongue, Angciryon! You will not address my wife in such manner, for whether you like it or not she is your queen and her voice is as welcome here as yours…perhaps more!"
Ciryaher then turned to Penedhislea and said sorrowfully,
"I cannot concede the lands of your fore-mothers, but perhaps you may take the coasts north of Umbar, yet that is Gondorian land and I would ask that you swear fealty to me and to the throne of Gondor…I would make your chieftain a Lord of Gondor as all my other Lords and all that would be required of you would be to come as the King may request the aid of your arms."
Penethislea shook her head and said,
"Never shall my warriors or my people be under the rule of man be he good or evil; we have always ruled ourselves and will take no other as our ruler, save Anatse who has been our steadfast ally and has proven herself capable to be our Queen if she will accept us as her people."
Anatse looked shocked at first and then Penethislea bent to her knee and said,
"If you will have us Anatse of the Utashtegu, the Hamadjon shall be yours…never shall we fail to come to your aid or the aid of your daughters…Will you take us?"
For a moment Anatse hesitated and then taking the hilt of Madea, the battle axe of Hiphoulta she said,
"I shall be glad in this…the Hamadjon shall be my personal guard and their own nation, ruled as they see fit. Rise Penedhislea, you are nomad no more, Khavul is now your home."
This and many other exchanges took place in the days that followed the wedding; these days changed into weeks and it was then time, when all oaths had been taken and all treaties made official that the Lords of Gondor returned to their homelands. Ciryaher remained behind with his men to help rebuild the city of Khavul, the first planned building was a great hall from which the Council of the Seven Nations was to gather and rule, for Khavul was to be the central city and seat of power for the Eastern alliance. This hall stood over where Khamul's tower once had stood and the walls of Khavul were torn down and built anew by the Hamadjon and Utashtegu. The wall utilized four gates, from which four roads led to the new lands of the East: the north road led into the lands of the Utashtegu and ended at the southernmost tip of the Red Mountains, where the plain of the stone towers lay. To the South was the Harad road which went directly south for many miles before curving upward and meeting the west road in their course to Osgiliath; in this manner, traders from Harad and Khavul could take either road to reach the capital of Gondor. The eastern road entered the land of the Khand and ended at the largest city by the eastern sea, which only the Men of Numenor had once built and given to the Khand when their power waned. In this way was the Eastern land made anew by Ciryaher Hyarmendacil and Anatse Xidlalique; they were beloved by the people of the East and great love existed between them for in times when they had some privacy they often looked deeply into each other's eyes or shared a few brief moments of laughter. Many who looked upon them could not help but be filled with joy and love and soon some Lords of Gondor took to Anatse as their queen and loved her well, for she was beautiful and fair-minded in her dealings with her own people and with those of Gondor. Saruman, Pallando and Alatar remained in Khavul as advisors to the King and to Anatse, who was beginning to be called the Queen of Khavul, though in truth she held no such office but garnered for herself the respect of the Eastern peoples, much as her mother Cidhrali had done in the years before. Mithrandir however began his preparations to leave a few months after travelling with Narmacil to the Orocarni to bring the people of the Red Mountains to their new lands and to find the locations of the dams which Khamul used to block up the rivers. On October 25, 1051 years after the beginning of the third age, Mithrandir placed waybreads and water skins into his saddlebags preparing for the long trip into the west, deciding to go with some Gondorian soldiers along the Harad Road. While he was securing his saddle straps a voice to him from behind,
"So you now take your leave of the East do you, Incanus?"
Turning Mithrandir saw the smiling face of the elf Celebrin, which he had not seen since the night of the wedding,
"Incanus? That is what Khamul called me once, I hope it is not a name that will stick."
"In Alamb-Harad, loosely it means 'northern spy', yet it is similar to an Utashtegu name meaning 'ruler of the birds of prey' that is pronounced Inka-nushahir. It is a name Dhraloku gave you, before he…before he died."
Mithrandir walked over to Celebrin and said,
"I wonder why he said that?"
"Perhaps he thought your leadership in war was great."
"Perhaps… I must admit, I was surprised that Queen Ashthera was not your wife, Cidhrali. I had thought it would have been."
"No, Cidhrali was the Queen of the Council when you first met her but she abdicated many years ago…before she died."
"I am sorry I did not know…"
For a moment the elf looked at the rising sun, trying to hide a slight stream of tears that descended the curve of his cheek, his memory flowed back to that night 5 years ago when he knelt by the bedside of his wife as she lay covered in many blankets her graying hair combed straight and framing her withered face. He held her shivering hands and for the first time felt how loosely the skin folded in his grip- no longer firm and supple as they had been in her youth. She looked up at him and said in a hoarse voice,
"Thank you…"
Through tears and a broken voice he said,
"For what?"
Smiling she placed her hand upon his cheek and stroked it softly, deftly, as she had done many times before moving two fingers along the scarred ridge of the sickle beneath his right eye,
"For letting me share just a few years with you…they were the most blessed years…of my life."
"You cannot leave me Cidhrali…you promised…you promised to see this war to the end…to be with me."
Through a broken voice Celebrin lay his head upon her breast as though he were a child, his grief ripping a hole into his chest and reaching down into his gut stirring the cold darkness within.
"It is not for me to decide when the ancestors will call me home…I will see this battle to the end…just not as living being."
"You…you brought me back to life…I don't know how I will live without you."
Wiping the tears from her husband's eyes Cidhrali of the Utashtegu kissed him upon the lips,
"You must find a way…you are stronger than you think you are…you have to be…for…our daughter and for yourself…I…I have always loved you, Cedlal."
Celebrin shook the memory from his mind as the scar in his heart began to open once again, he smiled weakly at Mithrandir,
"It was her time…At least that is what the mortals say to buffer their sorrow when a loved one dies."
"And what do the immortals say?"
With a slight shrug of his shoulders the elf sighed,
"I am not sure, but in this case neither method of solace would bring much comfort."
At this the elf looked to sky and his resolve broke, he laughed as one hale and without sense as though the sound emanating from his mouth was broken free from his lungs.
"I have lived for countless years before, but for once…for once the years went by slowly and I felt every day, every hour and season…I feel as though I lived an entire lifetime."
"You have in a way… You lived your entire life among elves and for that reason perhaps time did not weigh upon you as it does to those who age and die. Mortals feel the everyday in such a unique way; each day, each moment is tainted by the fact that they will die- whether by war, disease or the long stretch of time. That is why there is a caution and a taboo attached to the joining of elves and men."
"Perhaps you are right, Mithrandir, it is no wonder they desire a longer life – the way they experience life, it is almost richer, and their fear burn quicker; already it feels as though mine is near extinguishing and yet I cannot regret it."
"Such cold council cannot be good for you Uial…You sound as though you wished to wither and die as they do. And I think…I think for your sake you should return with me to the West, to the land of your kindred."
"Why? Why should I return?"
Mithrandir stood back as the elf looked at him with a fierce smoldering in his eyes, the black depths shimmering pale obsidian from the wounded soul within. Slowly Mithrandir gripped his gnarled staff trying to summon some words of comfort, words that might reignite the elf's slowly smoldering soul,
"I mean not to order you, my friend, only to caution you… Perhaps among your own kind, among those that love you- you might learn to rekindle the light of your soul and not let it dampen and grow cold…And that is what I think will happen, if you live as mortals do much longer."
The elf seemed to consider these words, he slumped against the wall of the stables and looked at his hands and then at his face in a small mirror that hung on a post, smiling hopelessly he said,
"Do elves have wrinkles Mithrandir?"
"I have never known an elf who did."
Turning to Mithrandir he said,
"Well now you do…"
Mithrandir was at first taken aback but then he saw to what the elf was referring to, upon the edge of his wide dark eyes lay the unmistakable marks of crow's feet. There were other marks on the corners of his gentle, slightly sun-burnt lips and a slight hint of darkening stubble at the tip of his sounded chin. They were too light to be noticed by normal men or from a great distance, and to any normal eye Celebrin looked no older than a young man of 26. Yet now Mithrandir beheld him and the gently carved marks seemed to glare out at him, taunting him. Smiling Celebrin sat upon a bench beside the water trough and said sighing,
"Already you see it Mithrandir, the slow smoldering of my fea…I am aging, I have felt it for some time… I am becoming, for lack of a better word, mortal."
"But you are not one of the Peredhel, the choice between a mortal life and an immortal one is not yours to have."
"Then how do you explain it? For good or ill, I have abandoned the life of the Eldar or it has abandoned me… "
Mithrandir was silent at first and then spoke, sitting next to the elf, placing his arm around the elf's stooped shoulders,
"All the more reason to return with me, to reclaim the life of the Eldar and not pass away as a shadow of grief…They still look for you upon the rising of the sun, perhaps now is the time to return home."
"No…I know what you will say and the warnings you will give me, but my place is here. Like Nellas and Eol before me, my place among the elves, among my kindred, is no more. Go back into the West, Mithrandir, and tell them…Tell them I fell in battle, that they should mourn me as one dead, so that they may be able to carry on with their lives."
With that the elf stood and left the stables; Mithrandir would have chased after him but the hour already was getting late and he must reach the curve of the Harad road by night fall lest he be caught in the desert without water or protection. Before he left he saw the elf with Anatse, smiling and it seemed as though all his sorrow had melted away; the old Istar said a silent prayer for the elf, to whom he could not say, but in his heart he knew it was immediately answered.