A Heart for Falsehood Framed
by Soledad
Disclaimer:
The characters, the context and the main plot belong to Professor Tolkien, whom I greatly admire. I'm only trying to fill in the gaps he so graciously left for us, fanfic writers, to have some fun.
Rating: PG – 13, just to be on the safe side.
Author's notes:
This an additional chapter that I felt the need to show in, after having inserted some scenes from the AU-version. Otherwise I'd have ended up with monster chapters that are too bothersome to read.
Chapter 4: A Short InterludeThe Lord of the Valley looked after Aragorn's retreating back for awhile; then he turned to Gandalf again and shook his head in silent despair.
''What is your advice for us now, Mithrandir?'', he asked. ''The Enemy is moving. Sauron's forces are massing in the East. The Eye is fixed on Imladris. And you have just told me Saruman has betrayed us. The list of our allies grows thin.''
The wizard sighed, and despite his great might, all of a sudden he looked naught more than a tired old Man, who had just lost something very precious to him.
''His treachery goes deeper than you know'', he said, his voice broken and full of sorrow. At Falcraft, Saruman has crossed Orcs with goblin men. He is breeding an army in the caverns of Isengard. An army that can move in sunlight, and travel great distances at speed. Saruman is coming for the Ring. We are caught between two fires.''
''Thus much is clear for me, as well'', answered Elrond, ''yet this evil cannot be concealed by the power of the Elves. We do not have the strength to stand against Mordor and Isengard both. The Ring cannot stay here.''
''I am aware of that, my Lord Elf'', the wizard said with sad mockery.
But Elrond only half-listened to him. His eyes were turned to the westward windows and looked far away to something he only could see with his heart.
''The age of Elves is over'', he murmured. ''My people are leaving these shores, and soon, I shall be on one of those ships that set sail from the Grey Havens. Who will you turn to, my friend, once we are gone? The Dwarves hide in their mountains seeking riches and care not for the troubles of others.''
''Even Dwarves might come to surprise you one day'', the wizard offered mildly, ''though we most likely shall have to wait for that a little longer. Yet it is not the Dwarves we shall lean onto on this quest. We must place our hope in Men.''
''Men!'', Elrond gave a rather undignified snort. ''The race of Men is weak, failing. The blood of Númenor is all but spent, its pride and dignity forgotten. It is because of Men that the Ring survives. I was there, three thousand years ago, when Isildur took the Ring. I was there when the strength of Men failed.''
''And when your King has fallen, and all his bravery and his great sacrifice was in vain; I know'', Mithrandir added gently, his deep eyes resting on the tormented face of the Elf-Lord. Though not yet on Middle-earth at that time, he knew all too well what Gil-galad, last High King of the Noldor meant to Elrond.
The Lord of the Valley still was lost among his painful memories, reliving the last battle upon Dagorlad, where the true victory of a long and bitter war got utterly lost.
''I led Isildur into the heart of Mount Doom, where it was forged, the one place it could be destroyed'', he continued with that far-away look in his eyes that seemed somewhat… eerie to the wizard. As if Elrond had been given up entirely, letting himself fade away as Elves sometimes did when the burden of life finally became too much for them.
''It should have ended that day, but evil was allowed to endure'', he continued, self-loathing clearly recognizable in his voice. ''Isildur kept the Ring, because of my own weakness. Because of the weakness of Men, that is in my blood, as well.''
''The only way to hinder him in keeping the Ring would have been to kill him'', said the wizard slowly, gravely. ''And how can you be sure that you would have the strength to destroy the Ring, after you had taken a life for it? Nay, my Lord; that would have brought no good for you – or for those you protected.''
''What, then, should we do, Mithrandir?'', Elrond asked, finally turning away from the western window. ''The line of the Kings is broken in Gondor, and even if Estel reclaims the throne, what strength could the white city of Anárion still gather to withstand Sauron?''
''None'', the wizard answered solemnly, ''nor is the Ring to come to Gondor. For the Steward of the city is a strong-willed Man who does not bend easily, just as his eldest son who is fuming in your guest house right now. To let him near the Ring would be dangerous.''
''I never intended to send the Ring to Gondor'', Elrond said. ''If we cannot protect it here, Denethor son of Ecthelion can protect it even less – from Sauron or from others, including himself.''
''In your heart, you already know what we have to do'', the wizard stated with a certainty that not only came from their long friendship but from a knowledge not even Elrond could truly imagine.
''My heart only speaks to me of the Sea'', Elrond admitted sadly. ''The Call is growing stronger with every passing year, Mithrandir. I know not how long I shall be able to withstand it… and the longing to be reunited with the Lady of my heart.''
''You must hold out a little longer'', said the wizard gently. ''You cannot leave, not yet. As long as the One is there, you shall be needed.''
''And I would not part, leaving my duty undone behind'', Elrond replied gravely. ''Thus I had sworn to my King ere he went to Mandos' Halls. But remaining here drains me from all my strength.''
The wizard sighed.
''It shall be not very long now'', he murmured softly. ''One way or another, the fate of the Ring shall be fulfilled. If we succeed or fall, there shall be an end of all things we had known for all our life.''
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Elrohir could feel that somethign was wrong. His brother, who had been floating on a cloud of happiness and utter satisfaction for days – ever since he spontaneously decided to take the Heir of Gondor in his bed – suddenly had raised his inner shields, blocking him completely.
Something most certainly was wrong.
Elladan never shut him out before.
Not until the night when he have himself to that mortal.
That was the very moment when they started to drift apart. After two and a half thousand years, they became slightly estranged.
Elrohir knew he was not without guilt in this, himself.
He could not accept Elladan's choice, though he was careful enough not to show his disapproval before the eyes of the Man.
He had been certain that Elladan would be hurt.
And he had been right, it seemed.
Coming to a sudden decision, Elrond left his chambers through the adjoining balcony that connected them with those of his brother's.
Elladan sat on the paved floor, his long legs pulled up to his chest and he hugged them tightly, his brow laid on his knees to hide his face.
He was as still as a statue.
He did not even seem to breathe.
But he felt Elrohir's approach, of course. Even now, after he had shut him out from his troubled feelings.
They always felt each other, even through their inner shields.
They were much too close not to.
Elladan, however, was not in the mood to share his feelings.
''Go away, Elrohir'', he murmured, without looking at his brother. ''Leave me alone. You cannot help me. No-one can.''
Elrohir sighed, sat down beside his twin and laid an arm around his shoulders, holding him tightly.
''Try me'', he said quietly.
But Elladan was beyond listening already.
He was beyond speaking, too.
Only the deep, wrecking, soundless sobs that shook his whole body proved that he was still alive.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
And even more notes (I know, it is annoying, but necessary):
The Tolkien purists among us might take an offense on the fact that I have inserted some purely movie scenes in this story, that usually follows the book canon. What's more, I do not even follow the movie canon with these ones!
So let me tell you something: shameful as it is, I never really connected with Boromir in all those years that I've known the books, until I've seen the movie. I confess to not particularly like it, for many different reasons, but it had one great advantage: it had Sean Bean, whose powerful performance got me interested in Boromir in the first place.
Much of Boromir's deeds and dialogues did not made it into the movie, but they gave him a few wonderful scenes instead, one of them being the above-presented one with the shards of Narsil. It is so wonderful and so in character, I believe the Great Maker himself would be impressed with it.
So I took it and used it, just as I used some of what he said before the Council, and as I intend to use all his good scenes from the movie, because he is a wonderful character, and if we put together what he was given in the books and what he was given in the movie, we get some amazing results at the end.
As for Gandalf and Elrond's little talk, it is only partially from the movie, and contains some hints to other upcoming stories. Unfortunately, I can't tell just now which ones they are. g