Sun Sets Down Upon the Infantry 2



Arwen's chin was high and firm, her tears the only thing betraying her calm. She walked silently beside her husband and when the last of the ceremony had finished, remained behind with her father and brother.

"I will pass a year from today," she murmured, bent over the sculpted vision of her beloved Elessar. "I have lost a brother, and now my husband. Father, Aragorn's death has freed our chief advisor to leave with you home. I trust he is in safe hands."

"Why does he leave Gondor? Imladris is a city of -"

"He is Noldor. I know no more than that. He has asked to be allowed passage to our House, and Estel granted him that upon his own death. Please, I mean no disrespect, but I would dearly like to be alone."

Elrohir took his father's elbow and led him away from the mourning Queen. "Come, father. Do not plague her with questions."

Elrond looked vaguely irritated. "Why would a realm of Men have an Elven councillor?"

"Why shouldn't they?"

Elrohir didn't like the sly expression Elrond wore. "Why, it seems almost sacrilegious to bestow an Elf upon the likes of Men. Especially a Noldor."

His son threw up his hands in mock despair. "Father, I shall never be able to train you!" He sobered. "But all weak jesting aside, Elessar is now dead, and therefore his lands will fall asunder. If we do take it upon ourselves to do something about it, we will have to organize some semblance of a political army."

They swept through the outer corridors of the central city structure, both tall and dark and most obviously inhuman. "Perhaps we will need more than that. Or none. We could be doomed as Eryn Lasgalen has been doomed."

Elrond flinched. "Imladris should be safe. It is hidden from unwanted eyes once more, and it's being restored."

"But Mirkwood fell from within, not without."

"Lasgalen has ever been unstable and paranoid."

Elrohir walked in silence for a few minutes. "Unstable? What are we if not unstable? Glorfindel seemed stable, did he not? You know what he intended to do to Erestor."


Thranduil rubbed his forehead in frustration, knocking his elbow painfully against the edge of the table and cursing. Celeborn's eyebrows raised in faint amusement, earning a dirty look from the Mirkwood King that might have melted iron. He folded his hands and managed to look both superior and somehow positively understanding about Thranduil's clumsiness. Legolas tried to ignore his father's discomfort and smother Gimli's smart remark in a loud proclamation that dinner would likely be served soon.

Once some order had been attained, Erestor began.

"Half a fortnight ago, Imladris was set upon by it's own people and burned. I do not know what has caused this, only that three remain alive and stand with me here, including myself. I have asked Haldir to send a messenger to intercept our Lord on his return from the White City. There is little else I can say."

Celeborn did not look amused. "So this is the end of three kingdoms? Has there been any word from Cirdan as to the condition of the Havens?"

"None," Rumil murmured.

Gildor shuddered. "That bodes not well, for the Way appears closed to us now. Cirdan can do nothing against the will of the Valar. If they choose to exile us, so be it."

"How can you be so callous? These times are dark, and may become darker still! They must have a reason for this," Lindir broke in.

Thranduil's glance was withering. "Perhaps you should go to Manwe this instant and demand to know his motives. I'll be sure to bring flowers to your grave."

There wasn't much that could be said to that, so Lindir sat in gloomy silence. Legolas looked on him in pity, knowing well how viscous his father's tongue could be. "Whatever we decide to do -"

"Which is nothing, I might add."

Legolas frowned at his father. "Ada! Let me finish. Whatever we decide to do, we can't do it until Half-Elven returns. If we do anything, we need to be united."

"With THAT lot?"

"Father -"

Celeborn gazed at the angered King. "What have we done to you? You ferret yourselves away in a dark forest and hardly communicate with any other civilization, and I happen to know Lorien has done naught to anger you."

Thranduil leapt to his feet. "I remember the War!"

"I'm sure you do."

"We were driven from Lorien by your predecessor, and you dare suggest there's no wrong been done to us?"

Haldir inched his hand toward the dagger on his belt, stepping up to stand beside his Lord. Celeborn sighed. "Do you remember this, or do you merely remember what Oropher has told you? "

"Ally with Noldor is what you ask! There are those who fought against the Oath of Feanor here. They are not to be trusted! We were slaughtered in the Last Alliance -"

Celeborn rose, eyes flashing. "Only because your fool of a sire refused to listen to Gil-Galad's summons!"

"Father! Don't do this!" Legolas tugged helplessly on his father's arm.

Thranduil shook the Prince off, growling. "Refused to listen, or saw the truth?"

"You've been living in the shadows for far too long! You were a boy, and mad with grief. I'm beginning to doubt you ever recovered your mind!"

"Don't you dare -"

"ENOUGH!" Gimli roared, slamming his fist down on the table, cracking a fine line down the middle of it. Silence fell. "You act like a nest of baby crows, all squawking for dominance over a little piece of regurgitated meat! By my father's beard, you lot! If this is what Elves are really like, I'll not hang around. What's done is done. And what's done three thousand years ago is STILL done. It makes no difference. It only makes you look like a giant ass if you keep arguing about something that old. Be careful, my King," he gave a mocking bow. "Your ears might turn into that of a donkey."

He took his seat again and glanced at Legolas' pale face. The air practically crackled with hostility, but finally Thranduil sat down slowly, Celeborn following suit. Haldir let go of his dagger's hilt and joined his tense brothers.

"If it makes you any more at ease, I am Sindar and many of my people are Silvan. There are so few Noldor left alive that you have nothing to fear." Celeborn's smile looked distinctly forced. Thranduil didn't reply.

"Perhaps we should call council again when Elrond is found and brought here," Erestor ventured tentatively. "We are accomplishing very little besides stirring up old wounds."

"Wonderful idea! Dinner was to be called soon, anyway." Legolas grinned hopefully around him. He received nothing but stony frowns. Gimli grunted and left the table, dragging his friend with him, muttering about how dour immortality must make a person.


Elrohir returned to the camp he shared with his father after unsaddling and currying their horses down. It saddened him to realize how Arwen must die, but it had been her choice and there was nothing now that could save her. It lead him to wonder how his father had ever survived the many terrible things that had happened throughout his life, for he certainly knew how close he and Elladan had been to death when their mother had be captured and later returned to them completely without soul. Elrond had endured ages of repeated torment, starting with the wars and the death of Gil-Galad. It just went downhill from there, Elrohir knew, but there was nothing that could change it now.

His father knelt over the small fire, stirring it and apparently deep in thought. Elrohir smiled sadly, wondering at the nature of his father's curse. Perhaps it had something to do with the attack upon the Exiles and the result of Maglor's supposed kindness. Elrohir still held his doubts about the entire history of the three Silmarils but kept his unwanted opinions to himself.

A steady drumming drew his eyes across the plain they were perched above. The hill gave them a vantage point, and thick foliage protected them from view. It was the sound of hooves.

Elrohir leapt to his feet moments before the black mare burst in upon them, coming to a turf- tearing halt mere feet behind Elrond.

"Hail! My apologies for not seeking you out earlier, my Lords." The figure lowered his hood and dismounted swiftly. Elrond's face had lost all colour and Elrohir stepped forward to catch his father if he should do something stupid. Like faint.

"I'm sure there were things you had to clear up before you left. It's no worry, as long as you are here. Although we DID spend a great deal of time trying to find you. You're a rather illusive fellow, aren't you?" Elrohir laughed gently, standing just in front of Elrond.

He studied the flushed face of the missing councillor, something nagging at the back of his mind. Like a face that had been painted before, the Noldor looked almost familiar. More importantly, Elrond was standing rigid with his back to the man. Elrohir shook his father gently, worriedly noting his clenched jaw and unreadable expression.

The stranger's eyes were laughing silently as he extended a palm to Elrond's shoulder. "Come," he murmured. "Surely you have not forgotten me."

The Lord of Rivendell slowly turned at the touch, a haunted look in his eyes.

"Gil-Galad," he whispered.