Faces that I've seen turn old and grey
I've lost too many friends along the way
Memories I never thought would fade...
They fade and blow away

-Staind

The Lord Elrond stood at the edge of a high balcony, looking out at the trees and waterfalls, the sun high overhead. He had sitting been in his study, taking a break from the affairs of Middle-Earth, reading the ancient legends he knew so well. Today he had been reading of Maglor, son of Feanor. Perhaps he had been feeling nostalgic, to choose a story so close to his heart, so deeply embedded in his memory. It was always interesting to read an outsider's take on the stories he had experienced, the people he had known. Perhaps it was curiosity that had drawn him to that particular book.

In any case, it had brought back a storm of memories he had unconsciously buried years ago. Even after all these years, even being known as the Wisest of the Eldar, he knew not what to think of Maglor. The murderer who had pillaged his city, attacked his home, and driven his parents away. The father who had pitied him and his brother, and taken them under his wing for so long. The troubled soul who so longed for innocence and happiness but never could obtain it. He remembered distinctly the older elf's fiery eyes, always with a look of yearning in them. He had learned in the later years of his youth what this look meant; Maglor was bound to the oath his father and brothers had sworn hundreds of years ago--to recapture the Silmarils, killing all who stood in their way, or be cast into eternal darkness.

Thus, Elrond knew well the power of oaths. They were not to be taken lightly. What had become of Maglor, he knew not. For years, he seemed to have calmed, become almost content with his simple, happy life raising two young elves, redeeming himself, enjoying bestowing love and protection for a change, instead of violence and terror. But eventually, his oath came back to haunt him once again; it would not let him rest. Maglor's only remaining brother, Maedhros had returned to take his younger brother back into war, back onto their consuming quest.

Why did he have to go? He and Maedhros had argued, but it was a fight Maglor could not win, for in his heart of hearts, he too desired to fulfill his oath and hold in his hands one of the precious jewels he so lusted for. And so he had left Elrond and Elros orphaned a second time. Both times had been the fault of the sons of Feanor and their cursed oath to find their fathers' magnificent creation, made from such goodness and beauty, but twisted into something that wrought pain and suffering on so many, for such a long time. It was the first story of its kind in history, but not the last.

When the brothers had finally taken hold of the Silmarils, it was only to find their right to them no longer held. The glorious jewels rejected them and their hands burned in agony at their touch. Maedhros had thrown himself into a pit of fire in despair, and Maglor... Elrond knew not what had become of him. The Elf could not take his own life, for he feared what would follow. Unable to fulfill his oath, he would be consumed by darkness for eternity, and he could find no peace in Middle-Earth, after all the pain and anguish he had wrought. For all Elrond knew, he was still wandering the edge of the ocean, singing in despair for forgiveness, for peace, for all he had lost...Yes, he recalled the elf's unearthly voice. Gifted among elves, Maglor had been. He and Elros used to drift slowly off to sleep, listening to their adoptive father sing to them at night.

Elros... Yet another endless cycle of memories spun through Elrond's mind. His twin and he had been very close. They had been through much together. Elros was the only person who had always been there, in Elrond's memory. They had shared everything, and confided in each other things they told no other soul.

"Oh brother, what has become of you?" whispered Elrond into the gentle breeze. Being Half-Elven, the choice had been placed before them both, to be counted among the Eldar or the Edain. That choice had divided their fates for eternity.

"My lord?"

Elrond was awoken from his reverie by an attendant, looking at him expectantly.

"Yes, Girhael?"

"Your son Estel has just arrived. He went to clean up just now, and I believe he plans on resting for a while after that."

"Ah," said Elrond, frowning. "This is unexpected news. Would you please tell him to see me as soon as he is able? There is much I must speak to him about."

"Of course, my lord," answered Girhael, leaving quickly.

Elrond turned back to the view of Imladris. So Estel had returned. He wondered how this encounter would go.