Safely the twins fared across the broken and battered land, having nothing save their father's star and Elrond's instincts to guide them. When after many days they came to the encampment of the Host of the West, flung wide across many spurs and vales in the foothills of the Ered Luin, so great was the rejoicing at their return that the Kinslayers who accompanied them were welcomed too. In high state the twins were brought before the Valar and the lords of the Vanyar. Elros was captivated by the minstrels' accounts of the battle and his father's own part in it, delivering the very heavens from the dragons' curse. "I wish I had seen it!" he exclaimed. "I wish I had seen him," his twin echoed. Yet their joy and grief were mingled, since Eönwë told them beyond doubt that their parents lived and would live forever, while the boys themselves might choose to join them-- but must choose.

None would give them counsel, neither the Valar, who had learned to their sorrow what happened when they urged the Firstborn to do this or do that, nor the Eldar, although they were distressed at the thought of losing the beloved twins a second time. The most that any would speak were these words from Galadriel: "The choice is behind you, not before you."

To which Elros replied in exasperation, "Go not to the Elves for advice, for they will say both no and yes!" and stormed off, leaving smiles and a proverb in his wake.

The brothers sought council instead with one another, sitting on a ridgeline above the glittering camp, the bright torches, the countless banners rustling gently on the night wind, the sea of canopies and pavillions clustered in orderly regiments like the sails of a vast fleet tugging at anchor beneath the bright moon. Their father's star climbed high, and still they talked.

"I do not believe we will ever see him again," Elros was saying, irritated because his brother would not stop looking at the star to face him. "They say he and Mother are accounted Eldar. But it is not so. They are Maiar, and they are bound forever to the sky and the Silmaril. And this Eönwë calls a gift!"

"Or the Doom of Mandos," Elrond pointed out.

"A better name. Oh, brother, I will not drag out my life forever, dwindle and pine as the world changes and I do not. Better by far to live quick and short and do great deeds. Did you mark Heledir, and the other leaders of the Edain? True-hearted and brave, they fought as equals with the Firstborn, in spite of their frailty! They are fearless."

"I marked them," Elrond smiled. "And they marked you, a prince whom the Valar esteem highly, yet whom the Edain consider one of themselves."

His brother exhaled. "They are right. I begin to understand the Sons of Fëanor better. I have no wish to be Manwë's tame lapdog and sit forever in the halls of Mandos-- or of Aman, however fair. They say that to Men alone is granted the ability to shape their own destiny, separate from Eru's designs. Well, I will! My boat will be of ordinary timber from these mortal lands, not Elven-glass and imperishable crystal. My crew, when I sail West, will be of Men, whoever will follow me, not knowing where it is we sail."

"They will follow you, gwanûr," Elrond said fondly, although his eyes were sad when at last he dropped his gaze and turned to his twin. "But what of our children? If mortal we are, mortal they will be. It is cruel to deny them that choice. If they wish to remain among Men, so be it. But if they tire of this world, they can seek healing and bliss in Aman."

"Cruel to give them that choice," Elros countered. "The gods are cold, my brother; I see that now. If I choose this road, I will be parted with you, and I will never see Father and Mother again." He swallowed, a dream dying in his eyes. "I will always doubt, always wonder, always look westward, half-wishing I could follow. No, my sons will enjoy the homes they have built and earned by their own labors. They will be happier so, than if there is always dangling before them the promise of a bolt-hole where they can flee rather than face what the world gives them, a place where they cannot die, but can never live."

"So be it," Elrond said with equanimity, embracing him.

Elros shook his head, grinning. "Oh, brother, you don't change."

At that moment the fair singing of the Elves rising up from the camp before them was suddenly broken off. Cries and shouts of uproar, anger and dismay reached their keen ears. Elros set a hand on his sword-hilt, leaping to his feet.

"Nor do they," Elrond murmured with a sigh, trailing after his twin.