Chapter Eleven: Legacy of Love

Time flew past, the seasons shifting softly from summer to autumn, to winter and spring and over again. Mandos' blessing never once wavered; Elrond's life was brimful of utter ecstasy.

Both Elrond I and II thrived in that period. The child grew to be a healthy one-year-old while the elf-lord grew closer to Eärendil than he could have imagined. Elrond's love for his father was matched only by Eärendil's brotherly affections for him. Elrond always prayed that someday his love would be returned in its purest form.

Eärendil himself also grew in love. His sons and his wife were the very dearest things in the world to him, more precious than any Silmaril. Nothing would ever change that.

But the Sea still sang in his heart, and he was ever more waryof it; yet he swayed to its voice like a sunflower to daylight. The two powers strove within him, each grappling for dominion. He could not grant it to either, for his own sake. So they battled on.

----

As the two years drew near their end, Elrond began to worry about his conversation with Mandos, a few short months after the blessing was given. What if Eärendil was reluctant to leave? What would become of his destiny?

"I do not know how to tell you this," sighed Mandos, when Elrond voiced his concern again. "It is of both fair and ill fortune for either to come to pass. But he cannot live peacefully with one foot on land, and the other in the sea. It will haunt him forever, until at last he accepts his fate. So must you."

"I do accept it," Elrond replied. "My concern is not for myself."

Mandos sighed yet again. "Reality is like a coin; there are two sides to every choice. And when the coin is spun, anything may result."

"But you know what will, don't you?" said Elrond quietly.

The Doomsman only nodded. It was all he could do.

----

The next few weeks seemed to crawl by incredibly slowly. A bitter sorrow was starting to replace the joy in Elrond's heart. And finally the fateful evening arrived, just two weeks after Elrond II and Elros' second birthday.

Elrond I was trudging dismally down the corridor toward the Great Hall when he heard his parents' voices up ahead. They had no idea their son was behind them, as they were absorbed in a touchy conversation.

"I can't stand it," Eärendil was saying. His voice was thick with pent-up emotion. "The Sea is calling me, but I don't think I'm ready to answer… I don't want to leave just yet. But if I stay, it will haunt me for eternity."

"Follow your heart," Elwing told him.

Eärendil sighed forlornly. "My heart is torn in two. Which half should I trust?"

Elwing fell silent; it was a stillness that was filled with sorrow. Elrond felt a huge pang of sympathy for his mother as he walked slowly closer. He suddenly felt an all-too-familiar prickling in his eyes, and fought back the impending tears.

"My lord?" he said warily. "My lady?"

Both of them turned; Elrond saw now that Elwing's face was wet with tears. Eärendil was sombre, his dark eyes downcast. Elrond's heart quivered in his chest.

"Was there something you needed?" his mother asked, her voice rather strained.

"Not at present," Elrond replied. "I just heard you talking, and…" He left the end of the sentence hanging.

Elwing nodded. "Yes. I understand. We'll go…" She started to leave; Eärendil moved to follow her.

"Please, wait," Elrond called out. "Don't go."

They turned back; Elrond took a step after them.

"You don't have to leave," he told them gently. "I understand what you're going through. I myself have been in a very similar situation with my own wife."

"What happened?" Eärendil frowned.

Elrond drew a breath. "She sailed to Valinor many years ago. Her heart was troubled, and she felt that she would find solace in the Blessed Realm. But we both still loved each other. In the end, she and I both decided that it was for the best, and she promised never to forget what we had. And I haven't forgotten."

His parents were silent; Elrond wondered whether that had been a wise thing to say. He shifted uneasily, and at length Eärendil spoke.

"How long ago did this happen?" he asked.

"It was long enough ago that I have felt time passing," Elrond replied, "but not so long past that the memory is not fresh in my mind. It still pains me today as it did that night."

His father nodded mutely; Elwing placed a hand calmly in his. He turned to her, and they shared a long, loving kiss.

Elrond chose his moment wisely, and hurried away without another word.

----

Elrond slipped softly into his bedroom, shutting the door behind himself and allowing his tears to overflow at last. They coursed down his face in a silent, bitter flood.

"Elrond?"

The elf turned slowly to face the Dream-lord, whose countenance radiated sympathy. As Elrond bowed, Lórien gently put his arms around him.

"I am sorry you must suffer this," he murmured.

Elrond sniffed, struggling to maintain his composure as the Vala wiped the tears from his face with a hand. He felt like burying his face in Lórien's shoulder and sobbing until he passed out from lack of breath. But he didn't.

"Is there something you require?" the Dream-lord asked softly.

Elrond could only whisper, "Some solitude would be very much appreciated, with all due respect."

Lórien nodded, stepping back. "I understand."

Elrond sighed silently as his friend vanished like smoke on the wind. Sinking down onto his bed, he laid his head down on the pillow and almost instantaneously slid into a deep, dreamless slumber.

----

Elrond awoke to soft birdsong and warm sunlight. Sitting up, he sensed immediately that something was wrong, had changed somehow. Frowning around his bedchamber, the elf caught sight of something on his desk that had not been there the night before. Rising, he strode over to the desk and picked it up.

It was a scroll of parchment, tied with a white silken ribbon and sealed with a wax crest which showed a winged ship. Elrond carefully opened the scroll, not wanting to break the intricate seal, and read the strong, flowing script:

Dear Elrond:

I don't know how to put this in words. What can I say? I was shocked when Lord Lórien gave me the news; I couldn't believe my own ears. But he showed me proof that his words were true. But not a day went by that I didn't wonder about you. A complete stranger, sent here by the Fëanturi for some unknown purpose, and not until two years later did I find out that my children's godfather is my elder son!

I wanted to tell Elwing everything, but Lord Lórien would not allow it. He said that Lord Mandos would be very displeased. Well, I trust him; I held my tongue. But then I wrote this letter. By the time you read it, I will be gone.

I pray that you will forgive me for leaving you. I wish I could stay, but the Sea is calling to me constantly. Every sleeping and waking hour I hear its voice, the Horns of Ulmo singing to me. I can't ignore it, nor can I refuse the summons. I will take Vingilot and sail her across Belegaer, where I hope to find Valinor. Perhaps I shall, if it is the Valar's will.

Even as I sail further and further from you and from Arda, I will always remember you – both as the child I loved and cared for, and the lord I called my friend. Both sides of you have a place in my heart, and indeed they are the same. I will forever love you; the ends of the earth cannot separate us. We are joined in heart, blood and mind. Remember that, if nothing else. I love you.

Your father,

Eärendil

The parchment slipped softly from Elrond's fingers as he buried his face in his hands, dissolving into tears of blended sorrow and joy. His father was gone in body, but not in soul. And he had not left unknowing.

Through his tears, Elrond smiled as Lórien's words from two years ago echoed softly in his mind: It will be all right, Elrond. I swear this to you.

"Thank you," he whispered to the air. "Thank you."