Chapter Thirty-Four: Gifts and Grim Duties

"This is getting nowhere," Elrond II muttered, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times – you have to learn to control your gift!" cried Elrond I. "It's imperative to your destiny."

"So says Lord Mandos," the younger elf shot back, setting down the glass of wine he had been trying to turn into ice for the past half hour. "Why don't you do this for a change?"

"I'm not the one with the gift, Elrond. You are. Besides, I'm just as tired as you."

"You don't look it," Elrond II told him, rising from the desk and starting to pace about the room. "And why don't you have the gift? You're me, after all."

"Because this technically isn't my life," Elrond I replied, moving in front of his other half and taking him by the shoulders. "I've already lived these years; now it's your turn."

"But you said that 'this life' would be different; therefore, you haven't lived 'these years' at all."

"That's entirely beside the point," said his godfather, more sharply this time. "I'm not the one who decides what's going to happen, and neither is Lord Mandos. It is Eru Himself."

Elrond II pulled away from himself and resumed his orbit of the room. Elrond I followed him with his eyes, saying, "Sit down. You're making me dizzy just watching you."

The younger elf ignored him, circling the chamber in a resigned silence. Elrond I sighed and remarked, "Self-rivalry will get us nowhere. How can we expect to get anything done if we can't even agree? We're going to have to compromise sometime."

Elrond II halted, turning and walking past himself to the desk he had just been seated at. He sank back into the chair, leaning his elbow against the back.

"So what do you think we should do?"

"Let's keep trying for a few minutes," Elrond I suggested. "How about five?"

"Make it three."

"Four?"

"Done."

"All right, then. Concentrate on what you want to do…"

Mandos stood unnoticed in the far corner of the room. He had long since shed his body to facilitate the process of observation. It wasn't spying, as might be thought, but protection. There were other Valar and Valier nearby, hovering in wait, just in case Morgoth decided to rear his ugly head.

The Doomsman watched Elrond II carefully as he shut his eyes in concentration, closing his fingers tightly around the wineglass again. He was going about it all the wrong way; his tension was what hindered his progress. The Vala sent a thought into the elf's mind: Do not tauten your body so. Relax your muscles; let the energy flow smoothly.

Elrond II obediently loosened up, and a smile rose to his lips as he felt power tingling through his arms and into his hands. The wine immediately turned to ice, which expanded and cracked the glass. The sound made him open his eyes, and grin in triumph.

"Very good," Elrond I complimented him. "I knew you had it in you."

So did I, Mandos sent, smiling as he stepped into his body.

Both of Elrond's heads turned, and bowed respectfully.

"Good afternoon, sire," said Elrond II.

"Good afternoon, Elrond," the Vala replied politely, glancing at both Elrond I and II as he spoke. "I have been observing your progress; it is indeed remarkable."

"Many thanks, my lord," said Elrond II, a blush rising to his face. "But it wouldn't have been if you hadn't given me that essential piece of advice."

"I was merely giving you a slight push in the correct direction," Mandos informed him, a small smile playing about his lips. "You exerted your own efforts, and therefore it is your success."

The elf bowed his head modestly. The Doomsman tilted his head a little, saying, "Varda is calling to me. Farewell, for the moment."

He swirled effortlessly away, and Elrond I picked up the broken glass that was now filled with melting ice. "I suppose no-one will need this anymore."

"I suppose so," Elrond II agreed. "So what now?"

"A walk in the garden?" his godfather suggested.

"Why not?"

----

Good afternoon, Námo.

The voice entered Mandos' head as he strode down a long, sunlit hall at a leisurely pace, his boots tapping on the stone floor. He nodded courteously in the direction of the nearest sunbeam, sending out a thought himself.

Varda. You called?

Yes, the Valië replied, smoothly regaining her body before him. I understand that you were with Elrond a moment ago.

And? Mandos lifted a slender eyebrow.

Have you told him of your affections yet? she asked him, her silvery eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

It is too soon. One can only bear so much information at a time.

The Star-queen sighed in quiet impatience. It has been twenty years, Námo.

That is as a moment to the Eldar.

How much longer will you wait? You do not have eternity.

Mandos sighed to himself, letting his gaze drop to his shiny black boots. I know. But he has enough to worry about at the moment. I cannot tell him now.

If you say so, Varda murmured. But you must not wait too much longer.

The Doomsman nodded in silence.

----

"Elrond?" said Elrond II quietly.

"Yes?" Elrond I frowned down at himself. "What is it?"

"I've been having an odd feeling for a while now. I was talking to King Gil-galad earlier – before we started practicing, you know – and he was practicing using his spear. I don't know how or why, but I felt connected to it somehow. Do you think it's important?"

"I'm not sure," the older elf confessed. "What kind of connection was it? When exactly did it start?"

"It started when the King gave his spear to me to hold for a minute. I felt as though it was trying to speak to me… to tell me things."

"And? What did it say?"

"I couldn't really understand it. But I think I know why. I think it was because I had no control over my gift yet." Elrond II lowered his voice as he spoke the last sentence.

Elrond I gazed at himself in a sudden, strange understanding. "You mean your power had something to do with it?"

Elrond II nodded. "I think so. How else could it be?"

His godfather considered this for a long while. At length he spoke again, saying carefully, "Well, maybe this has something to do with something that's coming. Maybe Aiglos has a part to play."

"Aiglos?" the younger elf frowned. "Is that the spear's name?"

Elrond I nodded solemnly. "Yes. It means 'icicle'."

----

"Good afternoon, Elrond… and Elrond!"

"Afternoon, Maglor," Elrond I called in answer. He and his other half nodded politely to the dark-haired elf as he approached them. "How are you?"

"Fine, fine," the son of Fëanor smiled. "And yourselves?"

"We're both fine," Elrond I replied, sharing a glance with himself. Then the younger elf noticed the musical instrument that Maglor was carrying under his arm. "I never knew you played the harp."

"All my life," Maglor told him. "This isn't mine – King Gil-galad lent it to me for today."

"I'd like to hear you play it," said Elrond II earnestly.

"Very well," Fëanor's son nodded, carefully standing the instrument upright on the grass and dropping to his knees beside it. "I believe it's still in tune…" He ran his fingers along the strings, lovingly coaxing out a sweet string of notes.

"Good, good. Any requests?"

"How about the Tale of Tinúviel?" Elrond II asked.

"You'll have to give me the first few lines."

The half-elf cleared his throat and sang out in a fair tenor voice.

"The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair…"

Maglor joined him with his voice and the harp, his voice rising to tenor as Elrond's sank down to baritone. The two of them wove a beautiful melody, and many passers-by paused to listen. Soon a ring of elves formed around the pair.

When the last notes shivered to silence, fervent applause echoed through the garden. The two minstrels bowed modestly, and smiled at each other.

"I never knew you were such a fair singer," Maglor told his friend.

"You're better," Elrond II blushed. "And you're a natural harper."

"A minstrel is only as good as his instrument, Elrond. I'll have to thank the King when I see him."

"Thank me for what?" said a voice from the back of the crowd.

The elves parted to give Gil-galad some space to walk; he strode smoothly up to Maglor and Elrond, who bowed their heads in respect.

"Many thanks for lending me your harp, sire," the son of Fëanor smiled.

"You are most welcome, Maglor," the King replied graciously. "And thank you both for providing us with such wonderful entertainment," he added, also glancing over at Elrond II as he spoke.

"It was nothing," they both said humbly, and in perfect unison. Noticing this, they looked at each other and shared a laugh.

Standing a short distance back from the rest of the crowd, Mandos sighed to himself as he listened to their conversation. Gil-galad, Maglor and Elrond were bonding like brothers. It was a bittersweet bond, however. All three of them faced enormous losses throughout their lives, and the Doomsman knew that that would only grow worse as time stretched on. He also knew that there was nothing he could do but let it happen.

----

The years paced on and on, in the unfailing way that they always did. Seasons turned, the sun rose and fell, and many things grew. Friendships strengthened, brotherly bonds were kept alive, and Mithlond prospered.

Yet deep in the center of all the cheer and gaiety, shadows were growing.

Mandos knew what was coming; there was no denying or ignoring the two inevitabilities. They were as certain as the turning of autumn to winter. He knew the what, where, when, why and how. And he knew who.

The Doomsman hurriedly shed his body and swooped through the city like a shimmering shadow. His duties were obvious and prioritized. Maybe he couldn't prevent what was to come, but he could at least do something about it.

First things first, he thought. Wait for me, Tar-Minyatur.