Chapter Fifty-One: Changes
Isildur wordlessly followed Elrond I, Elrond II and Maglor into the very heart of Mount Doom, through a wide opening in the rock face that allowed a blaze of fiery orange light to pour forth. Elrond II was at the head of the group, the Ring clenched tightly in his fist. But he knew of its evil might, and bent all of his will against it.
They strode out onto the ledge above the bubbling maelstrom of liquid flame. Isildur took a quick look over the edge, feeling instantly nauseous at the sight of the volcano's boiling innards.
Elrond I and Maglor lingered near the doorway, just in case Isildur tried to flee. The man was staring rather at Elrond II, who now held the Ring out at arm's length above the seething lava.
"Wait," said the prince hastily, just as the young half-elf was about to let go. "Please… let me do it."
Elrond I made as if to move forward, but halted at a meaningful glance from his godson. Elrond II nodded to Isildur and held out the Ring to him. The man accepted it slowly, and extended his hand over the lava as Elrond II had.
The object appeared to be singing to him, alluring him, seducing him. He could actually hear a weird, high-pitched humming noise from the Ring itself. But even above the eerie, unearthly melody, Elrond I's words echoed in his head, as well as some he had not heard before.
You can't earn something like this; it isn't a prize to be won. The Ring was wrought with pure evil; nothing good can become of it, save for if it were unmade. Cast it into the fire! Destroy it now!
The man hesitated, drawn so helplessly to the Ring's strange music that he seemed to lose all power of motion. Again the voice cried out within his mind, all the more desperate as Isildur stood there in stock-still silence.
Always, always remember who made this Ring! That same person slaughtered the last of your family! Do you really wish to let that person live? Decide now!
Isildur drew one deep breath, then another as the two sounds faded; he concentrated upon feeling the Ring's hard, warm metal against the inside of his hand, becoming fully aware of its presence, its shape, and its power for evil and only evil.
The prince's thoughts now were not thoughts of lust – they were infused with cold fury at the Ring's maker, the one who had massacred his father and brother. He would perform this last deed for them.
"Good riddance, then, Sauron," he snarled.
The Ring flashed gold as it plummeted past them, down and down into the molten rock so far below. The companions on the ledge waited, all holding their breath. At last they heard the one sound they most wanted to hear… a soft, final hiss as the Ring sunk below the lava's surface and melted, lost forever to the bubbling bowels of the earth.
Isildur turned to his friends, a triumphant smile lighting his face. Elrond II flung his arms about the man, nearly crying in elation.
"You did it, Isildur! He's gone forever! Well done!"
The prince nodded, but as he opened his mouth to reply, a low, ominous rumble met their ears, and the ledge shook beneath their feet.
"Get out!" Elrond I yelled. "Everyone, move!"
They all whirled around and sprinted back the way they had come, but Elrond II let out a scream as the rock disintegrated under him, sending him flailing through space. His right hand just barely grasped the now-jagged edge of the rock, but the sharp protrusions made his fingers slick with blood.
Isildur did another about-face, falling to his knees and reaching for the young elf's wrist. "I've got you! Hold on!"
Elrond II struggled to pull himself up with his left hand, to help Isildur lift him. But they both pitched forward as more and more of the stone cracked and fell.
"Save yourselves!" Isildur screamed to Maglor and Elrond I, who had come to help them. "Get out of here while you still can!"
"No!" cried Maglor, grabbing Isildur's shoulders as Elrond I seized his. They pulled their friends back onto safer ground – or what they believed to be safer. The whole ledge soon broke and plunged into the abyss below, even as the elves and the human scrambled out of the chamber, with a flood of red-hot lava at their heels.
Skidding and sliding on the rocks, the friends scrabbled onto a large, protruding shelf of stone in one of the volcano's smooth sides, and lay there panting as exhaustion overcame them. For an interminable span of time they lay motionless, completely silent except for their own breathing.
At last Elrond I managed to whisper, "Maglor, Isildur, Elrond… are you all still awake?"
"Yes." The human and the two elves reached out and grasped their friend and godfather's hands. "What is it?"
"You need to know what Gil-galad told me." Elrond I moved his eyes to the right and left as far as he could, trying to meet their gazes.
"I'm listening," Maglor and Elrond II said in both of his ears.
"Go on," murmured Isildur's voice from somewhere behind his head.
The half-elf nodded once and related the deceased elven-king's final message for them all to hear. No-one was dry-eyed by the time he was finished, and no-one knew just what to say or think. There was only a long silence filled with sobbing, and then the sweet sound of softly falling rain.
The very sky above seemed to be weeping as they were, mourning the countless deaths of elves and men alike. Elrond I sighed quietly, letting the cool droplets splash onto his face and wash away his tears. He closed his eyes, and the peaceful blanket of unconsciousness was gently draped across his mind.
----
Elrond II didn't remember ever getting back to Rivendell. As he came awake, just before he opened his eyes, the first thing he heard was a familiar female voice floating through the dim twilight of his awareness.
"Wake up, Elrond…"
He blinked, and immediately squinted as sunlight dazzled him. He had caught a fleeting glimpse of a shadow standing before him, presumably the owner of the voice he had just heard. This was confirmed when the figure moved slightly to one side, blocking out some of the blinding light and allowing him to see her clearly.
"Mother!" Elrond II gasped in delight.
Elwing smiled fondly, her silver-blue eyes shining with a radiance that was surely caused by something much more than the daylight. The young half-elf noticed abruptly that she had been crying; there were faint but unmistakable tearstains on her cheeks.
"Tears of joy, love," his mother reassured him, when she saw he had noticed the fading blotches. "I'm so glad you're alive and in one piece!"
Elrond II smiled wryly; he could never truly be in one piece, at least, not as long as life was the way it was.
Elwing soon spotted her blunder, and gave a good-natured laugh that reminded Elrond of a nightingale's song. How the young half-elf had missed that glorious sound! It seemed a lifetime ago that they had been together in Mithlond. In truth it was half an Age or more. And so much had changed in that span… people had been born, while others had died… Life and Death balanced each other out, as they always seemed to do so perfectly.
Elrond II sat up, glancing down at the bed he lay in. There were many others across from his, each empty, their white sheets tidy and unwrinkled. The elf glanced anxiously around him, noticing with relief that his godfather lay in a bed to his left, and Maglor and Isildur were on his right.
All three seemed to be sleeping serenely, he saw from the gentle up-and-down motions of their chests. Their wounds had been capably healed, and none seemed obvious except for the now-blunted end of Maglor's severed left ear. Elrond II smiled, thankful that they all had made it, and turned back to his left as Elrond I moaned softly, "Where am I?"
"Rise and shine," Elwing smiled at him. "You're home, safe and sound in Imladris."
Elrond I smiled back. "Hello, Mother… and me," he added quietly to his other half.
Elrond II and Elwing quickly glanced across to Maglor and Isildur's beds, sighing when they saw that the two were still peacefully unconscious. But Elrond I quickly realized his slip-up. "Oh, right…"
"It's all right, they didn't hear you," his mother sighed.
"Well, it is incredibly hard sometimes to remember not to call him 'me'," replied Elrond I defensively, glancing at Elrond II. "I've been treating him like a nephew ever since the day he was born, and to almost everyone else I know, I'm little more than his godfather. Also an extremely important fact to consider is that he has developed a distinctly different personality than me in these past three and a half millennia…"
"I didn't catch the beginning of that, so I'm not about to comment," said Maglor's voice; the son of Fëanor had just awoken and sat up. "Good morning, everyone – if it even is the morning."
"Awake at last," Elwing sighed. "I was beginning to worry about you, Lord Maglor. You and the others have all been unconscious for more than three days – this is the morning of the fourth."
"Lord–?" Maglor repeated, frowning in confusion. But a moment later he nodded slowly, as remembrance flitted across his features. "Ah yes, that would be me now, wouldn't it? Maglor, Lord of Mithlond…"
They all fell into a respectful hush, silently remembering Gil-galad as sorrow swept over them. After a few minutes Elrond I brushed a hand across his eyes and spoke softly into the stillness.
"His sacrifice was not in vain, at least, and nor were those of Elendil and Anárion," he murmured. "Sauron has been defeated, and his power completely obliterated. Now at last, it appears we have a chance for real peace after an Age of war."
"Yes," Maglor nodded. "All thanks to Isildur."
They all turned to gaze upon the man's still face. The prince – no, he would now be the King – shifted a little in his sleep, but did not come to. Elrond I stared hard at him, lost to wonderment. Was this truly the same man who had acted to selfishly, so lustfully, in the half-elf's previous life? What could have wrought such a complete change of heart?
What, indeed? whispered a soft voice in his head. Ask perhaps this instead: what was altered on the battlefield of this life, in regards to that of your past life?
Many things, Elrond I replied, without really knowing who he was speaking to. I was in two bodies, Maglor was appointed to be the lord of the Grey Havens, and Isildur had a great deal more help fighting the Ring…
Yes, said the other voice, think of what happened with the Ring at the foot of Mount Doom. What took place then?
The answer came to the elf like a slap across the face. We took the Ring from him right away! He never had a real chance to touch it!
The owner of the voice in his mind was very likely smiling at this point. Correct. Isildur had little contact with the Ring; therefore, the opportunity for corruption was cut short. And the willpower of your young counterpart very effectively staved off any manipulation in that respect.
Elrond I smiled in relief, but was suddenly aware of someone behind him. He turned his head, and nodded respectfully to Mandos. It must have been the Doomsman who had just been conversing with him.
Elrond II looked up and spotted the Vala, and bowed his head as well before he spoke.
"My lord," he said hesitantly, "your cloak…"
"…is currently hanging in your wardrobe," Mandos finished calmly for him.
"And Aiglos?" the elf went on, as a second thought occurred to him.
"In your weaponry cabinet, alongside your sword."
Elrond II nodded. "Thank you, sire."
----
Everyone eventually recovered from the aftermath of the war, though it took quite a long time. Isildur readied himself to leave Imladris and return to Gondor, and at the same time Maglor prepared to set out for the Grey Havens.
The son of Fëanor and newly-appointed Lord of Mithlond was extremely anxious about his new title; he consulted Elrond I privately just before he was about to depart.
"Are you sure this is… well, right?" he asked fretfully. "Me, becoming Lord of the Grey Havens?"
Elrond I smiled warmly. "Don't worry, it's 'right'. Cirdan would have taken your place, if he were alive. This is all part of the Plan." By 'the Plan' he of course meant Eru's Plan, which it seemed was already starting to be fulfilled.
Maglor nodded, evidently heartened. "I'll do my best."
"I'm certain you will," the half-elf smiled.
At that moment Isildur and Elrond II joined them, stating that the King of Gondor was ready to leave. Maglor and the elder half-elf followed them out to the gates, where a pair of horses were saddled and ready.
Elrond I and II bade their comrades a fond farewell, wishing them good fortune on their journeys. The two travelers rode away with confidence, calling out cheerful goodbyes to each other as they parted ways.
"What do we do now?" Elrond II asked his other half, as they watched the last plumes of dust disperse.
Elrond I's only reply was to casually begin humming a wedding march. Elrond II felt his heart leap in his chest.
"Where, when, and to whom?" he asked, enthused.
"In the wood of Lothlórien," his godfather answered dreamily, "in about a hundred and nine years, you're going to wed Celebrían, the only daughter of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. You met her before, when we passed that realm on the way to Mordor."
"Oh," Elrond II breathed, his eyes lighting up. But a moment later his expression became one of total confusion. "How will that work out, exactly? We're the same person, and she can't possibly take her vows with both of us! People would think it was bigamy!"
"Ahh." The elder half-elf's face fell. "Yes, that does rather complicate the matter, doesn't it?" He shrugged. "Well, I suppose we'll just have to wait and see how Eru plans to carry all of this out."