Chapter Seventy-Seven: And What Happened After
Sighing, the young half-elf laid a hand upon his godfather's shoulder as he spoke to all of his friends and kinsmen, both old and new.
"I understand," he began hesitantly, "that none of us wanted this moment to come. But as the saying goes, 'all good things have their end'. And indeed, I'm afraid it's time for us to say goodbye."
Twelve pairs of eyes met two. Half of the dozen pairs were wet; the others were solemn. Eluréd, Elurín, Caranel, Celebrimbor, Cirdan and Gil-galad stepped forward, and Elrond I and II embraced them one by one, weeping and whispering bittersweet goodbyes.
"Tell Elwing that Eluréd and I miss her," Elurín begged Elrond II. "Please."
"Of course," the young half-elf promised.
"Cross your heart?" the child quavered.
Elrond nodded, smiling through his own tears as he traced an X across his chest with his forefinger. Elurín appeared satisfied with this; he hugged his nephew tightly one last time before they parted.
Joining hands as they turned away from their kin, Elrond I and II followed Mandos back through the Door of the Dead. Back to life.
----
Elrond I and II both gasped at exactly the same time, their eyes flying open as their hearts jerked back into life-giving rhythms. They had returned to Elrond II's bedroom; Mandos stood on one side of the bed, tenderly holding the younger half-elf's hand in his own, and Celebrían was in a chair on the other side, smiling as she looked down into her husband's eyes, which held a sparkle of life once again.
"Welcome back," she greeted him softly. "How was it?"
"Amazing," Elrond I replied. "Though I'm not quite sure what to call it. It couldn't be the best day of my life, could it? How about the best day of my… heheh… deadness?"
Mandos gave a benign laugh as he let go of Elrond II's hand. "It was the only day of your 'deadness', you realize."
"I know," Elrond I smiled, a dreamy look entering his eyes. "But it was still wonderful."
"Then tell me about it," his wife urged him eagerly. "What did the Halls look like? Who did you meet?"
"Perhaps you should wait until the morning," Mandos advised, as Elrond I and II tried to inconspicuously cover up their yawns. "No doubt the fatigue of not sleeping for a whole day is bearing heavily down on Elrond, now that he is alive again."
Celebrían nodded, and Elrond I rose slowly from the bed. Bowing to Mandos, he slipped discreetly out the door and down the hallway to his own bedroom, but not before bidding himself, his wife and the Doomsman goodnight. The Vala himself then inclined his head to Celebrían and Elrond II, and faded unobtrusively into the shadows of midnight.
----
Did time go by at all? The sun and moon both rose and fell, truly, and Eärendil sailed the starry skies as ever, but there was no sense of minutes and hours or days and weeks. How long Elrond had been in Valinor, he had no idea. It felt like forever, yet only an instant.
Every new day brought beautiful familiarity and new surprises. Visits to the dwellings of his friends and kinsfolk, the Valar, were very much anticipated. Ilmarin-upon-Taniquetil, Aulë's mansion, Lórien's garden, Nienna's house, and Tulkas' hall were among those the half-elf traveled to most often, but he also frequently rode with Oromë through the forests of Yavanna, and swam in the cool waters of Ulmo's seas. Mirth, sorrow, exhilaration and calm dominated Elrond's entire being in turns as he chose them.
The half-elf smiled in quiet reflection of the recent, and perhaps not-so-recent, past. Two reminiscences especially stood out in his mind: two meetings with Maiar, during the very first visits to the homes of the Valar whom each served; one of those Maiar served Aulë, the other served Lórien. Curumo and Olórin, they were named respectively. Curumo was an excellent craftsman, aptly named "Man of Skill", and Olórin was adept in the weaving of fair visions to embed in the minds of others. Each had learned his profession well from his master.
But it was not only these things that had originally drawn Elrond toward them: these two had been known in an exceptionally different lifetime as two of the Istari, a group of five Maiar who were chosen to rise against Sauron in the Third Age of Middle-earth. Curumo was Saruman, and Olórin was Gandalf. The three other Istari had completely given up on their obligation; Saruman had let himself be twisted to the dark ways of Sauron, and only Gandalf had stayed true to his mission – even death could not delay him for long. Elrond had been extremely glad to meet his old friend again, and gladder yet to see an old enemy who was now entirely innocent…
Curumo appeared differently than the elder half-elf remembered him; he had previously had the likeness of a tall old man clad all in white, with long snowy-hued hair and beard; now, however, Curumo's tunic and breeches were both of dark brown, his face was much younger, and his tied-back, ebony-colored hair was shoulder-length; his beard was short, neat and tapered. A friendly glint was in his eyes as he held out a gloved hand for Elrond to shake.
"So this is the ellon I have heard so many fascinating stories about," Curumo smiled. His voice was exactly the same as it had been, sonorous and rich. "Elrond Peredhel the First. It is indeed an honor."
"The honor is mine," Elrond I replied graciously, bowing his head in respect.
Curumo laughed, and the sound was like the ringing of hammer on anvil. "If the tales are true, then you have won nearly as much of my lord Aulë's favor as I have."
"Maybe so," the elder half-elf responded, "but you have no doubt spent many more years working alongside of him as I have. Also our individual 'favors' had dissimilar intentions behind them, and it was only in my direst need that Lord Aulë initiated my lessons."
"So I have heard," the Maia nodded. "But you possess skills that even I do not. Fire is a difficult thing to control, but you have mastered that."
"Only with a great deal of time and hard work, as well as a Ring of Power," said Elrond modestly. "Your skills are inbred."
"My skills have never been openly directed toward Morgoth," Curumo countered him. "I was most rapt to hear of your many fights – and successes – against the Dark Lord."
"I could never have succeeded without aid," Elrond I replied. "Were it not for Lord Aulë and the rest of the Valar, no doubt the world would be in complete chaos. It's a very long story to hear in its fullness, and I shudder to recall most of the chapters."
"Then put it out of your mind," Curumo told him kindly, "and let us both put our skills in practice. Will you aid me in my smith-work?"
So Elrond I summoned the might of fire to warm the forge ovens, and watched fascinated as his comrade hammered out bars, sheets and wires of different metals, gold and mithril among them. The Maia skillfully bent and fashioned these with tongs, shaping them into a large arc. The wires were twined all around the other pieces in an elaborate, serpentine design, and some pieces of flat metal attached to them had been wrought into shapes like flowers and leaves.
"It's beautiful," Elrond breathed, gazing down at the finished circlet as it stood cooling. He noticed just one peculiarity: a large ring-shaped hollow in the very front of the thing, which looked as though it were waiting for something to be set there. When he questioned Curumo about this, the Maia only replied mysteriously, "You yourself possess what shall fill the hole."
Elrond I left the mansion of Aulë with the circlet a long time afterward, still puzzling over Curumo's words.
----
Olórin appeared almost as he had in Elrond's first life: he now wore a blue scarf overtop of his ash-grey robe, whereas he hadn't before, and perhaps his beard was a little shorter than it had been, but Elrond had known him straight away, while it had taken him a short time to grow used to Curumo's appearance.
"Welcome," the Maia greeted the half-elf benevolently, inclining his head respectfully as Elrond did so. "We have been expecting you."
"Thank you," Elrond I smiled, walking forward as Olórin stepped aside, and gazing all around him in wonder as the gardens of Lórien unfurled before him. The music of drowsy nightingales crooned to him like lullabies; sweet-scented flowers and fragrant trees filled his nostrils with soothing aromas, not the least evident of which were lavender and pine.
Elrond I immediately felt a wonderful serenity seep through him, and he wandered forth into a shadowy labyrinth of cedars and yewtrees. Olórin strode along at his side, striking up a pleasant conversation with the elf. Both learned much about the other; Elrond gave what felt like the hundredth account of his life-story, and Olórin told the elf many things about what he had seen while wandering Valinor: the splendor of Ilmarin, the shadows of Nienna's halls, the conversations he had had with the Dead in the Halls of Mandos. The elf listened in fascination to all of this. There were so many things in Valinor to discover, he was sure he'd never see it all.
"You may in time," Olórin smiled confidently. "In any case, you are immortal, and this is your final destination. All of your kindred are here, are they not?"
"Not all," Elrond I sighed mournfully. "My sons and my father-in-law stayed behind. I'm not certain of exactly why, but that was their choice."
"You may rest assured that they will in time grow weary of Arda," the Maia told him. His voice was very different when he said this; it was softer, and yet somehow stronger, laden with hope and optimism. "Someday they will choose to come home; and they will, guided by the light of Eärendil, Varda's most beloved child."
A distant knocking sound jolted Elrond I from his contemplations, but the interruption was not entirely unwelcome. He leapt up from his overstuffed armchair to answer the front door, but in his rush, he jostled his half-open wardrobe a little, and two black boxes tumbled from a high shelf to land squarely on his head, one after the other.
Gingerly massaging his scalp, all thoughts of his waiting guest forgotten, Elrond frowned down at the boxes which now lay on the floor in front of him. A vague memory floated to the front of his mind; he was certain that something like this had happened before – with, he remembered, the smaller and dustier of the pair of boxes before him.
The larger box, Elrond knew, held the circlet made for him by Curumo. And the other… The elf smiled as he picked up the smaller box and opened it. A brilliantly-glowing jewel, like a large, perfect diamond, lay nestled in a bed of ebony-hued velvet. The last Silmaril. Now that he had it in his hand again, and could gauge its size, the elf noticed that the gem was just large enough to fit into that strange hole in his circlet…
"Elrond!" The voice – his own – slashed through his thoughts. Elrond II hurried into the room, his face flushed and eyes sparkling. "What are you standing there for? Lady Varda is here to see us! She says it's important! Oh – and you'd better bring both of those, too," he added, gesturing to the Silmaril and the box which still held the circlet. "Don't ask me how I know, just come on."
Elrond I hurried to do as he was bidden, darting from the room alongside of himself. The two halves of the elf hastened to their living-room, where Celebrían sat on a couch next to none other than Varda. The Queen of Light was as beautiful and luminous as ever, and she laughed and chatted idly with Elrond's wife as they waited patiently for the elf-lord. As Elrond nearly stumbled into the room, elf-woman and Valië both rose and smiled.
"Excellent, excellent," Varda beamed, nodding her head civilly as the half-elf bowed low. "Good, good, both of you… and you have them. Wonderful. Celebrían," she said, turning to the lady of the household, "thank you very much for your kind hospitality. But Elrond and I really must be going. We will see you tomorrow night after sunset."
Celebrían nodded with a bow, seating herself again and smoothing her skirt. "Very well, my lady."
"Where exactly are we going, my lady?" Elrond I inquired, as Varda turned elegantly on her heel toward the door.
"You will see," the Valië answered him secretively. "I will say only that you are about to meet another long-lost kinsman: one whom you have not spoken to in two Ages, but have looked upon lovingly every dusk and dawn."
It took only a moment for the half-elf to put two and two together, and all four of his eyes filled with tears. Varda gazed at him in quiet concern. "Why do you weep? I thought you would be happy."
"Oh, I am," Elrond II reassured her, sniffling and blinking as he struggled to recover his composure. "Not all tears fall in sorrow, you know. It's just that… you and your kindred have done so much for me already… I just don't really know what to say." He averted his tear-streaked face from hers.
Placing her hand under his chin, Varda gently turned the elf's face back toward herself. A soft, kind thought slipped from her mind to his: Try saying, 'Thank you, Aunt Varda'.
Elrond smiled through his obvious tears. Thank you, Aunt Varda.
----
An indeterminable span of time later, the half-elf and the Valië arrived gracefully at their destination: a small but well-kept cottage situated upon a high cliff on the shores of a sea, overlooking a dockside in which a single silver-timbered, swan-shaped ship was moored, shining like a huge star in the late afternoon. The vast stretch of water was not Belegaer, the Great Sea; it was the Sea that encircled the whole world and extended out to the very threshold of the Gates of Night.
Varda led her kinsman briskly round to the westward-facing front doorstep of the cottage, and quietly bade Elrond to keep out of sight, at least for the moment. The half-elven lord, feeling very much like a child playing a game of hide-and-seek, dutifully ducked behind a corner as the Valië knocked three times on the door. He felt his twin hearts leap into his throats at the sound of a voice from within.
"Coming, coming… who on earth could be calling? I never get visitors, none at all… yes, just a moment! You've caught me at a rather bad time, I'm afraid, I was just about to set out…"
"Rest assured, this is the most appropriate time possible," Varda called out in reply to the approaching homeowner, just before the door swung open. Elrond, remembering to keep unseen and unnoticed until otherwise stated, scarcely stifled his gasps in time.
The elf who answered the door looked almost exactly like Elrond himself, except that his eyes were silver-grey instead of light blue. The elf was clad wholly in white, his shadow-black hair fell long and straight past his broad shoulders, and a healthy, rosy flush was in his fair cheeks. Seeing the woman on the threshold, he fell reverentially to his knees and kissed the hem of her star-speckled dress.
"Lady Varda, I am truly honored."
Varda's countenance was as bright as sunshine as she smiled down upon him. "Please get up, Eärendil. There is someone here to see you."
She stepped aside, nodding to someone out of the elf's line of vision as he climbed to his feet. Eärendil waited earnestly, and felt his heart skip what must have been several beats in a row when he saw the two identical figures who had been hiding until that moment. It couldn't be. It couldn't be…
The two figures both smiled – smiles that were utterly impossible to tell apart – and said two words in one and the same voice: "Hello, Father."
It was.
The mariner stood in dumbfounded shock for a few long moments, and then a laugh that was half a sob leapt from his throat. He came forward and flung his arms around his elder son in both of his bodies, ignoring the tears that freely soaked his face as he wept for joy. Elrond I and II were crying as well, and Varda was beaming (in more ways than one).
"Elrond," Eärendil whispered, staring deep into his son's faces, "Elrond, my boy… of all the things I've seen in my lifetime, this is without a doubt the most splendid of them all."
"I know," Elrond I murmured into his father's ear, together with Elrond II. "I know."
The mariner's eyes flicked upward, taking in the multicolored sky that heralded nightfall. Arien was guiding the Sun ever closer to the western horizon. Eärendil grinned suddenly as he clapped his son on the shoulder. "It's getting late – we'd better be off. We've got a long journey ahead of us."
"'We'?" Elrond II frowned.
"Of course!" his father cried. "I'm not sailing Vingilot alone tonight. We'll fly together – the three of us. If, of course, my lady is willing," he added, bowing to Varda.
"I would be nothing less than delighted to accompany you," the Valië replied. "Lead on."