Fading Away by Ireth_Telrunya
The reddish-gold radiance of sunset poured delicately through the window into Elrond IÂ’s bedchamber. The elf sighed absently as he turned to a blank page of his journal, lifting his pen to write. The pointed tip glided over the parchment, leaving thin, graceful veins of deep blue ink on the yellowish page.
It has been nearly a hundred years since AnnatarÂ’s departure. Mithlond is quiet; almost unnervingly so. Thankfully, Morgoth hasnÂ’t shown himself for a while; not since his most recent attack of six hundred years ago. That brings the total up to three. Thirteen more to go. ThatÂ’s another unlucky number, isnÂ’t it?
I still can’t take in that Lord Mandos loves me. And I didn’t know a single thing about it for fifteen hundred years! Every time I look at him, I just know he’s hurting, deep inside. But really, who wouldn’t, knowing that the one you love doesn’t love you back? Not that I don’t care about him — I really do — but it’s so hard to handle.
It was all just so sudden. One day he was my superior, a Lord of the Valar; and the next, he wanted to be my equalÂ… my brother. The older brother I never had. I still donÂ’t know how I can make it up to him. Eru knows IÂ’m trying.
But does he even know that I know?
“Elrond! Elrond!”
Elrond looked up, setting down his pen and standing to greet Maglor. He started when he saw the look on his friendÂ’s ashen face.
“What’s wrong?” he cried.
“Gil-galad sent me,” the son of Fëanor gasped, clutching a stitch in his side. “He told me to tell you that he wishes to see you in the throne room immediately.”
Elrond I nodded. “Help me look for him; it won’t take as long if we both work together.”
“No need,” said Elrond II’s voice from behind Maglor. “I’m right here.”
“Good!” said Elrond I, striding toward himself as Maglor turned around. “Come with me – the King wants to see the two of us.”
“What does he want?” asked the younger half-elf, as they hurried down the corridor.
“I’m not sure,” his godfather replied. “But Maglor said he was extremely urgent.”
“Then we’d best get there as quickly as possible,” Elrond II panted, increasing his stride. “Come on!”
When they finally burst breathlessly into the throne room, the King and Cirdan were both waiting for them; Gil-galad wore a grim expression, and held a scroll of parchment in his right hand. He gave a nod in return of their bows, addressing them briskly.
“This letter is from Celebrimbor of Eregion,” he explained, holding out the parchment. “He has urgent news. Sauron has discovered something of deadly significance.”
“What did he discover?” Elrond II inquired nervously, through a mouth that was dry with trepidation.
The King gazed deeply into Elrond’s four blue eyes. “You know of the Rings of Power. The creations of Celebrimbor. Three wrought for Elves, seven for Dwarfs, nine for Men.”
Two heads nodded noiselessly, and one pair of eyes flickered momentarily over to Cirdan before settling back on Gil-galad.
“Sauron has betrayed Celebrimbor,” the King continued evenly. “He has betrayed all the Free Peoples of this earth – Men, Elves and Dwarfs alike. The Rings of Power were once nineteen – so it should have remained. But not now. Now,” he told them, his voice falling to a murmur, “there are twenty.”
Elrond IÂ’s eyes narrowed in fury. He spoke in a hushed voice, his every syllable weighted down with hatred.
“One Ring to rule them all; one Ring to find them.
One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them.”
Elrond II turned his frightened gaze to his other half. The elder elf held his eyes and voice steady. “We need to do something now. Eregion is in danger. Sauron will seek to destroy it forever, and its people with it. But we can save them if we act immediately!”
“What do you suggest we do?” Gil-galad asked him calmly.
“Send some of your elves to Eregion,” Elrond I insisted, mounting intensity in his voice. “They can help defend Celebrimbor’s people.”
“How do you know of this?”
“I have Foreseen it.” Remembered it, he corrected himself mutely. This had happened in his previous life as well, but they had not had such warning.
“You seem to know a great deal about this,” Cirdan spoke up. Elrond flinched slightly; he had almost forgotten that the shipwright was present. “Is there something specific you’re not telling us?”
ThereÂ’s a lot IÂ’m not telling you, Elrond I thought. But only because I canÂ’t.
“Yes and no,” he said out loud. “I do know much about this, and I will gladly share what insight I have. But I fear I don’t even know the complete story. I only know that Sauron’s will is turned toward Celebrimbor alone, at least for the moment.”
“‘For the moment’?” Gil-galad repeated, his eyebrows shooting up like birds lifting from a branch. “Explain yourself, Elrond.”
The half-elf nodded. “You have already said that Sauron has betrayed all Free Peoples, not only the Eldar. He will eventually strike against Men and Dwarfs as well. We all have a common enemy.”
The King pondered this warily. “Be that as it may, the key factor at this point is Eregion. What are we to do that will aid Celebrimbor?”
“To my knowledge, there is little that we can do at this point. I know that Sauron will not openly strike Eregion for almost a hundred years. But there might be something.”
“Do you know where Sauron is now?” Gil-galad asked him. “Does he have a stronghold anywhere?”
“Yes,” Elrond I nodded firmly. “He has completed a fortress deep in the heart of Mordor. It is named Barad-dûr.”
Everyone present shuddered at the name as it passed the elf’s lips. Barad-dûr – the Black Keep. The title alone was infused with loathing and danger.
“We should strike now!” cried Elrond II. “Counter-attack when he least expects it. Turn the tables against him.”
Elrond I had to admit, the plan seemed a good one. He remembered how things had gone before. Eregion had been destroyed, and many realms of the Free Peoples laid to waste. If they did defeat Sauron soon – not necessarily immediately, but without too much delay – then what had been devastated that time might be spared now. Hundreds of lives could be saved. What did they have to lose?
“We need a plan,” he told his godson and kinsmen. “We can’t just sally forth willy-nilly and knock on his door.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Cirdan nodded. “Let’s begin immediately.”
Gil-galad shook his head. “It’s getting late. I suggest we sleep on this. We’d be better off to start tomorrow, when our minds are clearer. In the meantime, goodnight. Sleep well.”
They all nodded and departed, lost to their own private thoughts.
Elrond I sighed as he climbed into bed, pulling the thick, warm blanket up to his chin. He had almost let his eyes glaze when Mandos arrived, swift and silent as a shadow. The elf sat up and bowed his head in respect, noting with a twinge of worry that the Vala wore a grim look on his pale face.
“Is something wrong, sire?” he asked carefully.
The Doomsman neither nodded nor shook his head. “Yes and no. I heard of your plan to strike against Sauron. I have come to tell you that your attempt will be futile. You cannot hope to save Eregion.”
“But I thought if we acted sooner…”
“It would prove useless. Some things cannot change.”
“Why not?” Elrond I demanded, more angrily than he meant to.
“One thing must give way to another,” Mandos replied. “Do you remember Imladris?”
“Of course!” How could he forget the home that he himself would someday build?
“Yes. It was only founded after Eregion was destroyed in your past life,” the Doomsman explained. “The same holds true in this life.”
Elrond I felt his mouth dry out, and forced his next words to emerge.
“But can’t some things change, sire? Can’t the lives of so many innocent elves be spared? Is that too much to ask?”
“It is not,” Mandos agreed. “But that is not my decision. As I have told you before, I have only the knowledge of all that was, is, and will yet be. I am not the one who sets it all into motion.”
The half-elf nodded slowly. “Then what must I do?”
The Vala gave him a careful explanation. Elrond I digested it slowly, feeling a bittersweet pang in his heart, and hot tears brimming in his eyes. The strategy was a tangle of losses and gains. Defeats and victories. Lives and deaths.
“Are you sure of this?” the elf asked carefully. “Must it be him?” He cringed as an image flashed to the forefront of his mind.
“Yes. There is no other way.”
Elrond I nodded, noticing the sadness in his comrade’s voice. “Very well… so be it.”
The Doomsman nodded, laying a gentle hand on the elf-lord’s shoulder. “Get some rest, Elrond. You need as much as you can acquire.”
Mandos lingered there for a while, guarding his friend loyally. The moonlight caused the elf’s fair face to almost glow, and his glazed eyes to glint weirdly. Little Lórien sat on the pillow next to Elrond’s right ear. His tiny knees were drawn up to his chest; he appeared deep in thought about something. The Doomsman held out his hand, and the miniature Dream-lord strode confidently onto his palm.
Mandos gave a soundless sigh, his keen gaze roving back and forth between the figure in the bed and the one standing on his hand. The first was an elf whom he considered to be a younger brother, and whom he knew was trying his best to deal with his newly-formed kinships; the other was a tiny replica of another little brother.
He cast another glance at the sleeping elf, and his brows contracted slightly as a thought came to him. He allowed a bittersweet sigh to pass through his lips as he considered the events to take place, soon and not so soon.
Nearly everything imaginable possessed two sides. Light and Dark; Day and Night. Good and Evil; Friends and Enemies. Happiness and Sorrow. Life and Death. The Sky and the Earth.
Fire and Ice.
Mandos shuddered slightly, but soon lapsed into a sense ofÂ… contentment. This was new to him. What would occur would be terrible, yes. But even in the deepest darkness, there was Light. The Evil would give way to Good.
All he needed was Time.
Elrond I awoke early the next morning with a plan buzzing through his mind. He hurried to the Great Hall, to find Gil-galad, Cirdan and Elrond II all waiting for him. He greeted them warmly, and looked up to see another figure enter.
The King looked up, smiling cordially. “Good morning, Maglor.”
“Good morning,” the son of Fëanor greeted his friends. “I understand that you’re forming a plan of some sort? A strategy of attack?”
Elrond I nodded. “And I happen to have one fully-formed.”
He explained the plot extremely carefully, leaving almost nothing out. His comrades and his other half listened with the utmost care, knowing the slightest detail could be crucial. They stood still as stone while Elrond I spoke. When at last he paused for breath, Maglor was the first to speak out.
“When exactly will we be carrying this out?” he asked.
“Naturally, I assumed we should act as soon as possible,” the half-elf replied. “But as this is King Gil-galad’s household, I believe it should be his decision.”
He nodded courteously to his friend as he spoke his name. The three companions waited uncomplainingly for the KingÂ’s verdict.
“I entirely agree,” Gil-galad smiled. “We should take action immediately. And Elrond the First, as it was you who formulated this scheme, I appoint you the general of the militia.”
“It would be an honor, my lord,” Elrond I replied, bowing.
The King nodded smartly. “Good! Now, we first need to equip our forces…”
