Some Futile Hope by Luxa

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Part Two: Prologue

Elrond rides out to war and must say goodbye to Gil-galad.

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Second Age, March 27th, 1695. 12:30 P.M.

Elrond took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. Underneath him, his horse stamped his foot and snorted. Elrond did not blame him; he had never seen so many Elves packed into one place before. First, there was the army, lined for rows and rows behind him. Elrond tried to forget how many Elves were behind him, how many thousands he was now responsible for, Elves forced to follow a leader who'd never seen battle before.

"Relax," said Glorfindel, sitting on the horse to his right. "I can see how much you're worrying. There's no need, at least not yet."

Glorfindel managed to look cheery decked out in full battle regalia, a feat Elrond could not fathom. Elrond was certain he looked absolutely ridiculous, his armor shiny and unused and his hair, too unruly that morning for warrior braids, falling loose around his shoulders. He glanced down and saw, in the half-inch of skin between his leather gloves and his armor, ink-stains. His eyes started threatening him with tears.

"I am not worthy," Elrond whispered. "It should be you, not me, sitting up here."

"In case it escaped your notice, I am sitting up here. Right next to you," replied Glorfindel promptly. "Come now, Elrond. You have been training for this for more than a decade. Anyway, today is all pomp and circumstance. The only thing you need watch out for are your eardrums."

Elrond managed a watery smile and stared straight ahead as the procession started to move.

Finally, after years of anxiety, of tense communications with Celebrimbor and Galadriel, of tentative battle plans and schemes, of useless fretting, the day had come. Elrond Half-elven, as the war minister and herald of High King Ereinion Gil-galad, was leading an army out to confront Sauron.

Elrond concentrated on his armor as the crowd began to cheer (Glorfindel was right, the cheering was harmful to the ears). It had been sent to him from Eregion, forged by Celebrimbor himself. Elrond had not received such a gift in a long time (Ereinion having questionable taste in fashion, design, jewelry, and almost anything one might give as a gift), and was rather proud of it. It was a beautiful piece of work, and Elrond secretly thought only Fëanor could have surpassed it.

Glorfindel whispered, "Look up, Elrond."

Elrond snapped his head up, hoping no one had paid attention to the herald of the High King's staring at his armor. He attempted a smile.

"Don't grimace like that," was Glorfindel's next bit of advice.

Elrond trained his eyes ahead of him as they marched down the streets of Lindon's capital and pretended that he was doing something pleasant, like reading or debating. His smile became a little more sincere, and he waved to the people watching the procession. A few Elf maidens threw flower petals at him, which he brushed out of his hair and gathered together in his hand. If he was still alive at the end of this war, he wouldn't mind pressing them.

Pressing flowers. It was thoughts like that that would end up getting him killed. Nevertheless, he tucked the flower petals in his saddlebag. Next to him, Glorfindel was fashioning them into a garland, his hair shining.

When they reached the end of the procession, Gil-galad and the lords and ladies of the court that weren't going to battle were waiting, all on horseback. Elrond swallowed. He and Ereinion had been preparing for this day for years, and they'd said farewell thoroughly and privately the previous night, but it was still hard to face.

As head of the army, Elrond rode out to meet Gil-galad, taking the banner from Glorfindel to do so. He felt his heart stutter as the crowd around them fell silent.

"My herald," said Gil-galad solemnly. "My war minister. I hereby give you command of this army, to exercise my will in all matters, and to bring fair justice and freedom upon the lands in defense of the Dark Lord Sauron. Do you accept?"

"I do, my liege," replied Elrond, afraid he would trip up on his words. "I will uphold your law in all matters and do my best to strike fear into the heart of our enemy. I accept."

Gil-galad nodded, his eyes meeting Elrond's for a split second. Elrond tried to memorize the stormy gray of their depths, but not only that; he had to commit to memory his lover's entire face, his full jaw-line and his cheekbones and his hair and his lips, lips Elrond had kissed practically every day of his life, lips Elrond might never see again. He could tell Ereinion was doing the same before he turned and his gaze was ripped away.

As protocol demanded, Elrond returned to his position in front of the army, his hand on the reins shaking. Was that it? What if he never returned? Was that the last he would ever see of Ereinion, until he was released from the Halls of Mandos?

Barely containing a sob, Elrond avoided Glorfindel's gaze as they continued their procession out of the city. Soon Gil-galad and Lindon would be behind him, and he would have only Sauron to look forward to.

They had gone only a few hundred yards when Elrond heard someone shout. He turned his head and saw, to both his embarrassment and joy, Gil-galad galloping towards him. The lords and ladies of the court were talking amongst themselves, while the crowd seemed generally confused, although no one seemed surprised.

Gil-galad slowed and pulled up next to Elrond, who was starting to blush. Really, in front of the army and everyone?

"I couldn't say goodbye to you like that," said Gil-galad, panting. "Not like that."

Elrond blushed further. "I am flattered, my liege," he replied, trying to keep some semblance of protocol.

"You look gorgeous in that armor," persisted Gil-galad. "Gorgeous and dangerous. You'll do wonderfully."

"You really think so?" Elrond whispered.

"I do," said Gil-galad, followed by, "Oh, bother it, I don't care anymore."

Gil-galad reached over with large, calloused hands, and pulled the love of his life in for a kiss.

When they parted, Elrond was red to his ears, but he was smiling.

"I love you," he said.

"I will see you again, my love," said Ereinion. "I will be here, waiting for you. Take comfort in that. Never forget that I hold you more dear than any other."

"And I you," said Elrond, this time initiating the kiss. "Farewell, my love."

"Until you return," said Gil-galad earnestly. They met eyes one last time before the High King of the Noldor returned to his place, his gaze trained on Elrond until he and all the army were nothing more than a speck in the distance.

"You will be all the talk of Lindon now," said Glorfindel once they were some distance from the city.

"I know," replied Elrond. "I just do not care."

"Really?" said Glorfindel, surprised. "You care so much about what they think..."

"My dear Glorfindel," said Elrond, surprising his friend. "It is not I that has to worry about it. It is my love who must deal with the court day in and day out. We are so delightfully free of all that. Remind me to thank Sauron."

Glorfindel laughed. "You have changed, but not for the worse."

"Let us hope if was enough," said Elrond. "Enough to bring down the evil we are facing."

"It will be," said Glorfindel. "It has to be."

Elrond nodded and lead his army forward.