Mordor by hennethgalad

Chapter 1

Mordor

   In the fifth year of the siege, Ereinion son of Fingon, High King of the Noldor, who was called Gil-galad, became troubled in mind and weary at heart. Elrond his herald, whose duty it was to be at hand, watched anxiously as Gil-galad's mood darkened until at last Gil-galad stood suddenly and said

   'Oh Elrond, I yearn for the sea ! This bleak land, this 'Mordor', there are no trees, no flowers, no life, only bones, only death...' he faltered and put his face in his hands; with averted gaze he said 'I have dreamed my own death, Elrond, and I know not whether this comes from the Valar or from the Shadow' he gestured to the south, where Barad-dûr stood. 

  Elrond cleared his throat 'It is said that the dreams sent by the Enemy are dark deceptions, it may be that you feel his presence, and it darkens your heart.'

   'They also say he cannot create, only distort, therefore what I have seen is true, but oh, I long for the sound of the wave on the shore, and the hiss of the shining foam...' he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, clenching his fists as though he would tear his hair out, then giving a small laugh and turning away to pour the wine.

   Elrond was silent, Gil-galad was known for foresight, and even Elrond had been perceiving glimpses of events that had not yet taken place, as minds were troubled here, so close to the Shadow.

   Two moons waxed and waned, and Elrond spoke to Elendil 'Lord, in the morning, is it possible that you will advise the king to inspect the troops posted on the southern side of the tower.?'

  Elendil looked at him from under lowered brows 'Are you up to mischief young Elrond ? I do not wish to distress my friend when he is already troubled.' 

  Elrond smiled 'No, my Lord, but I have a surprise that will take a time to prepare, and...'
'And you want me to distract him ? Very well, I trust you mean no harm. It shall be done. But if you prove false you will regret it. '
'Have no fear my Lord, I promise that the king will smile again.'

Elendil raised his eyebrows and nodded.

  The next day the carts arrived from Ithilien, a whole grove of sapling fruit trees, with all their roots dug up with their native soil. Elrond organized the enthusiastic elves (and men) who dug holes hard by Gil-galad's headquarters and planted the twenty four trees. These were barely a fathom high, but covered already in bright blossom. A bucket chain was formed to carry water to them, and by the fall of dusk the trees seemed to have always been there. Elrond was bearing wine for his gardeners when Elendil's squire galloped up, and gazed in astonishment at the grove

  'Sir, Lord Elendil bade me have you know that they will be here soon whether your surprise is ready or not.' He laughed and looked at the trees then back to Elrond 'Truly the magic of the elves is mighty'

'That may be so, but this was the gardening of men, not the magic of elves. '

  The sound of Gil-galad's laughter rang like the silver bells on his steed, he galloped up to the trees and leapt down. With a brief dazzling smile for Elrond he was among the trees, running fingers across the bark of one, touching the petal of another. In the middle of the grove he stopped and looked up, there above the tips of the young trees rose Eärendil and on an instant all fear and grief fell away from him and his heart sang for the love of the beauty of the light of the Trees.