I Choose a Mortal Life by Uvatha the Horseman

The horses labored up the final crest of the hill. When they reached it, the entire expanse of the harbor opened up before them. Sunlight glittered from the surface of the water and beyond the harbor's entrance lay the open ocean, cold and deep and unimaginably huge.

Elros reined in and dropped from the saddle. Beside him, Elrond did the same.

"There she is, the ship to Númenor." Elros gazed at it, his eyes dreamy.

The great ship was tied up at the wharf. Low and wide at its midsection, its bow and stern curved upward like the neck of a swan, ending in a spiral figurehead at the prow. A single mast reached a towering height, and an enormous steering oar hung from the stern.

It must have been a warship once, now fitted to carry settlers and their families and all the gear they would need to colonize the uninhabited island.

"When she casts off, I'll be on board her, headed for the new land." Elros was practically bouncing up and down.

He's really going to do it. Elrond's heart sank.

They left the horses with a servant and went down to the harbor.

"I still don't understand why you're so determined to join this expedition," said Elrond. "I know you've had more dealings with Men than I have, and you have friends among the settlers, but is that reason enough to join them?"

"It's not just that. We've been at war far too long. I want to make something, build something, grow something that won't be destroyed right away."

You could do all that at home. Why this fixation on joining the colonists? but held his tongue. They'd had this argument already.

They reached the broad stone plaza of the wharf. At least a hundred settlers waited there, some groups of single men but mostly families, their small children running among the bundles of belongings and stacks of farming tools.

As a group, the men were short and stocky with coarse features. Almost all of them were bearded, and the ones that didn't had days of stubble covering their chins. They wore the costume favored by the race of Men, a loose tunic belted at the waist.

Elrond studied the long line of people waiting to board and didn't see a single Elf among them. "It looks like the colonists are all from the race of Men. You'll be the only one of our kind. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure."

The gangway was guarded by a silver-haired man at a makeshift desk. A ledger lay open in front of him.

Elros made a beeline in his direction, and Elrond hurried to keep up.

They passed a settler who did a double take and made the sign of the evil eye. "You'd think he'd never seen identical twins before," said Elros.

Elrond was hit with a wave of sadness. With Elros gone, he would be a twinless twin.

A line had formed in front of the gatekeeper's desk. The gatekeeper dipped his pen in an inkpot. "Name."

The colonist at the head of the line stepped forward. The gatekeeper wrote in his ledger and directed the man to join the rest of the settlers waiting to board.

Elros left him to stand in line. It crept forward slowly. Finally, he reached the front.

"Name?"

Elrond watched his twin step forward, the happiness showing in his face. "Elros son of Eärendil."

The man took in Elros' slender height, embroidered silk robes, and hair that hung to his waist. "I'm sorry, but Númenor was created as a gift to the race of Men. Only Men are allowed to be colonists."

"I'm half-Elven. I have ancestors from both races."

The man raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you do, but I'm afraid there's not a place for you on this expedition."

Elros turned away, his shoulders sagging.

Elrond threw an arm around his brother's shoulders. "I'm sorry, I know how much you wanted to go. Let's get the horses and get out of here."

Their route took them past the long line of settlers waiting to board the ship. Families sat with bundles of their belongings, farming tools, and everything else they were taking with them to the new colony. Adults stood and talked together, occasionally breaking up fights among their children.

Elros stopped, apparently focused on a settler wearing a rust-red tunic cinched at the waist with a wide belt. The man was as tall and slender as an Elf although he was obviously Mannish, as he had a beard and hair streaked with grey. A grin spread across Elros' face.

"His clothes would fit me."

"In the name of the Holy Ones, tell me you're not going to…" Elrond buried his face in his hands.

Elros approached the man. He took out his purse and spilled a coin into his palm. The man shook his head. He added two more. The man refused a second time, but his wife clutched the man's arm and shook him. The man stripped down to his shirt and gave his outer clothing to Elros.

Back at the grove where they'd left the horses. Elros shrugged into the Mannish tunic and fastened the belt around his waist. "How do I look?"

"Ridiculous."

Elros' face fell. Elrond tried again. "You look like an Elf in Men's clothing."

"Then I'm not trying hard enough." Elros took out a dagger and tested the blade against his fingertip sharpness. "Cut my hair."

Elrond refused the dagger, at first. "Are you sure? That's a step. It could take a year to grow back."

"Then I'll do it myself." Minutes later, handfuls of Elros' dark hair lay on the ground. What little he had left barely brushed his shoulders. It looked unnatural, but Elros touched the blunt stubs of what had been his hair, appeared to be satisfied.

"That's more like it. Now, let's go back down there and try again."

Elrond followed his brother back to the waterfront. The man with the ledger was still there, and was still signing people in.

Elrond lowered his voice. "Don't get your hopes up. Even with the disguise, I expect he'll recognize you."

"Unless he thinks I'm someone else." Elros approached the end of the line and pulled Elrond in front of him.

"For this to work, you have to go first. All you have to do is give him your name, get rejected, then say goodbye when I board the ship."

The line moved slowly. The colonists closest to the ship were beginning to board. Further back, people were picking up their bundles and gathering their tools. Elros shifted from foot to foot. "Hurry! The ship will fill up and we'll still be waiting here in line."

The gatekeeper told the man in front of Elrond to join the rest who were boarding, and it was finally Elrond's turn.

"Name?"

"Elrond son of Eärendil."

The man looked up and sighed. "As I told you earlier, Númenor was created as a gift to the race of Men. It's not for Elves."

Elrond lowered his voice. "Please, is there any chance you might change your mind?"

"I'm sorry, but only Men can colonize the island."

Elrond nodded and turned away. As soon as he left, Elros stepped forward.

"Name?"

"Tar-Minyatur." Elros spoke with practiced authority.

The man looked him over. Elros stood before him in his rustic tunic and newly shorn hair. The man entered his name in the ledger. "We sail in an hour. Get yourself and your things aboard before then, because when the tide turns, we're not able to wait."

Elros joined the other colonists, looking relieved and happy.

Elrond caught up with him. "Tar-Minyatur? Where did that come from?"

"I made it up. But it does have a pleasing Númenorian sound to it, don't you think?"

Only a few settlers still waited to board. The ship's bell tolled. Someone shouted, "Last call. We cast off in a few minutes."

The man closed his ledger book, then folded his small table and climbed up the gangplank.

Elros held out his arms, and Elrond embraced him.

"Promise to write."

"Whenever a ship visits the island."

The waves lifted the bow and dropped it again, and sea-foam hissed along the hull. Salt spray stung Elrond's face, brisk and exciting. Above and all around him, the dome of the sky blazed with stars. Since the night before, the brightest of them had moved at least a hands-span against the background of fixed stars.

The ship had sailed from Lindon two days ago, at the end of March. Bound for Númenor, the island's highest peak should be just barely visible above the horizon at first light tomorrow.

His brother had sailed to Númenor on this same ship over a year ago. He wrote often. His letter described white sandy beaches, palm trees, a sea as warm as bathwater both summer and winter, and most of all, the satisfaction of building a house with his own hands.

The most recent letter was different. "Come to Númenor. There's something I need to tell you in person." It had filled Elrond with alarm.

Elrond had dropped everything to make the trip. He belonged to the household of Gil-Galad, High King of the Elves, and he had to ask leave to be away. And while a supply ship visited the island every few weeks, it had been reconfigured and no longer took passengers. Elrond had only been allowed on board because the captain had studied navigation under Elrond's father, and vaguely remembered the infant twins.

Elrond peered into the darkness. Suppose they passed the island without realizing they'd missed it? He worked his way aft, holding the rope stays for balance. The helmsman was at the stern, his hand resting on the steering oar.

"Where are we right now? When should we expect to see land?" asked Elrond.

The ship's captain answered for him. "We should have already. Don't tell the others, but I think we shot past it in the darkness."

Elrond's throat tightened. His father had been lost at sea. "If we have missed the island, how long would we keep going before turning around?"

"I don't like to admit it when I make a mistake. I'd rather just press on and see what happens." The silence stretched on, until the captain and the helmsman laughed at the same time. "Gotcha!"

An hour later, the sun rose behind their stern. Ahead, a tiny bump interrupted the horizon, distinctly more substantial than a cloud.

"See that triangular shape on the western horizon? That's the tip of a mountain, the highest peak on Númenor. Even at this distance, you can't miss it."

As the day wore on, more and more of the heavily forested slopes were revealed. Finally, a white line of surf stood out against the shore. A gap in the breakers revealed the entrance to the harbor, and at the back of the harbor was the new colony.

The ship entered the harbor. With a shouted command and some cursing on the part of the sailors, the swath of canvas cascaded down to the deck, where it was gathered up by seamen and roped into bundles.

They coasted past empty beaches backed by untouched forest. Tropical birds screeched in the palm trees. From time to time, it was possible to glimpse a few primitive structures set well back behind the high-tide mark, but for the most part, the land appeared to be empty forest.

At the back of the harbor, the spot most protected from storms, a dock made from tree trunks larger than any found on the mainland stretched from the beach into deeper water.

A figure stood on the end of the dock, waving. Elros, in the same rust-red tunic he'd worn when he boarded the ship. And his hair was still short. He'd cut it a year ago, but it hadn't grown back at all.

The ship approached the dock, threatening to scrape the huge timbers. Sailors fended off and threw ropes which were caught by waiting arms and made fast to pilings. Someone laid a gangplank between the deck and the dock, and removed a section of rail to make an opening.

Elrond practically ran down the gangplank. He embraced his brother, then held him at arms' length. "I hardly recognize you."

"That's a nice thing to say, given that you and I look exactly alike."

"I mean your clothes. You're still wearing the disguise that got you past the gatekeeper. I thought you would have changed back into embroidered silks the moment the ship pulled away from the wharf."

Elros rolled his eyes. "I dress like this because everyone else does, and I want to fit in."

Behind him, Men from the settlement boarded the ship and re-appeared with oak casks and latticed crates, at least one of them containing chickens.

Elrond had a sudden insight. "So, the settlers don't know you're half-Elven?"

Elros snorted. "Of course they know. Armelos is a tiny village. Everyone here knows everyone else's business, and if they don't, they're working extremely hard to find out."

"Come, let me give you a tour. I want to show you how much we've done." Pride filled Elros' voice. "

It was good to see his brother looking happy. After the War, Elros had been so lost. Here in Númenor, he seemed to have found himself again.

Elros led them from the dock to a sandy path that passed between the dunes. After thirty paces or so, it emerged from among the palm trees and widened into a sandy road, little more than a rutted lane.

Elros had written about the palm trees, the endless white beaches, and the sea as warm as bathwater. He'd described a harbor filled with fish, the mountain slopes clothed in timber, and the rich soil for farming. Most of all, he mentioned the enormous satisfaction he'd gotten from building a house with his own hands, from selecting the trees to laying the stones in the fireplace. Elrond couldn't wait to see it.

They entered the settlement. A handful of cabins jostled for space along an unpaved street, currently occupied by a herd of sheep. Someone burned trash in an open pit. The wind shifted, revealing that sanitation was not a solved problem.

Elros didn't seem to notice any of it, or if he did, he didn't find it worthy of comment. Proud as a new parent, he pointed out every feature of the settlement.

"Our first priority was shelter. It was a huge effort, but within a year of landing here, we had everyone sleeping indoors."

Woven withy fences enclosed vegetable gardens planted between the dwellings. To call them "houses" would have been too exalted a word for them.

"We dug a well, but learned it was a good way to obtain brackish seawater. Now, we collect rainwater in cisterns instead."

A gutter fashioned from a half-cylinder of bamboo hung below the roof thatch. A flock of birds landed on it and perched on the edge, their tails over its middle.

Elrond frowned. "Regarding the collection of fresh water, what about…?" He waved a hand at the birds.

Elrond looked unconcerned. "As a pioneer, there are things you choose not to notice."

The lane climbed the side of the mountain a short distance, ending in a thicket of saplings and brambles.

Elros stopped in front of a small cabin not noticeably different from the ones they'd passed on the way. Bark clung to the rough-hewn logs of the walls, which still bore marks of the axe that felled them.

"Here we are. It's small, but it's home." Elros lifted the homemade latch and wrenched open the door.

Inside, the single room smelled of wood smoke and new lumber. Elrond looked around. A firepit had been dug in the middle of the dirt floor. A table made from planks and sawhorses had almost completely disappeared under the clutter of drawings and account books.

The far wall was almost completely filled by a single cot, the blankets neatly made. Above it, pegs hammered into chinks between the logs held a few items of clothing and gear.

Elros pulled a shutter from the narrow window, and sunlight flooded the room. He went to the table and cleared away enough space for plates and goblets. The tableware was made from wood, the sort of thing peasants would use. Elrond hid his surprise. He and Elros had grown up in conditions of great turmoil, but they'd never been poor.

Elrond studied his brother's face. Strands of silver had appeared in Elros' hair, and fine lines creased the corners of his eyes. It must have been caused by all the hard manual labor in the sun.

"There's something I want to tell you." Elros picked up a conch shell keeping a stack of papers from blowing away, then put it down again. He started to speak, cleared his throat, and started again.

"You know how people of mixed race can choose which race to belong to?"

Elrond snorted. "Who would choose to join the race of Men? You'd have to give up your immortality. In the history of our people, no one's ever done it."

Elros lifted his chin. "No one until now. I'm the first. I chose a mortal life."

Elrond felt a roaring in his ears. He clutched the edge of the table. No! He wouldn't have! And then it occurred to him, he'd been pranked. His pulse slowed to something close to normal, and a grin stretched across his face.

Elrond punched his brother in the shoulder. "You mangy cur! For a moment, I actually believed you. Tell me the real reason you brought me out here. Let me guess. You met a girl and you wanted me here for the wedding?"

Elros' face remained still. Elrond felt the color drain from his face, leaving him clammy and cold.

"You didn't. How could you? It's a death sentence, and you brought it on yourself." Elrond jumped to his feet, knocking over the chair.

Elros was pale but calm. "Why is this different from going into battle? When Gil-galad went to war, weren't you right beside him, carrying his standard?"

"That's different. When you go into battle, you hope to survive. But what you did is chose to give up the long years of your life."

Elros looked weary. "Maybe those years were never mine to begin with."

Elrond walked the streets of the settlement, turning left or right at random. There weren't enough alleys or back-streets in which to lose himself. After a short time, he found himself on the path that led to the dock.

He left the shelter of the palm grove and crossed the sand. The ship creaked on its mooring ropes.

Colonists carried burdens from the ship and wrestled them into carts located just above the loose sand, where the path began. Elrond mounted the foot of the dock and squeezed around them, headed for the gangway.

Leave, just leave. Board the ship without saying goodbye.

A sailor supervising the unloading added a knot to a tally-cord for each burden that left the ship.

"When do you sail for Lindon?" Elrond asked him.

"As long as it takes us to unload the ship, and reload with timber and furs. At least two or three days, but more likely a week."

Elrond's heart sank. That was a long time to wait. Unable to sail and unwilling to return to the house, Elrond walked down the beach. He needed to think.

Waves broke and sent fingers of surf advancing up the beach. Seabirds wheeled overhead, and at the top of the hard-packed sand, bands of shells crunched beneath his feet.

You were my only family. How could you leave me?

How did one become mortal, anyway? By deciding to? By speaking the words? Though a ceremony?

As the settlement receded behind him, the hum of insects grew louder. Palm trees grew above the high tide line, filled with the cry of tropical birds. Could Elros convert back, if not too much time had gone by? What if he could, but chose not to.

Elrond walked until he was tired, then sank down with his head on his knees. The surf hissed up the hard-packed sand, making small crabs run before it and follow it out again.

Why had Elros chosen to become mortal? To fit in with his fellow colonists? Elrond didn't believe that. Elros already wore the short hair and rustic clothing of Men. He'd passed for Mannish when he got on the ship. He already fit in. He had no reason to give up his immortality

Elrond's head was spinning. To make sense of it, he needed some perspective.

Suppose he were advising his master. Elrond kept his mind still. Eventually an image started to form. Gil-galad strode across the beach, his face grim. The sun glinted from his armor, and a silken banner streamed from the tip of his lance.

"Elrond, I seek your council. My brother has chosen a mortal life," said Gil-galad.

"Is his path set, his feet already taking steps along the way?" said Elrond.

"Yes. The first signs of aging are already upon him."

"Then he is mortal already. You cannot change him. You must accept him as he is."

Elrond came to with a start. That was not the answer he was looking for.

Elrond brushed the sand from his robes and began the long hike back to his brother's house.

He climbed into the foothills to where the street ended and the forest began. Some small part of him hoped he wouldn't find Elros at home, but the door to Elros' house stood open, inviting him in.

Elrond slumped against the door frame. "I don't understand. Help me to understand why you did this."

Elros looked up from the shamble of maps and drawings in front of him. "I can't explain it, but my heart tells me that I chose well."

"But in becoming mortal, you threw away countless years of your life, and for what!"

"Have I? How often do the lives of Elves end in sudden violence? None of us knows how much time we have left."

He had a point. The two of them had already outlived all of their family and most of their friends.

While he waited for the ship to sail for the mainland, Elrond spent several days with his brother. It was a good visit, although tinged with sadness. It was impossible to guess how much time Elros had left, and he wasn't sure that, after he left, he would ever see his brother again.

They mostly spoke of lighter things.

Elros described his first attempt to fish with a net. He lifted it high, spun it around as instructed, and somehow ended up wearing it. It had taken the efforts of two experienced fishermen to untangle him. "You can't imagine how bad a fishing net smells, or how many bruises you can get from those little lead weights."

Elrond would have liked to talk about his life in Gil-galad's household, but Elros didn't know anyone there and didn't pay any more than polite attention.

When it was time to leave, Elrond brought up a thought that had been troubling him.

"I'm sorry you might not live to see your city completed. Six hundred years from now, it could be something magnificent." Or it could be a collection of tree stumps and abandoned piles of stone.

Elros looked calm. "I can see the future, just as you can. I've seen a great city of marble palaces, hanging gardens, and statures of astonishing height. I've seen a hub of commerce for the rest of the world, and a center of learning and civilization."

"Are you sure? It's hard to tell a prophetic vision from a much-desired with."

"I came up with a way to tell the difference. Prophecies sometimes have details that I wouldn't have thought of myself. For example, the stone columns in my vision had carvings of dolphins around their base. That didn't come from any daydream of mine, because we grew up in the forest and when I envision a column, it always looks like a tree."

"That's a good trick. I'll remember it," said Elrond.

Elrond stood at the stern, watching his brother waving from the dock until he couldn't see him anymore. Within a short time, only the wooded slopes of the mountainside were still visible.

What did Elros' future hold? Elrond waited.

The wind freshened, and the filled the sails filled with a snap. The ship heeled over as it picked up speed. They reached the open ocean. Only half of the mountain was visible now.

The ship's wake churned lines in the dark blue sea. A blunt-nosed dolphin followed them, occasionally leaping out of the water. White seabirds floated just above the rigging.

Still nothing. The Sight wasn't there for him today.

Just then, the image filled his mind. Elros stood on a marble balcony, a winged helmet resting on his iron-grey hair. His queen stood at his side, surrounded by their children. A roar from the crowd that filled the plaza rose to a deafening crescendo. Elros saluted his people. Around the square, every building around the plaza was magnificent, a palace in its own right, and ships from all nations filled the harbor.

The last of Númenor sank below the horizon. Elrond watched for a few minutes more, then moved forward to the bow.

Two days later, the watchtower above the chalk hills of Lindon came into view. He' been away longer than he'd intended. There were so many tasks waiting for him at home, not least of which was a Council meeting at the end of the month.

It fell to him to invite all those who needed to be there. He had to be sure not to seat antagonists next to each other. He'd made that mistake once. It had been expensive in terms of glassware, but enjoyable for those who loved drama.

There was only one good thing about Elros' becoming mortal. With no other living relatives, Elrond would never have to go through this again.