I Choose a Mortal Life by Uvatha the Horseman

By Hook Or By Crook

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."