I Choose a Mortal Life by Uvatha the Horseman

I Choose A Mortal Life

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."