Meetings, Farewells, and Parting Gifts by Erdariel

Meetings, Farewells, and Parting Gifts

Read Meetings, Farewells, and Parting Gifts

The battle was over. More than that, the war was over. Morgoth had been defeated, Thangorodrim destroyed, and any servants of the enemy that had not been killed had fled and been scattered. The earth had been torn open into deep pits and chasms, the ground trembled under the weary warriors’ feet and it wasn’t safe to linger in the battlefield any longer than they had to, but at least the war was over.

Elros sheathed his sword. With a sigh of relief, Elrond followed his example. He caught his brother’s eyes and gave him a quick, tired smile. Elros smiled back. Whatever the war had cost, whatever the losses, at least they were still alive and together. They turned their backs to the battlefield and, alive and together, joined the rest of the tired soldiers making their way towards the camp.

In their tent, they helped each other out of their armour. Elros laid down on his cot and fell asleep as soon as he’d stripped off the last bits of padding underneath. Elrond, though just as exhausted as his brother, didn’t. Instead he changed into relatively clean clothes, and took the bag at the foot of his cot that held his kit of healer’s supplies, and headed out of the tent and through the camp to the field hospital.

The battle was over; healers’ work had only just begun. It was time to tend to the wounded, to start picking up the pieces and, hopefully, to fit them back together. It was hard work, but Elrond had discovered that he had something of a talent for it. It was not what he’d call enjoyable, either, but he had found that healer’s work, helping others and trying to fix things, did make him feel better after a battle. Maedhros and Maglor and their soldiers had taught him and Elros to wield swords, and he certainly was a skilled fighter already, but taking a lives, even the lives of enemy soldiers, even the lives of orcs, always made him feel sick and guilty, and while he recognized his skill, he took little pride in it. Neither did Elros, but Elros did not have the calling for healing that Elrond did, and recovered from the battle in other ways.

Because of that, Elrond was surprised to see him walk into the hospital tent he was working in later that day. Elros stopped near the door flap, caught Elrond’s eyes, and motioned for Elrond to come to him. Elrond finished the row of stitches he’d been in the middle of, made his excuses to the healer he was working with, and went to Elros.

“A messenger came looking for us. Says there’s someone who wants to see us, but won’t say who”, Elros said quietly.

Elrond only nodded. He washed the blood off his hands and followed Elros out of the tent.

The messenger, a golden-haired Vanyarin elf neither of the twins knew, led them across the camp and toward the sea-shore. It was all rugged rock, not fine sand. Sand would, perhaps, come later, and time and water would smooth the jagged edges of the stone, but right now the shore was too new for sand or smoothness. Not all that long ago, there had been a forest here.

Anchored a little away from the shore were many ships, more than Elrond and Elros had seen even as little children in the Havens of Sirion, and pulled just out of the water were enough rowing boats to cover most of the shore. There were a handful of people about, and some of them looked at the twins with obvious curiosity.

The messenger pushed a boat into the water and held it still as the twins got into it. He rowed them out, first towards the ships anchored in the bay, but then past them, not heading to any of the nearer ones.

“Where are we going?” asked Elrond after a while. “Who wants to meet us?”

“Your father, Eärendil”, the messenger told him. “He asked us to bring you to him.”

“Why didn’t he come to us himself?” Elros asked.

“Because he cannot. I’m certain he’ll explain things to you.”

It wasn’t long after that when Vingilot came to view behind the other ships. Elros and Elrond only remembered it from vague, distant memories, but its shape was still familiar to both of them. And yet it was different. Even in the daylight it, or something on it, glowed brightly, and the whole ship glittered and glimmered as the waves rocked it. But as they got closer, Elrond could see that underneath the glittering, the paint on the swan-head bow was chipped and weathered.

It was hard to see what was going on on the deck of the ship, the light was too bright, but as the boat approached, someone dropped a rope ladder down the side of the ship. Elros climbed up first, when they got to it, and Elrond came after him. It was trickier work than they’d expected, but they both managed it and found themselves standing on the deck of Vingilot.

Eärendil stood by the main mast, and looked both exactly like and nothing like he did in their memories. His clothes were richer than he’d ever worn in Middle-Earth, embroidered with gold and silver thread with pearls and small gemstones of all colours sewn into them. His sea-green cloak was fastened with the familiar brooch that held the Elessar. His golden curls were held back from his face by a silver circlet, and to the front of it was attached the Silmaril, glowing as brightly as it always had.

But Elrond thought that his face was marked with sorrow and worry, and with the same war-weariness that Elrond himself felt. There was an otherworldly light in his eyes, but it didn’t hide the pain they also held.

They stared at each other for a while, no one finding the right words to say. Eärendil held out his arms in a silent, slightly awkward invitation. Equally awkwardly the twins accepted it, going to him uncertainly, not quite sure what to do.

Then Eärendil pulled them both into his arms, and the awkwardness melted away. Elrond and Elros pressed tightly against him, like children woken up from a nightmare seeking safety in their father’s arms. Eärendil held them protectively. For a long time they only stood there embracing each other, no one wanting to let go.

But finally Eärendil let go of them and stepped back.

“Look at you. My brave little boys”, he said, with an echo of regret in his voice. “You should never have had to be so brave. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to take care of you. I wanted to come back, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Why did you send someone else to bring us here? Why didn’t you come find us yourself?” Elros asked.

Eärendil sighed. “I’m forbidden from ever setting foot on the ground of Middle-Earth again. While I’m here I cannot leave my ship. It’s part of the sentence the Valar gave me. I’m not really supposed to even talk to the people of Middle-Earth, but Eönwë gave me the impression that with you, this once, they would overlook it. But we don’t have much time; when night falls, I must leave again. There are things I need to tell you, and I’m sure there are things you want to know, and we only have a few hours.”

He showed them to the cabin. It was sparsely furnished; only a desk and a chair on one side of the room. A storage chest was on the floor by the desk. A sheathed sword and a large shield bearing his emblem were hung on the wall. The bed, by the wall opposite to the desk, looked like no one had used it in a long time.

Elros and Elrond sat down on the edge of the bed. Eärendil took the circlet from his head and dropped it almost carelessly on the table. But even though he’d put the Silmaril aside, light still seemed to cling to him as he brought the chair closer to the bed and sat down facing his children.

“We thought you were dead”, Elrond said quietly.

“They told us you were dead”, Elros corrected.

“We would have come to that conclusion even if they hadn’t”, Elrond pointed out.

“Who told you? The Fëanorians?” Eärendil asked.

The twins nodded.

“Maybe it is better that I am not permitted to go on land”, Eärendil muttered. “I would very much like to have a word with those two.”

“They were good to us”, Elros said defensively. “We were alright with them.”

“Mother’s alive too, right?” Elrond asked to change the subject. “She’s not…?”

“She’s alive”; Eärendil reassured him. “She’s had enough of war and bloodshed, so she stayed behind in Aman, but she’s alive and she’s alright. She just misses both of you.”

“What happened, anyway? To you and to her?” Elros asked.

Eärendil told them the whole story. He made sure to include every single detail, even the things he wouldn’t have told to anyone else. It made the story long, and the sun was getting low in the sky by the time he finished, but Elros and Elrond deserved to know.

“So this will be the last time I see Middle-Earth up close”, he concluded. “Once night falls, I must go up there again. That is the sentence they gave me, for breaking the rules to save everyone else.”

“Will we ever see you again?” Elrond asked. “See you, and not a star in the sky?”

Eärendil was silent for a while, looking at his sons as though he was trying to see through them and judge their hearts. Finally he shrugged.

“I don’t know. It depends on you. Listen to me carefully: both of you are half-elves, like your mother and me. And the same choice has been given to you as was given to us. You may choose to be counted among elves, and then you will be immortal and forever bound to the world, even if you die. If you do, you may, if you want to, cross the sea and go to the Undying Lands and live there. And you can visit Elwing, and since I visit her when I can, you might see me, too.

"But you can also choose to be counted among the men, and be mortal, and you will leave and go beyond the boundaries of the world when you die. Where you will go then, the Valar will not say, and I cannot guess, but I am certain it is no bad fate to be able to leave the world when with age and time your soul grows weary of it. If you choose that, you cannot come to the Blessed Realm; men are forbidden from going there. It does mean that you’ll never be able to see me again, except as a star in the night sky. But it may be worth it, if the fate of men is the one that your soul yearns for.” He sighed, and, smiling sadly, reached to take their hands in his own. “This is a choice no one else can make for you. Take the time to consider what you really want for yourselves. Once you make the choice, it is done and you cannot change it. Make sure that whatever you choose, it is the choice that you want to live with. You can choose for love, or to stay with each other, or purely for what you want and which you feel closer kinship with. However you choose, I won’t judge you. All I wish is that you’ll be happy with your own choice.”

Elrond and Elros glanced at each other. Elros grabbed Elrond’s hand and held it tightly. Elrond squeezed Elros’ hand just as tightly. They both felt in their hearts a sudden fear of losing the other and were desperately trying to reassure themselves that it wasn’t going to happen.

Eärendil stood up and went to open the chest. Elrond and Elros, still clinging to each other, paid little attention to what he was doing. He pulled out a bundle of silver-grey cloth and returned to the twins. He opened the bundle of cloth he’d taken. It was a long, hooded cloak, and the fabric shimmered where the light touched it. He wrapped it gently around Elrond’s shoulders, and pinned it with a beautiful silver brooch that was shaped like a sea-bird in flight. The cloak had the slightly dusty smell of something that had been folded away unused for a long time, but under it Elrond thought he caught the salty scent of the sea, and a scent he couldn’t quite name that reminded him of Elwing.

Eärendil took off his own sea-green cloak, wrapped it around Elros’ shoulders and pinned it with a brooch identical to the one he’d fastened Elrond’s cloak with. He looked at the two of them for a long while and ruffled their heads.

“The sun has nearly set”, he said, sighing. “I’m sorry, but our time is running out. I wish I had a better parting-gift to give you, but please accept these at least. I have no need for cloaks; I no longer feel the cold, even in the void. But both of you will still have to weather the storms and winters of the earth for some time, and I’d like to know you have something to keep you warm.”

He pulled them once more into a hug and held them close for a while. The sun was sinking to the water in the western horizon and the sky was a fiery red when they left the cabin. Eärendil took his place at the helm while Elrond and Elros climbed off the ship and back to the boat that was waiting to take them back to shore. Eärendil was crying, and the tears running down his face glittered like diamonds.