empty spaces by queerofthedagger

Gil-Galad: Legacy

Ereinion’s history is littered with loss. With holding on.

It is no unique experience at the dawn of the Second Age—the land torn, the remains of their people weary of war.

And yet, many of them did not return, no matter Eönwë’s offer. No matter Finarfin’s, that shining King almost as sacrosanct.

Some kind of blasphemy, Ereinion is certain.

He cannot bring himself to mind. His great-grandfather may be an imposing Elf, a heroic one, one blinding with grief. But Ereinion, much as many others, has only ever known this land. There is nothing for him, beyond the sea.

His family, at least those that matter, are buried here.

His sister’s grave sunken, unsullied. His father’s unmarked, somewhere on the waste that remained of Nargothrond’s last battle, the dead too many to find, to bury.

His uncles burnt up in the north, long ago. Finrod, the one he had known better, at last buried on his isle as it was cleansed, restored.

Gone; they are all gone. Ereinion knows the doom no longer lingers, and yet he feels its legacy—the same, tangible weight that King Arafinwë so clearly had carried as he scoured the land for its memorials.

Ereinion knows that revenge is no wise adviser. Makes it a point, even, not to let it lead him—to listen to Elrond, always kinder than himself, even though he has every reason not to be.

And yet, Ereinion does not treat with anyone claiming to come from the West. He does not hesitate to march on Sauron when he emerges; does not deny the satisfaction of it, his family’s wounds torn open all over.

Perhaps the Doom catches up with him when he dies at Sauron’s hand. Perhaps he finally defeats it, when he takes Sauron down with him.