Going Through These Stages by Lyra

3.

His desk was littered with works on natural philosophy and his family's peculiar history. In his feverish daydreams, Elrond imagined that he might stand before Námo as did his great-grandmother - another relative whom he will never meet - and because his singing is not extraordinary enough to move the dread judge, he will instead convince him through argument, wearing down Mandos' reasoning with irresistible logic. But cleverly though his mind could normally put facts and ideas and arguments together, he could not make his case this time. It always came down to this: It simply must not be. It was unjust. Why Elros? Why his brother? Elrond had already lost so many people to the inscrutable laws of the Valar and the unforgiving fate of the world: his grandparents, his parents, the guardians that took his parents' place, all those friends who had been slain. His brother, at least, must be returned to him. They must make an exception, this once.

But they had made that exception already, Elrond realised in a confusing dream full of shifting lights and moving walls. They had made an exception in letting both of them choose their fate, and it had been Elros' choice to be mortal. It had not been thrust upon him; he had chosen it of his own free will. There would be no contending with Námo on the matter. Even if Elrond had offered his own life for Elros - and he was tempted to give up his life, which felt empty and held no more hope for joy - it would not have brought back his brother, nor could they be reunited even after death. That was what their choices truly meant, Elrond now understood. Back in the day, with everybody reeling from the shock of the War of Wrath, he had thought to himself that anyone, whether Elf or Man, could be killed in the upheavals of the world. As a result, it had not felt like such a big difference. Yes, Elros would be far away, on his island, but he would be there, just as Elrond would be in Lindon, helping Ereinion to pick up the remnant of the Noldor in Middle-earth.

But it had never just been about here or there, one people or another; the choice went much deeper than that. And it could not be reversed; however much Elrond tried to assemble an infallible argument, whatever he thought he could trade for his brother's life, it was not going to happen. He could not move Mandos. Indeed, as the brightness of the dream faded and he awoke in the shadows of his study, Elrond began to realise that Mandos could not have indulged him even if he wanted to. Elros' fate and his own were well and truly sundered, and there was only One who could change it. For all Elrond's love, he knew that there was no point in contending with Eru.