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Chapter Text

Eregion was burning. Celebrimbor was dead. Sauron had been here among us all along.

Three rings for the elven kings under the sky. Seven for the dwarf lords in their halls of stone. Nine for mortal men, doomed to die.

And one ring to rule them all.

Those first rings may have been forged by the great elven smith, but all of it was simply a part Sauron’s plan. He had poured his malice, his cruelty, into those rings. They were his to command by the power of the master ring.

He had turned the races against each other once again. Their greed for the rings had overcome all else. Even his own kin had fallen to their power. Their eyes were soulless, their smiles malicious.

The air was cold. The trees of Lindon were shedding their beautiful leaves. The water grew dark with blood.

War was coming.

An army of orcs marched to Lindon. They had already taken Eregion. The Southlands were but barren wasteland now. Sauron’s forces grew by the day. Soon they would be unstoppable.

He needed to get the others to regain their senses and act before it was too late.

But it was already too late. They were too far gone.

He stood in the woods with a few other elves. They were Lindon’s last line of defense. Everyone else had lost their minds or died in Eregion.

The orcs were approaching quickly. He clutched his sword tighter. This was his last stand. Once Lindon fell, so would the rest of free Middle-Earth.

Sauron had won already.

“Elrond, return to us.”

He knew that voice. High King Gil-galad was dear to him, like a mentor.

But he too had fallen into shadow.

“Elrond!”

Gil-galad sounded oddly emotional. Why was he so worried? Had he not lost all emotion along with the rest of them?

“Elrond, you are only dreaming, please.”

He blinked.

He was in his own chambers, looking up at the ceiling. Blurry faces loomed above him.

Nothing was burning. Lindon was safe. Gil-galad beside him was real.

Had everything truly been a dream?

But it had seemed so real.

So a foredream, then? He was prone to those. He saw things that have yet come to pass.

But usually he saw minor events, not the end of the world.

That itself worried him, but the real concern was that his foredreams were never wrong. They were all in danger – very real danger.

“Elrond?”

That was Gil-galad. Elrond realized he had not moved a muscle since he opened his eyes. He pulled himself up to a sitting position.

“I am alright”, he stated quietly. “It was simply a foredream.”

No it was not. 

“You were like this for hours. That has not happened before”, Gil-galad pointed out, suspicious.

Hours? Foredreams usually lasted no more than mere moments. But to be honest, what Elrond had seen warranted for more than a few moments. He could barely piece it all together.

“It was… intense”, he admitted. “I saw more than I understand.”

“What did you see?”

Elrond did not reply at first. How could he describe it? How could he bring what he saw to justice?

Fire. War. Death. Darkness.

Nothing was enough to describe it.

“Elrond, what did you see?” Gil-galad pressed. Galadriel was standing behind him, her brow furrowed.

Elrond did not dare look either of them in the eye. He could not simply tell them the world was going to end. He needed more information – a way to stop it all from happening.

Gil-galad laid a hand on his shoulder. “Elrond, talk to us.” It was firm like a command, but somehow softer.

Finally, he turned to look at the High King in the eye. The words nearly died in his throat, but he managed to utter them anyways.

“Sauron is in Eregion.”

Chapter Text

They did not deny it. Galadriel did not deny it. Elrond had seen her in the vision too – her with Sauron.

“Celebrimbor must be warned”, stated Gil-galad. It surprised Elrond, who had anticipated his words to be taken for a fool.

“I will go”, said Galadriel.

“No”, he interrupted, his voice shaky from urgency.

Both other elves raised an eyebrow. “Why not?” asked Galadriel, suspicious.

Elrond cursed his loose tongue. “I believe… I should go instead”, he suggested. “I will know exactly what to look for.”

His tone gave away the lie, and neither of the others believed him.

“Galadriel is more skilled as a fighter”, said Gil-galad. “If there truly is such danger in Eregion, she is the best choice.”

“No, let me go”, Elrond insisted.

“You should rest”, rebutted Gil-galad. “You were in a delirium for hours.”

“I am well now”, assured Elrond. “Celebrimbor is in danger.”

To show his determination, he pulled off the covers and hoisted his legs over the side of the bed. He sat his feet on the floor and pushed himself up. But before he even made it to a standing position, the world tilted.

He would have fallen if it were not for the strong hands that caught him.

“No, Elrond, stay down”, said Gil-galad softly. He guided the younger elf back onto the bed and helped him rest against the carved wooden headboard.

Elrond let himself relax, having no strength to protest. Intense foredreams were exhausting, and this one had been unlike anything he had had before. He was incredibly weak, but his determination was stronger.

And so he pushed himself up again, but stayed seated this time. “It must be me who goes”, he pleaded. “I saw it that way.”

That was not entirely true. What he had seen was a corrupt Galadriel, completely under Sauron’s influence. If she went to Eregion now, it would only make things worse.

“If it is truly as urgent as you say, we cannot wait for you to recover. Someone else needs to go”, said Gil-galad.

“I need not recover”, Elrond insisted. “I may be weakened for now, but I am completely capable.”

“You cannot even stand”

Elrond swallowed. He had already fallen once. But he had to try again. He had to get up. He had to go to Eregion.

So set his feet on the ground and pushed himself up. He did it slowly, trying to ease the dizziness. A bit unsteadily, he did stand up successfully. His vision blacked out for a moment, but it passed soon enough.

“See? I am well”, he assured. He even took a couple steps to prove he could truly stay upright.

Gil-galad sighed. “Very well, you may go to Eregion”, he agreed. “But not alone. I shall come too, as well as Galadriel.”

Elrond hesitated but decided not to argue. This was good enough of a solution for now. So he nodded in acknowledgement. “We must depart at the earliest convenience”, he stated.

“We shall be out the gate before sundown”, Gil-galad assured. “Whatever you need, Elrond, you shall have it.”

“Thank you, High King.”

Someone knocked on the door aggressively. But they did not waste time, and simply yanked it open.

“High King, there is an urgent issue!” panted the newcomer.

Gil-galad turned around. “What is it?”

“The great tree”, explained the other. “Its leaves are falling. It is dying.”

An image flashed in Elrond’s head. He could see the tree, completely bare and grey. It was beginning. His vision was coming true already.

No words needed to be exchanged. All three elves strode out of the room, following the messenger.

The tree was the very symbol of their people – of their immortality and strength. It was not meant to shed its leaves. This was unheard of.

And now it was dying – which meant they were dying.

Arriving at the waterfall only confirmed the messenger’s words. The wind, as gentle as it was, ripped away golden leaves, leaving them to dance delicately in the air until they reached the ground.

Separated from their roots, the leaves then curled in on themselves and lost their color. The fallen ones were a depressing shade of brown, nothing like the glowing, golden yellow they used to be.

The elves stopped by their dear tree, tilting their heads up to see the leaves still latching on to their branches. There were still many left, but it would not take more than a few days for the tree to become entirely bare.

Elrond stepped forward, placing a hand on the trunk of the tree. He closed his eyes, letting his other senses guide him. The wood felt oddly cold, and tiny pieces fell away at his gentle touch.

He pulled away, not wanting to damage it in such a fragile state. “We must stop this”, he said quietly, turning to face his friends again.

“Your gift of foresight may be our only guide”, admitted Gil-galad. “This has never happened before, and we cannot allow it to happen now either.”

“If the light fades, so does our kind”, Galadriel stated.

Elrond knew this, but he had no idea on how to stop it. His foredreams were not clear, and they flashed before him so quickly. He could not recall anything useful. Everything he had seen were of what will happen, but they contained no solutions on how to prevent any of it.

“I must call the council”, informed Gil-galad. “Both of you should be there as well.”

“Of course, High King”, said Galadriel.

Elrond only nodded, any potential words dying in his throat. Had he allowed it, tears would have built up in his eyes.

Why must I be cursed with this knowledge?

He was no king, no warrior – instead a scholar and a healer. But crossing elven, human and maiar bloodlines alike had gifted him with this ability of foresight. He could not see it as a gift, even if he probably should.

“Come along, we must begin immediately”, hurried Gil-galad.

Elrond forced his feet to move, catching up with the others. He could prevent their doom. Even if his visions did not tell him what to do, they did tell him what not to do. That warranted for something.

He would make sure the council’s decision was not wrong.

They stuck with the plan to go to Eregion. A small convoy would depart this evening.

But this could not be kept secret. The High King called his people to the great tree with a song. It was rare to hear Gil-galad sing, but Elrond could not deny it was as beautiful as any elven song.

There was a deep sadness in his voice. He had truly accepted that their fate hung by a thread.

Sís laurië lassi taiter,

yénin linwavandië.

Anpalla Vai Ahtalëa,

sí lantar Eldaniër

He had even asked Elrond to wear a silver circlet. Only elven nobility wore those.

Elrond felt strange having it on. It was thin, delicate silver, bent into beautiful curls. He had only agreed to wear it after hearing the High King ask him a second time.

“You will be the one to change our fate, Elrond. Please wear it.”

Now he stood by his side, watching as elves arrived. They were clearly confused and concerned. And seeing the tree’s condition only deepened that worry in their hearts.

Eldalié! Eldalié!

Hrívë túla helda ré úlassëa.

Eldalié! Eldalié!

I lassi lantar celumenna

Some looked at him weird. He was only the High King’s herald, after all. Elrond had to look away from their gaze.

Galadriel stood not far to his right. Her expression was calm and collected, as it usually was. She was commander of the northern armies – a warrior who showed no fear in the face of danger. That was the image she was putting up now too. Even at the brink of doom.

Eldalié and’ amárielvë

ambena solor.

Sí néca riëmancan,

viliën an Valinor

It was a strange thought – sailing. Elrond was still quite young by elven standards. He had never before had to truly think about the day he went to the Undying Lands.

Now it might come sooner than he could have ever expected.

He had no one waiting for him there. His father was in the sky, his mother in the sea. And Elros was mortal – he died a millennia ago.

Eldalié! Eldalié!

Hrívë túla helda ré úlassëa.

Eldalié! Eldalié!

I lassi lantar celumenna

Gil-galad’s voice faded away. Everyone had arrived now.

A single tear streamed down Elrond’s face. There was a sense of grief in the air – grief for something that was still alive.

The High King turned his head. He was asking for approval.

Elrond nodded slowly. The sadness in his eyes made Gil-galad’s own dark eyes soften. Breathing out slowly, the High King turned towards the crowd once more.

“Our great tree is dying”, he spoke. “The end is near. Should the last leaf fall, our kind will fade.”

No one dared utter a word. They could see the tree themselves.

“Elrond, son of Eärendil, has had a foredream”, continued Gil-galad. “And his visions have always come to pass. So, with full confidence in him, I can say that Sauron has returned.”

That earned a few soft gasps.

Gil-galad did not stop. “But as we have discovered this early, thanks to my herald, we still have time to defy our fate. We ride to Eregion today with hopes to find a solution.”

His voice was commanding, but not cruel. He was a born leader. Even Elrond felt a little better at that speech. 

“Do not panic”, said Gil-galad. “We must stay resilient at such dark times. Do not give up hope. The days of the Eldar are not over yet.”

The tension in the air seemed to lift. These people trusted their leader wholeheartedly.

“We shall waste no time. My party departs immediately”, he finished.

Someone finally spoke up. “I pray you have a safe journey, High King”, said the elf. “May the Valar be with you.”

Gil-galad gave a slow, respectful nod in gratitude. Many elves in the crowd responded to the gesture, expressing their agreement with the spoken elf.

Only a moment of silence passed before Gil-galad turned away. Elrond took it as a sign to follow, as did Galadriel.

They exited the scene, climbing down old stone stairs to where they would meet the rest of the convoy. No one said a word, still caught up in the previous moment.

Four elven warriors and seven horses waited for them by the gates. No time was wasted in saddling up and starting the journey.

The sooner they reached Eregion, the better.

Chapter Text

The first warning sign was that the elven smith did not come to greet them.

Elrond had missed Celebrimbor. But he did wish it would have been under better circumstances. He worried something may have already happened to him.

They were allowed passage as usual, and the city seemed as radiant as ever. Nothing looked wrong, but Elrond knew better than that.

“Lord Celebrimbor is extremely busy right now”, said the guard at the tower door.

“Tell him it is urgent”, insisted Gil-galad.

“I am afraid my lord demands privacy. He will not receive any visitors until further notice.”

The unease in Elrond’s stomach grew by the moment. Celebrimbor was a welcoming host. He loved having guests, especially dear old friends. Him having now shut himself out from the world was extremely suspicious.

“Whatever he is doing, it can be put on hold”, said Gil-galad. “Our business with him is of extreme importance and cannot be delayed.” His voice carried much authority.

“I am only following orders”, stated the guard.

“Are your orders from Lord Celebrimbor himself?” the High King demanded.

The guard hesitated. “Lord Celebrimbor has appointed another to rule in his stead”, he explained.

Gil-galad raised an eyebrow. “Who might that be?”

The doors opened. A man – no, an elf, walked out. He carried himself high, with blonde hair and a fine robe.

He smiled. “Welcome, friends”, he greeted. “Please forgive our rudeness. Lord Celebrimbor is under much stress.”

None of the convoy smiled back.

“Who are you, and what authority do you hold here?” inquired Gil-galad.

“Ah, I should introduce myself”, chuckled the elf. “I am Annatar, the bringer of gifts. I have been sent here to aid the peoples of Middle-Earth in their battle against evil.”

Gil-galad did not lower his guard. “Where do you come from?”

“Somewhere not here”, replied Annatar. “I am neither man, elf, nor dwarf. Consider me… an unexpected ally.”

Switching the subject, Gil-galad said, “We are here to see Lord Celebrimbor on an urgent matter. Please inform him of our arrival.”

“Of course, how rude of me”, hummed Annatar. “But do note that he is quite busy at the moment. He can only spare a moment of his precious time.” He gestured inside.

Gil-galad moved first, the others followed. At least they were inside now. Everything would clear up soon enough.

The tower was dark, spare for the forge. It made Elrond feel uneasy.

Where is everybody?

Annatar did lead them to Celebrimbor, and Elrond could breathe a little easier knowing he was safe. The smith was deep in his work, pouring molten metal into a mold. He did not even hear them approach.

“We have visitors”, informed Annatar, catching the other’s attention.

Celebrimbor turned around. “Oh, lovely to see you! What brings you to Eregion?” he greeted, smiling.

Once again, no one smiled in return.

“We need to discuss an urgent matter”, said Gil-galad firmly.

Celebrimbor seemed unfazed. “And what would that be, hmm?”

“Something I will only utter in private.”

“Oh, please! We are all friends here. Spit it out!” Celebrimbor encouraged.

“Not all of us.”

Annatar seemed to get the message. “I shall leave you alone for a moment”, he said, already pulling back.

Only when Gil-galad was certain he had gone did he speak again. “The great tree of Lindon is dying”, he said. “And we believe Sauron may be in Eregion. We must stop him before he can rise to power.”

“Here? No, everything is well in Eregion”, Celebrimbor denied. “I would have certainly noticed if Sauron were here.”

“Who is this Annatar?” asked Gil-galad instead.

“A herald of the Valar”, explained the smith. “He revealed his true form to me shortly after he arrived, looking like an ordinary man.”

That was a big promise, thought Elrond. A herald of the Valar? Unheard of.

“What is he doing here?” Gil-galad pressed.

“Actually, he is helping me with something that you could use as well”, said Celebrimbor. “Let me show you what I have been so busy doing.”

He walked over to where he had poured the hot liquid earlier. It was in the shape of a ring.

“The mithril the dwarves found had some special qualities”, the smith explained. “It healed the tree before, did it not? The power it holds could be put to use.”

Elrond remembered that small piece of mithril heal the infected leaf. He had gotten into quite a fight with Durin for that damned alloy.

“So I have designed three rings, all with different gemstones, but mithril being the key ingredient”, continued Celebrimbor. “The perfect way to wield such power.”

“Was this your idea?” asked Galadriel.

“Annatar inspired me”, admitted the smith. “The Valar have heard our distress, with Sauron’s return and everything, and sent him to help.”

Elrond found that suspicious. He found Annatar suspicious. But he could not be Sauron. Surely Galadriel would have recognized him.

But Sauron had to be somewhere in Eregion. His vision had made that clear.

“You came at the perfect time, in fact”, Celebrimbor pointed out. “I finally have everything I need to forge the rings. And seeing as our situation seems to be quite dire, we should get to work right away.”

“These rings. You truly believe they can save us?” asked Gil-galad.

“Annatar knows so. But I too have seen how mithril helped us once. This way, it can help us even more.”

“Very well”, said Gil-galad. “I see no harm in trying, at least.”

“I shall fire up the forge, then.”

Elrond was not certain how he felt about this.

His memory of the foredream not being clear, he had no way of knowing whether these rings were the solution or not. But in the back of his mind, he had a bad feeling about them.

The fire burned high and hot as elven smiths hurried around making preparations. Celebrimbor came carrying the mithril alloy. Three small pieces, just like the one Elrond had once held in the mines of Khazad-dûm.

To pair them with, three stone bowls sat by the forge, each filled halfway with gold or silver.

Everyone backed away as Celebrimbor approached. Annatar was watching the closest, Elrond second. He still did not trust this “herald of the Valar”, even as he was not suspecting him of being Sauron anymore.

Each piece of mithril was dropped in a bowl. Soon enough, they started melting into the mixture, dissolving until they could not be seen.

Celebrimbor took the first bowl and carried it over to the mold he had made. Slowly but surely, he poured the liquid into the first mold. And while that was cooling down, he did the same with the other two.

After some time and plenty of cold water poured on top, they could be taken out. Celebrimbor added his final touches, along with the gemstones.

Finally, he breathed out, “They are done.”

Everyone huddled closer to the table the rings had been placed on.

They were a captivating sight.

The first one was gold with a blood red gem. It was bulk and royal, screaming power. The second was silver with a white stone. It was the most delicate, ethereal one of the three, fitting for a beauty. And the third, another golden one, had a deep blue, sharpened stone – fit for a wise man.

Gleaming in the sunlight, they looked out of this world. No one uttered a word. All were completely mesmerized.

Except for Elrond.

When he finally got his peek at the rings, his heart nearly stopped. An image came to him, one from his foredream. It was this exact scene. These exact rings.

Suddenly dizzy, he stumbled back. Gil-galad broke from his trance at that.

“Elrond, are you well?” he asked.

Elrond regained his balance, but his heart was beating out of his chest, his breathing hitched. The fear in his eyes was impossible to ignore.

“Elrond?” said Gil-galad, stepping closer.

“They…” he muttered. “No, this is not right…”

Gil-galad laid a hand on his shoulder. “What is not right?”

“The rings… I saw them.”

“Yes, I see them too. What is wrong?”

“No, I saw them!” Elrond hissed. “In my vision… They were there.”

“What are you saying?”

“They… they must be destroyed.”

Chapter Text

He had whispered it, almost. No one else had heard him say it.

No one but Gil-galad.

“Elrond, what do you mean?” he asked.

The younger elf tried to collect himself. “I saw the rings, exactly as they are now, in my foredream. They play a part in our fate”, he tried to explain.

“That does not mean they will have a negative effect”, argued Gil-galad. “They may be the key to preventing what you saw from happening.”

“No, I know what I saw”, assured Elrond. “These rings are not our salvation.”

“Is something the matter?”

Elrond flinched at the sound of Annatar’s voice. He was certain now that he was not here to aid them. The rings had been his idea.

But Gil-galad spoke before he could. “All is well.”

Annatar smiled and turned away. Elrond decided not to speak out for now. He could not trust anyone, it seemed.

Everyone was still huddled around the table – around the rings. They had not taken their eyes off for a moment.

“They are beautiful”, admired one of Celebrimbor’s smiths.

No one replied, but it was clear they all agreed. They were in a trance, it seemed.

Gil-galad, too, went back to join them. It was almost like he had not even heard Elrond’s warning. Or maybe he had forgotten it, somehow.

The only two still in this reality, it seemed, were Elrond himself and Annatar. He was standing further away, looking at the elves huddled around the rings, instead of looking at the rings themselves. And he was smiling.

“You should try them”, he suggested.

Alarms rung in Elrond’s head at that. Valar knows what could happen if they wore the rings. He could not let that happen.

But before he could make a move, the others turned towards him. Gil-galad was holding the rings. Not wearing, only holding. The silver one he handed to Galadriel.

“You should take one”, he said. Galadriel accepted the ring with a nod. The other golden one, the one with the blue gem, he held out towards Elrond.

“You play the most important role of all in this. You should take another”, he said.

Had he not heard Elrond advocate for destroying the damned things? The herald took a step back.

“No, I do not trust them”, he protested. “None of us should wear them.”

Gil-galad frowned. “Elrond, do not speak nonsense. Lord Celebrimbor himself has forged these rings. We have proof of mithril working in our favor as well. What reason could you possibly have to distrust them?”

“I told you this already”, Elrond muttered. “But I suppose I should make it known to all. Those rings were in my vision two nights ago. There is something wrong with them. They are not what we seek.”

“But how can we trust that means they are evil?” Gil-galad argued.

“You trusted my foresight before”, reminded Elrond. “Why do you doubt me now?”

“We are all afraid of what is to come. I do not doubt your foresight, Elrond. I doubt your state of mind.”

“You think me mad.”

“I think you are overwhelmed. It is understandable if you feel distressed.”

“I am distressed, but my concerns are not unwarranted. You are well aware that my visions always come true, one way or another.”

Gil-galad stepped forward. “But what if the rings are the solution to preventing this?”

“I never see the solution, only the problem.”

He was still being offered the ring. “Perhaps things have changed”, Gil-galad suggested. “We cannot pass up on this opportunity.”

Elrond reached towards the hand holding the ring, but instead of taking it, he gently pushed the hand away. “This is not the way”, he whispered.

Gil-galad pulled his hand back, giving up trying to offer it. He glanced around at the others.

“We shall return to Lindon”, he said.

Sliding both gold rings into his pocket, he walked past his herald, heading for the door. Galadriel followed, then the rest of them. Celebrimbor and his smiths stayed, of course. Their place was here.

Elrond gave Celebrimbor a final look, a warning, before turning around to follow the others. But the smith kept smiling, as if he had not been paying any attention to his protests. 

He was in his own little world - a world where everything could be fixed by these trinkets. He seemed to trust Annatar blindly, despite only having known him barely a few weeks. 

Speaking of Annatar, Elrond did not have to look back at him to know the other’s eyes followed him.

The tree had shed nearly all of its golden leaves by the time they returned.

A somberness filled the air. Everyone knew the end was near. Most had already accepted that they would need to leave these shores any time now.

Seeing the High King return did not do much to lift their spirits. It may as well be too late to stop this.

But they still gathered around the tree once more. If that were their final stand, so be it. It was this or nothing.

Gil-galad stood before them, Galadriel and Elrond by his side. Having accepted, that Elrond would not take the third ring, he had called Círdan the shipwright to be the third bearer. The elder elf now approached them, taking a place beside Galadriel.

He was handed the ring with the red gem. Galadriel and Gil-galad pulled out the other two.

Elrond held his breath as they slid them onto their fingers.

The three bearers gathered in a small circle, bringing the rings closer to each other. They shone in the fading sunlight beautifully, just as they had in the forge. Elrond felt his heart twist, seeing another image in his head of this exact moment playing in his head like he had seen it before.

Because he had.

At first, it seemed as though nothing would happen. But the moment the tips of the bearers’ fingers nearly touched, the wind ceased.

From the bottom of its ground level roots, the great tree began to regain color. A natural brown grew up the trunk, reaching the branches. The leaves still latching on shone as their golden glow returned likewise.

Even the branches bare of leaves grew new ones, quicker than it should be possible. Soon enough, the entire tree shone brighter than it ever had before.

Gasps in awe filled the air. It had worked. They were saved. Everyone smiled as soon as they recovered from the initial shock.

All but Elrond.

None of his worries had eased. The tree healing should be an extremely good sign, but it did not feel like one, because the events of his foredream were still playing in the exact same order. These events would lead to destruction.

This was a façade. It was false hope, a trick to make them lower their guard.

The ringbearers finally pulled away, satisfied. No words were needed. No words were enough to describe the relief they were all feeling.

Only after the crowd had dispersed did Elrond approach Gil-galad.

“High King, please, I must talk to you.”

Gil-galad looked at him. “Yes?”

It was hard to put into words, but he tried. “I know it looks like everything is well now”, he began. “But please hear me when I say that the rings are dangerous.”

“Elrond, you must be tired, you should-“

“No, I will not rest until you listen! That Annatar was no herald of the Valar! He is not on our side!”

“Celebrimbor forged these rings. Do you not trust him?”

“The rings were Annatar’s idea! This is all a part of some plan of his!” Elrond pleaded.

“Elrond, you must try to consider the possibility that your vision was false. Sauron was not in Eregion, was he?”

“But what if Annatar is Sauron?”

Gil-galad sighed. “You are growing delusional. Galadriel would have recognized him if he were Sauron.”

“He is a shapeshifter, is he not? Sauron?” Elrond reminded.

“But why would Sauron help us?”

“He was not helping us! He was manipulating us!”

“The rings worked, Elrond. Can you not see that?”

“Did they? This is all part of the plan. He is making us believe everything is alright while he builds his forces and plans his next move. Can you not see that?”

“Elrond, stop”, ordered Gil-galad. His tone was commanding enough without yelling. “You are weary from the journey and most likely still in shock. Return to your room and rest. Your mind will be clearer in the morning.”

“It is not my mind that needs to be cleared”, Elrond said quietly. But he did walk away. He was not making progress this way. He needed a better plan.

As he made his way through the woods, his mind raced with ideas. He was not wrong – he was sure of that.

The rings were affecting the others somehow. They had been completely blinded.

He needed to take the rings away. By force if necessary.

Chapter Text

He could find no rest. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw more images – the rings, fire, death, darkness.

The room felt so cold, even with the first rays of sunlight already painting the sky pink. It was not nearly winter yet. It should not be this cold.

Perhaps it was just him.

Elrond dragged himself out bed earlier than usual, giving up on sleep. He wore grey today, not feeling his usual blue. The damned silver circlet rested on the table. He would never wear that thing again.

Even as the rings disturbed him, he still had duties to attend to. The High King needed his herald at such trying times. In his mind, Elrond hoped seeing him would give them an opportunity to talk.

Was he only being paranoid? Were the rings truly free of evil influence?

But his foresight had never failed him before. Why would it have failed now?

No one else seemed to be awake yet, so he walked carefully, not wanting to disturb them. The morning air was fresh, making it a little easier to breathe. His anxiety had kept his breathing shallow, not allowing him to take deep breaths. Now he could take a deep inhale.

A light was on in the High King’s study. It seemed Gil-galad was up early as well.

But when Elrond entered, his heart skipped a beat.

Gil-galad was sitting by his desk, scrolls and maps scattered across the surface. His only focus was on his hand, on his finger. Where the ring was.

He did not even seem to notice the other come in. The ring was his entire world, it looked like.

“High King?” called Elrond, concerned.

No reply. Gil-galad simply twisted the ring around his finger, admiring it from all sides.

Elrond stepped closer. “High King?” he tried again.

Nothing.

Taking another step, he was standing right by the desk. Ditching his earlier manners, Elrond slammed his palm on the table.

That finally jerked Gil-galad out of his trance. He looked up.

“Elrond? What are you doing here?”

Elrond took a respectful step away. “I called your name twice”, he stated.

“Apologies, I could not sleep last night”, explained Gil-galad. “I admit I am a bit distracted.”

That did not make Elrond feel any easier. “You did not sleep? Were you here, staring at that ring all night?”

“I was working.”

“Were you?” Elrond pushed. “When I walked in here, you were playing around with the ring, looking at it like it was the most precious thing in the world!”

“It is very precious”, said Gil-galad. “To all of us. The rings saved our great tree, if you remember? It saved us.”

“It was a simple trick to make us believe all was well. The tree dying may prophesize our doom, but the tree needs not die for us to perish. We are still in grave danger. All of Middle-Earth is.”

“We will handle that when the time comes”, assured the High King. “For now, the rings are protecting us well.”

“We cannot simply wait when we know what is bound to happen!” Elrond snapped.

Gil-galad stood up, the chair scraping the floor. “You know nothing, Elrond”, his voice boomed. “Your fever dream means nothing when it comes to our very fate!”

The younger elf’s anger burned out, leaving only a sense of sadness. “Do you truly trust me so little?” he asked. “After all these years?”

“I believe you have been blinded by your sense of distrust”, Gil-galad stated. “I cannot allow you to lead the rest of us to doom.”

Elrond found no reply to that at first. Tears were beginning to build up in his eyes. He choked on them as he tried to keep them from falling.

It somehow felt even colder now.

“I am not the one who had been blinded”, he finally said. “Can you even take off the ring?”

“Of course I can, but I will not”, replied Gil-galad. “Not while it is the one thing keeping us from the brink of extinction.”

“Only for a moment”, Elrond insisted. “That will do no harm. I only want you to show me that you are still in control of yourself. That the ring does not control you.”

Gil-galad raised his hand to look at the ring. He raised his other hand to touch it. And for a moment it seemed like he might actually pull it off.

But he did not.

His hands dropped back to his sides. “My will is my own, and I choose to wear it.”

Elrond looked him right in the eyes, a stare somewhere between threatening and begging.

“No, if your will is truly your own, you will take it off.”

Gil-galad circled around the desk to face Elrond from only a step’s away. “You have no authority to command me”, he spoke, his voice low.

“Indeed”, said Elrond. “But that ring clearly does.”

He did not even register what happened before it had already happened. The left side of his face was suddenly stinging with a sharp pain.

Gil-galad had hit him.

Dazed, Elrond found no words to utter. The first tear streamed down his cheek.

“How dare you?” growled the High King.

Elrond did not move, barely breathed, did not speak. Gil-galad would never hit him. He was way above resorting to violence.

This was not the same Gil-galad he knew and looked up to.

The one he viewed as a father.

Finally cracking his lips open, his voice was barely above a broken whisper as he said, “It seems I have already lost you.”

And before the other could respond, he moved. His hand was swift as it grabbed Gil-galad’s wrist. Surprisingly easily, he was able to slip off the ring and close his own fist around it. He wasted no time in running away, the ring securely in his grip.

“Guards, seize him!”

Elrond did not dare look back. He would soon have all of Lindon after him.

Knowing all paths would be closed, he made for the deep woods, where no paths were laid out.

That was stupid, he thought to himself. He had no plan on what to do with the ring, let alone how to get a hold of the rest of them. They needed to be destroyed. But how?

How could one destroy a ring of such power?

He could hide it in the sea, throw it in the deepest bottom he could find. But it could still be found. It would still exist.

Celebrimbor’s forge, where it was made, could be the place to destroy it. Only there was no way he was making it to Eregion without getting caught.

And even if he made it that far, that Annatar would stop him. Perhaps even Celebrimbor himself.

Eregion was no option at the moment. It had already fallen in his perspective.

But he could not run forever either.

He could already hear shouting in the distance. Getting caught was only a matter of time.

There was an opening – the waterfall. He was suddenly exposed, and guards were already pouring in from all directions.

He was surrounded. 

Backing away as close to the edge as he dared, he held his grip tight on the ring. He was not giving it up.

Gil-galad and even Galadriel emerged from the woods with the guards. Neither wore an expression that was readable. They were not angry, not sad, not worried.

The guards slowly closed in.

“Elrond, give me the ring”, ordered Gil-galad.

Elrond only squeezed his hand around it tighter. “You must wake up”, he pleaded. “You are not yourself anymore.”

You hit me was left unsaid.

“In times of change, we must adapt. You are too naïve to see that, it seems.”

“Adapt, yes, but not like this! Not by giving in to Sauron’s plan!”

The High King did not seem to even hear him. “The ring, Elrond.”

“No, I cannot give it to you”, Elrond choked, struggling to keep more tears from escaping.

How could these rings already have such a strong grip on the others? They had barely had them for two days.

Then again, that fact only enforced Elrond’s belief. The foredream. Sauron. The rings truly were as powerful as he had foreseen them to be. They weaved themselves into their bearers’ minds, by their master’s will, and altered their thoughts, their beliefs. And they were strong enough to do so even to an elf as powerful as Gil-galad.

Images flashed in his head. His foredream was changing, adapting to these new events. But still, the pictures ended in tragedy. Elrond only possessed one of the rings, not all three. All of them needed to be destroyed to prevent the end he was still seeing.

But at least he could be sure now. The rings had not fixed anything.

Elrond was not the mad one.

The High King turned to the guards. “Retrieve the ring”, he told firmly.

The guards forced Elrond to retreat to the very edge of the waterfall. He had to stop before he fell. There was no escape now.

So Elrond raised his hand, the one holding the ring. His eyes met Gil-galad’s, and this time they showed neither fear nor sadness, only determination.

As the High King himself said,

He slid the ring visibly in his garments, then showed both his empty hands to the crowd. A small step back had him teetering over the edge of the cliff.  

In times of change,

With one last look at Gil-galad, this one holding the spark of a sad smile, he leaned back and let himself fall.

We must adapt.

Chapter Text

His mother had given herself to the sea.

To protect a Silmaril.

Elrond was his mother’s son after all, even after years of being told how much he resembled his father.

He wondered whether either of them would be proud of him. Would they think taking the ring was the right thing to do? Would they think him a disgrace for such disobedience?

It was nighttime by now. The sun had set. Everything was blue.

The tree he was leaning on gave him some comfort at least. He was not sure whether he could move again, having practically collapsed against the trunk earlier.

Everything hurt.

He had been incredibly lucky to even survive the fall with no major injury. A couple of his ribs were broken most likely, but that seemed to be the worst of it. His ankle throbbed, but it was merely twisted. His head was pounding, but perhaps that was just anxiety.

The ring was still in his pocket, tucked away. He had not dared look at it, fearing it might tempt him to wear it. But he could feel it was still with him, weighing heavier than such a small thing should.

It was surprising that he had not been found yet. He had not made it far from the riverbank before crumbling.

He was so cold.

The water had not dried off his clothes or hair. He was soaked through and through. The wind, as gentle as it was, made him shiver violently. He could barely feel his fingers.

A few cough rattled his chest, his body still forcing up water he had breathed in. The movement hurt his ribs even more, making him wince. But he suppressed the pathetic sound, worried any noise would alert his hunters.

Those who chased him were his friends too. At least they used to be.

Elrond was alone now. No one was on his side.

It brought tears to his eyes to even think about it. Everyone – Gil-galad, Galadriel, Celebrimbor, Círdan… He had lost them all in a heartbeat.

Somehow it felt like it would have been easier if they had died or sailed.

But no, he had lost them. They had lost themselves.

It was a pain he had not known to exist.

Was Celebrimbor alright? he wondered. Had Anna- no, Sauron, done something to him?

Did Eregion still stand? How long was it until an orc army marched to Lindon and wiped out everything he had ever know?

Sauron would not stop at that either. His next target would be Khazad-dûm. Elrond would lose Durin and Disa as well.

And still, Sauron would keep going until he conquered all of Middle-Earth. He would control its people with an unimaginable power.

An image flashed in Elrond’s head – a fragment of his foredream.

A master ring.

Three for the elves, seven for the dwarves, nine for men. And one ring to rule them all.

Elrond held back a gasp as he shifted back to reality. He recalled it now. Not only had he seen the three elven rings be made, he had seen sixteen more.

And the one – Sauron’s ultimate weapon.

His heart pounded in his chest as the pieces fell together vividly.

This… this was only the beginning.

Scratch whatever concerns he had about going to Eregion. He had to go. If the other peoples of Middle-Earth, too, fell into shadow, Sauron’s victory would be easy. Through the rings, he could control them like he was doing to Gil-galad and the others.

He had to prevent the forging of the other rings.

Suddenly he was not so cold. A surge of adrenaline had him shooting up to his feet.

He needed a horse. Eregion was a day’s ride away.

Obtaining a horse, however, would be incredibly difficult in his current situation of being hunted down by the High King.

But he would find a way. He had to.

“Hey! I saw something move over there!”

No, not now.

Elrond had been spotted. There was no place to hide, so he had to make a run for it.

And he did. The guards on his trail shouted after him, telling him to stop and surrender. By the order of the High King. Hearing that made Elrond’s heart ache. His crime was treason, and there was only one suitable punishment for that.

No, he would not die for nothing. He would prevent Sauron from winning no matter the cost – as if he had not already paid every cost but his life. 

But honestly, after losing his friends and family like this, death seemed like a more merciful fate.

He was not looking ahead, he realized. He was running blind.

Idiot, he told himself. You need to find a stable.

He diverted suddenly, attempting to confuse his chasers. But it was the wrong choice, it seemed, as he was met with a clearing in the woods and came to a stop.

He was surrounded. Again.

Gil-galad himself stood among them, wearing a blank expression. He showed no emotion as he looked Elrond right in the eyes.

“You are foolish, Elrond”, he spoke, his tone cold. “Did you truly believe that you could escape with my ring?”

Elrond did not quiver. “It is not your ring”, he said. “It is Sauron’s.”

“Your foresight has made you mad. The rings were forged right in front of your own eyes. Sauron was not there, was he?”

“He was”, stated Elrond. “I am sure of it now. Annatar was only a disguise he used to fool us – to trick Celebrimbor into making these rings for him. And he plans to make more.”

“Perhaps more would be made to aid the other peoples of Middle-Earth as these three have aided us.”

“That is what he wants you to believe! It is a trick! Have you all gone blind?”

With a nod from Gil-galad, two guards restrained Elrond from behind, forcing him to his knees. But the younger elf kept trashing.

“Wake up, all of you!”

Tears streamed down his face freely. He was not angry – he was grieving. He mourned the loss of what still remained as if he had already lost it.

Because he had, partially. Only physical shells remained of what used to be his most trusted friends. Just a week ago, they were all alright. Now those times seemed years away.

He wanted to yell more, but his voice got stuck in his throat as he cried.

The other guard searched him for the ring. He tried to pull away, but his strength was waning. He could barely support his own weight.

A sob nearly choked him as the ring was pulled out. It shined in the moonlight so ethereally. The guard passed it to Gil-galad, who took it without hesitance, slipping it right back onto his finger. 

Elrond’s vision blurred with tears. He had no strength to keep struggling against his captors. Sharp breaths shook his trembling form. But he kept his eyes up, staring right at Gil-galad. Perhaps he could trigger some kind of emotion in the other.

But he did not.

“Take him away”, he ordered, already turning away.

Elrond used his remaining strength to yank himself forward one more time, desperate to reach him. It surprised the guards holding him, and he managed to get free of their hold.

But he only fell onto the ground, his head hitting the stone, hard. His tears soaked the ground as he lay there, trembling.

He had no strength left. Nothing.

It was cold again. Every little injury from the waterfall stunt throbbed now. He could hear his heart beating in his ears, the rhythm slowing down.

His eyes were slipping closed. He could not move an inch.

I have failed. Valar forgive me.

Sauron was most likely already forging the other rings. And when it would be done, Eregion would fall. Lindon would follow in short.

The end was near, and nothing could stop it now.

Why was I not stronger?

Chapter Text

Numb. He had never felt so numb.

It was a foreign sensation to him, having always been such an empath. He felt everything deeply, happy and sad.

Now he felt nothing.

It was morning, judging by the light outside. Not that he was getting much of that light, being trapped in a cell. He did not remember getting here. He had slept through the night, it seemed.

There was a guard outside. He had heard him coughing earlier.

Other than that, he was alone.

It was cold. His clothes were still damp from the day before. Breathing hurt his ribs, his ankle throbbed, his head pounded. He was hungry too, but he was not sure if he could eat even if he was given the chance. He had lost his appetite along with everything else.

He wanted to cry – maybe that would make him feel something. But there were no tears left to shed.

Gil-galad had not visited him. Galadriel neither. No one would see him.

Perhaps it was time to give up.

What more could he do? No one would listen to him. He could not escape. The rings were out of his reach. Fate had been written.

Did Eregion stand? Was Celebrimbor alive?

Stupid questions. Even if he had the answers, he could not act upon them. If Celebrimbor was dead, nothing could change that. If he was alive…

He still could not change his fate. And that fate was death.

His father would hate him. He was meant to take after Celebrimbor, protect him. Now he would die, and Elrond was powerless to prevent it.

That thought should have squeezed a tear or two more out of him, but it did not.

He had nothing left. No tears, no strength. Nothing.

The day dragged on slowly. But by evening, Elrond could not remember any of it. He had spent the hours in a daze, fevered, trembling weakly.

But just before sunset, the door opened.

Elrond unconsciously pressed his back even closer to the wall he had been leaning on. His mind knew to prepare him for pain. For torture, perhaps death.

It was Gil-galad who stood in the door. But Elrond did not dare allow himself hope. The High King still wore that emotionless expression, and that damned ring still glimmered on his finger.

Neither greeted the other. Gil-galad simply began to approach Elrond, his gaze unwavering. Once he was only a step or two away, he stopped.

“I know you are well aware of our laws”, he spoke, his voice low. “You know what the penalty for treason is.”

Elrond gave no reply. Of course he knew.

“All this could have been easily avoided”, Gil-galad continued. “Why must you rebel?”

Finally, Elrond had to speak. “Because the rings are leading us to our doom. But you will not see it until it is too late, for those trinkets have you under a spell.”

“Are you blind? The great tree is alive and well. No darkness has touched the rings.”

“Are you deaf?” snapped Elrond. “This image of perfection is being used to trick us! Sauron is a master of deception, and you should know that!”

It felt oddly good to have a burst of anger. The entire day had been spent in a dull haze. It was about time his trance broke.

So he continued, “We, no, you are being lulled into a sense of calm while he works in the shadows. One day, it will all come crashing down, and it will be too late to act, because you couldn’t see!”

His head snapped to the side. He had been struck again.

There was no remorse in Gil-galad’s eyes as he pulled away. “How dare you?” he growled. “You disgrace yourself. You disgrace us!”

“I care not”, said Elrond. “I will gladly be disgraced if it means I am still fighting for what is right! Even if all of you stand against me, I will not give in and let all of Middle-Earth perish!”

He was struck again. But he prevailed.

“Take off the ring! Fight it’s pull! This is not who you are!”

Again. And again. Twice in a row.

“Guard!” called Gil-galad. The guard came in, and the High King gestured firmly to Elrond on the ground.

“If he says another word, strike him”, he ordered.

“You will not get your hands dirty on a traitor like me?” Elrond demanded.

The guard kicked him in the gut, forcing the air out of his lungs. His already aching ribs screamed in pain, and he curled in on himself subconsciously to protect the sensitive area.

But he forced himself to look back up. “You are an entirely different person”, he spat.

He was kicked again, harder this time.

Elrond shifted his gaze to the guard instead. “Do you not find it strange? Is that the High king you have served for all these years?” he asked.

There was a flicker of doubt in the guard’s eyes, but he still kicked Elrond once more.

It made Elrond wonder – if he could not sway Gil-galad, he should go for the others. he could show them that their leader’s mind was not his own, and convince them to aid in the destruction of the rings.

But how could he accomplish such a thing? All of Lindon was loyal to Gil-galad. Perhaps they would not be if they saw he was not himself, but Elrond had no way of showing them the truth. He was trapped in this cell, hungry, weak and injured. What hope did he have now?

None, he admitted to himself. He had already failed.

From the corner of his eye he saw Gil-galad silently dismiss the guard. The door closed, and it was only the two of them again.

Elrond picked himself up off the floor, grimacing as his ribs protested. His eyes met the High King’s once more.

“Will you kill me now?” asked Elrond, his tone flat.

Gil-galad gave no reply. It gave Elrond a small spark of hope – perhaps the other was doubting himself. Perhaps he was still himself, deep down beneath Sauron’s spell.

That hope shattered as the High King struck him again.

“Yes”, Gil-galad finally replied. “And your death will be torment as you must face your ancestors in the Halls of Mandos. Your father will never forgive you. Nothing can ever redeem you. You brought all of Middle-Earth to the brink of doom.”

Elrond’s gaze hardened. He was beginning to accept his fate, yet a small part of him wished to make one last stand.

At least he could die trying.

So, slowly and with great difficulty, he pulled himself back on his feet for the first time today. He never broke eye contact.

“I am guilty”, he stated coldly. “Guilty of not doing this.”

Before Gil-galad could react, he shot forward and grabbed the elder by his hand. With all his remaining strength, he pulled, his fingers searching for a very particular item to snatch.

The ring slipped out of Gil-galad’s finger and fell to the floor.

Elrond leaned down to grab it, and closed his fist around it tightly. He backed away as much as he could.

Gil-galad simply stood there for a moment. His gaze was unfocused, as if in a trance. Then he blinked, and awareness came back to him. His eyes met Elrond’s, but they showed no malice, no anger.

Perhaps Elrond could truly still make a difference.

He showed the ring to Gil-galad, letting it catch the little light that streamed in from the small window of the cell.

“It is calling to you, is it not?” he spoke. “Can you hear it? It is telling you to take it back.”

Gil-galad did not reply, but his eyes shifted to the ring.

“But it is not a kind voice, is it?” remarked Elrond. “It commands you. Tries to control you.”

Still, the other said nothing. But his presence had changed. What Elrond was doing might just be working.

So he continued, “Will you let it control you? Will you let Sauron control you? Because that is who it is – the voice you most likely hear in your head at this very moment. Sauron.”

There was a silence. Then.

“I hear it.”

Elrond blinked. Gil-galad’s voice was barely the one he recognized. It was small, weak, broken.

A tear streamed down the High King’s face. He looked up from the ring, locked eyes with Elrond. A sad spark was there.

“Elrond.”

Tears welled up in the younger’s eyes as well. Though it was unfamiliar to see the High King so vulnerable, Elrond knew at least his weakness was real.

It worked. It actually worked.

Gil-galad stepped closer and reached for the ring. Before Elrond’s heart could conjure up the fear of the evil trinket being taken, the other had already tossed it to the side.

The ring clattered on the cold floor, rolling away from the pair. It was cast aside like it did not matter at all.

And instead, Gil-galad embraced Elrond tight. Like he was the only thing that mattered in the world.

It took a moment for Elrond to process the sudden events and return the embrace. But as he did, it was the tightest he had ever held someone. Emotions rushed up, breaking free the tears that he had attempted to trap in his eyes.

A choked sob came out. “You heard me.”

Gil-galad squeezed the younger even tighter. “I heard you, penneth. I heard you.”

They stayed there for many moments, until their arms grew tired and they finally pulled away.

Tears streamed freely down Elrond’s face now. His eyes were red and his throat was racked with sobs.

Gil-galad still looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world. A few stray tears were drying on his cheeks as well.

“You will not take the ring again?” Elrond had to ask, his raspy voice barely above a whisper.

“I will not”, Gil-galad assured, placing a gentle hand on the younger’s shoulder. “Your voice is all I hear now.”

He smiled, trying to add to the reassurance.

Elrond lowered his head. “It worked. It worked”, he muttered between sobs. “I did it. I was right. There is hope yet.”

Gil-galad pulled him close. “Indeed there is”, he confirmed softly. “You did it.”

The sobs escaped Elrond’s throat, nearly choking him. He did not remember ever crying this hard since Elros died. Perhaps not even that could top what pitiful sounds came out of him now.

But he did not care, and neither did Gil-galad. He knew now that Middle-Earth had hope left. He had not failed after all.

The thought made the worst sobs die down. A small smile quirked up his lips.

I did it.

But now his body was beginning to betray him. Exhaustion creeped in, hunger hurt his stomach, his head pounded, his legs were shaking.

I did it.

His eyes began to slip closed. He vaguely felt his knees buckle. Strong arms caught him before he hit the floor.

Someone called his name. They sounded worried.

I did it.

Chapter Text

What really snapped Gil-galad out of the remains of his trace was Elrond collapsing into his arms.

He caught him, cradled him close and slowly sank to his knees. Elrond was unconscious, his body limp and his breath shallow.

Gil-galad did not try to shake him awake. He was afraid Elrond might just shatter into pieces if he held him too tight. It was a foolish thought, of course, but fear tended to make one a fool.

And Gil-galad was scared. His memories of his time under the ring’s influence were hazy, but what he knew for certain, was that Elrond had gone through fire and rain to help him.

And that Gil-galad himself had hurt him. In more ways than one.

He recalled hitting him. He recalled ordering his guards to capture him. The memories were coming in, piece by piece. Elrond falling off the edge of the waterfall right before his eyes. Ordering him starved and isolated. Having him beaten.

A tear fell down. Then another. The other landed on Elrond’s pale cheek below him, and he quickly wiped it off. His hand shook as he did.

The younger’s skin felt cold to touch. It should not. Being half-man, Elrond’s skin was always a shade warmer, and his blood ran hotter. Now he was paler than any elf, his skin colder than any elf’s.

He was fading.

“No, no, no…” Gil-galad muttered to himself. If only he had listened to Elrond when he first warned him about the rings. All this could have been avoided.

The High King dared pull the other closer, wrapping his arms tighter around him. He felt himself trembling, while Elrond barely breathed. There was another tear – a testament to how true his fear was. Gil-galad did not cry.

Yet now he did.

“Guard!” he yelled, his voice betraying his emotions.

The guard burst in, his blade at the ready. Surprise was evident on his face as he saw the scene before him.

Gil-galad looked up, trying to gather himself a little. “Elrond was right”, he said, able to hide how his shaky his voice was quite well. “Capture Galadriel and Círdan. The rings must be taken away this instant!”

The guard took a moment to process the sudden change. But he accepted it quick enough. As Elrond had pointed out, he had been suspicious earlier. He nodded and was about to exit when Gil-galad stopped him.

“Wait”, he said. “Get me a healer as well.”

With another nod, the guard was out. And as soon as he was out of sight, Gil-galad let his head drop once more. His hand brushed gently against Elrond’s cheek as a tear slid down his own.

“Oh, what have I done to you?” he whispered weakly.  

He should be addressing his people right now. Making plans for what was to come.

But how could he when Elrond was barely breathing beside him?

Talking to the healers had only confirmed his fears – Elrond was fading. And it seemed he might not live for much longer.

Gil-galad sat by the bed, holding his hand. It was the least he could do.

This was his fault for not listening to his herald. For not trusting him. Elrond had done everything in his power to prevent what he saw in his foredream that night.

And it worked. The rings were locked away now, out of anyone’s reach.

But why did it have to cost Elrond his very life?

No, he could not despair. Elrond was still alive. He only needed to wake up.

Please wake up.

Gil-galad squeezed the younger’s hand harder, hoping he might feel it.

No one had dared disturb him for a while – not after seeing him carry Elrond in, tears still stuck to his face, his eyes reddened.

However, it had been hours now, and the others needed instructions. An elf came in, bowed in respect and spoke.

“High King, we must do something”, he said, his voice carrying a cautious tone. 

Gil-galad did not take his eyes off Elrond. “I am aware”, he replied. “Gather the council.”

The elf curtsied and hurried away.

It hurt to let go of Elrond’s hand. Gil-galad would have liked to stay by his side, but he knew Elrond would be the first to tell him to do his duty, were he awake.

But before he could pull away, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on the younger’s forehead.

“Mauya nin avánië”, he said softly. It broke his heart to tear away. He had to dig his nails into the palm of his hand to prevent any more tears from escaping.

The others already waited as he arrived. They demanded answers.

Gil-galad had not told them anything – he had simply ordered the rings taken away from their bearers, by force if needed.

Now the council demanded to know his reasoning. All had been well, and suddenly everything fell apart. The rings had been working, had they not? Why were they suddenly locked away?

“You must all be confused”, said Gil-galad. “These are trying times, and even I had been blinded by a false sense of hope.”

“But the rings worked”, argued a council member, Helethon. “We all saw the great tree heal before our very eyes.”

“It was an illusion”, stated Gil-galad. “The rings were forged of darkness, and their power is greater than we could have imagined. But that power is not ours to control. All this is part of Sauron’s plan.”

That brought up some chatter among the council.

But before anyone could argue, Gil-galad continued, “He disguised himself to gain our trust. And he still hides in Eregion. We must decide upon a plan to stop him before the city falls.”

“How can we trust that?” questioned Helethon.

“I did not trust it before either. Look where that brought us.”

No one argued with that. They were in great peril. The rings were thought to be the solution – they had only made things worse and cost them precious time. The great tree was, once again, very ill, dying even. It signaled the end for the race of elves.

Even worse, the return of Sauron meant the end for all free peoples of Middle-Earth.

“So we go to Eregion”, stated Maneth.

“It is not so simple”, reminded Gil-galad. “We must not alert Sauron of our state of readiness. Caution is key if we wish to stay one step ahead of him.”

“Send a small party then”, suggested Acharien. “To scout ahead and bring us back information.”

“I agree”, said Gil-galad. “Is anyone willing to volunteer?”

Galadriel, who had stayed in the shadows until now, stepped up. “I will go”, she said firmly.

Not very wise, was Gil-galad’s first thought. Galadriel herself had only a day ago been under the influence of her own ring. Not to mention she had a… history with Sauron.

So he denied her. “No, it should be someone free of influence from the rings. Neither you, Círdan or I is fit to go.”

“No, I must go”, Galadriel insisted. “I know him. I can resist him now.”

“He also knows you”, reminded Gil-galad. “I will not risk it.”

“I can resist him”, Galadriel repeated, her tone firm.

Gil-galad took a moment to reply. Galadriel was strong – incredibly so. Still, she had been blinded by her emotions. She had fallen under the ring’s influence too.

“Elrond would not want you to go”, he finally said. It was a good argument, for Galadriel deeply cared about Elrond.

“He would want us to win”, rebutted Galadriel.

That was true. Elrond had fought so hard to give them a chance against Sauron.

But would letting Galadriel go destroy that chance?

Would she be tempted by Sauron once more? Would her rage drive her to extremes?

Or would her rage be exactly what they needed? To kill Sauron. Crumble both him and his forces.

It might just be.

“Very well”, said Gil-galad. “You may go, but you must stay with the company at all times. You will not be its leader, for your decisions may still be clouded by uncontrolled emotion.”

“I need not be the leader”, stated Galadriel. “I only need be the one to kill Sauron.”

“You will have your chance, but not today”, Gil-galad reminded her. “You are not charging into battle yet – you are simply scouting.”

“Yes, High King”, she muttered.

“The company shall be led by Iôldaer. I trust him to pick the rest”, Gil-galad declared.

The others did not make any move to leave, hovering awkwardly.

“Dismissed”, he spat and exited first. He did not bother to look back to see whether they moved. In his heart, he knew Galadriel was already out the door.

He did not stop until he was back in the halls of healing, right by Elrond’s side.

The younger elf showed no signs of waking.

Sighing, Gil-galad sat down on the chair beside the bed. He took Elrond’s hand once more, finding at least a little comfort in holding him so.

“I have sent Galadriel to Eregion”, he told him, not caring whether the other could hear him or not. “I only hope you agree with my decision.”

A curl had slipped onto Elrond’s pale face. Gil-galad tucked it back in gently. Involuntarily, he shivered at how cold the other’s skin felt.

He had already placed upon him the warmest blanket he could find. Now he pulled it up to the other’s chin and tucked it tighter. He knew it would not matter – Elrond’s very soul was going cold, not only his body.

“I can never forgive myself for what I did to you”, Gil-galad whispered, feeling his eyes burn from tears forming for the hundredth time today.

“I, too, shall fade if you die now because of me.”

He closed his eyes to stop himself from crying. His other hand, too, lifted to grab Elrond’s.

Squeezing harder, he let himself lean forward, his elbows dropping on the bed to keep him somewhat upright.

“All of Middle-Earth shall fade if you do not open your eyes, penneth.”

His voice was breaking as the withheld tears choked him.

Foolish. The High King of the Noldor should surely not steep so low. He needed to be strong, leveled, calm. He needed to be in control of himself.

No, he pushed those thoughts aside. The first tears fell down his face as he allowed them to.

Damn his image, his honor, if it meant Elrond would wake up.

Chapter Text

It took three days for Galadriel to return.

Three days, but Elrond slept through it all. He showed no signs of improving.

Gil-galad barely left his side. Only now that Galadriel had returned, he got up to meet her and the others.

He stood at the gate, a frown etched onto his face. By the look of the company, there was no celebrating yet. They seemed unharmed, yes, but Galadriel’s face said it all.

She had seen him.

Gil-galad waited until the rest of the company was gathered before he spoke. “Is there any reason to believe he might have suspected your intentions?”

He needed not ask much else at the moment.

“I doubt he suspects. His focus is only on forging more rings”, said Galadriel, her voice low.

“What of Lord Celebrimbor?”

“He was too busy to meet us”, Galadriel muttered. “I did not push it for it would have drawn suspicion.”

“Sauron needs him to forge the rings”, stated Gil-galad. “So he is alive, at least.”

“And until those rings are finished, he will stay alive”, continued Galadriel. “Eregion yet stands, but once Sauron gets what he wants, the city will be wiped out in a matter of days.”

Gil-galad nodded. “Orcs have already been spotted by our patrols. They are preparing as we speak.”

“Then let us prepare as well”, encouraged Galadriel.

“Eregion’s forces will not be of use, and our army alone cannot stand the might of Sauron’s orcs. He will have thousands.”

Galadriel bit her lip. “We must try.”

“We will defend Eregion”, assured Gil-galad. “But not alone. We need aid.”

“From whom?” asked Galadriel impatiently.

There was a pause. “The dwarves.”

Gil-galad sounded ridiculous as he said that, he knew. But the dwarves of Khazad-dûm were their only potential ally. None of the kingdoms of men would come. And even if they did, they would be too late.

Prince Durin, he recalled, was also a friend of Elrond’s. That may just be enough to make them agree. Elrond had often described how close the two were, despite their many quarrels.

Galadriel did not outright laugh at the idea, but she was certainly suspicious.

“How do you plan on making such an alliance?” she asked. “Without Elrond, that is.”

There, that was the problem.

Elrond was a natural diplomat. He made friends everywhere he went. Without him, negotiations with the dwarves may just be impossible.

Gil-galad held back a sigh. “As you said, we must try.”

Galadriel’s gaze held firm. “And if they refuse? You said it yourself – we cannot fight Sauron alone.”

“Better to die fighting than die because we did not act at all.”

Galadriel did not argue. It was what she, too, respected most – fighting for something worth fighting for, until one’s last breath.

So instead, she stayed silent. A hint of hesitation flashed in her eyes.

“How is he?” she asked quietly.

Gil-galad lowered his head. “He sleeps”, he said. “I fear nothing but the defeat of Sauron can wake him up now.”

“Then we must win”, whispered Galadriel, tones of both anger and sorrow in her voice.

Gil-galad could not promise her that. It made his heart ache.

So instead of speaking anymore, he walked past her, leaving her to suppress her tears. Or perhaps she wanted to scream.

She did neither, but the tension in the air told Gil-galad she barely held it back.

Those emotions would be needed in battle soon enough. It was wise to hold them for now, Gil-galad thought.

Leaving Galadriel behind, the High King returned to the stronghold, to the halls of healing.

But he was not alone this time.

An elfling – no more than 50 years of age, stood by Elrond’s side, holding a small bouquet of flowers. They looked as though the child had picked them up from the fields herself.

She laid the flowers on the bed, right beside Elrond.

Gil-galad approached slowly, but still managed to scare the child as she turned to leave. Hurriedly, she curtsied.

“High King”, she greeted, her voice small and shaky.

“I apologize for frightening you”, said Gil-galad softly. “What are you doing here?”

The elfling blushed. “I brought flowers”, she replied shyly.

“I can see that”, hummed Gil-galad, giving her a small smile to make her feel safer. “Do you know him?” he asked, gesturing to Elrond.

The child nodded. “He healed my nana”, she explained. “She was asleep, like he is now. Healer Elrond told me to bring nana flowers and talk to her, because then she would wake up.”

“That is a very nice thing to do”, said Gil-galad. “I am certain Elrond appreciates the flowers you gave him.”

“Will he wake up soon?”

A small flash of pain shot through Gil-galad’s chest at that. “If we talk to him, perhaps he will hear us and return”, he said, reassuring himself more than the child, if he was being honest.

The elfling smiled. “Will you talk to him then? A lot? I must go home now.”

“Of course.”

“Good! I can bring more flowers tomorrow!” assured the child, a spark lighting in her eyes. And as she turned to leave, her step looked so light.

A child’s innocence was a precious thing.

Gil-galad sat down on the chair beside Elrond’s bed once again. He admired the flowers – they were beautiful.

But those flowers, too, would perish soon. Plucked from the soil, they could not survive longer than a day or two. New flowers could be brought, then. But no amount of colorful petals was enough to overshadow the greyish, pale shade of Elrond’s delicate skin.

Gil-galad took his hand in his own, as he had done many a time these past few days.

“You are deeply missed by many”, whispered Gil-galad. “Everyone here loves you, penneth.”

Only silence answered him. The halls were empty, in spirit as well as in physical being. The days were growing darker – they barely saw the sun behind those thick clouds that would not go away.

News had spread fast, it seemed. The tree was ill, the rings were evil, Sauron was in Eregion… all of it. Many had seen or heard it when Elrond took Gil-galad’s ring. And now they knew why Elrond had taken it.

They knew he had been right all along.

It gave Gil-galad some comfort, knowing Elrond’s heroic actions would not be forgotten. He only hoped that Elrond could see it himself.

But then again, there was still much suffering ahead.

Perhaps it was better Elrond would not witness it. He had already suffered so greatly.

He only needed to stay alive through these next weeks – wake up after they won and live happily ever after.

Eru Ilúvatar, was that too much to ask for?

Gil-galad squeezed the other’s hand harder. Mere weeks ago, it had seemed that all was well. Then Elrond had his vision. They went to Eregion. The rings were made. Sauron controlled them. Elrond saved them… It was all too much.

And there was still more ahead. A battle that would cost them hundreds, if not thousands of lives.

If only he had listened to Elrond earlier. They could have already won, easily even. Now they would most likely lose. They were alone against Valar knows how many orcs.

Alone.

But were they?

The dwarves – as desperate of an option as it was, were still a possible ally. He should not forget that.

If Elrond could not negotiate for them, perhaps he could be of other use in securing such an alliance. A bait – almost.

Gil-galad lifted his head as an idea popped in his head.

He would not ask Durin for help. He would simply tell him that Elrond was dying, and lure him to Lindon. Seeing a dear friend in such condition would surely sway even the most stubborn of dwarves.

Only then would Gil-galad suggest the alliance.

Potentially saving Elrond’s life might just be enough reason for Durin to come to their aid.

Oh, this was perfect.

Gil-galad gently kissed Elrond’s hand. “Your kindness and friendship shall save us once again, penneth”, he whispered, smiling for the first time in days.

Chapter Text

Honorable Prince Durin IV

I regret to inform you that your friend, Elrond of Lindon, is very ill. His life is fading, and he may not last much longer.

There have been many a quarrel between our peoples, but we would gladly welcome you to Lindon so that you may see Elrond. He needs you.

There may not be much time left. If you wish to see him, come with haste.

Kindest regards,

Erenion Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor

That was the message he sent. It was short and exact, just as he wanted it to be.

He wrote it by Elrond’s bedside, hoping it would inspire his words to carry the raw emotion they should.

Putting down the pen at last, he sighed. Elrond was always the one to write his letters and speeches, deliver the messages even.

He could have asked someone else to write this letter. But no, this one needed to be written by him specifically. It needed to be genuine, believable.

Elrond’s very life may depend on it.

Gil-galad folded the scroll carefully before handing it to the elf who had been waiting for him to finish. This messenger would deliver the scroll to Khazad-dûm on the fastest of horses. 

The messenger slid the scroll into his bag and bowed before he left the room.

Alone once more, Gil-galad took Elrond’s hand in his own, as he tended to these days.

Elrond’s skin was cold, as it had been since he collapsed. Gil-galad lifted his other hand to cradle the younger elf’s pale hand between both his large, warm hands.

It was a desperate attempt to warm him up. But it would not work, just like the blankets he had piled on him, and Gil-galad knew that.

“Elrond, listen to me”, he spoke. “I have sent word to Khazad-dûm. You need to wake up and convince Durin to help us win.”

No reply – as expected.

Gil-galad let out a breath. He missed Elrond’s council, but even more, he appeared to miss his smile. His kindness, his positivity… everything.

He missed everything about Elrond.

It was getting dark outside. He should light a candle.

Something inside him seemed to make it impossible to leave Elrond alone now. So he would stay the night here.

Hopefully, Durin would receive the message and arrive soon.

Sauron was preparing his army. Lindon, too, was gathering its warriors and supplies. It would only be a matter of time before the bloodshed began. The battle for Eregion drew near.

And they needed to win.

A knock was heard at the door. Gil-galad lifted his head to see who entered.

It was the elfling from yesterday. She carried yet another makeshift bouquet of field-picked flowers. The flowers she laid on the bed like before.

Gil-galad tried his hardest to smile at her gesture. It was heartwarming, but nothing seemed to make him smile genuinely anymore. Nothing but victory over Sauron would. And Elrond waking up, of course.

“Nana had woken by now”, said the elfling. “Why does he still sleep?”

“He was very hurt”, explained Gil-galad. “And these dark times test us all. He only needs hope that all will be well.”

The elfling stepped closer and leaned down slightly. She stared directly at Elrond.

“You need to wake up”, she said firmly. “Everyone is sad without you.”

After a moment, she hesitated and pulled back. “Do you think he heard me?” she asked. quieter now.

“Words spoken from the heart shall always be heard”, assured Gil-galad.

The child’s eyes widened. “He used to say that too”, she realized. “When nana was ill, he told me to speak from my heart and she would hear it.”

Gil-galad hummed. “Perhaps I, too, learned that from him then.”

It was morning now, he noticed. He had slept here quite well then. Not very gracefully, but what did that matter now?

The elfling smiled. “I must go now, but will you keep talking to him?” she asked.

“Of course”, replied Gil-galad softly.

Satisfied, the child walked out the door, probably to eat with her family.

It was breakfast time, right? Or perhaps lunch already? He was quite hungry, in fact.

He ordered a meal to be brought to him. What he soon received was a fresh loaf of bread and a bowl of soup. It was a simple meal, but nourishing enough. Gil-galad had noticed a lack of appetite these past few days.

The rest of the day he spent drowning in work. He had a small desk brought to him so he could do his work without leaving Elrond.

Perhaps he should not be isolating himself so. Yet he could not bring himself to leave.

He did see a few – some of the members of his council, as well as a couple of healers that happened to come by. There was no improvement, the healers told him.

Today marked four days since the rings were taken. Since Elrond collapsed. Not much improvement had happened on the strategic front either. Preparing an army for battle was no quick task. Lindon had, after all, lived in peace for many a lifetime.

No word from Durin either. It had only been a day since the message was sent. It took longer than that to even reach Khazad-dûm, let alone return to Lindon.

Late that evening, the elfling came by again. Instead of the usual flowers, she had a candle with her this time. She placed it on Gil-galad’s temporary work desk.

“So he does not have to fear the dark”, she explained. Meleniel, her name was, Gil-galad had found out.

The night went smoothly. Gil-galad was able to sleep for most of it. Yet morrow came with a dull sense of hopelessness, as it tended to. Elrond remained unresponsive and pale, frighteningly so.

But midday bore a surprise – a pleasant one at that.

Durin had arrived.

He had been quick. Gil-galad had not dared hope for him to arrive this soon. But he was glad to have been wrong. Such haste surely meant the dwarven prince truly worried for Elrond. That meant a good chance at their much needed alliance.

Gil-galad was prepared when he arrived. He stood by the bed, wearing his more formal attire. It was a sign of respect towards the prince.

But Durin himself seemed to not care for respect as he strode in like a raging bull.

He stopped only when his eyes landed on Elrond. But he did not calm down whatsoever.

“What in Aulë’s name happened to ‘im?” he demanded.

Gil-galad nodded a respectful greeting. “I am pleased to see you arrive, Prince Durin”, he spoke.

“Screw the formalities!” huffed Durin. “Why is Elrond like that?”

“You may have heard of elves dying of heartbreak as they say”, began Gil-galad. “Elrond is fading. The light is leaving him.”

Durin remained suspicious. “What did y’all do to break his heart then?”

“It is a long story”, explained Gil-galad, his words more rushed than he intended. His guilt had only grown during these last days. “One for another time. Now, he needs people closest to him to help him wake up before it is too late.”

For a moment, Gil-galad thought the dwarf might storm out or start yelling again. But surprisingly enough, Durin did neither.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“Talk to him. Give him hope.”

Durin hummed. “Is there hope?”, he asked. “The days grow darker. My father has gone mad, it seems. That Annatar and his damned trinkets.”

Gil-galad paused. “You were given rings?”

“Yeah, by that friend of yours”, scoffed the dwarf. “They are making everybody bloody crazy!”

Sauron had forged more rings, then. It was an issue, but not unexpected. Gil-galad decided not to press it now, thinking it might stray them from the current plan.

Instead, he said, “There is another thing you can do to help Elrond.”

Durin raised an eyebrow. “And what might that be?”

“Sauron has returned. The rings are of his making. His darkness spread here as well, and Elrond’s efforts to prevent it led him to great suffering. Those efforts have given us a fighting chance, the hurts he sustained could not be so easily undone.”

The dwarf did not say anything, so Gil-galad continued.

“We must take the chance he gave us and use it to defeat Sauron. When light returns, Elrond will surely get better.”

He paused. Hesitated. But went for it anyway.

“We elves cannot defeat Sauron alone”, he stated. It was all he needed to say. His statement was clearly a question as well.

Tension in the air built up as those words hung in the air.

Finally, Durin spoke. “Ye want me to fight for ya?” he asked, his tone flat.

“Not for us”, reminded Gil-galad. “With us. We must unite as it is the only way to stop Sauron.”

It was a lot to ask, he knew. The battle would have great casualties on all sides. Victory was not guaranteed either.

“If we do nothing, Elrond dies?” Durin confirmed.

“All free creatures of Middle-Earth shall cease to exist – become only mindless slaves if they even escape with their lives”, said Gil-galad. “And Elrond… yes, he would fade entirely.”

There was a long silence.

But somehow, Durin finally agreed. “Where is the fight?” he asked, daring.

Gil-galad held back a sigh of relief. “Eregion, the city of the elven smiths”, he told him. “Sauron is already there, preparing. We are ready to depart at the earliest possibility.”

Durin nodded in acknowledgement. “It’ll take us a day or two to prepare our forces, but we’ll meet ya there when we can”, he assured.

“You have our eternal gratitude”, said Gil-galad.

“We don’t want yer gratitude”, huffed the dwarf. “We dwarves fight for ourselves.”

“Of course”, agreed Gil-galad. But he knew, in his heart, that Durin did deeply care for Elrond, and would fight for him, as well as his own people.

“I shall leave right away, then.” said Durin.

“Come straight to Eregion”, instructed Gil-galad. “We may have to leave today already to gain an advantage.”

Durin nodded and turned away to leave. But he stopped and flipped back around to lean down and face Elrond directly.

“Ye better wake up, ye hear me?” he snapped. That seemed to make him feel a bit better, so he walked out for good this time.

As soon as the doors closed, Gil-galad let himself sag back down on his chair.

They had a chance now. To win.

Gil-galad took Elrond’s hand again. “Did you hear that, penneth?” he spoke quietly. “You did it. You gave us a chance to win. If you had not snapped me out of the illusion, we would still be oblivious to Sauron’s plans.”

And just to reassure himself as well, he said it again.

“You did it, Elrond.”

Chapter Text

Galadriel had not seen such chaos since nearly a millenia ago.

They had made it in the nick of time. The orcs could be smelled from where they had lurked in the woods.

And they attacked when they saw the elves approaching. Their charge was uncordinated and sloppy, but their numbers were enough to intimidate anyone. Even Galadriel had her concerns. These were bloodthirsty killers, who knew no other way of life.

Swords soon clashed, even as the elves held formation. Their archers were sniping orcs left and right quite efficiently.

But only a fool could not see the reality. They would lose without aid. Sauron’s forces outnumbered them greatly, and their attack had been months, if not years, in preparation.

Those damned dwarves better show up.

Another orc down, she spun her blade to take a new position. She stepped back and secured her balance. The next two unfortunate souls to come at her met a gruesome end.

The battle stretched on for hours. If they had not arrived when they did, Eregion would have fallen already. Gil-galad had been right to send them early, even as they did not have the support of the dwarves yet.

But the High King had assured they would come. It would simply take a while.

“Commander, we cannot hold the line here!” shouted one of her warriors, Rhovan.

Galadriel grit her teeth together. Rhovan was right.

“Fall back! Defend the gate!” she ordered, making sure her voice boomed over the field and reached as many of her troops as possible.

Many did hear her, especially with Rhovan relaying the messege even further. The elves kept fighting even as they retreated closer to the wall around the city. If they could keep the orcs from breaching Eregion further, that was enough.

The orcs had catapults shooting balls of fire at the towers reaching highest. Eregion was already in chaos. And Sauron was still somewhere in there, most likely overseeing Celebrimbor’s work.

If Celebrimbor was even alive, that is.

Galadriel swung her blade at an incoming arrow, deflecting it easily. At least the orcs were sloppy fighters.

A horn blew in the distance. It was no elven horn.

Galadriel looked to the hills, where she could now see troops gathered. Small ones, but they numbered good.

The dwarves had come after all.

A small smirk flashed on Galadriel’s face. She had never been so glad to see dwarves. Thank the Valar for Elrond and his odd friendships.

The dwarven army charged downhill to join the fight, effectively knocking down one of the catapult towers in the process. They may be small, but they were fierce.

With the orcs somewhat surrounded, they had a chance. The dwarves and elves could advance from all sides and squish them.

“Rhovan!” Galadriel called.

The warrior popped out of the crowd. “Commander?”

“We need to circle them!” she shouted. “Take your warriors east! Fengwen will go west, and I will hold the line here! The dwarves take that last side!”

“Understood!” confirmed Rhovan. “See you on the other side, Commander!”

Galadriel simply nodded and turned away to look for Fengwen next. Her archers could be seen further away, closer to the gate.

Pushing her way through the mess of battle, Galadriel made it there and grabbed the first elf she could find that she knew to be one of Fengwen’s.

“Where is Fengwen?” she demanded.

The archer lowered his bow. “At the gate with the others”, he explained.

Not wasting time on expressions of gratitude, Galadriel simply jogged away, leaving the archer to his own task.

But when she reached a small clearing, she stopped.

Fengwen lay in another’s arms, completely limp and lifeless. Blood pooled under her, soaking the clothes of the elf holding her.

Galadriel dared go closer. “What happened?” she asked.

The elf cradling her comrade looked up, tears in her eyes. “A spear through her heart”, she choked out.

Fengwen’s eyes were still wide open. Galadriel leaned down to gently close them as she whispered a quick prayer, wishing her old friend farewell.

“Commander, is there any hope?” asked the other elf.

Galadriel picked herself up. “We have not lost yet”, she reminded. “Fengwen would want us to keep fighting. Do not give up now. Honor her memory, and defend those still alive.”

The elf nodded, wiping away her tears. “Of course, Commander”, she said.

“Good”, said Galadriel. “Now can you lead a charge westward?”

“Me? I am no leader.”

“Fengwen clearly trusted you. I need someone to lead the rest of you and circle the orcs from the west. Rhovan goes east, I hold here.”

The elf, having laid Fengwen’s body on the ground, stood up. “Then I will do it”, she assured, though she was clearly unsure of herself.

But Galadriel trusted her, still. “West”, she reminded. But before she turned away, she had to ask, “What is your name?”

“Ruinîth”, replied the elf, a smile in her eyes.

Galadriel nodded. “Be brave, Ruinîth”, she said, her lips quirking up ever so little.

But just as Ruinîth turned to leave, a whistling noise penetrated the air, right beside Galadriel’s head.

The arrow struck deep into Ruinîth’s back.

A shaky breath escaped Galadriel’s lips as she watched her fall. Only by sheer will did she get her legs to move and catch the younger.

She turned her over as gently as she could, trying to see whether the arrow had went through. It had, and its tip was now sticking out of Ruinîth’s chest.

But she was still alive, her breathing hitched, color quickly draining from her face.

“Stay still”, Galadriel ordered. “I need to pull it out as it may be poisoned.”

Ruinîth shook her head. “No, I am… dying either way”, she whispered, her voice too weak to be raised any higher.

“Do not give up so easily”, muttered Galadriel.

But in her head, she knew the truth. Ruinîth would likely not survive. The arrow was in a tough spot, injuring her internally. Not to mention poison, which orc arrows were often laced with.

Ruinîth tried to say something else, but only blood came out. She choked on it, leaving Galadriel to desperately turn her to the side to let it out.

But even as the coughing stopped, Ruinîth was at the end of her life. Her eyes slipped closed, and her already troubled breathing died down. She was cold to touch, having lost so much blood in such a short time.

With a final check, Galadriel confirmed she had died.

A tear streamed down her cheek as she whispered yet another farewell. So many immortal souls lost to darkness.

Perhaps there was indeed no hope.

Laying down Ruinîth’s body, Galadriel forced herself to take up her blade once more and slay another orc on the spot.

The hatred she held towards Sauron was unlimited. Nothing could stop her from capturing, torturing and only then, killing him. He was a mortal danger to all she held close.

So she, fueled by pure rage, fought her way through orc after orc. Her destination was clear. Sauron was still inside.

Gil-galad should have gone with them.

Guilt piled up on his shoulders – guilt for what he did to Elrond, as well as for abandoning his people. He was their leader. He should be with them in battle.

Yet he was here, in Lindon, by Elrond’s side.

He wondered when the dwarves would reach Eregion. Probably not soon enough. Probably, his people were being slaughtered as he sat there.

What little hope he had gained when Durin agreed to their allaience had been lost as quickly as it sparked. Hope had been a small flame lit, only to be snuffed out right away.

The day was dark, as all days had been since the rings’ illusion broke. But somehow today was the darkest yet. Another terrible sign. Their fate seemed to be sealed.

They would all die. Elrond would fade.

Gil-galad squeezed the younger’s hand. “I am so sorry, penneth”, he spoke.

He sat there for another hour with no tears left to cry. He could feel it in his soul – they were losing the battle for Eregion.

Finding touch to be his last source of comfort, he grabbed Elrond’s hand with his other hand as well. Then he blinked.

His hand felt warm.

Gil-galad lifted his head to take a better look at Elrond. The other was no longer pale as death. His skin was practically glowing, in fact.

The air seemed a little warmer now too.

The world around them seemed to stop for a moment. There was light that did not come from outside. A faint glow rested on Elrond’s chest. Gil-galad could not believe his eyes.

Elrond was enveloped by that light. His hair moved gently by an impossible wind.

And suddenly, his eyes opened.

Chapter Text

Elrond was floating.

It was dark. Until suddenly it was not.

Light streamed in from all sides, and gentle warmth hugged his numb body. He smiled. He had never felt so good.

He could remember everything, but the memories seemed distant. It did not hurt as much as it should. He had slept a while, he could distinguish, yet he knew not the number of hours or days it had been.

But he was still not awake – only aware. This was not reality, but some dream.

He felt his feet hit the ground. He now stood in a beautiful field, full of flowers he had never seen before. There was a sun in the sky, but its light and warmth did not seem as intense as they should. A gust of wind blew by – a gentle one like all the rest.

Where was he?

Elrond took a careful step forward. He was not wearing his boots, he realized as he walked. Neither was he wearing any of his usual clothes, but rather a white gown.

Someone was singing in the distance. The wind carried her calming voice to Elrond’s ears. He did not recognize the song, but it was beautiful, ethereal almost.

“Eärendilion.”

A voice. Different from the woman singing.

Elrond looked around. There was no one there. Yet the voice remained, speaking once again.

“You have suffered greatly.”

Elrond flinched a little. Was this how he died?

“Do not fear, child”, spoke the voice. “You have been brought here because your courageous efforts have sparked Middle-Earth’s last hope.”

Elrond attempted to calm his racing heart. “What do you mean?” he dared ask.

“Because of you, the races of elves and dwarves have united. Because of you, Middle-Earth stands a stand against the dark.”

United? Elves and dwarves? How did that happen? How did he do that? He has slept for Valar knows how long.

“Yet Sauron has gained more power that anyone ever should. His chances of winning are far too high. We must intervene before it is too late.”

“Who is we?” Elrond inquired.

“Oh, child, have you not realized it yet? Though your body remains in Middle-Earth, your soul is beyond the sea, with us, in Valinor.”

But that would mean…

“You stand before the Valar, the protectors of Arda.”

Elrond felt his breath catch in his throat. He scrambled to one knee and lowered his head while trying to remember how breathing worked.

“I apologize”, he blurted out, breathless.

“Do no such thing, Eärendilion”, the voice said calmly. “We have brought you here to ask a great favor of you. It is us who should kneel.”

Elrond did not get up. “No, I am unworthy of such”, he assured. “I am only one meager soul.”

“Rise, child”, the voice insisted, though softly.

He obeyed. “What was the favor you spoke of?” he asked, voice still shaky. “Whatever it may be, I am glad to be of service.”

“It is a task unheard of”, warned the voice. “It will be incredibly difficult. But it may just save Middle-Earth from its doomed fate.”

Elrond did not hesitate. “Then I will do it”, he assured, his voice steadier now.

“Very well then.”

Gil-galad had to blink twice to make sure his eyes were not deceiving him.

He squeezed Elrond’s hand, and the younger’s head turned towards him. Recognition flashed in his eyes, and he squeezed back.

“Elrond”, Gil-galad breathed out, still unsure whether he was dreaming or not.

The other nodded slowly, clearly disoriented from barely having woken up. “You… are here”, he whispered. It was a question as well as a statement.

“Of course I am, Elrond”, said Gil-galad. “I have been so worried for you. All of us have.”

Elrond tried to lift himself up. “What? How long have I slept?”

“Six days”, replied Gil-galad. “I had nearly lost hope.” He never let go of Elrond’s hand.

Elrond looked at that hand, studied it carefully.

“You do not wear the ring”, he said.

“No one does”, assured Gil-galad. “Your efforts were not in vain.”

Elrond let his head fall back onto the pillow, visibly relieved. His breaths were shaky.

“They did not lie, then”, he sighed. “There is hope yet.”

Gil-galad raised an eyebrow. “Who told you that?”

There was a pause. “I was… floating”, Elrond tried to put his experience into words. “It was dark, but then a light came. I heard voices.”

“We spoke to you”, Gil-galad confirmed. “I hoped you would hear our words and return to us.”

“No, I heard… something else.”

“What did you hear?”

Elrond pushed himself up to sit. He seemed strong, as if he had not been fading mere moments ago. He looked right into Gil-galad’s eyes, confusion in his gaze. He seemed unsure of whether his words would be taken as the truth.

But he said it anyways.

“The Valar spoke to me.”

Gil-galad felt his breath get caught in his throat. That was not possible, surely.

But the light he had seen and Elrond’s miraculous recovery were not possible either. Yet he had seen all of it with his very own eyes.

Elrond continued, trying to relieve the shock. “They sent me back. I am to be their emissary, they said – to bring their light to fight the darkness.”

It still seemed unbelievable even to Elrond himself. But he was certain of what he had seen.

And he still felt their light, their power, coursing through his veins. It had been an indescribable experience. Not painful, not blissful. Nothing, yet everything.

Gil-galad finally spoke. “What did they tell you?” he asked.

“That they refuse to see Middle-Earth fall into darkness”, said Elrond. “And that…” he hesitated. “There may be no hope without their intervention.”

Gil-galad let it sink in for a moment. He had felt it too – their inevitable loss against the dark. But now…

“But now you are here”, he stated. “You will carry the light and drive the shadows away.”

Elrond looked at him. He had expected to not be taken seriously. It was unheard of – anyone being blessed this way. Why should anyone believe him?

Yet Gil-galad did.

Elrond’s eyes showed many emotions. Gil-galad could tell he was glad among them. He squeezed his hand tighter. The younger squeezed back.

“We can still save Eregion”, Elrond assured.

Gil-galad lifted his other hand to cup Elrond’s cheek. “Yes, we can”, he confirmed. “Because of you, we can.”

Elrond did not reply. Gil-galad did not expect him to.

What Elrond had done to free them of the rings, needed to be addressed properly.

“You have suffered greatly”, Gil-galad said. “I can only hope that you will forgive me one day.”

Elrond stayed quiet, not sure what to say. The pain he should be feeling was still only a dull thumping in the background. The Valar said it was normal. That he would have to face the pain in full after his task was done. And it would be terrible.

Yet he did not pull away, did not resist the other’s touch.  

That was enough for now. Gil-galad could not expect him to forgive and forget so easily. He had hit him, hunted him, caused him to be injured, yelled at him, and humiliated him.

Elrond had every right to hate him.

But after a moment of silence, Elrond finally spoke. “It was not your fault”, he said quietly.

Gil-galad lowered his hand from Elrond’s cheek to his hand. He now held the younger elf’s one hand with both of his.

“I should have listened to you”, he said. “That part was my fault.”

Elrond brought his other hand to the existing pile of holding hands. His eyes were teary, but not desperate as they had been back then.

“Sauron is cunning. The rings were designed to tempt us. There were other forces at play than simply your free will.”

Before Gil-galad could reply, Elrond pulled away and stood up.

“We must hurry now”, he said. “This can be discussed at a different time.”

Gil-galad, too, stood up from the chair he had been sitting in for those long three days. “Indeed”, he agreed, trying to shift back into a more professional state.

Elrond nodded. “I shall begin preparations. My instructions are quite clear. After that, we make haste to Eregion.”

“Of course”, said Gil-galad. “I will be with you shortly.” With that, he walked out the door, wasting no time.

Elrond stood there for a moment longer. He was only beginning to understand what was happening. He was now emissary of the Valar. It was, as the voice had said, unheard of.

Why had he been chosen?

He did not believe himself to be a hero. He only did what was right. How did that make him worthy of being blessed with such divine power?

Blinking himself back to reality, he strode out the halls of healing, heading in a different direction than Gil-galad moments before.

He had been told he needed three things before he could go to Eregion.

A vial, water from the waterfall, and the light of a star.

A vial he could find with ease, the water too. But how exactly would he gather the light of a star? The Valar had said it would be arranged, but how?

He supposed he simply needed to have faith.

The basement held both dungeons and treasure. That is where Elrond now arrived. There was no guard at the door to the treasure room, of course. All able fighters had gone to Eregion.

Luckily, the door was unlocked.

Torches lit the underground room. Gold and silver alike shone in each corner, some in neat rows on shelves, some just scattered around.

But it was neither gold nor silver he sought. He remembered having seen a crystal bottle, one that was small with a narrow neck and curved carvings. It would serve his purpose perfectly.

And only after a moment of looking, that clear crystal caught his eye. Perhaps it was by some divine assistance that he located it so quickly.

Elrond picked it up. He could hold it in one hand. It was delicate and ethereally beautiful.

It was meant to be.

Satisfied, Elrond strode back out, not caring whether the door shut behind him or not. He walked through the halls and exited from the nearest door that led outside. The waterfall was nearby.

It was that same waterfall he had fallen off of not too long ago.

Gathering the water was easy, even as the location brought back some quite unpleasant memories. He filled the vial only halfway through, not entirely sure how much space starlight might take.

It was a cloudy day, as all days had been ever since the rings were worn. Still, Elrond raised the vial up towards the sky.

The stars were still there, even as they were hidden.

“Adar, give me strength”, he whispered. “The Valar have sent me back to you.”

For a moment, nothing happened. The sky remained grey, the air silent. Elrond kept his arm raised and his eyes fixed up. Determination shone in his gaze. He was not giving up.

The wind picked up, but it was gentle and warm. Elrond raised the vial as high as he could. “Let me bring light back to Middle-Earth”, he pleaded, louder this time.

And suddenly, the sky lit up.

Elrond stopped himself from closing his eyes against the light. It was not blinding even as it was bright.

The light faded soon enough, but a small spot still shone, even through the clouds. That was the star of his father, he knew.

That spark shot through the air, right towards him. It slipped right into the vial he was holding.

Elrond finally lowered his arm to take a closer look. The water was brighter now, but it no longer shone as the star had in the sky moments before.

It would shine once more when light was needed most.

He held the vial close to his chest and looked to the sky. “Hantanyel”, he whispered.

Thank you.

Chapter Text

The dwarves had arrived.

And not a moment too early. The elves had been losing, badly. Suppose that was the first time in many elves’ lives that they had ever been glad to see a dwarf.

Galadriel’s search for Sauron had proved fruitless, but she did find someone else important – Celebrimbor. The elven smith was tied up to his own work desk, bruised and bloody all over. And the worst of it – a hole in his chest. He had found out about Annatar’s real identity then, and refused to cooperate any longer.

What Galadriel was able to gather from the half-conscious elf, was that Sauron had finished the rest of the rings himself and fled. He carried nine rings, each meant for a king of men.

Realizing Sauron was a problem for a later time, Galadriel’s rage died down. Instead she focused on helping Celebrimbor free.

But she could not stay with him. She had abandoned the battlefield for too long already. Her people needed her sword. Celebrimbor understood that.

They could only hope that the smith stayed alive long enough to be treated. They did not have healers available here. It hurt Galadriel to leave him alone once more. But she had to, so she did.

The battle looked worse than when she left it. Blood, dirt, rubble. Bodies, dead and alive. Broken blades and stray arrows.

At least the dwarven reinforcements were helping a little. Galadriel doubted it was enough, however.

She doubted nothing short of a miracle could save them now.

Still, she charged back in, slaying orcs from all sides. At least she could die fighting.

And so she fought.

Fought half a dozen orcs simultaneously. Fought side by side by elf and dwarf alike. Fought like the world depended on it. Because it did.

She was barely aware of the passage of time. The clouds above had been too dark to tell the position of the sun. It had been so ever since they came here. Dark.

So when something shined in the corner of her eye, Galadriel had to turn to see what it was.

It took a moment, but her gaze finally landed on something up on the hills. A figure – no, two figures on horses.

The other held something in his hand that produced the light she had noticed. That person dismounted and walked closer to the edge.

Oh, she was surely dreaming because was that… Elrond?

It was. He only looked unfamiliar in those white robes.

He raised his arm, and the light he was holding grew bigger. Actually no, it grew not in size, but in brightness.

Others around her, orc, elf and dwarf alike, were starting to notice too.

The light soon filled the air, blinding but not burning. Except to the orcs – they seemed to despise it. Screeching soon started, like the light hurt them somehow. Some already retreated, begging to be relieved of the pain.

It must have been excruciating from them to flee like so.

But to Galadriel, the light was the most wonderful thing in all of Middle-Earth.

All fighting ceased as all their enemies made for the cover of the forest. But some did not make it so far, collapsing and crumbling to the ground, pale and dry.

This was no mere torch Elrond held there.

Its light was divine, not of this world. As if the Valar themselves had graced them with their presence.

Galadriel watched as Elrond got back on his horse. Him and the other, whom Galadriel now realized was Gil-galad, rode down the hill. Elrond held the light high still, not letting its glow dim.

More and more orcs crumbled under the light, dead. The ones that made it to the shadows were still running, clearly not coming back.

The horses soon reached ground level, and others made way for them.

Elrond held a small crystal vial that produced the light. He was dressed in all white with some sliver décor on his cloak. A delicate circlet rested upon his head. It was the one he wore at the ceremony weeks ago.

He looked nearly unrecognizable.

His eyes held determination like never before. His entire being was ethereal, as if he were sent from Valinor.

The crowd, now gathered tight around the scene, gaped in awe. Even as Elrond finally put down the light and put it away, his form remained divine. The bright light was gone, but a faint, almost invisible glow remained around him.

Every orc they had been fighting mere moments ago either lay dead at their feet or still fled.

Gil-galad encouraged his horse closer to Elrond’s. Being the High King of the Noldor, he always drew all the attention. But now, no one even gave him a glance.

All eyes were on Elrond.

Silence held for many moments. Galadriel was the first to step up and speak. And she spoke directly to Elrond.

“Elrond?” she called, carefully. Was this truly him? Her dear friend? Or was he a projection, a hallucination of some kind?

Elrond looked at her, his gaze softening. “Galadriel”, he spoke. That was the same kind, soft voice Galadriel knew. She smiled.

Gil-galad dismounted beside them. He made his way to Elrond, silently encouraging him to do the same. Elrond slid down to the ground, but none of his glow faded.

“It worked”, said Gil-galad, looking Elrond in the eye.

“It did”, Elrond breathed out, relieved. Tears danced in his eyes, but none fell. Those were glad tears anyway.

The crowd moved to make way for someone pushing trough. Who emerged was a shock to all three elves standing there.

It was Durin.

“Elrond?” he choked out. His eyes held many emotions – those of sadness from loss, but also bone-deep relief at seeing his friend alive and well. The last he had seen the elf, he had been pale, unconscious and half-dead.

Elrond turned towards him and a small smile erupted on his face.

“You came”, he said.

Durin did not reply. Instead he strode forward and grabbed the elf, pulling him down to a tight embrace.

Elrond, altough surprised, gladly kneeled down to return the embrace. “Good to see you, old friend”, he chuckled.

When Durin pulled away, his eyes held a new emotion – anger. “Ye can’t go dying on me like that!” he snapped.

“I did not die, Durin”, Elrond reminded softly.

“Ye looked dead!”

Elrond could not argue with that, he supposed. So he simply stood back up and said, “I am so grateful you came.”

Durin huffed. “We came to protect ourselves”, he denied. “That Sauron is bad news to us dwarves too, I’ve noticed.”

“Of course”, chuckled Elrond. “Still, thank you.”

After a pause, Durin muttered, “Yer welcome.” He crossed his arms and returned to his own. It was embarrassing enough to be seen embracing an elf.

Elrond, too, turned towards his own kind. His smile had dropped. “There is still Sauron to deal with”, he stated.

“He is no longer here”, said Galadriel. “Celebrimbor tells me he bears nine more rings, and he intends to gift them to the race of men.”

“I have seen it”, Elrond stated. “Yet I did not anticipate him to already have departed. He could be a day’s ride ahead by now. There is no use in chasing him. We deal with the situation here first.”

Nods met him.

Galadriel changed the subject. “Speaking of Celebrimbor, he requires aid. He is wounded.”

“Where is he?” asked Elrond, his immediate concern evident.

The smith was alive – Elrond could hear his ragged breathing. But as he approached, he saw the extent of the damage Sauron had done.

Celebrimbor was mortally wounded, a gaping hole in his chest. He was bruised and broken through and through.

Elrond quickened his stride to reach the other’s side. He kneeled down, his brow furrowed. Celebrimbor noticed him and managed a small smile. But he could not speak.

The damage done was too much to undo by any healer. Celebrimbor would die.

But surely the power of the Valar would be enough to heal even these wounds. Elrond was not going to leave without trying at least.

So he placed his hands on Celebrimbor’s chest as gently as possible. The other grunted in discomfort, but Elrond tried to ignore it. This may be the only way. He closed his eyes and in his mind, called to the spirit inside him.

Please lend me your strength.

And that was enough. He felt warmth and light erupt around him. It flowed through his hands, into Celebrimbor’s body. He could feel as it worked, the wounds closing, the damage repairing.

It did not even take long for it to reach each corner. Elrond felt the light dim as he finished. Celebrimbor was healed. He would live.

Finally, he opened his eyes to see for himself. And indeed, color had returned to Celebrimbor’s face. The blood was gone, now only staining the ground. Even most of the ashes on the smith’s skin had been cleaned away by a force beyond understanding.

Celebrimbor lifted a hand to feel the spot where his wound used to be. Confusion was written all over his face as he looked back and forth between his own healed body and Elrond’s still faintly glowing figure.

“Elrond?” he spoke, trying to comprehend whether he was dreaming.

Elrond smiled. “I am here”, he confirmed. “We all are.”

Celebrimbor gave the others only a glance before his eyes landed back on Elrond. He was still confused.

“You look so… different”, he said, trying to put what he was seeing into words. Elrond looked out of this world with his white robes, silver circlet and ethereal presence.

“Much has happened”, Elrond admitted. “It sounds impossible, of course, but the light of the Valar resides within me. They sent me back as their emissary.”

Celebrimbor found no appropriate reply to that. But after a moment of taking everything in, he smiled. He pushed himself up to sit, and to stand from there. Elrond offered a helping hand, but he refused it. He felt stronger than ever, in fact.

“We must return to Lindon”, Elrond urged. “The power of the Valar can heal our great tree and restore the life of our people.”

“Of course”, agreed Gil-galad. “We can take refugees from Eregion there as well.”

Celebrimbor’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that would be wonderful”, he breathed out. “They have suffered so greatly already, and I have not been of any help to them.”

Elrond looked him in the eye. “You cannot blame yourself”, he said. “This was all Sauron’s doing. He is a master of manipulation and deception.”

Celebrimbor stayed silent, perhaps at least somewhat agreeing. The guilt he must have felt was great. Though his visible wounds were gone, it would be another thing entirely to heal those inside.

“The people await”, Gil-galad reminded. “We should go.”

The others nodded, and following his head, they made their way back outside. The battlefield was quiet, the only noise being chatter. But that, too, died down when people started noticing their return.

And altough each one of them was quite a sight in their own ways, all eyes were on Elrond like before.

It was still Gil-galad who spoke up. “Sauron is still out there”, he said. “Our fight is not over, but we have already defeated him once. We can do it again, together.”

Some whispering was audible in the crowd, but nods and determined smiles could be seen on both elven and dwarven faces.

“Light shall overcome darkness once more”, Gil-galad stated powerfully. With a nod, he encouraged Elrond to step forward.

Elrond took a careful step, pulling the vial out as he did. He held it close at first, letting it soak in the light inside him, as well as the hope in the air.

Feeling it grow brighter, he raised it high as he had on the hill.

Even as the light was not as bright as it had been then, it could still be seen for a mile. The warmth it gave only made people’s smiles grow and their moods lift.

It was some dwarf who started it, but soon cheering erupted from the crowd. Elves, as graceful as they were, cheered just as loud as the rough dwarves. Elrond smiled at that. He had always wished to see their two peoples united.

And unity, as crucial as swords and axes were, would be the true key to victory.

Chapter Text

The dwarves even tagged along for the return journey. They helped transport the refugees from Eregion, as well as those wounded in battle. Now they had diverted back to Khazad-dûm, leaving the elves to return home.

Elrond rode up front with Gil-galad. Galadriel and Celebrimor were not far behind.

They had not talked much. Everyone had so much to process. Elrond, in particular, could not get himself to feel glad.

He was glad, of course. They had prevented the worst, and their plans for the future were good. So many lives had been saved. But he could not feel that relief and happiness as he should. His heart was dull, still.

Once he returned to his normal self, all of his feelings, hurts and happiness alike, would crash on him.

So could he ever even return to normal? There was no normal left. Everything had changed. For one, could Elrond ever look at Gil-galad the same?

He knew it was not his fault. The ring had affected his mind and caused him to do all that he did. But that had still been Gil-galad’s hand that hit him. His words that had him locked up and starved.

Arriving at the gates snapped him out of his thoughts.

Those left behind, mothers and children mostly, greeted them there. They helped unload supplies and get the wounded treated. It would take a while for them to settle down.

But all those capable followed the High King to the great tree. They needed to see it heal before they could truly feel at ease.

Elrond walked beside Gil-galad. They stopped under the branches, which were bare of leaves by now. Elves gathered around to witness the change.

With a nod from Gil-galad, Elrond stepped closer and laid a hand on the trunk.

One last time. I ask no more.

Warmth spread from his hand, making its way up and down, reaching each branch and root. New leaves, bright and golden, sprouted to life at an unnatural speed. They glowed, illuminating the very air around them.

Elrond felt ready to pull away, and he did. He looked up to see what he had already felt inside. It was an incredible sight, truly.

He then looked around and saw smiles, heard gentle laughter in the gathered crowd. Their eyes shined, full of hope. Even Gil-galad beside him smiled as he looked at the now healthy, thriving tree. But his eyes then lowered to look at Elrond. His smile did not fade.

He stepped closer to the other and lifted his hand to the side of Elrond’s face.

“We would not have made it without you”, he said softly. Pulling the younger closer, he pressed their foreheads together.

Elrond closed his eyes. He knew not what to say.

They stayed there for many moments, neither caring whether others noticed them. Gil-galad stroked Elrond’s cheek with his thumb.

“You are still hurt, I can feel it”, he whispered. “I can never forgive myself for what I did to you. But I promise, I will stay by your side until the end of the world if you will allow me.”

Elrond felt a tear build up in his eye. Not all emotion was stripped of him after all.

“I do not blame you”, he whispered.

“You should”, said Gil-galad. “Had I listened to you earlier, we could have prevented all of this.”

That tear slid down Elrond’s cheek now. He had so much he wanted to say, but no words seemed to be enough. At least, he felt safe to say something now.

Something vulnerable. He did not have to be so strong anymore.

“I felt so alone”, he choked out weakly.

“I can only imagine”, whispered Gil-galad, pain audible in his voice. “But you are not alone anymore.”

Indeed, he was no longer alone. Having Gil-galad there, body and soul, felt incredibly comforting.

He was home. He was safe. His friends were safe.

The spirit of the Valar left him later that same day.

It was not needed anymore. The Valar believed the free peoples of Middle-Earth could and should do the rest themselves.

Elrond heard them tell him it was time, and was able to mentally prepare himself.

And in a flash of light, it was gone.

Suddenly he could feel every old wound, every sleepless night and the days he was starved. Gil-galad shot forward to catch him when he collapsed.

Seeing how exhausted Elrond was, his divine form gone, the High King cradled him close and carried him inside, to his own chambers. He was quite sure Elrond fell asleep halfway through the trip.

A good night’s rest was enough to regain some of his strength, and Elrond was somewhat back on his feet in the morning. Gil-galad had him eat a proper meal, get him checked over by a healer, and remain in bed for the rest of the day.

For once, Elrond did not protest any of it. He was exhausted, mentally as well as physically.

Even as everyone else seemed to recover well, he could not even bring himself to smile. He could not find himself to be surprised. He had been told to expect this – that the real hurts would show as soon as the power of the Valar left him.

So now that he was back to his normal self, he was… well, not his normal self.

Gil-galad stayed with him. He knew there was no easy way to heal the hurts Elrond had sustained.

But he wanted to try. He did not think he could bear having to let Elrond sail.

But days passed with no improvement. Elrond did not speak much, did not smile nor laugh. His apettite was nonexistant, even as he should have been hungry after being nearly starved for so long.

Gil-galad felt his own mood shift too. He could not be happy while Elrond still suffered.

So the option of… letting Elrond go was considered. Perhaps he could never heal fully, and seeking recovery across the sea was the only way.

But before he despaired so far, Gil-galad decided to try one more thing.

He brought Elrond to the great tree, where they had stood not long ago. The tree had remained healthy, its leaves golden.

Gil-galad asked Elrond to look to the horizon.

“All of that is thanks to you”, he said. “But I have already told you that. What your efforts made possible does not erase your suffering.”

Elrond looked at him.

“I nearly lost you. Now I feel as though I might still lose you.”

Gil-galad immidiately regretted those words. He was only making Elrond feel worse, making himself the victim. He was being selfish.

But he didn’t want to be. Yes, he did have selfish desires of keeping Elrond on this side of the sea, but he could sacrifice his feelings if it meant Elrond stopped hurting.

So, after a moment of silence, he added, “But if letting you go will grant you happiness, I will gladly accept those terms. If you wish to sail, I will arrange it immediately.”

The look in Elrond’s eyes was unreadable. But a tear slid down his cheek, which was more emotion than Gil-galad had seen in days.

Lifting a hand to wipe away the tear from the younger’s face, he continued, “My heart aches to see you like this.”

Another selfish comment.

Gil-galad bit his tounge. What was he supposed to say? He had already given Elrond the option to sail, and the younger might just take it. He couldn’t turn back now.

He would lose Elrond, most likely. These may be the last words he said to him.

Make them count.

Gil-galad took in a breath. “I love you more than anything, penneth. That is why I have been keeping you here, even as you continue to fade.”

Elrond forced himself to keep eye contanct, even as his heart tried to make him advert is gaze.

“Only now do I see that it hurts me more to keep you. Beyond the sea, you could be happy again, and that would ease my mind as well”, Gil-galad continued. “Whatever makes you happiest, will do the same for me.”

Elrond didn’t know how to reply, but Gil-galad didn’t need him to.

“Please sail, Elrond. That side of the sea will grant you freedom. You more than deserve it.”

Silence fell, as did a fresh tear from the corner of Elrond’s eye.

He tried to blink any other new tears away. And then, for the first time in days, he opened his mouth and spoke.

“I will not leave.”

Gil-galad blinked. Involuntarily, he rushed to cup the younger’s cheek. “No, Elrond, you must. I cannot let you keep suffering”, he insisted, holding back a couple tears of his own.

Elrond shook his head. “No, my time is not done. We may have won the battle, but we are far from winning the war,” he spoke. “I must stay and make sure light persists on this side of the sea.”

His voice was firm, even as it was weak from weariness and emotion.

“Elrond… you have done more than enough for the light”, tried Gil-galad. His throat burned from the burning of the cries he withheld. “No one will blame you for choosing this.”

“I have already decided. I decided days ago, when the Valar asked me to”, said Elrond. “They offered me the same choice, framed it the same way you did. Still, I refused, because I wish to see the seeds I plant grow. I wish to see Middle-Earth, free and thriving as it once was – elves, dwarves and men at peace with each other. That will be my freedom.”

It took Gil-galad a moment to process it all. “You- you refused the Valar?” he breathed out softly.

“I did, and I am refusing you as well. I will not sail.”

A part of Gil-galad was relieved. Of course he wanted to have Elrond by his side. Another part of him still worried.

But both were washed away by pride.

The High King smiled and allowed tears to finally well up in his eyes.

“The Valar truly made the best choice they could have”, he said softly. “Even without their divine presence, you carry the spirit of the light better than anyone could.”

Elrond lowered his head, ashamed of such praise he deemed himself unworthy of. But Gil-galad cupped his cheek once again and lifted his chin up. Their eyes met again.

“I am so proud of you, penneth”, he reminded. “And I love you.”

Elrond opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted before he could even begin.

“Love you like you were my very own blood”, Gil-galad continued. One of those tears he’d been holding back finally fell. But he was still smiling – a true, pure smile no one could ever pretend.

Slowly, he pulled Elrond closer to him, pressing their foreheads together. His hand slid to Elrond’s neck, urging the other to not pull away.

And Elrond did not.

“I love you too, adar.”

It came out a choked whisper, barely audible. But Gil-galad heard it as loud as a shout. It went straight to his heart, made it beat faster.

 “Ion-nin”, he whispered.

Tears flowed freely on both sides. They could have stayed there forever, under the great tree, overlooking the river. The wind blew gently, drying the tears as they stuck to skin.

When they finally pulled away from each other, Elrond was smiling. Those dried tears stained his face still, but he was smiling, and it was a genuine smile.

That was enough to make Gil-galad smile too.

There was still much work to do. But it would all be a little easier together.