The next days were as windy and cold as the last, and when night fell upon the lands once more, Elros huddled close to his horse, hoping to gather some warmth. More than once he wished to be back in Numenor, in Armenelos, where the weather was fine and no danger lurked around every corner. He should prepare himself for his coronation, for being the ruler of his people. He should prepare himself to become who he had chosen to be. A man, a human, a mortal King.

And truly, although his decision had hurt him greatly, deep inside he had known that he had made the right choice. He had been ready to embrace his new life, his new responsibilities, and then…then everything had changed. He had not thought that he would have to marry so soon. Have children so soon. But it was not that which had driven him away from his city and out into the wilds. That had not been what had made him race towards Lindon, towards his brother…to Elrond.

No. The decision to find his brother, with whom he had not spoken since that fateful day that they had made their life altering choice, had not been his to make. It had not been his choice. Not this time. While Elros raced over the plains towards his destination, his thoughts returned to that night, when Manwe and Varda had offered him country and crown in exchange for...No, Elros was not yet ready to think about the price he would have to pay to finally find the peace he so desired. The future he had not dared to hope for since the day his mother had thrown herself from that cliff, abandoning him and his brother to an uncertain fate.

His brother. Erond. Only too clearly did Elros remember the look in his brother’s eyes when he had heard of his decision to become a man. Elrond had chosen to be an elf within the blink of an eye. And then the small smile on his face with which he had looked at Elros, as if he wanted to say ‘Look, brother, now we can be together forever, immortal’. What had Elrond felt when he had heard that he wanted to become mortal? He knew his brother’s heart had broken, Elros had seen it in his brother’s face, when Elrond had shaken his arm in disbelief, as if it could change his mind. But it had not.

And then, then Elrond had left to serve Gil-Galad and they had not seen each other since. Would Elrond have forgiven him? How would he react when he saw him? And maybe even more importantly, would his brother help him to fulfill this quest? Would Elrond help him, even if he would leave him forever should they succeed? Elros’s stomach churned every time he thought about it, and an indescribable dread filled him. Still, he raced on.

Many days later, when horse and rider were exhausted beyond measure, Elros rode through a wooded area. Huge trees rose all around him, and for the first time in days, the rain was held back from thrumming on his shoulders. The ground was muddy, and needles and leaves made his horse’s footing slippery. Tired and weary, Elros leaned low over the long neck of his horse, slowing his tireless pace. It would not do to slip, fall and break his neck in the process.

Wiping a hand across his brow and shaking rainwater out of his hair, Elros groaned softly. His very bones protested the long hours in the saddle, and maybe for the first time in all his life he understood what it meant to be human. Was this really what he wanted? To be so susceptible to the weather? To cold and hunger? Disease and pain? How could he fulfill this quest and rule over Numenor when even a journey to his brother could tire him so?

Shaking his head and sighing wearily, Elros rode on through the forest. Neither did he see the dark shapes following him in the treetops, nor did he hear the strings of bows that were strung. And when his horse suddenly whinnied and reared, throwing him from its back so that he tumbled to the ground, hitting his head hard, it was already too late. With dread filling his stomach, Elros more heard than saw numerous dark shapes jump from the trees around him, with bows in hand and arrows nocked.

With more speed than any man would ever possess, Elros rolled around, jumped to his feet and unsheathed his sword. The blade glimmered deadly in the little light that there was. Straightening and moving into a defensive position, Elros narrowed his eyes and studied his adversaries. They all had hoods drawn over their faces, hiding their features, but Elros had no problem whatsoever in recognizing what they were. But that did not mean that he would lower his sword. Not yet.

Silence settled over the group and no one moved. Elros horse had sprinted away, but it had not gone far and was now standing in the middle of the road, waiting patiently for its master to return. The rain fell softly on the green canopy of the trees, its soft sound only pronouncing the silence of the beings on the road.

Finally, when Elros began to wonder whether he should take the initiative, a tall figure stepped forward. He said nothing for a moment, simply gazed at Elros. He had no bow in hand, but a long sword was strapped to his side and a finely crafted bow was slung across his shoulder. After another long moment, the tall figure took another step forward.

“It has been long…brother.” Elrond said, pulling down his hood.