September 24th, 2986 T. A.

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I pass above the same place again. There are tracks on the path, barely noticeable on the stony ground – only the heavy soles of orcs leave the small stones crushed in their trail. There are no other signs of what happened yesterday... I follow the path with my vision. It winds through the mountains like a snake into the valley below. From there, if one knows the hidden paths, one can get to the secret valley of Imladris. I pass over many miles of the path, but there is no sign of orcs - or their prey. A small hope begins to grow within me. If he managed to run until dawn… The orcs do not walk in the sunlight… If he found the strength within himself to run until dawn…

Suddenly I have a vision before my eyes: I see him. He looks behind, to the east, to see if his pursuers are nearing, and the first rays of sun meet his face. The rise of Arien in the mountains is glorious, the sunrays reflecting on the proud peaks, glistening on the dazzling white snow high above, colored with the subtle blush of the eastern horizon. Hope, relief… exhaustion. One more day of life… Salvation… or just a delay? Ah, if he would be able to run without stop through the whole day… if… I sigh. I saw him yesterday. His clothes were worn-out and torn, as though after a long and hard journey through the wilderness, and he looked as if he hadn’t eaten for days. How long did the chase last already? Long, I fear. Too long.

The image before my eyes is vivid, as if I could see him. Karmë; the elves call these pictures that they construct in their mind. But I have no control over the picture. I wish the man in it would have the strength to run on, yet he does not. In the moment when the first sunrays touch his face, his eyes smile at the dawn, but his legs finally give way under him, and he collapses on the stony path, following the rising sun with fading vision. I scream at the vision to stand up and run, but he does not have the strength for it… Finally, when the sun passed its zenith, he opens his eyes, and struggles to his feet, swaying in the first steps, and leaning at the stone wall for support. Slowly he begins to run again, with his goal before his eyes. And then I can finally see him with my eyes, too, a figure on the path high in the mountains; so small compared to their distant monumentality. He runs to Rivendell. To safety…

No, Rivendell is too far! The orcs are nearing… I can see them from above. Only one curve of the path separates them from him now. In a mere few moments they will see him, and the line of Elros will end. I hang my head in defeat. It is over…

But I cannot avert my eyes for long. Like one entranced, I must watch, but cannot act. When I look next, it takes me a moment to orientate the scene below. Orcs have swarmed the narrow path where he has been a short while ago. However, they do not cheer like hunters celebrating their kill. They look confused…It is hard to see clearly what lies at their feet: I fear to see a lifeless body on the cold ground, but I cannot find it with my sight. What happened? Did he escape them? Did he hide? Where? How? There is no cover between the steep slope on one side of the path and the cliff on another! Yet I can’t see him on the path… nor can the orcs; they shout something at each other in their dark speech. They are as confused as I…

But I have the advantage of a view from above. I take a deep breath. I must calm. I need to think clearly and find out what happened. I must look carefully, and search for some sign that would help me to solve the mystery. I look caref… Ah! There, below the edge of the path! Hanging above the abyss on a precarious hold… I hold my breath. They do not see him! The hope that I saw in his eyes… now I have it again: for him… for us both…

Ai, but his feet tremble, and hands are slipping from their vague hold. He is exhausted after running many miles… he cannot hold on much longer! I realize that my own hands are clenched – as if I could help him to hold on the slippery stones. And the orcs still tarry on the path… Go away! Don’t look over the edge! Do you hear me, filthy creatures? Go away! There is nothing for you here!

Time runs short. His teeth are clenched and sweat is dropping from his forehead, running down his temples. Just a little while longer… just a little while…. Every moment is torturous to me, but how it must feel to him… the growing weakness of his body, the slipping hold of his fingers, the voices and steps of the orcs above – so near that they could touch him… Death waits on both sides: on the rocks below, and on the spears of orcs above. And between them, there is a small place of balance that can tip the scales to one side at any moment.

I don’t remember when I last prayed to Valar. Somehow, one does not feel the need to pray when he could see them by his own eyes. Now I do. I, for whom centuries are like mere moments, feel now the precious seconds stretch like eternity. Maybe the Valar heard my prayers. Maybe it was a mere luck. I do not care. Everything that matters is, that the orcs are leaving…They turned away from the edge of the path, and moved forwards, assuming that their prey must be on the path ahead.

He waits until they disappear from sight behind the curve of the path. Just a little while longer… His teeth are clenched, and his eyes shut – I can almost feel his ragged breath and drops of sweat as they run down his temples, the fingers ever so slowly slipping from their hold, the trembling muscles on the verge of their limits. His strength wanes…

A little longer… No, now! Now, or never. Now… or death. The last effort, the very border of strength. He opens his mouth in a noiseless scream, urges the cramping muscles to work… He hoists himself to the edge of the path. His hand searches desperately for some hold… I wish I could take the hand firmly, and help him back to safety, but he will make it without me. He will – I must believe, for I cannot reach to that what I have left. I can only watch – watch and hope. And believe.

He has reached a hold – one of the stones forming the path. I sigh with relief. He will make it. He will… NO! Oh no! Elros! My son…

***

“No….” With a quiet sob I sink at the board of my ship. My mind is dull, as though it refuses to comprehend the images that replay over and over before my eyes.

The stone loosened. Bleeding fingers searching vainly for hold. No strength - no strength to hold on any longer. The short moment of balance before the fall. The look in his eyes – almost surprised. The fall – silent, no time to cry out, to comprehend what is happening. The desperate attempts to grasp some of the rocks during the fall – he slides alongside the sloping face of the cliff. The dull rumbling of the stones that his fall loosened. The last echoes and the jingle of the last small pebbles. The deafening silence, and the broken, motionless body lying on the bottom of the valley. The blood on the cold stones…

No! Oh Valar, no! Please, make the picture be just a nightmare. The line of my son cannot end now! Not now, not here… not this way! The evil is rising again. There is so much to do! You cannot die, heir of Isildur, heir of Elros! Do you hear me?! You cannot die… Aragorn! Aragorn… I remember his name. I remember the moment when I watched his father die by an orc arrow. It seems like yesterday. I saw the arrow coming. I wanted to warn him, to shout his name… and I was as helpless as today. But Arathorn had left a son, and I still had hope. Now… Oh Valar, now I saw his son die without heir, and all the hope for Middle-earth that was in that line vanished before my eyes like the mist in the morning.

What have you done to me? You condemned me for the fate of Húrin! You condemned me to watch the cruel fate of my children! You made me a Star and messenger of Hope, but have no hope anymore. I guide my ship to the West, away from the fateful place, but my heart is empty, and the glow of my lantern seems to diminish.