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See chapter 1.

Chapter 11:  strange places

When Elrond awoke he felt strange. His body felt light as if no longer burdened by gravity, yet his limbs reacted sluggishly to his mind’s commands.

He was lying on his back on a surface that was neither hard nor was it comfortable. With a conscious effort he managed to turn his head. Next he tried to raise his arm. It did not hurt but his limbs felt weighed down with lead.

What had happened to him? This place felt strange. Overhead he could see a dark canopy when he turned his head. A path led on into the distance and every shape he looked at wavered. He could not make out where one object ended and the next began.

Groaning he massaged his temples. Searching his memory he was sure that he had never heard of or visited such a place. Suddenly an icy fist clenched his heart. Was he dead?

This could not be the Halls of Waiting. The halls of the Vala of Doom were a place of peace flooded with light, full of joy….

His heartbeat increased when suddenly some doubt crept into his confidence. Suddenly things he had thought he knew, about, he was not so sure of anymore. But then where was he?

With a sound of dismay he rose from the ground. Taking a deep breath he made a conscious effort to return to rational thinking. ‘There must be an explanation for why I am here.’ he reflected.

The way behind him seemed dark and uninviting. The path before him appeared more beckoning, illuminated by a faint light in the distance. He had to make a decision. Standing here would serve him nothing.

However after hours of walking the light did not come any nearer. Frustrated, he stopped. This was like being in a bad dream in which you walk and walk and cannot get from the spot. He frowned. Was he dreaming?

Elves could control their dreams. This was different from all the dreams he had ever had. This place felt unreal and he could not interact with his surrounding.

Here existed no sounds, no shapes, no time shift, nothing. It was almost as if he was trapped in some dimension beyond the world of the living.

Coming so far with his thoughts his heartbeat began to quicken again. This could only mean one thing. He was not dead, but almost.

No sooner as that thought had crossed his mind, all memories came rushing back, and with the force of it he fell to his knees.

The false merchants in Rivendell and his struggle with the four of them and then? The pain…the pain in his back….

He breathed heavily in and out as if experiencing the pain again. They must have wounded him quite badly. He had no memory of the time after the attack.

His sharp healer’s mind did come to the right conclusion. He was dying and on his way to Mandos’ Halls but somehow his progress had been disturbed and he had been stranded here.

How was this possible? He had never heard of such a thing happening before and he had much experience in attendance at the side of the dying.

The pain in his heart did increase when he imagined what his death would do to all he held dear. He had foreseen that his time had not yet come, that he still had much to achieve before he could leave Middle-Earth forever. Grief would wash over the peaceful valley of Rivendell and he could do nothing to stop it.

Since he was not dead yet maybe there was a chance to come back? He considered that to be most unlikely. If his body still had the ability to heal itself then it would already have started. But why was he still lingering here?

Was he here until his body accepted the inevitable and let his spirit go? Or was there another reason that kept him from heeding Mandos’ call? The answer that struck him like a blow was as simple as terrifying.

His sons! They were trying to reach him!

His fears for them suddenly overrode his fears for himself. If he was too far gone then they would endanger their own lives. He would drag them with him into certain death.

If there was no hope for him to return on his own then he would push them back.

They had to take his position, to rule in his stead. Long had they been trained for such an occasion.

But was he able to actually manipulate a process that had already started? Would he be able to deny them entry in his mind when they pleaded with him?

With new resolve he marched again toward the light. Maybe he could reach the Halls of Waiting after all without dragging his sons with him.

He hoped that they lacked the strength to sway him and were wise enough not to follow him where they could and should not go.

Deep in his heart however, he knew that this was a faint hope. His sons would follow him one way or the other and this filled him with sadness. Their lives were not supposed to end yet.

Although the light had previously not come any closer, now it seemed to be increasing in intensity. Briefly he wondered why. Was it so because he had accepted his fate? That he had made up his mind? But had he really? Was he ready to let go, to leave all behind?

He shook his head angrily. Never before had he been so indecisive. It was his daily business to make difficult decisions, to handle a variety of situations.

‘Have I really made the effort to return?’ he asked himself, and nearly staggered back when he could not answer his own question with a clear yes.

Was he weary of life? Or did he simply long to cease struggling and fighting and finally be at peace?

All his long years since his parents had left him and his brother Elros had made his choice, he had more than once considered going to the Blessed Realm. However this had never influenced his sense of duty.

Had he not fought enough? Had he not endured all these long years without complaint? After all the losses he was forced to experience was it not now understandable to wish to simply let go?

Feeling that his mind was drifting away from his body, he resolutely set one foot in front of the other to finally reach whatever was beckoning to him.

He found the slight tug on his mind that seemed to hold him back, irritating. With every step he took, however, the effect was less restraining and his longing to find peace was intensified.

With his thoughts occupied he realized he was suddenly standing on a riverbank which had mysteriously appeared. One step further and he would be in the water. He looked out over the small river onto the other shore. He could not make out the light anymore. ‘Had he seen the river glistering in the distance?’ he wondered. ‘What would happen if he crossed the river? Would he cross some line he was not supposed to cross?’

The longing to cross the river and the tugging on his conscience now fought an equal battle in his mind to gain the upper hand.

With dread he saw that the darkness was following him. The line bordering the blackness crept ever closer. The only inviting direction seemed beyond the river.

And then he heard it; a faint sound coming from the other shore. A whispering, a promise, a calling he had not heard for a long time. He closed his eyes and saw clearly his wife’s face before his mind’s eye, calling out to him.

When he opened his eyes again, he stepped back a step with a cry when he saw that the darkness had nearly reached him, the tip of his boot already lost in the inky black.

Feeling that he now had no other option he waded into the knee deep water and quickly crossed the short distance to the other shore. With relief he saw that the shadow was not following him; stopping on the shore of the other side.

The other side? The other side of what? While he had reached the other shore he never heard the anguished cry in his mind or felt the desperate grip loose its hold. Both sensations were lost in the darkness beyond the river he had now turned his back on.

To be continued………………………………….