Elrond

Where am I? How did I come here? I was at home mere moments ago; I clearly remember candlelight gilding the walls, I remember my own voice, singing. One of the children must have had a bad dream. But why am I somewhere else now? What is this weird, dismal, oppressive place? Daylight here is dimmed, all colours muted, as if seen through a thin, grey veil. The land around constantly changes. Wherever I turn my eyes, the landscape shifts – where was a tree but an instant ago, a rock stands, where a meadow of withered grasses was swaying, a pool of dark water looms suddenly.

I walk along a narrow path leading downhill, towards something I do not see. Fog rises; grey tendrils float by, obscuring the road completely. In vain I try to stop, but I have no command over my body. I keep going, step after step. And then, I lose footing. The path has led me into a bog.

The mire pulls me in. Freezing cold wraps my feet and slowly creeps higher. I should fight against it, struggle for foothold, find something to hold on to... but strength has deserted me. Raising my arm, reaching out is such an effort already that I have nothing left for more; even my voice fades to silence when I cry out for help. This is hopeless. Who would find me in this mist-wrapped place? Who would hear my call? I will stay on the bottom of this pool, forever in the shadows. The cold has already reached my heart.

The air ripples. Mists float by on a breeze, then clear away, and the mire lies before me in its entirety – grey, dismal and silent land stretching under a grey sky as far as the eye can see. This is hopelessness embodied. I close my eyes. Sometimes, all we can do is surrender. A tear trickles down my face. My family... I wanted to spend more time with them.

But then, I start to feel a little warmer. A distant voice echoes in the air.

“…light…”

The word is a barely audible whisper.

“…father…”

The voice is now stronger, and I am no longer cold.

“…stay!”

Then someone clasps my hand and pulls me out. I open my eyes.

“Elladan...?”

“Stay, father. Stay.”

The dreary mire fades, and star-laced darkness wraps me – warm, familiar, comfortable darkness of sleep. It was a dream. Just an odd, terrifying dream.

***

Even with my eyes still closed I feel the sunlight upon my face and the unmistakable light scent of roses surrounding me. But... Celebrían should not be here. She should still be in Tirion. 

“What happened?” Why does my voice sound so weak?

“I hope you will tell me.” My wife’s tone is level, yet there are undercurrents. “We found you senseless on the floor by your foster father’s bed.”

Maglor! I force my eyes open and try to rise. With a light push of her hand Celebrían stops me.

“You will stay right where you are.”

“I must go to him, to see how...”

“He is well enough. Elrohir is watching him. Your son is an able healer.”

I sigh. “Of course, he is.”

Celebrían nods. “Both your sons, if you want to know. Elladan called you back. He is well, only tired,” she replies to my unspoken fear. “But you... It was close. We were barely on time. If not for him…”

My dreary dream then... it was not a dream at all. And Elladan... Oh, what a way to find his gift again! I squeeze shut my eyes. “I regret, Celebrían. I regret so much.”

“Regret,” she repeats in a hollow voice. When I dare to look again, a whirlwind of fear, rage and hurt shimmers in her bright sky-blue eyes. “You regret. You deliberately endangered your life, you concealed from me your distress and complete exhaustion, you made our sons lie to me. And now you… regret.” She brushes away angry tears and clenches her hands in fists. “Why? Why, Elrond? Do I not merit even your trust?”

“No!” Blood rushing to my face, I struggle to sit up. “Please, do not say… do not even think such things! You merit everything I have to give, but… It is just... It is my burden, Celebrían. I would not force it upon you.”

Her gaze softens a little. “Did we not promise to share one another’s burdens once?”

I avert my gaze. “I have not shared yours.”

Celebrían sits down on the bed beside me. “Look at me,” she says and takes my hands. I raise my eyes. All anger has fled her expression. “You shared as much as you could. More than you should have. Your love was the only thread that held me to life and hope I might one day be healed. Only because of your love we could meet on these shores.” She wipes away a tear that runs down my cheek. “I also have not shared in your cares, beloved. Not in Endor, for we were sundered, and not here, for you would not let me. But I would stand by you, I would lend you my strength as you have lent me yours. Please, do not shut me out. Promise you will not.”

Ashamed and too overwhelmed to speak I merely nod. Celebrían smiles, presses a kiss on my lips and gently pushes me back in the pillows. I close my eyes. A few hours of sleep are all I need. Just a few hours...

***

The Sun sets and rises again before I am rested enough to get up and walk to the dining room where Celebrían sets on the table a plate with plentiful breakfast. She gives me a pointed gaze that clearly says I will not leave the room ere every morsel of the food is gone. I laugh and set to it.

Celebrían takes a chair as well. “What happened ere we found you?” she asks, worry still clouding her eyes.

I tell her the whole story: about the encounter on the old pier, about tending Maglor, about sending our sons to Tirion.

“I could not keep them away from you for another fortnight. Maglor awoke soon after Elladan and Elrohir had left. He was downcast and angry, but I never thought he would do what he did. At night, I briefly fell asleep, and when I awoke, Maglor was gone. He had found the stable and taken Eirien. I followed the trail. I am a poor tracker in the dark, but Nínim, Eirien’s foal, carried me confidently after them, straight to the Ring of Doom.

“There I found Maglor lying in the grass just outside the gates, barely breathing. He must have gone to seek justice, or rather punishment from the Valar. In truth, I am convinced he did just that.”

“Do you think the Valar...” my wife hesitates for a moment. “Do you think they turned him away? Cast him out?”

I shake my head. “Oh no, the Valar forgave him. His hands, scarred and disfigured before, were healed. Yet of what had happened later, I am not sure. Maybe, it was too much – to receive forgiveness after ages of guilt and despair. He had given up. I took him home with all speed, but his life was trickling away swiftly.  Nothing helped, and then I—”

Abruptly I fall silent. Only now, with my head clear after the long rest, I fully realize what nearly came to pass.

“Elrond, what is it?” Celebrían’s tone is worried.

“No... nothing.” I put on a cheerful smile.

Celebrían folds her arms on her chest and looks at me closely. Face burning in embarrassment, I lower my eyes. It did not take long to step back from my promise. She lays her hand on my arm.

“Well-established habits are hard to break. I understand that, and therefore I ask one more time.”

I stare at my plate. “I just realized - had you not come when you did, I would have died. I made a grave mistake. I should have sought the aid of the Valar, not taken him back home. Even now... What if he gets worse again?” I shudder. “That place I pulled him from, that endless mire of despair... I do not think I can counter it one more time.”

Celebrían tightens her grip. “You need not counter his despair again, you must help Maglor counter it himself. We all will be there to aid you. And, in truth, he seemed well enough to me, considering the circumstances.” She looks pointedly at my still half-full plate. “At least, his plate yesterday returned to the kitchen empty.”

I have nearly finished the breakfast when doors are thrown open. My sons rush inside and grip me in an embrace.

“Father!”

I pull them close. “I am well now. And I am sorry. I should never have asked you to keep things from mother.” They cast slightly worried glances at Celebrían, but she smiles reassuringly. I sigh. “This family would benefit from more open conversations. From my part, admittedly, but maybe from others too. It would have been better if you had told me about your plight, Elladan.”

Elladan shuffles his feet and briefly looks away, then nods. “Could you have helped me?” he asks hesitantly.

“Likely not in a way that would have restored your gift, but I would have helped you to bear that burden, for I have borne it myself. But that is in the past now. What you did - it proves you will be able to pursue your dream.”

“Yes.” He sits beside me and smiles. I cannot remember when I have seen such hope in my eldest son’s eyes. “Now, I believe that. Even though...” His smile fades. “I would have preferred to find out in another way. To see you like that... I was terrified.”

Elrohir takes a chair opposite of me. “We all were terrified, father.”

“I regret.” I wince. Apology in different forms seems to be my constant companion lately.

Elrohir regards me closely. “What you did was… most unwise. I have to say that.”

He is right. I did what I have always warned all my apprentices against. Expending one’s own strength to the limit of collapsing threatens the healer and will only rarely save the one who is ailing.

“I made the wrong choice in the very beginning. When I had taken him back here, I had to rely solely on my own power. And I had overestimated that.”

He nods. “At least it was not in vain. Maglor is much better now. He asked for you, several times.”

I push away the empty plate. “I shall go and see him now.”

***

The room rests in shadows with curtains drawn, shutters closed. As I enter, Maglor slowly rises from a chair in the corner.

“I fear I may have exhausted your endless capacity to forgive,” he softly says after a few moments of awkward silence.

It is his voice again as I remember it, the clear timbre, not the terrible rasping sound that filled me with dismay when I first heard him. The Valar have clearly intervened here too, and I should be relieved. But his words kindle in me something that has been smouldering for a while, something harsh and unkind.

“I see. You fear I might not forgive you, so you will not even bother asking.”

He flinches. “You should not have endangered yourself for my sake.”

“I had little choice.” I fold my arms on my chest. “But you are right – I endangered myself. For your sake. Therefore, I want a promise that you will not in any way threaten what I fought for – your life.”

Maglor shifts in his stance. “I do not think that—”

“Do I have your promise?” I take a step closer, not letting go of his gaze. “Answer me, Maglor! Do I have it?”

“If you demand...” He hesitates, as if waiting for me to reconsider, then sighs. “If you demand such a promise, then I give it to you.”

“I do demand it.” I cast a glance at the untouched breakfast on the tray. “And that includes eating, not starving yourself to death!”

Maglor lowers his eyes. “I have no right to gainsay you. It will be as you say.”

The acquiescent tone, the hunched shoulders, the averted eyes – they should bring forth compassion. But instead, I would like to shake him.

“For the sake of the Light, Maglor, step out of the shadows!” My voice is tight with anger. “The Valar have forgiven you! You are home! You have a chance for new life, a chance to see your family again – those you still consider your family!”

He recoils as if I had stricken him.

“Home? Family? I have lost all rights to home, to family bonds. I am alone in darkness and silence. This terrible silence...” He sinks in the chair and stares at the wall.

“You are alone because you refuse to see those around you! You are in the darkness because you turn away from the light!”

Shaking with anger, I stride to the window, pull back the curtains, throw open the shutters. Golden glow of morning and sound of birdsong flood the room. He blinks and raises his hand to shade his eyes from the sudden light, but I turn away. The door slams shut behind me.

***

I flee to the garden. Drops of dew still cover the grass and the low bushes lining the path; a ray of Sun falls on a branch, and it glitters like covered with jewels. The dazzle stings my eyes. I have saved Maglor’s life. I have extracted a promise he will not endanger it again. But is it enough?

Light steps fall on the path, and in a moment Celebrían sits down beside me on the garden bench. “How did it go?”

“Not well. And it was my fault.” I lower my eyes. Now, when the anger has cooled, I feel only profound shame. Still avoiding her gaze, I relate our conversation. My face burns. “I... I did what no healer should ever do – I lost patience. I raised my voice, and what I said... my words...”

I keep my eyes on the white pebbles of the path. Celebrían gently squeezes my fingers.

“You are not merely a healer in this, Elrond. It is difficult to face the pain and weakness of those dear to us.”

“I have cared for those dear to me,” I whisper. “Never before have I spoken like this. I have never been deliberately cruel towards anyone I was tending. This is unforgivable.”

Celebrían briefly looks away. “You have never tended your parents,” she softly says after a moment of silence. “That is different. We expect them to be strong, to be there always, and when something happens to them, we are terrified. We cannot bear the grief a mere thought of losing them causes.”

“He is not—”

“Not your father?” she interrupts me with a faint smile.

Oh, my wife’s deep wisdom...  Ëarendil, the bright star, has ever been the embodiment of hope, yet always high and distant, even after our meeting in Valinor. Only seldom I have visited Elwing’s white tower, for joy was always marred by sorrow at the forever-lost closeness with those who had given me birth. The memory of Maglor’s soft voice has accompanied me for all the long ages of my life; to my own children I sang his songs. It is time to acknowledge the truth.

“Then my bearing is even more unforgivable.”

“I do not think it is so simple.” Celebrían twines her arms around me. “You know, he is not solely your responsibility. Nor is he the first one with a burdened heart who has returned and found his way in life again. Surely, there are ways to help.”

I return the embrace. She is right. In this, as in most other things. Maglor is indeed not the first to come back, either from Middle-earth or from Námo’s Halls. And there is someone who might know what to do. “I will speak with my uncle. Today.” I decide in a heartbeat, even though I feel I have had my fill of difficult conversations for a century or so.

When I rise, Celebrían looks at me with open worry. “Are you strong enough to ride?”

“The road is not that long, and I have had a good rest. I will be well.”

I will not give myself a chance to turn back from my resolve.