Elrond

It is not yet midday when I am riding westward. This road has always delighted me: the rolling hills gradually rising higher, the lush meadows strewn with wildflowers, the solitary great trees crowning hilltops. Yet today the beauty of the landscape passes by nearly unnoticed. Countless thoughts chase each other. What shall I say? How shall I break the news? None of the ways I play out in my mind feels at least remotely fitting. Several times I almost turn back, but Celebrían’s words keep me going. Maglor is not solely my responsibility. And my own counsel has clearly failed me.

Still, my travel is slow, and the day is nearing its end when I emerge from a thicket of evergreen trees upon a hillock. The valley unfolds before me. The long lake glitters in the Sun, which is now just a little above the mountain ridge at lake’s further end. The scattered coppices cast long shadows on the ground. Grasses sway in a breeze, their tassels weaving a graceful dance in the evening light.  Oh, to enjoy this beauty with a heart unfettered by the burden I carry... Not today, alas! I draw a deep breath and follow the winding path down to the house on the lakeshore.

“Elrond! This is a pleasant surprise.” As I set my horse free to graze in the lush meadow by the waterside, Maedhros steps down the wide stairs and pulls me in embrace.

I return the hug. “I hope my arrival does not interfere with your plans, uncle.”

“It does not. My pupils are at their assignments now, and I am free for another week. Come inside!”

He smiles that wide, glad smile I first beheld only in Valinor. The smile I will surely wipe off his face soon. I follow him feeling a traitor.

“Where is everybody else?” I ask, noting the silence in the otherwise lively house.

“In Tirion,” Maedhros replies. “Ilmarien’s presence was required in the library – they have found another rare First Age manuscript. The children went with her. Elenyar wanted to see the bookbinders at work, and Elenmírë decided to meet her friends. You will have to be content with whatever supper I conjure.”

“Has Elenyar then settled on the craft he wants to pursue?”

“We shall see in a few months.” Maedhros’ eyes glitter merrily.

“And Elenmírë?” I ask, to keep the conversation flowing, to avoid the silence that would inevitably lead to questions.

“I think Elenmírë has decided, even though we have not spoken yet. I fear, she is inclined to follow my path.”

“You fear?” I laugh at his choice of words. “What about father’s pride?”

“There is that. I merely wish to spare her the many disappointments of scholarly work.”

“They come together with the joy of discovery. Your daughter has both passion and patience - the gifts of a true scholar. She will do very well.”

“You are right, of course.” While we speak, Maedhros has laden a tray with bread, cheese, cold meats and fruit. “Shall we sit outside? It is a fair evening.”

I nod. He sets the tray in my hands, rummages in a shelf for a bottle of wine and two cups, and we step out on the terrace built right on the lakeside. The Vessel of Arien is just above the mountain tops now. Within moments, it disappears with the last flash of light, leaving behind a golden glow in the sky and on the water. The wind has quieted, and lake is so still that the mountains mirror themselves there forming a nearly perfect reflection. A pair of eagles is circling slowly above the snow-capped summits. A fragrance of night-blossoming flowers wafts from the garden.

I watch the lake and the mountains. “It is so peaceful here.” If only I felt even a fraction of that peace!

“It is,” Maedhros agrees. “Tell me how you fare,” he asks after a moment of silence. “We have not heard from you and your family for a while. In truth, had you not come, I would have travelled to see you soon anyway.”

This is not empty courtesy. He means it.

“I am sorry we have not visited. I should have...”

Maedhros interrupts me with a shake of his head. “I did not say that to make you feel guilty, Elrond. I am aware of commitments family and other pursuits lay on your shoulders. It is just... I care for you. I know that in your childhood I was not to you what my brother was. But for me, you and Elros were the only glimmer of light in the hopeless dark of my life. In teaching you, in caring for you, I found purpose and reassurance that there was still hope in the world I had brought so much grief into. And when my own children were born, I realized that some of what I felt for them... was not so new at all.”

I swallow and nod. He has just made my errand so much more difficult.

While we speak, I desperately look for a fitting moment for the news I must deliver. At last, one of Maedhros’ remarks gives me an excuse to steer the conversation closer to the true reason of my arrival.

“Uncle, you have spoken with many Noldor who have returned from Middle-earth. You have yourself returned from the Halls. I would ask about those who have been given this second chance. About the difficulties they face in going back to the lives they once knew. About ways to help them.”

Maedhros regards me closely for a moment ere replying. “Are you asking about the Exiles who once left in pursuit of Morgoth and Silmarils, those who took my father’s oath?” When I silently nod, he continues. “You mention those who return from Endor and those who return from the Halls. While these are different experiences, some things are common for most. Guilt. Burden of evil memory. It may be quite overwhelming. Lord Irmo has aided many in his gardens, but there is no better support than the company of those close to them, family and friends. Love and kindness have the power to banish the darkest shadows.”

His words surprise me. “I thought those who came back from the Halls returned healed.”

“Some do. Many do not. They return with hardly any memory, at first, and when it all comes back... it is not pleasant. Perhaps without the wisdom they gained in the Halls they would not be able to face these memories at all.”

Maedhros’ gaze is remote, and I realize – he is speaking about himself. I grip the armrest. To be rehoused and then to be forced to relive everything once more in memories... Battles. Pain. One's own death. That feels like excessive cruelty.

“I would think death to be enough suffering and punishment.”

“Punishment? No.” My uncle shakes his head. “It is no punishment. Neither is it a deliberate design of the Powers. You see, there is a pattern to Arda - things that were meant to happen and things that were not. Death of the Firstborn is one of the latter, a rip in the fabric, something the Valar must mend. They are given tools for that, but the task is exceedingly difficult. Every fëa is different, and those who return are touched by darkness and death, either by dealing or experiencing violence. Spirits and minds are delicate things. To fully mend them sometimes takes more knowledge and insight than the Valar have.” Maedhros frowns and looks in the distance, twirling a blade of grass in his fingers. “I am not belittling their effort and wisdom. This is what they themselves say. I spoke much with lady Estë and lord Irmo in Lórien when Celebrimbor...”

He falls abruptly silent, as one who has said too much.

“Celebrimbor…?”

My uncle looks at me closely for a few moments, as if weighing something in his mind. Then he sighs.

“Celebrimbor spent a long time in the Gardens after his return. He nearly faded, overcome by the memory of his death and what happened... before that.”

“Faded,” I repeat in a hollow voice. “My cousin nearly faded, and none of you saw fit to tell me.”

“Those events were long in the past when you arrived. And you yourself were so overwrought. We chose to spare you this knowledge.”

I fail to hold back a bitter laugh. “Spare me this knowledge? After Eregion fell and we encountered Sauron’s forces on the battlefield, we retrieved from them Celebrimbor’s body. I stood by when smiths loosened the chains that tied him to that pole. I arrayed him for burial. I sat vigil beside him. There is no knowledge you should ‘spare’ me. I am no child to be sheltered from the harsh truths of the world!”

Maedhros considers me gravely. “We held back the truth merely because we were worried about you, Elrond. I worry still. You seem to bear traces of anguish that should have faded years ago.”

I rise, walk towards the edge of the terrace and stand there by the railing, looking away, towards the lake, its surface now glittering with the reflection of rising moon. Maedhros cares. I know he does, and that is why I have sought his company more seldom than I could have. For fear to be tempted to speak, to drag into the daylight the shadows that haunt me. For fear that they would remind him of his suffering. I have no right.

Maedhros comes to stand beside me. “Ai, Elrond, why not?” he asks sadly. “I thought... I hoped you considered me part of your family... despite everything. Have I erred?”

“No, uncle.” I have failed to guard my thoughts. “Of course, I consider you part of my family. I just... it did not seem fit to burden you with my cares.”

“Is that the way of a family? Was it like that with you and Elros?” Maedhros asks. “Each of you fending for himself?”

“No.” I have lost this argument. Like most arguments against him.

“It was not like that with me and my brothers, either. And with our mother. Even... with father, until that final time of darkness.”

“How did you bear it?” I quietly ask. “Losing them all?”

Small waves wash with a soft sound against the bank below. A night bird calls somewhere in the distance, another one answers across the water.

“I did not,” Maedhros replies after a long silence. “A part of my soul withered away with every hopeless parting, and in the end I was nothing more than a blade, set to vengeance. Inside, I was dead long before I stepped over the edge of that chasm.”

His words chill my heart, but some of what he says resonates deeply with that hidden, anguished part of my own soul, that facet I have revealed only to Celebrían, long ago, after the bloody war of the Second Age. I had thought that part of me cleansed, released from its dark bonds. I have been a fool.

“What are we but shattered mirrors, shards, reflecting endlessly our own grief?” My bitter words find way before I have fully considered them.

“Not so,” Maedhros softly says. “We reflect other things, too. We reflect joy and hope. We reflect love and happiness. All these things fix the mirror, make it whole and bright again. I should know that, should I not?”

I merely nod, sinking ever deeper into a pit of misery. This conversation could not have gone awry more. My fabled skill with words has apparently deserted me, and now—

“I regret we are speaking of this only now, Elrond,” my uncle interrupts my despondent thoughts. “Much of what you say is familiar to me. Some of what I know, some of what I have experienced may help you, so this conversation is not over. But today you came to speak of other things, am I right?” When I nod, he continues. “The questions you asked - they are not born of scholarly interest either. Ever since you arrived you have been contemplating how to say something important without hurting me.” Startled, I look him in the eyes, but Maedhros only shakes his head with a sad smile. “You always cared more for others than for yourself. I see no reason to think aught has changed. So – out with your story.”

I draw a deep breath. So be it. “A few days ago, my sons returned in a boat from Endor. They moored at the old northern pier.”

“You are hardly an image of a happy father.” Maedhros pierces me with his gaze. “You are as weary as I have not seen you in years.”

“That is because… beyond the joy of a father… there is the concern of a son. Elladan and Elrohir, they did not come alone. Your brother was with them.”

My uncle pales and freezes. For a moment, I am truly afraid. From my childhood I recall the completely still posture and lifeless eyes staring in the void. At such times, Maglor would reach for his harp and start a quiet melody. At such times, my brother and I, after we had overcome the initial fear of the frozen stillness, we would wrap our arms around our uncle and anchor him to the present. But now Maedhros’ eyes are not vacant. Deep sadness fills them, and tears glisten on his face.

“Tell me everything.”