He had expected darkness. He had expected silence. He had expected nothingness.
Instead, he had light. A white hot light that was bright, to be sure, but not so bright that it would harm h is eyes.
Instead, he heard noise. It was nothing specific, merely a general clamor that invaded ones ears and became a part of the surroundings.
Instead, there was… something. He could not describe it, but there was definitely something tangible about this place. He could not explain how. He only knew what he felt.
“Elrohir Peredhel.”
He whirled around, looking about for the source of the voice that rose up from the din.
“Elrohir Peredhel, why has thou fallen so far?”
He blinked in confusion.
“Speak! Why has thou forsaken kith and kin for this place? Why do you do this?”
“Who are you,” he shot back, deliberately ignoring the words he himself had no answer for. “Why do you speak? Where am I?”
For a moment, there was no reply. Silence descended. Elrohir waited.
“Elrohir.”
The voice now sounded much closer. Turning yet again, he froze in shock. Before him, in a black gown, stood his mother. And from lack of smile on her face, he knew she was most displeased.
“N-Nana,” he stuttered, unable to form a coherent sentence. What was happening? Where was he?
“Elrohir,” Celebrían said sharply, “Answer me. Why do you forsake your family? Why do you make them suffer?”
He did not answer, merely staring at her. But when his grey eyes met hers, his gaze immediately lowered, unable to face the anger and disappointment in them.
“Great was your father’s pain when I was forced to forsake Middle-earth,” she continued boldly. “Then your sister sought comfort in Lothlórien, away from Imladris. Then you and your brother deserted him for the wild. Thus his agony was tripled from what it originally was. Why do you seek to add more? What has he done to deserve such cruelty?”
“I… I do not seek to hurt him, Nana,” Elrohir replied hesitantly. “I have no wish for further pain for any of us. But… it hurts so much, Nana! You left! The world doesn’t hold meaning without you! Nana, how can we live in a world that succeeded in taking you from us? How-”
“Enough! Speak no more,” Celebrían shouted above his increasingly frantic and hysterical rants. “You speak of pain, child! Think of your Adar now! Think of his sufferings! And the sufferings of Elladan! His twin, his other half is seeking to leave the world and slip into the Halls of Waiting. Do you think he will dwell long in Middle-earth without you, even for the sake of your father, sister, and grandparents?”
A sob rose in his throat, but he did not respond. In truth, Elrohir had done his best not to think of his twin. He just could not stand to add the pain to his burdened soul. It was too much.
But his mother, normally the soul of kindness, was in no condition to be merciful.
“You have seen them, my son,” Celebrían snapped. “Your brother will fade if you do, and your father will be left without both of his sons. Arwen will be without her brothers to protect her. Without you there, she could suffer the fate I suffered. Will you be so selfish as to desert her as well?”
Elrohir closed his eyes and clenched his fists. In his mind, he recalled the horrible state he had found his mother in, and saw her replaced by a battered and broken Arwen. With a strangled moan, he sunk down to his knees.
“Nana… no more,” he whimpered.
“Go back then, my son! Return to the land of your birth! Allow your father to offer you comfort, as he has done since I left. Rest for a time, allow yourself to heal. Then, if you still feel the need, go into the wild and hunt Orcs with the Dúnedain. But be not reckless! Do not seek danger needlessly! You still have much to live for! Go back!”
Looking up at her, tears still trickling down his cheeks, Elrohir finally nodded in assent. He struggled to his feet and then asked, “But what of you, Nana? Will I ever see you again?”
Celebrían’s harsh gaze softened slightly. She did not answer immediately, but placed her hand on his cheek and gazed up at him searchingly.
“Not all paths are clear to me, Elrohir,” she murmured at last, her eyes growing distant for a brief moment. “You, Elladan, and Arwen have yet to make your choices. And I cannot predict your fates. But know this, my son, if it is right that we should meet again, then not even the Valar will stay me in our reunion.”
A small smile graced their lips, but she then pulled away from him.
“Now go, my son. They wait for you. And there is nothing more important than that. Go.”
She faded from his eyesight then, as did the white light. He then sat in darkness and silence.
The ache in his heart had not vanished by any means. Elrohir still felt his grief pulling at his senses, but no longer did it overwhelm him and make him long for death. His mother’s words had made him recall those whom he loved and cherished, and how they needed him as much he needed them. Only together could they heal.
Still his pain infested him, but he fought it. He called for his father, his brother, even for his sister. He longed to heal. He longed for love. He longed for life.