The Spectre at the Feast

The Spectre at the Feast

Part Three

I

Elrond said nothing of his suspicions. Somehow it felt wrong to disturb the fresh and relaxed atmosphere between him and Elros. As Elrond’s visit progressed they became increasingly at ease with one another and Elrond relished the feeling. He had not shared secrets or gossip or dreams with his brother since childhood, and when he did so again, it felt as if there were no cares in the world worth bothering about. Elrond could not bring himself to spoil the atmosphere with talk of things to come, for Elros’ sake as well as his own.

Their ‘short trip around the countryside’ soon turned into a journey lasting months, until there was no region of the island unseen. Elrond remained by Elros’ side and refused to be separated from him for any length of time, as they visited each city. They received a rapturous welcome wherever they went, as the people clamoured to see both their king and the great lord of the Eldar. Elrond could not quite remember when their trip together became a royal tour, but he enjoyed the experience all the same. He felt liberated to be out of Armenlos and travelling again, and there were long nights between their public appearances when they could talk together, rapidly trying to fill in the years, so he did not grudge their time with the crowds.

He lost count of how many days they spent sampling every dish and sight that Númenor had to offer, nor did he care. He forgot his desire to return to the Havens, now that he had Elros by his side, and in fact began to dread the idea of parting as they reached the final stages of their journey. No matter how long they spent together, to Elrond it did not seem long enough.

He watched Elros greeting his subjects and saw the looks of love and loyalty in their eyes, making him feel all the more foolish for having doubted Elros’ choice. He saw then that Elros’ decision was not only made for himself. He had given hope to this nation, leading them out of the ruins of Beleriand to a new life. A slight twinge of jealousy returned, but this time without malice, as Elrond wondered if he could have made the decision. He imagined he would have been willing to sacrifice his immortality for the sake of a people whom he loved, yet imagining and actually making that choice were two completely different matters.

His admiration for his brother continued to grow throughout their journey, especially when he listened to Elros describing the different lands or flowers or rocks and telling how they came to be on the island. There was such pride and passion in his eyes, despite his attempts to maintain his kingly composure. Elros had found his place in life, Elrond thought. He had made himself a home where he could be happy, and where he knew exactly what destiny required of him. Elrond only hoped that he might find that solace one day.

When at last they returned to Armenlos, however, Elrond noticed a slight shift in Elros’ mood. He had the same serene, settled expression upon his face that he had shown after their feast at the palace and all throughout their trip, but a glimmer of something deeper lit his eyes. His rigid stance and tightened muscles seemed relaxed at last and he wore the faint traces of a knowing smile across his lips as he drifted through the everyday routines of the palace.

One morning, Elrond watched him cagily over the breakfast table and tried to fathom Elros’ inner thoughts, wondering if he should say what he knew, or rather what he suspected, whilst at the same time trying to read his brother’s eyes for prompts and signals.

All the time he was vaguely aware that Elros was watching him too. Both tried very hard to conceal the effort, and neither succeeded. Elros waited patiently, wondering if Elrond knew what was to come, and finally decided that his brother at least suspected the truth. Then he studied him furtively to see if Elrond would voice his thoughts, and debated whether he should confess. There would never be a ‘right time’ for news such as he had to deliver, Elros concluded, sipping his herbal tea thoughtfully.

“When you return,” he said conversationally, leaning his elbows on the table, “you must tell the Eldar that they are welcome here. Too few of them come from Mithlond to see us. Círdan and Gil-galad ought to visit. My children would make them welcome. And you, of course. You must return and see Vardamir again.”

Elrond pulled his shoulders back, his gaze fixed intently on Elros. “Shall I not return and see you again?” he asked, clasping his hands.

Elros paused, his heart frozen for a moment, until the relief splashed over him when he realised that the subject was broached at last. He almost wanted to thank Elrond for having taken the first step. “So you do know?”

Elrond’s heart stopped. Secretly he had not wanted to be right, even though he knew the time would inevitably come. “Why suddenly you wanted me here? What it was that changed and made the need for reconciliation more urgent?”

“Why did you stay silent?”

Elrond gave him a dry look and breathed calmly. “I imagined that you did not want it voiced, since you said nothing yourself.”

Elros shrugged. “It is my choice,” he said, staring idly at the window. “And I know now that it is the right time to make it. I said nothing because I have enjoyed these last few weeks so much. I had no urge to spoil it. And I imagined we would have time enough to discuss this before you left. I wanted to speak of this with you, until I am certain that you understand and that I have your blessing. I want no more animosity between us, and no ill feeling to linger on beyond my departure. I have done everything I wanted to in this life, and now I’m ready to face my final challenge. This has been greater than I could ever have asked – to spend my last days with you. I cannot thank you enough for giving me that chance, Elrond.”

“You have no need to thank me. And although I could never be glad to see us parted, since we have only just discovered each other, I will make no trouble for you. I understand what you must do. I almost envy you for it. To have control of your fate…”

Elros tidied his plate and cutlery and then brushed a few stray crumbs from his lap. Elrond continued to observe him, pressing his hands to his lips in thought.

“When?” he asked.

Elros inhaled slowly. “If I gather all my family around me there will be grief and sorrow, and I would feel abhorrent for bringing that upon them. I cannot dream of what this journey may entail for me, and I would begin it in peace, knowing that all I leave behind is well.”

Elrond nodded. “I can understand that. So will your children.”

“I’ve already spoken of the matter with them. Our compromise has been reached and they will hold a feast for me in the hall. I will visit for a time, to say my farewells, then I will take myself to Noirinan where my bed is prepared.”

Elrond smiled distantly. He could almost see his brother’s mind working keenly to plot out every detail. To the last moment, Elros would steer his own destiny. “Would you want me with you, or with them in the hall?”

Elros paused. “If you would stay with me to the end,” he sighed. “You alone. Then when my time is done, would you go to my children? I know what a burden I place on you, yet I would want no other to break the news, and they will have need of your wisdom and guidance in their grief. I understand that you’ve known them barely a few months, but…”

“I will stay with them until I am content that all is well,” Elrond promised. “And you have my word that if any of your children or their descendants are in need, they will find sanctuary with me, wherever the world may take me. You may be gone beyond my sights, but I will still look upon them as my children.”

Elros breathed deeply.

“We have come so far in so short a time,” he laughed. “Who would have thought we could sit and talk like brothers again?”

They passed the remainder of the morning in silence, a strange air of calm falling over the palace, as if the last ghosts had finally been laid to rest. Elros sipped his tea, bathing in relief and gladness as he realised everything had been settled at last.

Things had worked out far better than he could have wished.


II

They timed their journey to arrive in the Noirinan valley just as dusk was settling over the land. The stone mausoleum sat in the shade of the Holy Mountain, in amongst a cluster of white flowers and long, delicate grasses. The tomb had been made ready several years before, yet looked as though it had stood there for several thousand years. Although the road from Armenlos reached down to the valley, there was no other sign of construction or manmade intrusion in sight, and a sleepy silence hung over the place.

They left their horses on the road and walked over the soft carpet of grass and wild flowers until they stood facing the mausoleum. Elros read his name above the lintel and took a moment to compose himself, imagining the door of the tomb would lead not into a cold, empty chamber but to a road, wending off into the distance towards a world no living being had seen. As he contemplated the image, a flutter of large wings broke the silence. The brothers glanced upwards in unison as three of the great eagles circled the summit of the mountain then descended towards the valley. They perched on the roof of the mausoleum and then became quiet, silent witnesses to the event. Elros imagined they would take the news of his parting to the Valar, and tell them that their appointed king had at last reached his time.

“Here end the days of Elros Tar-Minyatur, first king of Númenor,” he addressed the birds quietly. “I have passed my sceptre to my son, and now I am ready to depart this world. And I give thanks to the Valar for affording me the honour of kingship, and to Eru for affording me the gift of men.”

Elrond clasped his hands. He could sense the importance of the moment in the air and silently added a prayer of his own, that Elros’ journey would be safe and that whatever fate lay beyond his mortal life, that he would find the happiness he had earned. As the words passed through his mind, Elrond felt the first tears threatening to erupt, but steeled himself.

Finally, after a moment’s silence, Elros finished his own private prayers and moved towards the tomb. Elrond came to his side and walked with him. They stood together on the threshold for a moment, exchanging glances, then Elrond laid his hand on his brother’s arm so that he would know he was not alone. They went inside and paused once again to take in the scene.

Elros’ gaze was drawn instantly towards the left side of the tomb, where a marble sarcophagus already sat. On it lay an effigy in stone of his queen, so like her that he almost wept and wanted to touch the smooth contours of her face one last time. He refrained, however, knowing that it was only an image in stone. He could never prepare himself for the shock of seeing that grave, no matter how many times he visited. Yet this time the feeling was tempered slightly by the faint hope that she might await him.

His attention then turned to a low bier set out for him in the middle of the tomb. His children had each left a wreath of brightly coloured flowers, their way of being with him in the end, whether he permitted them to stand by him or not. The gesture touched him deeply and caused a faint smile to appear on his lips. The flowers, piled up on either side of the bed, filled the tomb with sweet and dusky scents, freshening the air and again prompting Elros to think of his road, and of the beautiful undiscovered country it might lead to. In that moment he felt the longing in him intensify. He wanted to see that new land more than anything else.

“It feels strange,” he said, his voice echoing around the cool stone interior. “To come to the moment at last.”

“Do not be afraid,” Elrond whispered.

“I am not afraid,” replied Elros, and meant it sincerely. “Quite the opposite. Who knows where I will awaken next? But somehow I know it will be fair and free.”

Elrond tightened his grip on Elros’ arm, smiling though his heart felt heavy. He knew Elros did not want to see him grieve and kept himself strong with that in mind.

“Wherever you go,” he said, “you know that we will be thinking of you. I will see you each time I look into your sons’ eyes. And in their sons’ eyes too.”

“And they will see me when they look upon you. You must all take care of one another.”

“You have my word on that.”

Elros glanced towards the bier, staring at it as if he could hear it calling to him. He approached slowly and stood at the foot of it, looking down on the pillows and white sheets.

“Ah well,” he breathed. “Then I suppose it is time.”

Elrond watched him drift towards the bier and lie down, the he went over to sit by Elros’ side. He remained silent, gazing down solemnly. His heart wanted to beg Elros to stay a while longer and yearned for just a few moments more, but he knew not to voice his thoughts. He felt a dull ache inside him at the thought of parting forever from his brother, whose love he had only just begun to feel again. Yet at the same time, Elros’ air of serenity affected him deeply, so that as Elrond looked down, his grief was soothed a little. He could see that Elros was ready to depart and had no fear of the unknown fate awaiting his spirit.

No matter how many times they had said their farewells, however, Elrond still felt that he had not truly said goodbye.

“Will you stay until I sleep?” asked Elros, closing his eyes.

“Of course,” Elrond replied.

Elros lay with his hands clasped over his chest. Elrond laid his hand over his brother’s.

He studied Elros’ features, watching his brother’s chest gently rising with each breath and waiting, with a cold feeling of expectation, for that movement to cease. Elros kept his eyes closed and smiled peacefully, while his brother’s heartbeat raced. Elrond wanted to weep and felt that he should do so at such a moment, but no tears came to him. Then suddenly Elros inhaled sharply. Elrond held his breath.

“This is not the end for the sons of Ëarendil,” Elros whispered. “Our time has only just begun.”

With a final smile, Elros fell silent and breathed out slowly, letting his chest sink.

Elrond lowered his head. He waited a moment more until he was certain, then brushed Elros’ hair, whispering a final farewell, before he left Elros to his rest.


III

The ship’s timbers creaked softly as she was rocked by the gentle waves lapping at Rómenna’s harbour. She was not quite ready to sail, and so Elrond waited on the quayside, listening to the squawks and cries of dozens of seabirds along the shore, and to the hushed whispers of the ocean. The air was bright and sharpened by sea salt and the smell of cooked fish, yet the place felt foreign to Elrond once again. He knew in his heart that he wanted to return home and found himself gazing across the misty waters, trying to pick out shapes on the horizon that could be the shores of Lindon.

He would have a great deal to talk about when he arrived back, he mused. Few of the Eldar there had ever crossed the seas to look on Númenor, and he imagined that within a few hours of his stepping onto the shore, he would be forced to relate every last detail. With a dull feeling in his chest, however, he decided that he would keep his time with Elros to himself. Until he had fully come to terms with all that had happened, at least.

He wandered over the cobbled quay and let his robes brush against the sand and seaweed, while he idly watched the elves on board ship, loading the final supplies for the voyage. They seemed to be taking half of the island back with them, as far as he could see, and noticed several crates of Yavannamirë wine being passed around on deck. He didn’t relish the thought of meeting Gil-galad after that had been consumed.

Finally one of the crew came to fetch Elrond’s bags and he took that as a signal that all was ready. With a final look towards the bustling little harbour, he bid a silent farewell to Númenor and her people. It felt rather final, even though Vardamir had invited him to return the following year, to attend the coronation of the new king. Elrond had not yet decided whether he would accept or not. He knew he ought to attend, and yet his heart told him that the visit might be a little hard, after so short a time. A great part of him wanted to come, however, and see how life had progressed. He had missed so much of his brother’s world already.

As the elves hauled up the anchor and the ship drifted out of the harbour, Elrond wandered astern and looked back at the island. A crowd had formed along the seafront, waving and cheering as soon as the ship set sail. Above them, on one of the higher roads, Elrond saw Vardamir and his son, who would succeed Elros since Vardamir’s age was too great. They both waved, and Elrond noticed that the look of familial love had not left their eyes as they gazed towards him. For a moment he felt as though he left his own children behind.

The elves unfurled the mainsail and the ship picked up speed. Númenor gradually shrank into the distance. As Elrond stared out at the glassy waters and watched the sun paint the waves gold and silver, he tried to order his thoughts. Despite the hollow feeling inside him, as if a part of his heart had been cut from him, he felt strangely calm. Perhaps it was because he knew he was no longer alone, even if Elros was gone. Or perhaps, he mused, it was because things had been settled. Relief washed over him again, as warm as the rippling waters around the ship, as he thought of his final time with his brother. Although their parting left an empty place within him, one of his greatest burdens had been lifted, and he had never thought it possible.

He still envied Elros a little as he thought of the choice. Elros had known exactly what he ought to do and had steered his life in whichever direction he wanted. But in the end, Elrond thought, Elros had no idea what would become of him. He met his fate willingly, despite knowing that he might fade into oblivion, or be reborn in another time and place, or travel on to a land like Valinor, only full of men whose time had passed. He was not afraid of the unknown, and in fact relished the idea of it.

So perhaps there was some good in his choice after all, Elrond mused. He faced that uncertainty every day, his life bound to the fate of Arda and subject to all the twists and turmoil of that world’s history. Who knew what would happen in a year’s time, or in a hundred or a thousand? Elrond breathed deeply and considered the future for the first time with expectation and hope. Whatever his destiny might ask of him, he would face it, just as Elros had calmly faced the end.

Elrond gave the sea one last glance, only to find that Númenor had completely faded from sight. Then with a renewed vigour and a sense of completeness that he had not felt since childhood, he ducked below deck, ready to sample some of the wine they had brought, before it too disappeared.