Vilya And Narya

Disclaimer: Not one ring. (Geddit?)

Summary: On their way to Aman, Elrond and Gandalf indulge into a conversation of sorts. A brief look into their friendship.

Thanks to LadyLindariel, whose conversations made me fall in love with the House of Elrond.

Flames are not appreciated. Constructive criticism is welcome.

Enjoy!

The sea wind was humid but Elrond was not bothered. The silent rocking to and fro of his ship was like a sweet lullaby. It soothed him until his body grew relaxed and rocked with the motion of the ship upon the waves.

In Arda before he set sail, Elrond kept himself busy. He remained so busy, in fact, that he had little time to think. But here on this ship with nothing else to do, Elrond's mind had plenty of time to think over the past, present and future.

With the humidity, he had cast aside both tunic and cloak, and was dressed in simple shirt and trousers cut in the fashion the Teleri favoured. His hair was swept back and tied with a leather band to prevent the wind from playing with his hair. He looked down upon his Ring of Power. It was dulled, powerless ever since the Ring was destroyed, but he wore it still, unused to waking and sleeping without it. He knew Galadriel and Mithrandir were both the same. They too were unwilling to part from their rings.

A shadow fell at his left and Mithrandir sat beside him with a sigh.

"I don't like sailing." Mithrandir said in his usual pleasant tone. Elrond smiled in spite of himself. The wizard had his way of making people smile without them meaning to, or to make them ponder over his council. Keeping his head lowered, Elrond glanced at him with his eyes and saw Mithrandir was looking up at the sky. "I do not like the swaying floor. It is very hard to keep balance."

The thought of the White Wizard slipping here and there on moving ground made Elrond chuckle.

"I find it soothing." Elrond argued. They spoke quietly, as if the peace around them would disappear if they spoke any louder.

"I do not like being this idle." Mithrandir said with a hum. Elrond glanced at him again and this time their eyes met. Both of them erupted in quiet chuckles.

"Neither do I," Elrond agreed. He leaned back, letting the sun warm his face and closed his eyes.

"It leaves too much time to think." Mithrandir said. This time, Elrond's smile faded.

"Aye, it does."

Elrond's mind flitted back to what he was pondering on. If one asked what it was, Elrond would not be able to answer. It was, in truth, not just one thing, but many things. When one lived so long that his life spanned over Ages than mere centuries, it was difficult not to go back and think on things that people long forgotten.

"I tried asking the sailors if they needed help," Mithrandir's voice broke through his thoughts. Baffled, Elrond opened his eyes and stared at the wizard. Laughter twinkled in Mithrandir's eyes. "They politely refused. I had a feeling then that they would not trust me even with the basest of errands for fear that I would trip and throw myself overboard."

This time, a full blown laughter tore from Elrond's throat. Elrond leaned forward and buried his head in his hands in a poor attempt to gain composure. His shoulders quaked. Finally, Elrond managed to suppress his amusement and glanced at his old friend.

"Their ships are dear to them, Mithrandir," Elrond said, grinning widely. "I do not think they would tolerate having it set ablaze."

"Come now," Mithrandir said. His eyes twinkled more underneath his bushy eyebrows. "I am not so clumsy."

"Nay, you are not. The only time you are clumsy is when it suits your purpose!"

"Is this a reference to the incidence with the dragon?"

"Clearly the sea wind addled your wits if you cannot catch the reference, my friend." Elrond retorted. His words were soft and the smile did not leave his face, evidence that he spoke lightly and in jest.

"You wound me, my friend. I expected such blame from Thranduil, perhaps the Dwarves, the Town-master, the Men of Dale … Bilbo has long since forgiven me but I did not expect it from you."

Elrond chuckled but did not answer. In truth, he truly did not mind. He turned his attention back to the wizard, and eyed him carefully.

"When will you shed your old skin?" Elrond asked. "You have done your purpose."

Mithrandir's brow creased as the wizard readied himself to tease Elrond further.

"Why? Does it trouble you, my friend?"

"I don't think anyone would enjoy looking out of the window at a passing old man in the morning in Aman."

Mithrandir laughed merrily.

"Have no fear! I will cast aside this form in Aman and appear to you as I had done long ago."

Elrond smiled and said nothing. The first time he had met Mithrandir, he was named Olórin. And he appeared in the form of a lean handsome elf with long silver hair falling over his shoulders, a circlet upon his brow and a merry smile on his face. His eyes were full of wisdom and that was the only trait along with that of his smile which remained unchanged. As the years passed by and Mithrandir ran his errands all over Middle-Earth, he progressively aged until his appearance became that of an old man.

"Whether you are young or old, in the form of Man or Elf, whole or crippled," Elrond said, setting his youthful-looking hand over that of Mithrandir's wrinkled one. "You are one of my dearest friends and that will never change."

"It makes my heart glad that you should think so." Mithrandir said warmly. Elrond smiled and lifted his hand. A brief silence fell between them as the sound of the waves crashing against the sides of the ship lulled them. Finally it was Mithrandir who stirred. "You have not wholly been honest with me, I fear." Mithrandir said to Elrond. "What is that troubles you, my friend?"

"Troubles me?" Elrond echoed. But Mithrandir was not fooled. The wizard had lived too long gifting pleasant thoughts and kindling hopes in hearts to let go of a friend aching for answers. Elrond sighed. "I envision myself as a youth who barely made it to majority, with the choice of immortality before me. Had I known this would be the outcome of my life, would I have still chosen the life of an Elf?"

"Do you regret your choice?" Mithrandir asked. His eyebrows met in a frown of concern. "You have gone through many hardships, my friend, but times of joy and peace came plenty between them."

Elrond did not answer. He was old enough, and wise enough, to know that Mithrandir was right. He truly did not regret the memories he shared with wife, children and friends. He did not regret his choice; not truly, at least. The thought of losing his brother was not sorrow he would ever forget, nor would it entirely fade. But as for himself, he knew if he were presented with the choice again, he would chose immortality like he did before. He did not answer Mithrandir's question, and likely the old man knew the answer before Elrond even voiced it.

The battles he fought had left scars on his body and mind, but Elrond never found them troubling. It was a part of him. It defined him. His wisdom developed over the years, his name became famous as time rolled on. He had comrades to rely on, friends he could trust, his wife for a support.

The thought of his wife made Elrond softly smile. His choice was the reason he lived long enough to meet her. As Elros found his own love among the Race of Men, Celebrían was his. He was eager to meet her, to hear her laugh and see her whole from the shadow of her injury and torment.

And then he thought about his daughter. As much as his heart became heavy at the thought of her inevitable death, she was with a man whom Elrond himself raised, had a heart of gold and followed a code of honour. He knew she would be safe and loved. And she was happy. How could a father not wish his child happiness? How could a father take that away from his beloved daughter? No, he could not.

As for his sons, only time will tell where their choices lie. Perhaps they will join him in Aman. Perhaps they will not. Either way, they parted with his blessings, should they decide to live in Arda and marry among the Race of Men.

Elrond's soft smile grew wider at each happy thought. Then he froze. A frown replaced his smile.

Elrond's eyes flickered at Mithrandir with renewed suspicion. His thoughts were fair and full of hope and longing of the future. Much to his surprise, shock and horror, Mithrandir did not meet his eyes. Instead he was watching the sea waves studiously.

"Tell me you did not." Elrond said to him, leaving the threat go unspoken but heavy upon them both.

"I have some powers still, my friend. That has not changed by the loss of the Ring of Power." Mithrandir said soothingly, thus confirming Elrond's suspicion.

There was an alarmed shout as Mithrandir scrambled away just in time to dodge Elrond's boot that would have smacked his head had he not moved to safety. The Teleri looked curiously as Elrond oddly hopped and grabbed his boot. Tugging it on, since the deck was too warm to walk barefoot, Elrond would have pursued Mithrandir, but the old man was sprightly in spite of his age. He would have eluded him even in this confined ship.

"And there are people who say that Elrond, Lord of the Last Homely House, is too grave." Mithrandir said, laughing and settling on an upright barrel.

"They speak truth, partially, since the only time I break composure is when I meet half-witted folks." Elrond answered. He sat down on a barrel beside Mithrandir, who sat stunned at Elrond's retort.

A tense silence fell. Neither of them dared to look at the other. Elrond glanced at Mithrandir, who continued to stare at the wooden boards. Unbeknownst to him, Mithrandir glanced at him when Elrond wasn't looking. The game went on for a few more seconds, until finally they both looked up at the same time. Mithrandir's lips twitched upwards, and Elrond's lips mirrored his.

"You know," Mithrandir said, "I have been called many things, but the words 'half-witted folks' were never attributed to me."

Elrond burst out laughing and gave a friendly clap on his friend's back. Mithrandir's long white hair shook as he laughed along with him, his wrinkles deepening and a merry glint in his eyes.

This time, the lull in their conversation was soothing and comforting. They sat back and enjoyed the sea wind, letting the sailors go about their business and staying well out of their way. Elrond breathed in deeply, and let a soft smile grace his lips.

"Mithrandir?"

"Aye?"

"Thank you."

"But of course, my dear friend."

When he set foot on solid ground, Elrond felt his legs tremble. But after a while walking on the docks, he felt him regain his balance.

The harbour was thrumming with life and Elrond could not help but be affected by the bustling nature. He could already feel the change; his worries were fading. He felt more alive and aware than he ever did before.

He stumbled backwards when a body slammed into him. The person's arms clutched him tightly and it was soft and warm. He felt soft, silky hair against his cheek. He looked down and glimpsed silver hair streaming over the person's back and the soft emotional voice told him precisely who it was.

"It is good to see you again, beloved." Elrond murmured in his wife's ear and embraced her just as tightly. He pulled away and studied her face, reacquainting himself with the details of her beauty. She no longer seemed sorrowful or full of disquiet. Rather, her eyes were lit with joy and she was just as beautiful and happy as when he first set his eyes on her.

He did not let go of her unless it was absolutely necessary. They spoke in few sentences, wanting to revel in each other's presence instead. There was plenty of time to speak later.

When Elrond had washed and dressed, he took his wife's hand and sat down with her beneath a tree and narrated to her in brief words the fate of their children. When she wept, Elrond drew her into his arms and cradled her until her tears dried.

"Do not grieve," Elrond said, brushing away the wetness with his sleeve. "Our daughter's light will dim when the time comes, but be glad it shines brightly even if it is brief. And I left her with a Man I trust with my own life and I know he will treasure her dearly." He pressed a kiss on her forehead. "And as for our sons, I have faith in their decisions. If they choose the Fate of Men, I wish them well. Take comfort in the fact that we raised good children, with generous just hearts and honourable souls."

Soon Elrond's assurances had their effect. Celebrían's woe was brief and she smiled at him again.

"I am content," she whispered before lying her head on his shoulder. "If my children are happy, then whom I to take them away from it?"

In the evening, dinner was hosted to celebrate Elrond's coming to his house. Laughter echoed the vaulted ceiling and music played in the background. Elrond felt safe and at peace among the people who loved him dearly and not once did his mind turn to the choice again.

"And when will Thranduil sail?" Oropher asked. The longing in his eyes to meet his son was clear.

"I do not know," Elrond said in apology. "He did not say. But I am sure it will be soon. Doubtless he is eager to me you as well."

"I am sure," Galadriel said. A smile played over her lips. "There is little to separate this pair of father and son!"

Elrond laughed and his gaze flitted to the scene outside his window.

The gardens had numerous trees, and the hedges were cut till they were waist-high and arranged into small mazes. The pathways were laid with stone and the birds flew around singing sweet playful tunes but that is not what took Elrond's attention.

A lithe Elf stood under a tree, whistling a tune similar to that of the birds. He wore lightly-coloured garments of green and gold. His rich silver hair flowed freely and he only wore a simple circlet on his brow. While the form was one Elrond had not seen in years, he knew who it was.

Excusing himself from his wife and the rest of the company, Elrond hurried down the steps and towards the Elf.

A bird was perched on the Elf's fingers, singing in tune with his whistling. But the bird won, when the Elf paused for breath. It leaped into the air, taking flight and nipped the Elf's nose lightly before flapping away. The Elf watched it leave before turning his eyes on Elrond.

Elrond skidded to a halt just a few steps away, unsure of how to proceed. But the Elf smiled at him and rose to his full height and gestured at himself.

"Now is this satisfactory, my friend?" The Elf asked. The merry smile was in place, and the eyes were deep wells of wisdom. Elrond took a step back and ran his eyes in exaggerated criticism.

"It will do," Elrond said, fighting to keep his merriment at bay. Then he laughed and embraced Olórin.

His heart was content and happy, and he knew this, was not Mithrandir's doing.

Author's Note:

-This is inspired by the combination of a dialogue with Amateur Bacon Cook, some tumblr posts, and research on Gandalf's history.

-For the first time in ages, I have written a story with neither Thranduil nor Legolas. I am very proud of myself. ;)

-Please leave a review. :)

Edit:

Since there is a bit of an issue of why Gandalf is portrayed young in the end, let me give a reference. The following is an excerpt from the Silmarillion.

"...he loved the Elves, he walked among them unseen, or in the form as one of them, and they did not know whence came the fair visions or the promptings of wisdom that he put into their hearts."

- "in the form as one of them" I gathered he was capable of taking on an Elven form.

-Now did he come to Middle Earth in the form of an Elf or an old Man? That is not the purpose of this oneshot. It is not mentioned in the story and hence I will not discuss it.

-For the fact that he remained in the form of an old man, there could be numerous reasons. For one, it is trusting, in the sense that a wise old man can leave council and have it receive better than an ethereal, beautiful looking Elf... especially when you deal with the world of Men, Hobbits or Dwarves (the last of which do not trust Elves)

-As an old man, he aged which is subtly woven throughout the story of the Hobbit and LoTR. Now, how can he age when he was immortal? This, Tolkien described, to be the effect of his ring. Tolkien mentioned that the rings are not natural. And so they had some form of effect on their wearers, even if they weren't touched by the Dark Lord (such as the Elven rings). Gandalf's ring rekindled hope in the hearts, and as he used the ring, the more it aged him as a negative adverse effect.

-And yes, I do believe he cast aside his old form, because after all, Aman is place of eternal youth and beauty. Him, being a Maia, with his mission accomplished can resume any form he wished, and I concluded from the fact that he loved Elves, he chose the form of one.

-I hope this cleared up the confusion.