This has been a labor of love for me and I would like to thank everyone who has stayed with me through this. I admit I have put off ending it but I guess it is time. Thank you, thank you, thank you again for all of the wonderful reviews and the wonderful new friends.
"I count him braver who overcomes his desires that him who conquers his enemies, for the hardest victory is over self."
Aristotle
"If none can release us," said Maglor, "then indeed the Everlasting Darkness shall be out lot, whether we keep our oath or break it; but less evil shall we do in the breaking."
The Silmarillion – Of The Voyage Of Eärendil And The War Of Wrath
oOo~
Saeran pulled her fur cloak tightly around her shoulders. The winters had become harsh and almost unbearable for her at times. She hated the cold and even more so now, as she felt it in her bones causing her joints to shout in protest whenever she wished to use them. This made things especially difficult due to the fact that the tremors had begun to rattle the foundations far more frequently and with much more vigor. It had become so violent that half of the Keep itself had collapsed under the intensity. This had saddened Saeran immensely due to the fact that it was hers and Maedhros rooms that had been destroyed and she wept at the thought all of the scrolls and parchments from the brother's homeland that had been lost. Maedhros did not seemed bothered as he tried to comfort her by informing her that most of the parchments that contained the histories of their people had been sent with the twins to remain with Gil-Galad and Cirdan's people. But Saeran mourned also for the memories that had been made in those rooms although she did not say as much. She and Maedhros had moved themselves and what little of their belongings could be salvaged in to the rooms that had belonged to the twins and her son near Maglor.
The Keep had become quite run down since the departure of her son. It stood mostly abandoned, most of the inhabitants having left some time ago, either with the brother's blessing or of their own accord. Thannor had remained, as did Hestil and Senwë although his sons had decided to make the trip to Lindon. Saeran understood why Thannor had remained, having grown up alongside the brothers, his father a livery man of the house. She also understood why Senwë stayed; having served their father and watched the two brothers grow up. But Hestil had surprised Saeran. She had thought the woman would have joined the last departing group for Lindon to reunite with her daughter. But she had opted to remain behind instead, taking up a small residence in the main hall and assisting Senwë by making the bread and assisting Thannor with the animals. Saeran had found this curious but had never asked Hestil why. It would be much later before she discovered the answer.
She and Maedhros had taken up a quiet existence. She was not as young as she once was and Maedhros had a tendency to hover. Maglor had taken to himself more often than not. Sometimes she would hear him playing a harp into the late hours of the night, occasionally raising his voice in some soft lament that would make Saeran see images of white towers, and grand halls and a beautiful city by the sea that was left to ruin. Maedhros would always go to him during these moments and the music would stop abruptly and Saeran would close herself off from the feelings that would come through the bond.
But more often than not she and Maedhros would sit together and read or talk, the heat of their bond having subsided somewhat and become something far more soothing and comforting for each other. Although, every once and a while she would feel some rush of heat and blush with embarrassment as she would shoot disapproving looks at Maedhros.
"Stop that!" she would snap.
He would look up from whatever he was doing and blink innocently.
"What?" he would ask.
"You know exactly what," she would hiss back. "I am far too old and withered to entertain such thoughts."
"Oh come now," he would tut, "those thoughts certainly did not come from me for I have just been sitting here reading."
He ducked his head and avoided the embroidery loop she flung at him. He made a tsk sound as he picked it up.
"You will ruin this."
"It is already ruined; I don't know why I tried to do such a tedious thing in the first place." She snatched the loop from his hands and looked back at Maedhros. "How can you still think such things Maedhros, given how worn I am." He simply smiled back. It was a beautiful smile, and always took her breath away.
"How could you think I would not?"
An image suddenly flooded her mind through the bond. She was young, and her hair was not grey and her skin was smooth. Her waist was narrow and tight and she was flush with youth.
"How can you still see me this way?" she whispered.
"Because it is how you look," he answered back. And then he rose and crossed over to her and scooped her up. He settled back into the chair and cradled her in his lap and she nuzzled up against him, content to listen to the steady drum of his heart.
And so life wore on with the seasons constantly changing, each one coming in a slightly later or earlier than the last. Each one far hotter or colder than the last depending on the time of the year. But the cold seasons were always the most difficult for Saeran, and it was during the last one when she caught that cold. At least she had thought it was a cold. It started out simple enough, an annoying cough and the constant runny nose. But she knew it would pass eventually and did not wish to bother Hestil with something so trivial when there was so much to do. Maedhros and Thannor were constantly making repairs to the Keep and Hestil and Senwë were tirelessly restocking the kitchen. And so she resolved to tough it out and waited for it to pass. Only it did not pass. And Saeran found herself dealing with a strange pressure that was building in her chest and she was finding herself out of breath far too rapidly. It continued like this till one day Maedhros had found her in a panic bent over in the hall, making a strange weezing sound in her chest and unable to move. He swept her up and ran her to their chambers shouting for Hestil the entire way. Saeran tried to tell him to calm down but only found she could not speak and when she tried she would fall into fits of coughs, leaving little specks of blood in her hand as she covered her mouth. Things became hazy for Saeran then. She flitted in and out of consciousness, sometimes hearing and understanding what was being said, other times unable to comprehend the words being spoken. She would try to answer at times, to reach call out for Maedhros and tell them she would be fine, but nothing would come out. At times she could only manage a low groan that would only seem to cause Maedhros to fret through the bond. Of course, she thought. The bond! And when she reached out she wanted to laugh at the rush of light that flooded it and enveloped her. I am here his voice would call out and she could feel his spirit grasp on to hers desperately.
It went on like this for Saeran for a while. His voice would call out to her desperately across their bond and she would answer, trying to convey some sense of comfort to what she could only discern as despondency from him. But she was growing tired, so very tired. And it seemed that just when she was about to get some rest his voice would come through the bond begging her not to leave, to come back to him. She would become confused then, not understanding what he meant for she had no intention of going anywhere. But still he begged and so she stayed awake and they would send images to each other through the bond. Images of when she was young and their passion was at its height. Of bodies entwined and hands and mouths covering skin. Of arms wrapped around the other and whispers of I love you in the night. But still Saeran was tired and found she could stay awake no more. And although Maedhros clung onto to her desperately she felt her hold slipping until eventually the light winked out and there was nothing.
Hestil stood before Saeran's body and spoke cautiously to the lord who knelt by her side. His head was lowered and she could not see his face and in truth she prayed he would not look up for she feared what she would see there.
"My lord," she said softly waiting a moment in the hopes he would acknowledge what they all already knew. "My lord, please . . . she is gone." Hestil thought she saw him flinch at her words and waited.
"Get out," he said, his voice nothing more than a low breathy hiss. Hestil looked over at where Thannor stood still as stone also unsure of what to do.
"I said," the hunched over figure hissed again, "Get. Out." This time it was slightly louder.
"Leave us," a voice called from the door. Hestil turned and was relieved to see the lord Maglor stood there staring at his brother. Hestil and Thannor left the room as Maglor closed the door behind them.
~oOo~
Elros fell hard on his back and rolled immediately to the side, barely avoiding the axe that swung down and struck where his head had been. But that was all he was able to do before the orc that stood over him began to bring down the axe again, and he braced himself for the impact. Only it never came, for a spear thrust from the beasts chest and it fell in a heap before him. He looked up to see men leaping over him and pushing back the contingent of orcs that had over run his men. He turned to stand to see a hand reaching down for his and he took it and looked up to see a familiar face.
"You never could keep your feet on the ground," Evon said with a grim smile. "That was close Elros."
"Agreed," said Elros with a wry smile of his own. "It is good I keep you around. Where is Elrond?" Evon pointed at a group of men on horseback.
"On the north ridge. It does not look good Elros, the dragons have taken out almost half of his cavalry. We will not be able take much more of this."
But he is still alive Elros thought as he nodded his head and looked to the mountains of Angband. They were so close this time but the Enemy still had a few tricks up his sleeve and they were particularly nasty. Dragons had come out of the black smoke of those mountains and the casualties were mounting. The bodies of Men and Elves and Dwarves were strewn all along the mountainside, but Elros knew in his heart if they did not take the Enemies fortress here then they never would. Suddenly a deafening roar shook the ground and took Elros and Evon to their knees as they covered their ears in pain and filled their very being with dread. When Elros was finally able to look up he saw a terrifying sight. Great bellows of black smoke bloomed from the Thangorodrim and from its depths rose a great black dragon, larger and fiercer than any Elros had seen so far. It perched upon the mountain range and when it spread its wings it covered the land in shadow and darkness and filled the forces of the Valar with fear and blinded them with dark magic. It opened its great maw and spewed out fire that rained down on the armies of Men, Elves and Dwarves. And when it took to the sky Elros knew that they could not stand up to this and that if he was to save anyone, they must flee. He turned and looked desperately for his brother and Evon as he gave the call to fall back, vowing to curse Morgoth with his last breath.
But just when all hope was lost a light broke through the darkness. Elros turned and saw Evon who stared down at the pendant around his neck that Maedhros had given him, now shown like a single bright star in the blackest night and served as a beacon for Elros's forces to rally too. Evon ripped the jewel from around his neck and held it high over his head.
"Rally to me!" cried Elros, "Men and Elves and Dwarves! Allies to the Valar! Rally to me!" Several voices answered him in the dark.
"To the light!" they shouted, "Follow the light!" And Elros rejoiced briefly when he saw his brother ride up to them unharmed. But even as they regrouped and found their courage in the star that Evon held above his head, the great black dragon turned its attention to them as well and devised to snuff out the jewel that chased away the dark.
But that was not the only jewel of Fëanor to light up the sky that night.
For just at that moment, just as the great dragon was about to unleash a torrent of fire upon the gathering forces, Gil-Estel, Eärendil the Blessed with the Silmaril upon his brow descended from the skies in Vingilótë and slew the beast casting him down upon the Thangorodrim as Thorondor and the eagles slew its spawn along the mountainside.
The voices of Men, Elves and Dwarves rejoiced as the forces of the enemy fled and they gave chase, showing no mercy to any that fell behind.
The war was won. The forces of the Valar were triumphant and Morgoth brought before Eönwë and bound and returned to Valinor to be imprisoned in the void for all eternity and the Silmarils given into Eönwë's care to be returned to the blessed lands. Celebrations were held throughout the camp and all partook in the revelry. All but two. For Elrond and Elros retreated deep within the encampment of the men who followed them and kept to themselves and away from the events of that night. And while every other voice rose in joyful praise, two wept in silent mourning for the events that would later transpire.
~oOo~
Maglor stood in the middle of the encampment next to Maedhros and waited.
It had been one month since the war had ended. One month since the great star fell from the sky to strike down the enemy they had fought relentlessly against and failed every time. One month since Maedhros had returned from the mountains where he had buried Saeran, building a cairn along the mountain face for he would not leave her body in the ground as was the way of her people. One month since Maglor had walked the ruins of the Keep to find his brother waiting for him and he knew Maedhros had seen what he and the others had seen from the wall.
The end of the war and victory for the Valar. Which could only mean one thing.
Morgoth was defeated. The Silmaril had been regained.
He had come to Maglor in the dark hours of the night. His clothes disheveled, his eyes black as the void and Maglor knew what it was that he sought. He had seen this brother before. Ambarussa, eyes black and demanding their due. Tyelkormo, eyes black and demanding blood.
And so they called for Thannor who was to complete one last request for his lords and friends and then be released from his duties along with Hestil and Senwë, free to find their own fate.
When they had found the response to their request . . . that was not right for they did not ask. Their demands for what was rightly theirs, Maglor had not been surprised. Somehow he had always known it would come to this.
And now Maglor stood in the middle of the encampment, back to back against Maedhros, casket in hand, and prepared to die.
~oOo~
Elros watched the young boy on the floor playing with the small marble figurine. It was carved in the shape of a young male elf with a sword and it fought with another carved figure that stood beside a large dog.
"They would not fight you know," he said to the child at his feet. The boy looked up and smiled and then returned to playing. His infant sister sat next to him gumming at another figure that Elros removed from her mouth.
"That's alright," said the child, "that one is not very strong, and he just has a harp." Elros considered the wet figurine in his hand as he dried it off on his coat.
"Oh I don't know," said Elros, "I think he may have been the strongest one of all." The boy frowned and took the small marble statue from Elros's hand and studied it closely. At that moment, Evon walked in with the eldest of his son's. He bent down and scooped up the baby girl at his feet and looked at the boy who studied the figure playing the harp.
"Hello my little ones," he said as the younger boy dropped the figurines in his hand and ran to his father who bounced his sister on his hip. "Have they been causing you trouble my lord?"
Elros picked up the discarded figures and placed them carefully in the silk satchel they lived in and smiled.
"Not at all, and I told you to stop calling me lord," he said as he stood up. Evon smiled and took the satchel from Elros.
"Propriety, Elros, try to show a little decorum."
Elros laughed and watched his friend with his children. Evon was almost fifty now, a grown man with a growing family. He had two more sons that were with their mother and another was on the way. He had been forty-five when the war ended and how he had found the time between battles to father so many children was beyond Elros. Evon would smile mischievously and simply credited his young wife who would give him a sharp elbow to the ribs every time. The war had ended years ago with the forces of the Valar returning to the blessed lands. Many of the Noldor in exile given leave to return, although not all opted to go.
At that moment Elrond entered the room with Erestor close behind him. The brother's embraced as Erestor went over to Evon and the two greeted each other as old friends. Elrond and Elros walked over to the other end of the room to talk.
"Have you any word?" asked Elros and Elrond shook his head.
"None. I have told you, he will not return among his people." Elros looked at the ground. He knew that Elrond was rarely wrong in what he foresaw but still, he had hoped.
"And Maedhros?"
"It is as I said." The brothers stood in silence for a moment before Elros spoke again.
"I wish they had answered the summons," he whispered.
"I wish I could have healed his hurts," his brother replied and silence descended again.
"Speaking of summons," Elrond said snapping Elros from his relvelrie, "we have been called before Eönwë."
"I know," said Elros.
"What do you intend to do?"
"That," said Elros, "I do not know." Elrond nodded and looked away, out the window and over the sea.
"Do you still intend to join Gil-Galad and his folk?" asked Elros.
"Yes, he is a good king. A great leader. There is much to be learned from him."
"To Lindon then," said Elros.
"To Lindon," confirmed Elrond as he looked back at his brother. "You are still welcome to come." He spoke softly and Elros could hear the hope in his voice.
"I am to find my own way," he said just as softly, but a smile broke his serious visage. "Can't have you riding my coattails everywhere I go." Elrond sniffed and gave Elros a playful shove before turning back to the window, leaning against the sill.
"You know, all of Beleriand is taken by the sea and yet Himring still stands."
Elros folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the window, opposite of his brother.
"Himring will always stand."
~oOo~
Epilogue:
Elros stood before the marker of his friend. Evon had lived to the ripe old age of ninety-two. He had fathered six children. He had been with Elros when Numenor was raised from the depths of the seas and had stood at his side when Elros was crowned King. Elros had been at his side when he passed and made a quiet promise that he would always look to the wellbeing of his descendants. And Evon had left quite a few. Four sons and two daughters. And they in turn had many children of their own. It was the family of Vorindor, Evon's youngest child who he visited now. And even he had grandchildren of his own. The youngest just recently born. Elros had taken Vorindor as a something along the lines of a steward of his house and hoped that his eldest son Gwydyon would follow suit when his father tired of the responsibility. Elros felt a thump against his leg and looked down to see a ball had rolled against it. A small child tottered out after and hestitated when he saw Elros. Elros knelt down and smiled as he held the ball out to the child with the large saucer eyes before him.
"Shall I roll it to you then?"
A small smile began to form causing dimples to show within chubby cheeks when a voice called out from behind the child.
"Alasson? Alasson!"
Elros looked up to see a young woman run around the corner and his breath caught at what he saw. She was young and lithe and had long dark hair that ran down her back and was streaked with golden-blonde highlights from the sun. Her eyes were large and dark and when she smiled Elros's heart jumped suddenly and he spoke before he realized what he was saying.
"Saeran?" he whispered.
The young girl glanced at him briefly as she ran up to the child Elros knelt in front of.
"Alasson, there you are! You mustn't run off like that. Forgive me sir . . ." her voice trailed off as she looked down at Elros who still knelt on the ground before her. Suddenly a look of recognition came across her face and she gasped and dropped to her own knees on the ground.
"Your Majesty! Forgive me! I did not realize, I am so sorry! Had I known, please forgive me!" She went on like that for a few more seconds, sputtering out apologies as Elros looked at her. No, not Saeran, but obviously a relation for the resemblance was uncanny and he could not stop staring at her. He realized then that she was looking at him strangely for he still knelt on the ground. Immediately he stood up and held his hand out to her. She hesitated for a moment before taking it, looking around nervously as she did.
"Please, you must forgive me. I am the one who has appeared unannounced. Is he your son?" Her eyes widened as she looked to the ground.
"No your Majesty, he is my youngest brother and I am tasked with his care for the afternoon. A task I am afraid I am doing very poorly."
Elros smiled upon hearing the boy was not her child. The young woman continued to glance at him nervously.
"Nonsense," he said and wondered why she was still so nervous when he realized he was still holding her hand. He released her hand quickly and dropped his hands to his side awkwardly. What is wrong with me, he thought.
"So," he said smiling again, "this little one is called Alasson," the little boy looked up at him curiously. "Might I inquire after your name as well?" She dropped back down into a deep curtsy as Alasson looked back to her.
"I am Aileanna, your Majesty, daughter of Gwydyon." It was Elros's turn to look surprised.
"Aileanna?!" Elros exclaimed and Alasson's head whipped back around to look at him. "Gwydyon's young daughter? Vorindor's granddaughter? Why the last time I saw you, you were but a speck of a thing! Not at all the wo- I mean, you are . . . you . . . have grown . . . up." She glanced back up at him as he stuttered and Elros cursed his clumsy tongue. You have grown up? He thought to himself angrily. You sound like a buffoon!
"Yes your Majesty."
"No, no, no," he said and reached for her again taking her hand for her to stand up. "This will never do. Do not call me Majesty, please."
"Yes my lord."
"No, no, no," he said again shaking his head. "No lord either. Simply Elros." Her eyes went wide and she looked down nervously at her hand in Elros's. Alasson sighed and plopped down onto the ground and pulled a toy out of his pocket to play with.
"Oh no my lord, I could never do that. To do so would be scandalous!"
Elros cover her hand with both of his and looked her earnestly in the eyes.
"Please, I must insist for I have too much love for your house to allow otherwise. You will call me Elros and I will call you Aileanna . . . if you will allow it." She considered him for a moment before Elros saw the start of a small smile play along her lips. He fought the urge to touch them with his own.
"I suppose . . . it will be alright . . . Elros." She her mouth gave into the smile as she said his name and Elros felt a strange fluttering sensation in his chest.
"Excellent!" His own wide smile beamed from his person and he turned around and swept up the very bored Alasson from the ground. The boy squealed with delight at the surprise. "Now," said Elros as he held his arm out for Aileanna to take, "if you would do me the honor of escorting me to your grandfather's house I have come to the realization that there is much I must talk to your father and grandfather about."
Their courtship would last through two seasons and their first child born in the year sixty-one of the second age.