Chapter One- A Storm in the West


I stood watching the sea once again.  It seemed to me that a storm raged in the West, as it had overmuch these past days.  Far off, amidst the salt spray of the ocean, a strange flickering blinked and trembled, a flickering as of
lightning.  The Sun was setting, and her brightness appeared to dim as she was drawn behind the holy mountain of Taniquetil, in Aman where dwell now most of my kin.  Would the Moon dim even so when I sailed from Mithlond?  But surely centuries would pass before that came to be.  I could not trust so well in the strength of men.

“Gil-galad,” a voice murmured in my ear.  Elrond’s hands encircled my waist, his delicate fingers brushing my skin through my silk tunic.  If I sailed to Valinor, I told myself, Elrond could take the kingship for me.  He had claim in the blood of both Doriath and Gondolin, and he was wise and valiant.  But I would never sail without him.

“It storms in the West,” I told him, leaning back against his slender body, my cheek next to his.  “In Númenor some battle rages, some folly of the noble men come to its full audacity.”

“If the heirs of my brother are as foolhardy as is told, the battle may be farther west than that, in Avallonë or even on the shores of Aman,” said he.  His voice grew sad and solemn.  “I fear the noble blood has passed out of that line of men, and they are even as the wild men of the south and east, beyond your kingdom.”

“Nay,” I replied.  I clasped his hand in both of mine where it lay on my stomach.  “For since Morgoth has been cast into the Void, how could the power of Sauron his minion dare to assail the Valar?  No matter what lies he plants in the hearts of men, they have the blood of Lúthien herself in their veins, even as do you.”

“Perhaps the news that has reached me has not reached you.”  He let go my waist and leaned past me, gazing into the sunset.  The sea was bright crimson as if awash with blood, bathing the wounds of the Sun that she had received in passing over mortal lands.  “Even now they worship death and call false the name of Iluvatar.”  He turned away.  “Gil-galad, I am leaving tomorrow for Rivendell.”

“No!” I cried.  “For if what you say is true, they will dare to assail us even as they assail the Valar.  If they have no respect for the Lords of the West, what respect will they have for us?  Will they place value in my title as King of Elves?  We must concentrate our force here, and along the coast.  And Sauron will make use of his power here, using that demonic ring he forged for war against us.  We must prevent his return when he has gotten his desire from Valinor.”

“He will return whether our force lies here or no,” Elrond insisted. He still gazed into the West, not looking at me.  “But Rivendell must be strong if our power is to extend beyond the Great River even to the borders of Greenwood, as it has done in recent years.  Do you wish to be pushed back, caged at Mithlond, or even resigned to the tall ships on the sea?”

“The sea calls me as it does not call you,” said I.  A touch of bitterness entered my voice, and I pushed back from the window. “Strange in the son of the Mariner that he should have no longing for the sea.”

“And strange in the son of Fingon that he should have no heart to rule his people,” he retorted.  I bit back the sharp words that formed on my tongue and leaned beside him again at my balcony window.  The waves lapped gently on the shore beneath us, and the sea-birds mewed.  There was a fair breeze, and even as we stood there a gentle rain began to fall. Yet beyond that was ever the lightning and the anger of Ulmo and of Ossë.

“It pains me to let you go,” I told him.  I laid my hand again on his. “In Imladris you do not think of me.  Your heart is turned always to your people living there, people who have never heard of me and of whom I have never heard.  What news I receive tells of naught but you and the daughter of Galadriel.”

“Celebrian is-” he began sharply, and then cut himself off.  He turned his hand up so that his palm faced mine.  “Forgive me.  I do not wish to hurt you, but think of the laws of our kindred.  They do not understand.  Even the
good and wise of your subjects begin to think it more than the friendship proper to men when we are together night and day, and there are some who look at us strangely when we pass in the street.  It is unsafe.”

“You are right.  You must leave, even as you have said.”  I turned from the window, taking my hand from his and silently pledging to leave my heart behind me there.  I strode over to my closet and began to sort through the
robes hanging there.  “Yet I will not let you leave this final time without some sort of public recognition.  We will hold a feast tonight. What would you have me wear?”  He took my arm and turned me to face him, pinning me close to the wall.

“Absolutely nothing,” he whispered, his hands running down my sides as he leaned in to kiss me.

“All the eagles are flying out to sea,” Ruiniel stated plainly, gesturing with a glass of sweet southern wine.  Her copper-red braid swung as she turned to each elf to make her point.  Her hair color was not usual to the elves, and almost unheard of among the Noldor, but from time to time it would turn up in one of the Vanyar, like her mother.  Yet in most respects she took after her Noldorin father- her sea-gray eyes, her knowledge, her valor, and the stubborn streak that had led her to choose exile.

“All the West is laced with lightning,” she continued.  “My keen-eyed brother can descry the ships of Númenor tossed at sea when the mists are thinner.  The wrath of the Valar is upon the kings of men.  We must then be wary in our own lands, for if the noblest of the Followers are corrupt, we can place little trust in the base-born wild men.  Know you that I have long had misgivings about the traffic of these mortals in our lands.  I call for vigilance.  What do we know of the fate of Sauron, who of late troubled us with war and strife?  How can we have grown complacent?”

“Quite clever, that one,” commented Elrond quietly to me.  “Very beautiful.  War-mongering, sooth, but none even among the Noldor is without fault.  When Celebrian and I wed, you might court her.”

“She might not take to being courted,” I replied, accepting the glass of red wine he handed me.  I grew quiet at feasts and celebrations, as Elrond well knew, and he had helped me to find an undisturbed spot in the corner.  “I would not take to courting her.”

“Gil-galad, you must have some love in your heart for women. Have you no appreciation of her fine figure or her
lovely face?  Come, tell me truly you do not feel a fluttering in your chest at the sight of her impassioned bosom.”  I looked.  I did not.  Then I turned back to Elrond, who raised his glass cheerfully.

“I fear you have been too long at the wine,” I said.  “This is overly strong.  How much have you had?  You are not a heavy drinker, and you cannot stomach this.”  In defiance of me, he drained an entire goblet.

“Watch me,” he said.  It came to my ears as “washt me”.  He was quite clearly tipsy, for this wine came of a stock I had long been hoarding, and it was thicker than our normal white.  I suspected that I had forgotten to inform the gathering of this.  I hauled Elrond to his feet, my arm under his shoulder, and dragged him discreetly away from the feast.  Almost as soon as we were out of sight, he collapsed entirely.  I picked him up and carried him to his room.

I set him gently onto his bed, and waited a moment to ensure that he was safe.  Soon his eyes flickered open, and he frowned at me.  It is characteristic of many elves that wine affects them quickly, but not for long.

“Why are you standing away, Gil-galad?” he asked.  “Come to bed.”  I obeyed, for if the strong wine of the south takes away a man’s capacity for thought, it only increases his capacity for love.

I awoke with the rising of the Sun, finding Elrond still in my arms. Knowing all would soon rise, I quickly found my robes and rearranged my hair.  His chamber was airy and open to the air and the trees, in the style he had developed in Imladris, far removed from our fortress-like buildings.  The sunlight and a faint morning breeze streamed in.  So did Ruiniel, without even a knock.

“Still here?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.  Her smirk might have driven Varda herself to violence.  As Elrond had said, she was beautiful, but I cared for her far more as a warrior or a hostler than as a lady.

“I came to see Lord Elrond off, only to discover that last night’s rich wine still leaves him sleeping,” I answered, patiently ignoring her expression.  The half-lie tripped off my tongue glibly.

“I would not mention it,” she replied infuriatingly.  I fear I scowled.  The grace of the Valar protect me from gossip-scroungers!  And yet it reminded me to take care, for the love between Elrond and myself would not be permitted among the Noldor.  She at least did not find it repulsive, merely amusing.  Still, something in that amusement irritated me no end.

“And you?  Why do you enter his private chambers?” I asked.  I hoped that I appeared to be calm, as I found an armchair and leaned back in it casually, putting on my most kingly air.

“I bring word of the horse he is to ride,” she told me, crossing her arms.  “You know he has none of his own at the moment, and we at the stables have consulted and determined that Ernil may bear him to Imladris, but we trust he shall be returned.  I keep careful watch on our horses, sire, more careful a watch than you keep on your own secrets.”  It seemed she was warning me for my own safety, not amusing herself with my errors.

“I will pass the message on,” I assured her.  She glared at me suspiciously, but that is the manner of all hostlers who lend their mounts. With a curt nod she left.  Watching her stride out of the room was akin to watching the tallest of our vessels pass majestically out of the narrow harbor onto the open sea, for she left behind her a wake too large for the space to contain it.

In order to avoid any further encounters of this nature, I shook Elrond awake, whispering in his ear to rise. When
this did not wake him from his wine-induced sleep, I kissed him soundly on the lips, and with that he rose.  But that was the last time, I promised myself.  I would not leave my heart in the hands of one who could not love me back.  I tossed him some traveling clothes- a leather jerkin and leggings.

“My head pounds,” he informed me, grimacing as he lifted himself from the bed.  With a yawn and a groan he attempted to stretch.  “May Estë grant that my horse be gentle.”

“Your horse is a favorite of Ruiniel.  I would hardly hope for a pony,” I pointed out, handing him a basin of cold water.  “She was in here only moments ago, gleefully noting how early I was in your room.  That harridan, Elrond, how could you have suggested I court her?”

“I have no recollection of that.  I must have been very drunk,” his voice emanated from within the jerkin he was struggling to pull over his head. “I do admit that I think better of the fiery maiden than you do, but how could I wish to lose you to any woman?  I do not love you the less for the love of Celebrian, but at least if I wed her we may still meet here.  If you were wed where then would we meet?”

I did not answer him, we cannot meet thus again.  I knew so firmly in my heart that I would not let my love go with Elrond when he loved another and would so soon forget me, yet I was tempted still.

“Do you remember aught of last night?” I asked.  He was now fully clothed, a fact I distinctly regretted.

“Not a thing,” he answered, dashing the water on his face.  He shook himself, prepared to meet the day, and then failed, collapsing again onto the bed and furrowing his brow in frustration.

“Then we shall have to do it all over again,” I said.  My hand traced idly over his braided hair, and I brushed a kiss over his lips.  His hands slid up my back, under my tunic, sending a shiver up my spine.  I began to pull him down into the bed, when I heard someone knock on the door.  I jerked away, straightening my clothing and hastily running my fingers through my hair.  Elrond went to the door.

“Mae govannen, Elrond,” exclaimed the young elf who stood there.  His hair was sandy blond and his eyes were bright blue, the marks of a Silvan elf.  He was fair and noble in manner.  I despised him immediately.  “I heard you were leaving for Rivendell today, and I thought to accompany you.”

“Indeed, Thranduil, it is well thought,” he replied, clasping in greeting the hand that this youth extended.  “You will accompany us first to breakfast, I trust.”  Thranduil noticed me suddenly, but did not seem to think it odd that I should be in Elrond’s chambers at this time of morning.

“I have not met your friend,” he said.  He smiled at me, and I forced myself to smile back.  I chided myself, knowing I had no reason to hate him, but merely dismayed at losing Elrond.  Why should some youngling of the Moriquendi be as good a friend to Elrond as I?  Why should he part from me, to live in his mountain refuge amongst elves I had never met?

“He is Gil-galad, High King of the elves in Middle-earth,” Elrond informed him.  “Gil-galad, this is Thranduil, who rules many of the woodland elves.”  I barely kept myself from protesting that he was but a boy.  He greeted me, and I him, and he instantly forgot my existence and fell to chatting with Elrond of I knew nor reckoned not what.

O Elrond Half-elven, have you utterly forsaken me?  New loves, new friends, a city and a lordship all your own. Your habits and speech every day less Noldorin.  With the end of the Second Age- yea, for it is ending- comes the end of your love for me.  Mel fíriel, mel vanwa, Edhilaran egla.

Chapter Two- The Ships of Númenor
 
With Elrond gone I noted little of time.  I cannot tell you whether it was that very night or whether a week had passed, but I can tell you that it was evening and I was walking along the shore.  The purple twilight enveloped the beach and the rolling waves.  Indeed, the waves were rolling more roughly than usual, for the storm in the West had not abated since the day I first noticed it.  Nay, it had but grown and stretched itself nearly to the shore of Middle-earth.

The lightning had become more than but a dim flickering in the distance, now a true fire that flashed upon the seas, accompanied by a great crack of thunder like unto the rending of the earth.  I could well imagine how it had rent to swallow up the last of the Silmarils.  It was not an image I relished.

As I watched the sea I called upon the Valar, to Yavanna to protect her poor bedraggled gulls, to Ulmo not to crush me with the pounding hooves of his white horses.  Then in the sea-mists great shapes appeared.  For a minute I could not make them out, but soon they became clear.  They were ships, the tall ships of Númenor which once had sailed to my harbors in friendship before their hearts were turned.

They were torn from each other even as they struggled to hold fast.  Many of them were turned away to the south, but some dared to attempt our haven.  I thought in that instant that if I had been but able to warn them, all would be well.  Our harbor is dangerous for those who know it not.

One by one, the four ships that had not been forced southward were dashed against the sharp rocks of the port of Mithlond.  They splintered painfully as they struck, the wind behind them now, driving them onward even had they tried to halt.  I grieved for the loss of the fine vessels, but not for the sailors.  I had no wish to deal with the proud lords of men.

Mayhap I was but bitter.

***
 

The next morning I set my people to combing the strand, for, upon seeing the wreckage in the light of day, I suspected that many of the Númenoreans would live.  I was required by the law of Mithlond to provide them succor if they were not servants of the Dark, and if they were, I would not leave them to escape.  I myself prowled the area directly in front of the boulders where the ships had been lost.  Soon enough I was lucky in my search.

A man, barely conscious, lay on the falas.  He was taller than the wild men, near as high as an elf, and broad-shouldered.  His hair was chestnut-brown, and his eyes dark as night.  He had no trace of a beard, showing that in his past there lay elven blood, and his fair face and slender hands were greatly bruised and cut.

Though I had but little love for his race, I felt keenly my duty to another living creature.  I took a flask of water I had hanging from my hip and held it to his lips.  He sputtered.  In a moment I had restored to him the power of speech.

“Many thanks, friend,” he croaked.  “I would that I might call thee friend, for though I am of Númenor, I will hold any of the Firstborn in higher regard than he who called himself there king.  May the Valar bless thee!  I am thy servant, and I am called Elendil.”  He fell to one knee in the sand.

This fair speech brought great hope to me.  Some men, it seemed, would yet prove true.  Did they not use the name Elendil to mean elf-friend?  Though in my mind it came to “star-lover”, I accepted this Mannish translation. He had spoken to me in good Sindarin, but I addressed him in the tongue of Númenor.

“I am Gil-galad, and I am here king of elves,” I told him.  He gasped and bowed his head so reverentially that it brought a faint blush to my cheek.  “What has come to pass?  We have seen the storm, but known naught of its cause.”

“It was sent upon our accursed island by the true Lords of the West, the Valar,” he answered falling into his native tongue with relief.  The words spilled forth from his mouth eagerly, desperate to tell his tale.  “Forgive me, I forget- thou knowst not that our king had taken that great title on himself.  The king-” at this he spat “-had been swayed by the evil councils of that demon calling himself Annatar.  This demon came in fair guise, but spoke cruel words and incited hatred against the Faithful, those of us who still knew ourselves to be under the governance of Eru.  He essayed to make war on Valinor itself. 

“I set forth in a fleet of nine ships of the Faithful, with my two sons, and but narrowly did we escape the drowning of our island.  Akallabeth I name that curséd land, Atalantë, and gleefully I let it perish.  I have no longer any love for it.”  His voice turned from harsh anger to threnody.  “I mourn only the death of our fair queen.  At heart she was of the Faithful, though she could not show it.  Tar-Míriel, my cousin, wherefore didst thou refuse our ships?  Might we not have saved thee?”  Tears streamed freely down his cheeks, for he made no attempt to check them.

“Now I understand much,” I mused.  “And the storm rages still!  Here we are sheltered to some small extent, for the power of Mithlond is great, but the waters of the ocean run freely through Middle-earth.  Many mountains will be made low, and valleys raised, and all the world will be changed.  Men and elves in great numbers will perish, and those who survive will become ever more divided in race and tongue.”

“The Second Age is coming to an end,” Elendil agreed.  He had managed to pull himself to his feet.  I saw that his height was even greater than I had at first guessed, and the wounds in his face even deeper.

“But it is not ended yet.  Annatar you name him who poisoned the heart of your king, but how can he be other than Sauron, the most despicable of the servants of Morgoth?  For he had built a stronghold in Mordor, and forged a monstrous ring, and wrought war upon the elves, but as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone. Only then did we begin to hear of this fair-guised demon in the land of Númenor.  You cannot yet rejoice that he is overthrown.  Great evil may escape easily a destruction of its works.”

“All you say is true,” he said.  He wrapped his cloak closely about him, trying to shut out the cold.  And how cold he must be!  He was soaked through.  I put my arm about him and began to guide him back to the city. Carefully and slowly, he gave voice to a thought that seemed to be preying on his mind.  “It minds me of a half-forgotten, half-dreamed memory I had hoped to leave behind.  In the storm that ranged round Númenor- nay, Atalantë we must now say- we could not tell day from night, but betimes we would lie down and hope that in our sleep we might not be washed overboard.  We could do naught to protect ourselves, for the waves tossed us beyond anything we could control.

“At one such time I awoke to a great thunderclap, which disturbed hone other among the crew.  Perhaps they had grown used to that noise.  The sky had darkened even more than that pitch-blackness we had known, a darkness that was not an absence of light but a force of its own.  The land was as white in that blackness as the shoulder of a maiden.  I was the only one to see that isle once fair and proud topple beneath the waves.  Many I had known I saw perish.  My sweet cousin Tar-Míriel, finally freed from that cold palace, strove to ascend to the holy temple in the center of the isle, but the waves ate her before she could so do.”  His voice caught in his throat.  “She was such a lissome maid before that usurper forced her to wed him.  If he were not now dead-”  He cut himself off, and was silent for a moment before he continued.

“As it sunk into the fiery chasm oped within the earth, some terrible flaming thing tore itself from the ground.  It was a great demonic spirit, shrieking horribly as wings grew from its back.  As I stared at it I fear it saw me, and was about to loose destruction on my ship, when something caused it to wheel off, heading for the shore of Middle-earth.”  He had more of his tale left, but I held up my hand to stop him.

“That cannot be other than the spirit of Sauron,” I declared.  “I long have wondered if he would return.  Now I know he has.  But luck is with us, for not long ago did my truest of friends, Lord Elrond, leave to his stronghold of Rivendell.  With him there, the power of the elves is doubled, and Sauron shall not find so easily his foothold in Middle-earth.  He will have to struggle to regain any of his former power.  Yet he will do so in darkness, in the secret regions he has long built to his own liking, and we will hear but rumors for a time until he dares to make his might known.  Then- well, then we will see.”

We walked a while in silence, watching the storm.  Planks were strewn all along the shore, remnants of the great ships that had been whole though battered but the night before.  The strand was covered in animals; fish that had been tossed onto the sand, crabs and tortoises that had escaped the relentless sea, gulls that had fallen exhausted at last.  Great ribbons of kelp were strewn along the falas.

We rounded the corner of a tall rock that divided the cove, and Elendil gazed for the first time upon the fortress and harbor of Mithlond.  It rose tall above the pounding surf, strong upon that rocky crag.  Its towers seemed to stretch forever into the heavens.  The man drew in one sharp breath, overwhelmed, and crumpled to the ground unconscious.

***
 

As I threw upon the gates to my city, I immediately began to bark out orders, though I hate to command except in dire emergency.  Many elves who were working nearby snapped to attention.

“Healers, take this man to the hospital immediately.  Clean his wounds and give him new clothing.  You, double the search parties.  Treat all the men you find with care.  Where are the cooks?  Collect all those gaping fish from the beaches if you’d rather eat than have to smell them for the next week.  We’ll feed our guests well. They are men of honor.”

I strode through the halls, breaking up several lunch parties and secret meetings as I doled out tasks to everyone.  My casual attempt to search for the men of Númenor had been treated as a gesture, and so it had been.  Now, knowing that these were allies we would need soon enough, the gesture became earnest.  There must have been hundreds of men on the four ships that had entered our harbor.  Who knew how many of them survived?

Finally I satisfied myself that every elf in Mithlond was at work to provide for our rescued sailors.  Even the weavers were working their looms at full speed, knowing that the survivors would need new clothes, and the dead burial shrouds.  For me, the tax on my thought had been too much.  I stumbled into my room and collapsed on the bed.  I slept for the rest of the afternoon.

***
 

When a young elf came to wake me for the evening meal, I waved him away and dragged myself upright. something made me halt when I reached for a plain white tunic and leggings of the sort I wore daily.  I chose instead a crimson robe, decorated elegantly with gold thread.  I placed a delicate golden circlet on my head.

When I entered the feasting hall, all the food had already been laid but on the tables.  Elendil had been placed where Elrond was accustomed to sit, on the right-hand side of my seat.  My great chair was no throne, for elves in general are not ostentatious, and myself less so than most.  Still, it dominated the table clearly, and its oaken back was beautifully carved.

I sat, and the men and elves, who were mixed evenly along the table, began to pass platters back and forth, accompanied by much ringing chatter.  The cooks had outdone themselves in grilling the salmon and trout, covering the crab and lobster meat with dripping butter, and arranging oysters and mussels beautifully on trays. There was also much fresh fruit from our orchards, even oranges and mangoes from the distant south, which one of the gardeners had contrived to grow inside a house of glass.  Wine was served, though I noted it was a much-diluted white wine, far less intoxicating than the red wine I had ordered for Elrond’s farewell feast.  My head chef had promised me her new invention for dessert, a mixture of fruit and ice that she called a sorbet.

For several minutes we were much too occupied for conversation.  Elendil ate ravenously, and I supposed he had not eaten much but ship’s-biscuit for days.  He really was quite handsome now that he had been cleaned up, more so than I had ever known any mortal to be.  His chestnut hair gleamed, falling elegantly over his strong shoulders.  His eyes were bright and sharp, and even as he devoured the feast his back was straight and his movements elegant.  He was still youthful, but sometimes the expression in his eyes made him look as old as an elf.

He had been dressed in cotton breeches and a loose shirt, both of a deep ocean blue.  A pine-green woolen cloak hung on his shoulders.  The clasp was carved of pine into the shape of a great ship with its sails billowing. He appeared entirely at home in the elven clothing, and with the silverware and napkins, though I had never known a mortal to eat with aught but his hands.  His face was proud but gentle.

“You are the leader of the Faithful, are you not?” I asked when his eating slowed.  I passed a basket of rolls to him.

“Yea, if my father returns not from his voyage to Aman.  I doubt he will, for he did so on the errand to save Atalantë from its dreadful king.  Well, it is saved now, by its own destruction.”  He covered several rolls in butter.

“Then you are king of men,” I said.  I noted his shock and smiled.  “Of all men, even the wild men who have been separated from your people for an age, for you have the most noble blood of any man in you.  You called the queen your cousin- I take it then that you have the blood of Elros in your veins.”  He nodded, apparently unable to speak.

“My sons will think me dead,” he said after a moment, stuffing a roll into his mouth.

“I know where they will land when the floods abate,” I replied as I speared a piece of crabmeat.  “We will voyage there, you and I and a few to guard us.  You will govern the land beyond the reach of the power of myself and Elrond, and with the aid of your sons make that land a kingdom of men, and Sauron will not be able to assail you.  Mithlond will be safe enough in my absence.”  I looked into his dark eyes, and finally he nodded.

“I thank the Valar that they led me to thy harbor,” he commented.

“We had meant to strike for it from the start, but without the stars to guide us, it was but blind luck.  Thou art a true friend forever.”

He smiled at me radiantly, and it was at that moment that I fell in love for the second time in my long life.
 

Chapter Three- The Wise and Fickle Moon
 
We had a few weeks before we would even begin to prepare to take Elendil to meet his sons.  The flood still raged on either side of our city.  I planned to pass up the River Lhûn, and suspected that by that swift route the kingdom of the Númenoreans would be established even before the sons of Elendil were able to land.

In the meantime he and his people recovered their strength, and many fast friendships took hold between his men and my elves.  Yet I was the only one who would dedicate my love to one of these mortals.  Most of my people either had spouses or lovers, or were too young to wed.  And my kindred looked upon love between immortals and mortals in much the same way they looked upon love between men.

Though I was often busy with my duties as king, I always found time enough after the evening meal to speak with Elendil.  And what talks we had!  Betimes we would sit on the balcony of my room and he would tell me of his life in Atalantë, or we would walk along the beach and I would speak of our wars against the Orcs.  As the days passed we came to trust each other so well that he would tell me stories of his childhood mishaps, and I would tell him of foolish mistakes I had made in governing my people.  The one thing I never spoke of was Elrond.

At first he was weak, and barely able to walk due to the gashes that the treacherous shore had inflicted upon his legs, not to mention the lack of food and water he had suffered.  Yet as the days passed he forced his limbs to obey the sharp workings of his mind.  He could climb some of the smaller outcroppings of rocks, and once again he had picked up the sword.

I had not seen him practice weaponry, as I had been in meetings with my council at that time, after the noon hour, but on this day we had adjourned swiftly.  Walking back to the quarters of the Númenoreans, I heard the clash of steel on steel long before I could see anyone.  I began to hurry, fearing a fight had broken out, for elves are loathe to draw weapons against each other, even in practice.  The Kinslaying lies too near in our memories.

I rounded the corner to see Elendil bearing down on one of his companions, but his faces was friendly and the cries of the crowd were appreciative rather than fearful.  In a moment my fear had fled, and I found a seat.  I watched as Elendil disarmed his friend skillfully, but could not bring myself to applaud as did the Númenoreans.

“Gil-galad!  What thought you of the fight?” cried Elendil, striding over to my side and taking a seat beside me.  His eyes gleamed, and through his sweat his joy shone out.

“Not lightly do the elves do violence for sport or for practice,” I replied.  I did not look at him, but rather watched a bird build a nest in a nearby tree.  Verily it was pain itself to be near him, for my desire was so strong.  In my imagination I could taste his mouth against mine, I could feel the warmth of his hips, and my stomach leapt nigh my throat.

“Be assured that I take it with all seriousness,” he told me, laying his hand earnestly on my knee.  My breath, my very blood strained within me, my body clamoring to express the love my lips could not.  “Neither do the men of Atalantë lightly take up arms, yet by crushing experience we know the necessity of vigilance.”

“We practice by other means,” said I, forcing myself to look at him.  “There are drills and patterns we repeat, striking against a foe formed in our mind and not in reality.  Truly do I believe your way has the best of experience, but an elf can never risk spilling the blood of another elf.  To men this seems overly restrained, I know, but when at Alqualondë murder was first wrought by kin on kin, our hearts cried out as one people, and it was laid in the doom of Mandos that this would haunt us always.  Whenever any of my people in this kingdom feels pain, so do I- a pain of the heart.  In all our kin, one’s anguish is another’s.”  For a moment he was silent.

“I had heard of the Kinslaying, but never has it touched my so truly,” he murmured.  His voice and his eyes were solemn and fierce with grief, as though he were one of the kindred himself.  Therein, thought I, ties the secret of my love for him.  His spirit is as elven as mine own, though he is mortal.  How truly the blood of Lúthien runs in him!

“I do not ask anything of you,” I assured him.  For a moment I risked a glance into his chestnut eyes.  They were like unto the grace of the moon’s light on a starless night, shining on the deepest forest.  “I tell you of the customs of my people, but you must keep your own.  For you diligent practice is the best way, and for us to make no venture.  That aside, elves do not lose their skills over the centuries.  For men, training is necessary.”

“What do I hear?  Is this an insult against the younger race?” he joked, dramatically mocking.  The somber mood was broken, and I caught his laughter.  There were few people in the world that made me laugh, and my people remarked often on how serious was my demeanor.  Yet a precious few knew me to delight in puns and satire.  My youngest cousin (though I apply the word “cousin” loosely) could always provoke in me humor, as could Elendil, as could- as could Elrond.

In all my newfound desire for this mortal I had not forgotten my old lover.  They ran together in my dreams at night, driving me mad in belief that Elrond had brushed my lips with his, teasing me gently with his tongue, and then in fancy that Elendil’s hands ran across my chest, his mouth traced its way down my neck, his loins pressed to mine…both man and elf were mine, in my imagination.  At the dawn they evaporated as did the dew on the fields, and my desire was suppressed to suffer through another day.

“Nay, friend,” I said with a smile, and then my mood grew somber.  “It is but one more of the truths that divide our races.  Verily, Elendil, our peoples are as night and day.  The Sun was set in the sky that men might see the world around them, yet she blinds them to the moonlight.  And you know that the Moon is a sign of the waning of the elves- but he minds us of a time when though but stars lit the night, it were as safe and shadowless as if the golden Sun shone on it.  Men call the Moon fickle, and elves the Sun brash.  Can there ever be harmony between these two?”

He leaned back against the pillar behind us, and closed his eyes in thought.  Then, slowly, he replied, “Yea.  For the Moon draws near the Sun in love for her, does he not?  He is wise, and she brave, and each balances the other.  They are the fruit and flower of the Trees of Yavanna, and it is said that there was greatest beauty in Valinor when their lights were mixed.  If Eru put both elf and man into this world, then assuredly he meant that they should mingle.  I know not why doom fell on Lúthien and Beren for their love, but ‘twas not because it angered the gods.”

“Death is not the doom men think it,” I reminded him.  Cautiously, I placed my hand on his shoulder.  “You crave immortality, the boundlessness of time, and forget that eventually we all crave rest.”

“You do not know what I crave,” he answered abruptly.  He jerked to his feet, and with a curt farewell returned once more to his friends.  I watched sadly as he walked away, cursing myself for a fool.  No elf could hope to understand the Followers, or imagine that they might return that understanding.  We were too different.

***
 

I had only mentioned to a few besides Elendil the plan for his departure and the new kingdom of men that was to be built.  I admitted to myself, reluctantly, that the only reason for this was an unfounded hope that he would stay.  With one glass of wine I made myself destroy it, mocking the acrimonious taste in my mouth- both metaphorical and real, for the wine proved itself cheap.

I passed a message to Iorerin, my old friend and councilor, through one of his students, a boy sitting wide-eyed before the debate raging in the philosophers’ square.  Erin called it his “university”.  Everybody else called it his madhouse.  I allowed myself a sarcastic smirk at the wildly illogical debaters before returning to my chambers, where I searched a bottle of wine less bitter and more potent.

I could not hear Erin’s silent footsteps pad up behind me, but I could feel his presence in the room as I stared out across the sea.  “Welcome, Iorerin,” I greeted him.  “Hado dad.”  He pulled up a chair, still noiseless.  I did not turn around, watching for the star of the Mariner to appear in the West.  Neither of us spoke.  This was the difference that elevated Erin so far above the other philosophers: his points were proved by silence.  I waited, knowing Elendil would soon arrive.  The moments passed quietly until I heard the door swing open.  I turned, motioning Elendil to a seat, and began instantly to speak.

“Erin, you know that Elendil led the Faithful here from Atalantë.  He is wise, as near to elven as any mortal can ever be.  For this, I have declared that he must rule the second kindred as king,” I announced.  I was keeping my voice calm and careful, only daring to give Elendil half the praise he deserved in my resolve to rid myself of love.

“My plan would place him east of the lands that Elrond holds- near, I believe, to the stronghold of Sauron,” I continued, looking only at Erin.  “I know he is capable of ruling well.  All I ask of you is whether this policy is wise as a military venture.  You know well the belief of Elrond that we must spread as far as possible to combat evil, and my argument that our strength is best kept unified.  I think Elrond has been proven correct, but it is your counsel I wish now.”

For a moment more he remained silent.  Then he moved forward, leaning on his elbows.  “I do think it wise that we extend our power as far as possible.  Yet the purpose is to present this power as a united front, and for that there must be communication.  It is easy enough to communicate with Imladris, but it is more risk than worth to send messengers over that great a distance.”  He stared into a corner absentmindedly, working something out in his brain.  Still I did not speak.  After a minute he leaned back, and turned his gaze on Elendil.  “There is a legend…” he ventured.

“Indeed,” Elendil replied smoothly.  He glanced at me questioningly, wondering why this meeting was so abrupt, but it was barely noticeable under his composure.  “We have brought from Atalantë items of great worth, and among them are seven stones.  The palantíri.”  He glanced at me again, desiring to know whether he should continue.  I did not attempt to return his look.

“I know of them,” said Erin.  His voice seemed still measured, but I could detect in it a note of excitement that would go unnoticed by most.  “With their aid, distance is no barrier to thought.  It is said that amongst the strong of will, not even time can bar the way.  This would not only solve the problem of our communication.  For the world of knowledge, it would mean everything.  The study of history could become firsthand, while scientific advancement could be made simply by looking at what we will discover.”

“The palantíri were not made for such uses,” Elendil replied, somewhat sharply.  He looked aghast at Erin’s enthusiasm, and thinking on what he had told me of these far-seers, it was no wonder.  They held inordinate amounts of danger in their depths.  “There are few who can use them safely, and even then they cannot use them overmuch, lest it drive them mad.  Yet for our communication they could be well employed.  One, then, will I leave in the keeping of Gil-galad-” he made a sort of bow in his seat- “and the other six will I take myself when we set out.”

“What folly is this?” asked Erin.  Still he kept his voice calm, but his eyebrows he raised slightly.  “You know not what you say.  Their influence on wisdom would be limitless.”

“Believe me, friend, if they could be ever used without the very strictest of discipline, I would have turned them to that purpose long ago,” replied Elendil wistfully.  “Yet one of them would I keep turned ever backwards to one moment in time, on the fair isle of Númenor, that I might gaze upon my friends and comrades who perished in that doomed land.  If I could do so without fear, I verily would.”

“I will hold one palantir for you,” said I, not wishing this argument to progress further.  Besides which, I had been strangely moved by Elendil’s wish.  “At Emyn Beraid will I build towers for you, and call the highest Elostirion, and there shall be placed the seeing stone.  From there will you be able to stare across the seas to where Atalantë was, and even to Avallonë, though not to Aman.”

My generous offer startled him.  The fiery look customary to his eyes, which I had not seen this evening, rekindled itself.  He clasped my hand firmly in his and somehow I believe he made a vow of some kind, though no words came from his mouth.  For a moment I allowed myself to truly look at him, and the pain of desire arose again in my heart.  Quickly, I forced my eyes away and pulled back my hand.  I knew it would hurt him, but it would hurt us both far more if I allowed myself to act as I wished.

I cleared my throat.  “Our decision is made, then.  In the next few days I will arrange things.  Food, transportation, clothing, and weaponry we will provide as best we can.  Several items salvaged from the shipwreck have now been repaired, and most of the rest replaced.  The only issue that requires any thought will be the escort.  I myself will of course accompany you, as only I am aware of our intended destination.”

“If it is acceptable, I will come as well,” added Erin.  I was glad to see he had put the palantíri out of his mind.  It seemed he could genuinely like Elendil when this was not between them, and I would be glad to have Erin on the ride if for no other reason than that his marble-white skin could be greatly improved by some days riding in the sun.  Not to mention that I would need someone to talk to in order to avoid any personal conversations with Elendil.

“I thank you greatly for your offer,” Elendil said, again returned to his formal tone of voice.  He stood up and bowed rather coldly.  Erin stood and bowed as well, and strode over to the door lost in thought.  He left with a vague farewell, but Elendil hesitated at the door and turned towards me once more.

“Good night,” I offered uncertainly, put off by his chilling look.  He stood there silently for a moment, and then spoke.

“I do not know whether I have violated some custom of the elves, or offended you somehow, or whether it is simply that our friendship has never been more than diplomacy.  I do not know why you have withdrawn your kindness or why you wish me to leave.  But I do know that among men it is considered rude to cast off a friend thus.  You have asked me to depart, and so will I do.  You have promised me great things, and I will accept them.  Yet do not ask trust of me if you will not return it in kind.  Good night.”

For the second time that day I cursed myself as he left me alone in the darkness.  I had shown great folly indeed, abandoning my friendship to suppress my love.  For the first time the idea came to me that perhaps the best course of action would be truth.  I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly, and then I stepped into the corridor after Elendil.

Chapter Four- The Choicest of Comrades
 
I stepped out into the corridor after Elendil.  My heartbeat buzzed in my ears, making me dizzy and uncertain. “Wait,” I pleaded, only to discover that he had taken no more than two steps from my door and was moving no farther.

“I find I cannot leave,” he said apologetically.  His voice was even deeper than usual, and it sent a thrill up my spine.  I had no idea what I was doing, for I had never before approached anyone in matters of the heart. Elrond had begun our affair, not I.  Though many years had passed since then, I still remembered how Elrond had seduced me.

We had been the best of friends, youths little more than children, myself and Elrond and his brother Elros.  Elros we had treated as though he were indeed a child, for if we ran as swift as the wind or climbed a tree or crag he could not follow us, or if we found a hiding place whether in the walls of the buildings or in a forest grove he could not discover it, or if we boastfully discoursed with learned elders he had nothing to say.  I believe it was our treatment of him that eventually led him to choose mortality, but for Elrond and myself at the time it meant freedom from the ordinary people around us, and the ability to seek adventure in the wild without a tattletale brother behind us.

Some of our adventures were truly frightening, and now I would certainly have forbidden my childish self to undertake them.  We encountered strange beasts and beings of the woods, and walked dangerous paths along narrow cliffs, and once or twice nearly let ourselves fall into the hands of Orcs or wild men.  Yet more often than not the adventure was simply to steal a picnic basket crammed with food from the kitchen, and then climb or ride with it as far away as we dared for luncheon.

“Gil-galad,” Elrond had asked me idly as we lay on a hilltop watching the clouds, a perfect target for anyone who had wished to attack us, “do you love me?”  The question was in the same lazy tone as all of the whimsy we discussed on these outings.

“Of course,” I replied, taking it to be a philosophical question.  “You are as my brother, the choicest of comrades in all activities, the best with whom to discuss scholarly matters or someone to trust my life to when we must confront the forces of evil and stare face on at death.”

“You have never had a brother,” he remarked dryly, and we both laughed.  He stared up into the clouds for another minute.  “I know that well,” he added.  “It is not the question I asked.”

“Then what is?” I asked him, genuinely confused.  At that time I had never heard of any love between men other than that which bound warriors, considered to be a great and pure love.  I looked to the tale of Beren and Lúthien to imagine what a less platonic love might be.

“I asked,” he said, and with that he rolled over and was on top of me, his hips straddling mine and his hands pressing my shoulders down, his face barely inches from my own, “dost thou love me?”

I knew instantly that I did.  I knew with a remarkable new insight that when every night for the past month I had woken up in a cold sweat, the mysterious hands and mouth in my dreams had belonged to Elrond.  That when I sometimes thrilled at the brush of his hand on my shoulder it was not deadly premonition but desire.  That all my blood and skin and the very marrow of my bones longed for his.  That the taste I sometimes felt in my mouth for no reason at all was the ghost of the taste of his tongue.  Yet I could not manage to say all this to him now, not when I could feel his breath on my face and his hands so near to caressing me and against my will my loins pressing even nearer to his.

“Yes,” I whispered, and he smiled a smile that I had never seen before and would soon come to know as a warning of tortuous delights.  Somehow he moved his hips even closer into mine, and smiled still broader when I gasped.

“Good,” he whispered back, and after that if he said anything else I could not know.  His lips and mine, everywhere, on faces and necks and hair, his tongue as if it stole a laugh from my mouth, some kisses so light I begged for where the rest should be, and some so deep that they left me breathless.  His mouth brushed my skin like a painter testing a canvas with the finest of brushes, tickled my cheek like a butterfly, tested and teased me with lust.  Then it retraced the same route, but savagely, leaving a swathe of burning heat on my face.  My heart beat a hammer through my whole body.

Down my neck, calling up the blood in every vein, his mouth moving ever closer to the edge of my robes.  Great as my desire was for him then, I feared the shame that would fall upon me if anyone found out how womanish were my pleasures, and I spoke to him despairingly.

“Elrond.  Stop.  Please stop.”  The words barely escaped my mouth.  He halted, halfway into a kiss, and stared at me uncomprehendingly.  “We can’t do this.  Someone will find out, they’ll turn us out into the wild for trespassing against nature, we can’t.”

His eyes flashed in anger, although it was not at me.  “How do we trespass against nature in this?  Would it not be more unnatural to deny that love between men can be more than platonic?  Is it not rather our nature that we should love men instead of women?”  I could not argue against that fury, and furthermore I could begin to believe that he was right.

“How did you even know?” I asked him instead.  “I had never heard of men being lovers, and though I desired it I did not know what it was that I desired.  You knew, although it had never been spoken of before.  How?”

“I have always known that I desired you,” he answered.  After a minute, he added, “There is a book on the arts of love in the library, one that came from Valinor when the Noldor departed.  Neither the Vanyar nor the Teleri held it any sin.”

Only for a moment did I contemplate this information.  Then I reached up and drew his lips once more to mine, caring nothing for society or custom, and he easily answered my kiss with his tongue.  Now that I had no fear, the spell of his lips grew twice as potent, and the hammer in my heart began once more to beat its tune, sending throbbing waves of desire through me.  It was not merely the desire of his body, for I could feel with the taste of his tongue in my mouth his sweet tenderness, and with the burning press of his mouth on my neck the passionate fires of his heart, and I knew why all the same loves expressed platonically might express themselves thusly as well.

This time when his mouth began to brush back the edge of my tunic I made no attempt to halt him.  His fingers moved ghost-like over my chest as they undid one button at a time, followed by his lips.  My blood pulsed so strongly that I could hear no other sound but my heartbeat, his name running through my veins.  Though it was impossible that any space could still be left between us, I was pushing myself even closer into his body.  As he released the last button of my shirt, his hand dropped to the inside of my thigh, and for an instant I could not remember to breathe.

His hips heaved against mine as he brought his mouth teasingly, gently curving around my nipple, and my hands slid to his loins, my fingers around his hips and my thumbs inward.  If his mouth and fingers on my chest were as delicate as air or the brush of a feather, his thighs were as a raging volcano, the heat of burning lava coursing through the firm stone, and welling up within, building pressure.  The hammer-beat of my blood now matched the beat of his, both growing together into an unstoppable rhythm.

Newly incensed, I tugged at his robes, my hand tracing across his shoulder, then his waist, and downwards once more as I removed the only barrier between us, not caring that I ripped the elegant silk.  The tenderness of his tongue turned in response to a passion like that of his thighs, his teeth even grazing my nipple.  With that the clamor of my blood became unbearable, and I begged him to hurry, my cracked and urgent voice hardly seeming to reach my ears.  He laughed kindly and kissed my chest.

Agonizingly slowly, he began to work his fingers down across my skin, until finally he removed the last bit of clothing that separated us.  His hand, from my thigh, moved inward, still gentle and light though it touched the very center of our passions.  I grew dizzy and covered in sweat.  His fingers caressed me, still too careful, and then at last he dug in his hips and took me, there on the hillside with only the open air around us.

Alas for those who will never dare to know whom they truly desire!  That day was the greatest of all my life, though I am king and am surrounded by people who wish my happiness.  We spent all that long afternoon on the hilltop, partly in kissing and partly in marveling at our newfound love.  I told Elrond everything I could remember that now meant to me a sign of my love for him, and he confided to me the moment w hen he had fallen in love. He told me how he had first come across that fateful book in the library which had led him to know what love could be, and said that he had spent many a night devising plans for me to discover the book, or accidentally find him in his bath, and many an idea of that nature.

We washed in the mountain stream there, freezing though it was, and then prepared to leave, wishing that we could stay without anyone missing us at dinner.  We only realized after we could delay no longer that Elrond’s robe was ripped far too noticeably for it to be worn in public.  We made an elaborate game of sneaking inside, ducking into his chambers without being seen.  Later we would learn to be more careful, but at the time we were too drunk on love to pay attention to our safety.  We did, at least, duck into shadows or behind trees to steal our kisses, but we made enough noise that it is a wonder we were not dragged off by Orcs.

We were nearly caught by several other elves as well, wandering the halls with our arms wrapped around each other’s waists.  When we finally slipped into Elrond’s chambers, I knocked over a table in my haste to once again find his lips with mine.  It took several minutes before he started searching for a new robe.

At dinner, Iorerin quirked one eyebrow at us.  “You were not wearing that robe earlier,” he said to Elrond. Elrond glanced at me surreptitiously, hoping for an explanation, and I quickly provided one.

“We climbed the cliff where the gulls nest,” I told him.  “He tore his robe.”

“The tailors are going to be incredibly angry with you,” Elros remarked gleefully to his brother, grinning.  “They said they couldn’t do any work for you for five moons.  That means you won’t have enough robes, so you’ll have washing more than once a week, and you’ll have to do it yourself.”  Elrond was about to retort with anger, but I interrupted.

“I have some skill with a needle,” I lied.  In truth, I knew nothing about cloth or thread, and I only realized too late that Erin was full aware of that.  “I can fix the robe, and we will not even bother the tailors.”

“Good!” Elrond exclaimed, his eyes twinkling.  “If you join me after supper, perhaps between us we can fix it tonight.  Will you come to my chambers?”  I nodded, hoping that he would say no more, for Erin was beginning to look curious.  When Erin was curious about something, he would not rest until he knew the truth.

“When have you ever picked up a needle in your life, Gil-galad?” he asked, and I wished I had never spoken.  If he pursued his questioning, I would have to lie more than an honorable elf could possibly bear.  It contradicted our very nature.

“I have been practicing of late,” I mumbled, trying to think of a way in which I could make my answers as true as I could.

“Verily, he showed me this afternoon that he is quite skilled with a needle indeed,” Elrond added.  He seemed incapable of keeping quiet, and I struggled to keep my face from turning a most unsuitable shade of red.  He continued unabashedly.  “I prefer his work to that of any seamstress I have known.”

“Amazing,” said Erin, whom I suspected was beginning to see what Elrond was hinting at.  “Have you known many seamstresses?”  He knew.  At least Elros was left in the dark.

“I am not quite as well acquainted with the seamstresses as I would like,” Elrond admitted, at which even Iorerin could not help but smile.  Elros wrinkled his brow in confusion.

“You don’t ever talk to any of the seamstresses,” he pointed out.  The three of us tried very hard to keep from laughing.

“Talking is overrated,” was all that Elrond could manage to reply with a straight face.  He took a sip of water to hide his smile, then added, “That is not the only way to get to know someone.”

“Well, you haven’t gone into battle alongside any of the seamstresses either,” Elros persisted, still oblivious.  I decided to join in the conversation, winking at Elrond.

“What we were saying is that Elrond does not need to befriend any of the seamstresses, because I am his friend,” I explained.  Elrond smiled and put his hand on my knee under the table.

“Oh, I see,” said Elros brightly, no longer confused.  “Because you can sew.  That’s very useful.”  I had to pretend to drop my fork so that I could duck under the table to laugh.

Elrond left the hall early, and I waited a few minutes so that it would not be too obvious that I was following him.  When I excused myself from the table, Erin excused himself as well.  I knew what he wished to say, but we did not speak until we were well away from the hall. We walked silently and slowly in the darkness.

“I wondered when you two would finally realize that you loved each other,” he said.  This was not the reaction I had been expected, and I almost collapsed out of joy.  I could not speak to reply, but I hugged Erin fiercely.

 “Was I the only one who never knew that this was possible?” I asked when I regained my voice.  Erin laughed and gave me his it’s-in-the-library-you-fool smile, which I normally detested but was now delighted to see.

“I doubt the people at large know,” he told me.  “Go on and meet him, then.”  I hugged him once more and raced off to find Elrond.

He was lying back on his bed, naked.  I raised an eyebrow in imitation of Erin.  “I thought you might need to take measurements,” he explained.

***
 

I, who had not even suspected the possibility of love between men, now had the opportunity to present it to another man.  At that moment, with the most important choice of words I had ever needed in my life lying
before me, I had nothing to say.

Chapter 5- The Will of the Valar
 
I, who had not even suspected the possibility of love between men, now had the opportunity to present it to another man.  At that moment, with the most important choice of words I had ever needed in my life lying before me, I had nothing to say.  Elendil spoke before I did.

“I fully intended to go, but it seems you hold me here by some spell,” he accused, but though his voice was sharp, his eyes were pleading.  “What strange control do you hold over me?  Why must you haunt my footsteps and my dreams?  It is passing strange, and I hardly dare to speak this, but betimes you have seemed to me beautiful beyond what mere aesthetics deems reasonable in a man.

“You, who have told me you would never risk wounding a friend in the practice of arms, you have wounded me full sore with words tonight.  I thought that you chose to cast aside our friendship, and I welcomed the opportunity to cast aside this strangeness I feel as well.  Yet now I believe I do not wish to, strange as it is, for I have never had a friendship so close that it is-”

He faltered.  “It is almost- I could believe it to be- I think I love you.”  I still could find no words, but now it mattered not.  I placed my palms on the cold marble wall on either side of him, near enough that the heat of his body was evident.  I did not quite lean in to him, and I knew we had been physically nearer before, but I felt as though nothing stood between us.

I surprised myself by the ferocity with which I pressed him suddenly to the wall, but I did not pause to reflect on how bold I had become.  All was mouth and skin and heat, flustered sensations all impressing themselves on my brain at once in something so impassioned it could scarcely be summed up in the gentle syllable of kiss.  I knew not what I had expected, but I could not have been less prepared for the love of this man so unlike Elrond.

Perhaps it was because he was mortal, but Elendil seemed to react far more by instinct that Elrond ever had. This had none of the teasing, slow methods my first lover had used so carefully.  There was less of control and more of impetuous desire, and I cannot say whether one or the other was better, but I knew instantly that this was different.  It was wild and entirely unelven.

We must have reentered my chambers and reached the bed, though I have no memory of how we arrived there, for I recall a moment when I stood and he lay before me, leaning on his elbows.  I remember it because it was the only pause that occurred that night, and in it he appeared oddly vulnerable.  The shock hit me then that I had more experience here than did he, and it was I who must take the initiative.  He had never lain with a man before.

After that I remember little of detail, only sweat and heat and mouth and hips and skin, and it was many hours later that he fell asleep in my arms.  I did not need to sleep if I did not choose to, being an elf, and I lay awake instead, just to feel that he was still there next to me.  Despite all I have said, it was this which proved to be most different from loving Elrond. 

Elrond had never stayed the night in my chambers, never fallen asleep next to me.  He had always left so that he would not be caught with me in the morning.  Even on that last night we had spent together when he had had too much wine, neither of us had truly slept, and I had gone before anyone else was awake.  Elendil, I suspected, would have no qualms if we were still in bed at noon.

Yet of course this was impossible.  I knew how my people would react if they discovered this type of love between two men, and I doubted that the Númenoreans would be any more accepting.  The only possible outcome of discovery would be two kings deposed.  Sometime before the morn, Elendil must return to his own quarters.

The night was still black, however, and now was now.  I buried my face in his hair and kissed the back of his neck, settling down to sleep with my lover.

***
 

Early the following day, when Elendil had left my side and the Sun had not yet begun to rise into the sky, I decided to walk on the beach.  I left my chambers by the window, as I had not done for many years, and climbed down the rocky crags to the strand.  An eerie silence hung about the shore this morning, though I could not discover what was so strange about it.  The cries of the seabirds sounded as loudly as usual, and to the north of the harbor a pod of seals barked.

Then I knew what it was.  The roaring of the floods had ceased.  I scrambled upwards as quickly as I could, making daring leaps and pulling myself up on tenuous handholds, not caring how unseemly this behavior was.  I had to see how the land lay, and when I reached the top of the cliff I broke into a grin.  We were still surrounded by water, but it was draining off rapidly.  We would be able to set out on the morrow.

Sauron would hardly expect us to move so soon.  We would have outposts in his lands long before he could build up the power to penetrate ours.  Our strength would be triply bonded, between Mithlond, Imladris, and the lands that Elendil would hold.  Passage betwixt the three would be simple for us, though not for him, and with the palantíri our communication would be excellent.  I could not think a single unhappy thought at that moment.

Then another realization came to me, as abruptly as the first had done.  We would have to pass through Imladris on our way east, so that we could convene with Elrond.  Certainly I would be delighted to hear his council, but my discomfort in speaking to him would be terrible indeed.  Celebrian would be there, and I feared more than anything that she would be affable and clever, for I would hate myself if she proved easy to like. 

Then I told myself to halt this thought.  What cause did I have for jealousy, when I would approach Rivendell with a new lover of my own? Surely my friendship with Elrond would not die simply because we no longer shared a bed.  And verily would I welcome his opinion on the matters at hand.

Yet even as I told myself this, I knew in my heart that I was lying.

***
 

I announced the journey to the populace when we broke fast that morning.  Since all the Númenoreans would be traveling, we would need no elven soldiers.  There were a few of my people I did wish to bring: healers, cooks, perhaps an architect, and of course Iorerin.

Ruiniel was furious that she had not been consulted earlier.  I asked her as politely as I could which horses we might use, and she responded with a flurry of protests concerning the length of time it would take her to prepare for our departure, and how she could not be expected to spare any of the stable lads or lasses to care for our steeds.  I interrupted her as soon as I dared.

“Each man will look after his own mount.  The Númenoreans are excellent horsemen, and I assure you that they will be kind to your horses.  Any man who treats his mount ill will answer to me.”  She was not satisfied.

“And on the return, you and a handful of others will do the same for horses far outnumbering you?” she asked. Her eyes were blazing.  “Or did you plan on leaving these mortals my finest stallions?”  I could not deny that Elendil had asked for a few horses to breed.

“Perhaps just one or two…they can find mares in the region…” I offered feebly.  She glared still.

“They’ll find all their horses in the region, or none at all,” she said firmly.  I started to protest, but she cut me off. “I’m not losing a single horse to men.  And I’ll be traveling with you, to see that you don’t give them away behind my back.”

I gave in, unable to think of an argument.  However, it soon proved that Ruiniel was easy to persuade compared to Iorerin.  He was determined to bring every scientific instrument in his possession.  No sooner had I dissuaded him from packing his tools of cartography than he decided to bring the bestiary he was compiling.

“Erin, there is no capacity for any of these objects,” I insisted, but he ignored me, stuffing a rucksack with several devices of which I could not even begin to guess the nature.  I pulled them back out and set them on the table.

“We have had little scientific information from these regions for years,” said he, his eyes gleaming.  “Flora, fauna, astronomy, geology, all will be entirely different that far east.  The floods will have changed things as well, of course, none of these old maps will be valid.  And it will be essential to test the soil-”

“I have a mathematical question for you, Iorerin,” I interrupted.  “How much weight can a horse bear for long distance?  And given that, how many horses will it take to cart your instruments to the ends of the earth?  This is not a scientific mission.  I am bringing you because I wish you to consult with Elrond and myself when we reach Imladris.  Leave your mad disciples to their bickering on the nature of the world, and provide us with your wisdom!”

Erin fell silent.  For a moment there was no sound, then we both made to apologize in the same instant.  I hushed him.  “Forgive me,” said I.  “I spoke in haste.  Well do I value your inquires into nature.  It is simply that we cannot carry more than is necessary.”

“I understand,” he replied.  We went on to discuss other logistical issues, much to my relief.  Yet still that was not the end of my troubles.  I had to leave instructions and formally open the council in my absence.  This was a tricky matter of diplomacy, in that the appointments must be made without slighting anyone, and yet I must only leave the government in the hands of those who would act according to my policies.

Then there were issues with the shipmaster, the guards, the judges, and every person imaginable whose problems must be solved before my departure.  Finally I managed to set everything into some sort of order, escape from those who were still seeking me, and hand responsibility to one of my trusted lords.  I returned to the crag where I had first glimpsed the abating of the floods at dawn, though that seemed weeks ago.

Mithlond was no longer an island.  A causeway had formed, although it was still too narrow and slippery of us to cross.  The next day, all would be dry land again, never quite as before yet for all practical purposes as good as new.  It was truly amazing how quickly the land had returned to normal.

“Ulmo blesses us,” commented a voice behind me, expressing my own thoughts perfectly.  It was Elendil.  “He returns all the waters to their proper places swiftly, now their work is done.”

“The Valar know full well the proper place of all things.  It is wondrous strange that the Sun and Moon hold their courses, but the power of the Valar keep them there, and here beneath their light we can set our own courses by them.  All things were planned in the beginning in the song, though Eru alone knows the full of it, and men by their very nature are unexpected.”

“Then in that case it is planned that the Moon should choose to draw near the Sun,” he said with a smile.  “Nor do the Valar seek to change it, though it was not their intent.  I wonder one thing.  Should they speak against it, would the Moon draw away?”

I regretted now that I had ever spoken in terms of theology as metaphor for love.  It raised questions I could not fairly answer.  “It is enough to know that they do not,” I answered at last.  “Let us not defy the Valar without cause.  Men may see them as abstract powers, enthroned invisibly in the mythical West, yet they are real and great, and it is not meet to use their names vainly.”

“You believe there is no power greater than the Valar, then?  Are not concepts such as love stronger than any person, even the gods?”

“Only Eru is stronger than the Valar,” I replied firmly.  I looked him fiercely in the eye.  “Yea, love is great, but its greatness is also part of their greatness.  There is no virtue that is stronger than them, not because it is not worthy, but because the Valar encompass it in themselves.  And that is why they would never speak out against love, though it is as unconventional as that between you and I.  Therefore it is worthless to defy them for it.  And if anyone declares that the Valar oppose love between elf and man, or between those of similar sex, than that person speaks false.  He does not understand the Valar who claims in their name to stand against love or truth or beauty, although the way in which it is expressed is not part of his knowledge.

“Do you seek to have me say that I hold your love in higher regard than the decisions of the Valar?  This is a question that has no logic in it. The decisions of the Valar allow me to hold your love in high regard.  It is not conceivable that they would not do so.  There is no answer to this question because there is no question.  I do love you.  Is this enough?  Do you ask for more?  Shall I tell you that I love you more than my people or my kingdom or triumph over Sauron?  If I must do this I will.  I would prefer you not to drive me to it.  But ask what you will.  What would you have me say?”

“I do not begrudge you your people or your kingdom, and I wish with you to triumph over Sauron,” he said, so quietly I had to strain to hear it.  “And I did not originally intend to ask that you defy the Valar.  I know what you say is true.  I wondered, however, whether you would not begin to think as do your kin, that men are lesser and not to be mixed with.  Would you cast me aside and return to Elrond?”

Never before had I been and never again would I be so shocked by what I heard in a whisper.  I had not told Elendil that Elrond had been my lover before him.  I did not think I had spoken of Elrond overmuch or given Elendil any cause to guess this.  When I next spoke, I did not truly reply to his question.

“Elrond?  What is he that I should return to him?”  I feigned puzzlement at what I took to be this shrewd intuition of Elendil’s.  His next words would only shock me far more.

“If you did not desire me to know that he was your lover, perhaps it should have been my name and not his that you cried in bed last night.”  And with that he was gone, gracefully descending the rocky cliffs with a speed I could not hope to match.  Night had fallen, and the very Moon we had spoken of was beginning to rise.  I sank to my knees beneath it, and did not leave until much later.