The Fading Light

“I should not permit the writing of these words. I should not utter them aloud for another to hear. Somehow, I cannot stop myself from speaking, even as I cannot stop myself from remembering. Even as I could not stop myself from…

“But I move ahead of my story. Let me begin where all tales, long or short, happy or sad, should start.

“I am Elros. I am –I was Peredhil. But now I am Numenor. I am the brother of Elrond—counted now among Elves while I, I am counted among Men.

“Once, when I was young, I was given a choice because I was Peredhil—because my father was Earendil—the morning and evening star. Unlike my Father or my brother, I chose to live as a Man and rule as a Man and—ultimately—to die as a Man. Now that I have reached the last stage, I must find the strength—a Man’s strength—to finish what was so long ago begun after the War of Wrath.

“Unlike my brother, I am aged and withered. My hands are like claws and my sight now fails me. Most of my body fails me, while my brother, Elrond is forever unchanged. He is eternal.

“I am thankful for it makes my death easier for me to bear.

“Some have written that when I chose to be a Man, I immediately left Lindon and came unto the West. But they have written falsely. Perhaps they thought to spare me and my line. Perhaps they thought to spare Elrond.

“Maybe they never learned the truth.

“When we came of Age, Elrond and I chose separately. He chose to remain eternal and I chose death. And I was angry with my brother, although without right or justification. I wanted him to choose with me. I wanted him to be a Man and to rule with me, by my side as my consort.

“But he wanted to remain in Lindon as an Elf at Gil-Galad’s side. Jealousy ate at me. I would say that it ate at me in no way that it never devoured an elf. But that would be a lie. And I would say that it was my mortality that rose up within my breast, my soul, and turned toward my brother with so much venom. But that, too, would be a lie. For the First Age of the Elves were filled with the doings of angry Elves. My parents went to the West to avoid the wrath of the Elves.

“While I, in my rage and like our forefathers, turned upon the one thing I loved most. My brother. My beloved. My Elrond.

“Forever will I live with the shame of it. Forever will I pray for forgiveness, even as I know it was given long ago.

“Can one ever be forgiven?

“In my heart, I fear it is not so.

“Even after it was done, I felt sorrow. I wept upon my brother’s breast and he caressed my hair, as though I were a child. Or his lover. He did not cry.

“How strange to remember it, although I truly have never forgotten. I resolved to speak aloud these deeds—recount them for the Ages so that I may be cleansed. So, why, then do the words not flow? Why do the memories blur? Is it my mortality?

“Nay, that excuse I cannot use. It is my own cowardice that binds my memories and tongue. Let me say it aloud and be done with it.

“I took him, my brother, with violence and anger. I made him mine. I forced myself upon him as if by entering his body, I could enter his soul and his heart. In my madness and pain, I thought I could force him, as I forced his body, to be mine. I longed to force him to choose mortality, to remain at my side.

“He lay still beneath me and uttered not a sound. And when I spent myself and lay, trembling, in his arms it was he who comforted me. For days after, I slunk through the palace, fearful of discovery, waiting for King Gil-Galad to descend upon me.

“Elrond was like a ghost. He haunted the Halls of Healing and threw himself into the care of those who survived the War of Wrath. From that moment on, he avoided me. And when I set sail to join with the Numenor, he said not a word. He stood before me, as my brother, along with all the other elves come to see me away. We clasped hands and pressed our cheeks together. His cheek was cold, as were his hands.

“In his eyes echoed the sorrow and shame I will never forget. I grieve for the loss of him, the loss of his innocence. I took from him what can never be replaced. He withdrew his love for me, closed his heart to me, even as my mortality closed his mind to me.

“No whisper has come from the elves of my betrayal. Long suffering, my brother has kept his peace and bore his shame with dignity. He is the better man, for even though I know that the words...these forbidden words…will condemn him as even as it condemns me, I must speak them to find peace within myself.