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, lies 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.
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