Authors Note: This is the first time I've written this character, although right now I'm not telling who it is. I don't think that such a choice would have been given, but it seemed like a good idea when I wrote it.

"Welcome." Spoken without emotion or inflection; simply two sounds strung together, supposedly to sound comforting. The voice echoed round the room, was it a room? Deep and gravely, yet light and smooth at the same time.
"I must be dead." Whispered the only figure in sight, staring around the enormous open space, wondering whether it was meant to represent a room or a large open plain.
"You could be. That is why you are here, for us to decide your fate." The voice seemed closer now, and the figure realised that it was not merely one voice, but many; male and female, young and old.
The figure started to walk, unsure of where they were going, just needing to move to prove that this was real, and not some bizarre hallucination.
"Where am I? Who are you, and how is it your place to decide the fate of anyone?" the figures voice now seemed to grow in clarity and confidence, although fear still edged at their mind.
"We created your land. Your kind were born of will, we have every right to decide your fate." There was a pause, "Do you scorn your creators?"
"Only if I know who they are!" The Valar would not interfere would they? Surely only Eru Illuvatar has the power to change the fate of Middle Earth. He was confused now, convinced that the Valar would not torment the dead like this, and why was he present to witness them changing the fate of his home. Had there not been enough suffering?
"Your questions are true enough, but answer ours first." Another pause, the man nodded. "If you were given the chance to return to your life, to leave the battlefield alive, would you take it? Accepting the consequence that your life would be replaced with another."
Yes! He almost blurted out. He had loved ones who awaited him, a household to run, and a life to lead. But the thought that another would be forced to take his place made him reconsider. He could inflict no more death on those who followed him. "Who would be the one to take my place?" He asked, wishing he could return, if only to mourn the passing of yet another loved one.
"That is our decision, as is how and when we take them." The vice replied, the nonchalance sickening him, that taking a life could men so little to it.
"What will happen if I do not return?" he asked, wanting to know if Middle Earth, his family and his friends would survive, and what would become of Sauron.
"Life would continue. That which you have fought for will be granted," with a pause, "for a time." The voice declared.
That made him think. The alliance between Elves and Men had meant everything to him, to know that it would succeed made him overjoyed, only to have that joy quashed with the revelation that it would not be permanent.
"Why only for a time? Will Sauron not be destroyed?" he asked.
"Destruction is a relative thing, and not all you trust are above temptation." That was a statement, clear and precise, yet addled and full of mystery at the same time.
"Who is not above temptation? Elrond? Surely not him, and Elendil has passed on. Thranduil? I know he still carries resentment for his fathers' death, but even he has more sense. Or Isildur?" he begged, "Who will be unable to resist?"
"It is not our place to say."
"Who?" he screamed, "Tell me! Could their life not replace mine?" He fell to his knees, confused and wearied.
"It is not our place to say, and the life of the tempted has little left in it. They can not replace you." The voice was closing in again, and the figure sighed in frustration.
"Make your choice son of Fingon. Do you return and allow another to pass on in your place, or do you yourself pass into my Halls?" During this, the voices refined into one deep and undeniably male voice, the scenery became a grand entrance chamber, and a figure stood before him, clothed in black and towering above him.
"Mandos." The figure breathed. He was in awe, yet somehow unsurprised and unfazed.
"Yes. Now what is your choice?" asked Mandos, his patience unwavering.
"I choose to pass beyond. To give those I care for a chance to grow and to find peace, and to spare another this fate." Said the figure quietly, rising to his feet.
The scene changed again, and the battlefield where he had met his death lay before him. He looked on as the Ring was cut from Sauron's hand, as Elrond and Cirdan turned and called to Isildur to destroy it…
"Then your choice is final Ereinion Gil-galad, last High King of the Noldor. Take one last look upon those you care for and enter into my Halls." Mandos beckoned as he turned and started walking towards a doorway that had materialised without reason.
Gil-galad took one last look at the despairing faces of his friends, then turned, steeling himself against the tears that threatened to spill and followed beyond, into the Halls of Mandos and into history.

A/N: Yup, Gil-galad. Originally this was going to be Elrond who faced the choice, and chose to go back, with Gil-galad taking his place, but then I realised that Elrond didn't have that much of a reason to return.