WAR: A Promise Before Dying

SUMMARY: Some promises take longer to fulfill than others. Gil-galad must wait an entire Age to learn the outcome of one such promise.

WARNING: Rated PG for character death.

MEFA 2008: Second Place: Multi-Age (General)

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Second Age 3434: On the slopes of Orodruin:

Ereinion, known as Gil-galad, King of Lindon, lay amidst the detritus of war with the bodies of Orcs, Men and Elves surrounding him. He contemplated many things as he lay dying. Seven years they held the siege and it came down to this: that one Man’s action might be the saving of them all... or their doom.

He opened eyelids that seemed weighed down with lead and saw Círdan and Elrond standing over him, tears running down their fair cheeks, protecting their friend and their lord as best they might while the battle still raged about them. He tried to speak, to let them know that he still lived, though for how long was debatable. It was too much effort, however, so he closed his eyes and lay there thinking, wondering.

He had ruled Lindon for an Age and had done what he could for his people. He wondered if history would see him as a success or a failure. He hoped the first, but rather suspected the second. After all, he reflected as he felt his life’s blood seep from his death wound, he was dying, was he not? The ultimate failure for any of the Firstborn, to die. That was properly the lot of Mortals. Such strange creatures they were, even the very best of them, like his friend Elendil. Yet, that very strangeness fascinated him.

He sighed, or rather, his body made a rattling noise. He felt someone kneel beside him and, opening his eyes again, saw sorrow, anger and love etched upon the Peredhel’s countenance. He smiled, or thought he did, as he reached up with his hand to brush the tears from his Herald’s face.

"Pr-promise me, Elrond...." he whispered, barely able to breathe, for his death was upon him.

"What, aran nîn?" Elrond asked, his voice tight with desperation and grief.

"Promise me...you will s-see... the Ring... destroyed," he gasped with his final breath. "Pr-promise me... Isildur... destroy..."

"I will, Gil-galad," Elrond said, weeping all the while. "I promise."

The last High King of the Elves in Middle-earth nodded, satisfied, and closed his eyes. As he felt the severing of his fëa from his hröa, he suddenly had two thoughts: he wondered if his sacrifice had any real meaning and if anyone would remember him. He also realized that his foremost regret in dying was that he would miss seeing the sunrise.

He was walking through a gate of mithril and gold when he realized, somewhat sardonically, that that was actually three thoughts, but then he found himself standing before an intricately carved throne and when he saw who sat there waiting for him all thoughts fled....

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Third Age 1000: In the Gardens of Lórien in Aman:

Ereinion looked up from his task to see a Maia standing before him, smiling. "Olórin!" he exclaimed with a welcoming grin. "Look what I’ve done." He motioned the Maia closer and Olórin obliged him, placing a loving hand on the ellon’s shoulder as he looked down at the newly Reborn’s handiwork.

It was an illuminated page, the colors bright and gay. He glanced at the text and saw that it was a hymn to Varda popular here in Aman. Upon closer examination though he realized that the illumination had nothing to do with Varda. He gave the Elf a wry look as Ereinion waited for the Maia to speak, his expression anxious.

Olórin studied the illumination for a few more minutes. The figures were, oddly enough, not all elven. Most were actually depictions of Mortals or Peredhil. He recognized Beren with his one hand and Eärendil with the Silmaril. Húrin was there and Tuor. There was Elrond and his brother, Elros Tar-Minyatur, first King of Númenor now drowned, and three others....

"Who are they, child?" he asked, pointing to the three Men grouped together at the bottom of the page facing a tower.

Ereinion looked to where the Maia was pointing and placed a finger on the tallest. "M-my friend, Elendil and... and his sons." He looked back up at the Maia, his expression still uncertain.

Olórin smiled down at him. "Why do you illustrate this hymn with these figures of the Secondborn?"

For a moment Ereinion did not answer and when he did it was in a whisper. "I... I don’t really know. I just...." He shook his head, not really sure how to answer his friend. "D-did I do something wrong?" he asked forlornly. So much was still new to him and he couldn’t always remember things properly.

Olórin continued to smile, patting the ellon on the shoulder. "Nay, child, you’ve done nothing wrong," he said soothingly. "I think you’ve done a wonderful job and I’m very pleased with you." He wondered, with wry amusement, what Lady Varda would think of this particular hymn being illustrated with heroes among the Aftercomers rather than the Firstborn, but decided the Valië would think it appropriate enough. Were they not, after all, Eru’s Children as much as the Eldar and did she not listen to their prayers no less than she listened to the prayers of the Firstborn?

Ereinion smiled gratefully at the Maia.

"Now, I’ve come to tell you good-bye," Olórin said, coming to the point of his visit.

The Elf looked at the Maia in surprise, feeling somewhat panicky. "Good-bye? Why? Where are you going?"

"My lord Manwë is sending me to Middle-earth on a mission," Olórin explained. "I do not know for how long I will be away so I wished to see you before I left."

"Why must you go?" Ereinion asked, feeling suddenly bereft.

Olórin sighed and sat down on the bench beside the former king of Lindon. "Sauron has risen again and...."

"Wait!" the ellon exclaimed in shock as certain memories came to light. "What do you mean ‘risen again’? Was he not defeated? I remember seeing his Ring severed from his finger. Was it not destroyed?"

Olórin looked upon the distraught Reborn with great sorrow. "Nay, child," he said softly, "the Ring was not destroyed. Isildur kept the Ring for himself though it brought him his death. The Ring has gone missing these many centuries, and so Sauron rebuilds his strength and his stronghold. It is for that reason I and others of my Order go to Middle-earth, to succor the hearts and minds of the Free Peoples and teach them not to lose hope."

"But Elrond promised," the Elf said, beginning to weep. "He promised me as... as I lay dying and...."

Olórin took the ellon into his embrace and held him, offering him comfort. "Hush now, child. Elrond did his best but Isildur refused his counsel, nor could he force the Man to destroy the Ring."

"Then it was all for nothing," Ereinion exclaimed forlornly. "I died for nothing."

"Nay, child," Olórin retorted. "No one dies for nothing. Isildur failed and Sauron was not fully defeated, but he was made impotent for a time."

"For a time," the ellon repeated.

Olórin sighed and nodded. "Which is why I and others are going to Middle-earth, for Sauron rises again and we must find a way to defeat him."

"Only with the destruction of the One Ring can he be wholly defeated," Ereinion stated categorically. "There is no other way."

"I have no answers for you, child," the Maia said softly.

For a time neither spoke, each lost in his own thoughts. Then, Ereinion glanced at Olórin shyly. "Will I ever see you again?"

Olórin wrapped an arm around the Elf’s shoulders and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Yes, child, I promise."

Ereinion shook his head sadly. "Don’t make promises you may not be able to keep," he said. "I shouldn’t have made Elrond promise...."

"Do not concern yourself with that, Ereinion," the Maia said firmly. "Elrond did what he could and there is more than one way to keep a promise."

For a moment they sat together, then Olórin stood, bringing Ereinion with him so he could offer him a proper hug. "I will leave you now," he said with a wistful smile. "Continue your studies, young Ereinion," he added with mock severity. "I expect to hear nothing but glowing reports from your tutors when I return."

Ereinion smiled as Olórin walked away, then he sighed and sat down before the table where he had been working on his illuminations and picked up his brush to add the next layer of gilding to Narsil’s hilt....

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Third Age 3021: Upon the quays at Avallonë on Tol Eressëa:

Ereinion remained outwardly calm as befitted a former king, standing with others on the quay where the next grey ship would dock, but inside he was hopping about like an elfling too impatient to wait for his elders. He smiled to himself at that image. It hadn’t been that long ago when he was doing just that for all that he had been fully grown — in hröa if not in fëa. He sighed, shifting his stance a bit, straining to see if the ship was in sight yet, but there was nothing but calm blue sea stretching to the horizon. Around him others stood or walked about, mingling with friends and family as they waited for the ship to arrive. Ereinion glanced at the people who stood with him and smiled.

"Remember," he said to the elleth standing next to him, speaking Sindarin, "I get to kill him first."

Celebrían laughed at that and the others with them joined her. "I should never have agreed to arm wrestle with you for the privilege, Gil-galad."

The former king of Lindon merely smirked. Finrod flashed him a smile from where he was standing on Celebrían’s other side. "I do hope you leave something for your cousin to tear into, Nephew, or we’ll never hear the end of it."

"Don’t worry, Uncle," Gil-galad said, "I wouldn’t dream of spoiling Celebrían’s fun that far."

Celebrían stuck her tongue out at him and everyone laughed again. Arafinwë and Eärwen smiled at one another as they listened to the banter between the three younger elves. They had been waiting for this day for so long and now that it had come it seemed more like a dream than anything else. Neither would believe that any of this was real until they actually saw their beloved Artanis stepping off the ship.

"Sails, ho!"

They all looked up as the watch shouted the news and the tension and excitement grew as, first, white sails appeared above the horizon and, then, the grey prow of the ship rose majestically upon the waves. A loud cheer resonated up and down the quays and several people clapped. Ereinion felt himself go still and was like a statue amidst the hustle and bustle of the port as dockworkers ran to secure the ship and the Elves waiting for loved ones moved closer to better see who was aboard.

Finrod gave his nephew a knowing smile and, stepping behind Celebrían so as to reach Ereinion, he placed his hands on the younger ellon’s shoulders. "What troubles you, Nephew?" he whispered in the ellon’s ear.

"He promised me," Gil-galad answered with great vehemence. "I died believing he would fulfill my last request to him, but he...."

"He did what he could, child," Finrod said, turning the ellon around to face him, giving him a sad smile. "Not all promises are meant to be kept and isn’t it enough to know that Sauron has been defeated at last?"

Ereinion looked down, his anger leached from him by his uncle’s words. "Olórin told me before he left that there was more than one way to keep a promise."

"And so there is," Finrod said.

"Yet, how was Sauron defeated?" his nephew asked in exasperation. "The Valar tell us not."

Finrod shrugged. "We will hear the full tale soon enough," he said. Then, he glanced up and turned his nephew around again. "Look! They are disembarking. I shall go greet my sister. Do you see Elrond?"

Gil-galad nodded. "Aye, he stands there beside those two children, but that cannot be so. They are not elflings. What are they?"

Finrod shook his head. "I know not. Why don’t we go see?"

Only then did the former king of Lindon realize that his great-grandparents and his cousin were already standing by the gangplank greeting Galadriel who was now disembarking. Behind her came Elrond with the two strange creatures. Gil-galad gave Finrod a nod and together they joined their family. As they approached, Ereinion saw Elrond’s eyes meet his and the healer’s expression brightened. He bent down to speak to the two walking on either side of him and saw them both smile. Ereinion could see that though they appeared to be children, they definitely were not, for their eyes were too knowing. Then Elrond straightened and, reaching the quay, he went directly to his king, ignoring even his wife, and gave Ereinion a profound bow.

"Aran nîn," the former Herald of Lindon said, "I could not fulfill my oath to you as I promised, but I did what I could." He looked down at the two creatures and Gil-galad noticed for the first time that they wore no shoes and their feet were covered with hair. Then Elrond was speaking again. "My lord, may I present Bilbo Baggins," — here Elrond turned towards the older of the two creatures with a smile — "and Frodo Baggins." He now turned to the younger being, his eyes going even more soft. Then he looked again at his king. "They are Periain and with the help of Isildur’s Heir we were able to defeat Sauron at last."

For a moment Ereinion stared at the three standing before him. The two... Periain gave him shy smiles, both appearing somewhat embarrassed, while Elrond stood there looking uncertain as to how his king would greet him. Finally, Gil-galad gave his former Herald a sly look. "Well, it certainly took you long enough."

The one called Frodo snickered at the dumbfounded expression on Elrond’s face and then the other Perian started laughing. Ereinion took the still disbelieving Elrond into his embrace and hugged him tightly. "I knew you would keep your promise to me somehow, mellon nîn," he whispered. "Thank you."

Then Elrond was being pulled into Celebrían’s embrace even as Ereinion found himself in the arms of one whom he recognized as Olórin in spite of his appearance and for a time the two Ringbearers were forgotten as families and friendships were renewed.

And that suited them just fine.

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Aran nîn: (Sindarin) My king.

Ellon: (Sindarin) Male Elf.

Hröa: (Quenya): Physical body.

Fëa: (Quenya): Soul, spirit.

Peredhil: (Sindarin) Plural of Peredhel: Half-Elven, a title given to Elrond.

Elleth: (Sindarin): Female Elf.

Periain: (Sindarin): Plural of Perian: Halfling, Hobbit.

Mellon nîn: (Sindarin): My friend.

Note: As usual, I follow Tolkien’s final scheme for Gil-galad’s parentage, making him the son of Orodreth, who was the son of Finrod’s brother Angrod, and therefore Finrod’s great-nephew.