Shadows of the Past

"Those were the last words he ever spoke.." Elrond looked up into the eyes of the young Elf seated before him. The fire roared in the fireplace, shadows playing on their faces. Subconsciously, his fingers played with the ring on his hand as he studied Agladir, a young Elf, who had lived his life in the splendor and beauty of Imladris. Young in years as Elves accounted, he loved to hear tales of long ago, and Elronds tales of the Last Alliances battles totally captivated him.

"What did he mean?" he asked. "Keep what safe?"

Elrond sat in silence for a moment, staring into the fire. Finally, he looked at Agladir again.

"This," he said, holding up his hand to show the golden ring on his finger.

"Your ring?" Agladir asked in surprise. "Why is that so important?"

"Because this is one of the three Elven rings of power. I assume you know of the rings...or have you forgotten all I have taught you?"

"Yes, I know of the Rings of Power. Three rings for the Elven Kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf Lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne, in the land of Mordor where the shadows lie. One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them, in the land of Mordor where the shadows lie."

"Very good. I see you have not ignored all of my lessons. Yes, this is one of the three Elven rings. This is Vilya, most powerful of the three. Gil-galad first bore it. He gave it to me before the battle of the Last Alliance for fear something should happen to him and the ring fall into the hands of the enemy...." Elrond sat in his chair, staring into the space, the light of the fire dancing on his face. His eyes held a far off look, as if he searched for something.

"Tell me about it, Elrond. Please?"

"It is a story long in the telling," said Elrond. The two sat in silence; the crackling and hissing of the fire the only sound that could be heard.

"After the battle of the Last Alliance, the Elves scattered. With Gil-galad gone, we had no leader... Many of us had nothing left, losing everything we had fought for in those last years. So we formed bands and spread out, searching for a place to call our own. A small group followed me. Numbered among them, Meldince, loyal servant and a brave officer in Gil-galad's army, Glorfindel, one of the greatest and wisest Elves, and Aranel, a young Elf maiden who had lost her father and brothers in the battle. Meldince became my advisor, a source of great wisdom and council. Aranel and I had grown up together and had been childhood friends. Younger than I, she was a spirited companion. We played together, doing the sorts of things children do...but that had been long before. When I left to join Gil-galad's army, we never met again for many years. I wondered what had become of her until I found her at the battle. Aranel...." Elrond's voice trailed off.

"What about her?"

"Aranel remained with the company and we grew to be even more than friends."

Agaladir looked at Elrond, surprise written across his face. "You were...."

"Lovers? Yes. Young hearts will do things one would never expect." Elrond closed his eyes as he traveled back to the day when he came upon Aranel on the battlefield those centuries before. He remembered the sight, sound, and smell of death as the small band fled Mordor. Elrond had ridden alongside Glorfindel as the ragtag group of Elves followed.

"What losses did we sustain?" he asked his companion.

"I am afraid it will never be known for sure, but we lost a great many, my lord," the golden-haired Elf replied regretfully.

"Narnen ? Elegond ? Legoan? Siran? Thinuial? Valathar?"

At each name Glorfindel nodded sadly, indicating each had been lost.

"And Gil-galad, too..." said Elrond, his voice tight with sorrow. He turned and scanned the small group of Elves. Seeing how weary they had become from hard travel, Elrond called for a brief halt. As they stopped something caught his eye.

He focused on the figure and found a young Elf maiden, sitting near a large rock. She bowed her head in grief, appearing as if she wept.

"Who... Who is that?" he asked.

"Aranel, daughter of Valathar," Glorfindel replied. "She lost her three brothers as well."

Elrond stared in disbelief. Aranel had become this grieving Elf woman? Last he had seen her, she had been young and innocent, still childlike. Now she had grown, her youthful looks transformed into fair beauty. She wore her hair long and it shone like gold in the mid day sun. Her face, though worn and dirty, still remained fair indeed. Elrond could hardly believe it! He barely recognized her. Slowly, he approached her. So lost in her sorrow was she that she did not hear or see him. He walked up to her and put one of his rough, worn hands gently on her shoulder. Aranel looked up at him in surprise.

"Lord Elrond!" she exclaimed as she started to rise.

"No... No... Sit," he bid her softly as he knelt beside her. "I know your fathers and brothers fate and I grieve with you for them."

She looked up at him through her tears. "How is it you know of my brothers? For this was their first and last battle."

"It is the duty of the officers to know those who are under their command." He remained beside her for a few minutes, neither saying a word. "Come, we cannot tarry any longer. It is not safe," Elrond said as he stood and held his hand out to her.

Aranel looked up into his face, worn with sorrow and dirty from the ravages of war. His eyes however, still shone like the stars. Compassion and honor sparkled in those eyes. Slowly, she took his hand and stood.

As they walked back to the company to start on their way again, Aranel could not keep her gaze from seeking Elrond. Many, many years had passed since she had last seen him. The day he rode off to join Gil-galads army. She had remembered him as that young Elf, full of energy and excitement about fighting beside the High King. She remembered he had always been wise and strong beyond his years, and seemed a born leader.

Yet something she had forgotten, if indeed she had even noted it before, was his radiance, for he remained one of the most handsome Elves she had seen. His hair, long and dark, flowed over his shoulders, the wind blowing it as he walked. His eyes, clear and alert, recalled the color of the sea after a storm, and when they fell on her, Aranel felt as if they could peer into her soul. His face, fair and beautiful, seemed neither old nor young and full of wisdom and mystery. His hands, large, strong, and worn with the evidence of his toils, could crush with a grip, yet they could also caress and comfort with a touch. His voice could be harsh and commanding in anger, yet sweet as a sigh in times of sadness. She found everything about him perfect.

Aranel trudged along with the company for days as they left the lands of Mordor. Each day proved harder than the previous for her and one day she began lagging behind. She kept her gaze cast to the ground before her as she trudged on, exhausted. Suddenly, she sensed someone standing before her. Looking up, she saw Elrond on his white horse, Lightstorm, known throughout the lands as one of the fastest horses in Middle Earth.

"Come, Aranel, you are weary," he said softly, holding his hand out to her. "Come ride with me for a while."

Aranel stood there for a minute, not knowing what to do. She looked into his eyes as he smiled at her. She returned that gesture, then took his hand to allow him to swing her up behind him. Shyly, she put her hands at his waist to hold on as they turned and followed the company. Aranels face heated and a funny feeling grew in her stomach. What made her respond like this? Did she feel embarrassed to be seen with him?

Stop this right now, Aranel! she scolded herself. It's only Elrond, the same one whom you tried to drown all those years ago. He's the same one who used to pull your hair and chase you through the fields. Indeed, he's grown up, indeed he has changed, and indeed he's good looking. But don't overreact!

For a while they rode in silence, neither one knowing what to say, until Elrond finally broke the silence.

"How is it you came to be here at the battle, Aranel? I have not seen you in such a long time that I wondered what had become of you."

"My father and brothers joined the battle, as you know. My father did not want me to be alone, so he bid me come with them, for he knew I would not have willingly parted with them. "

"Was there no one to care for you at home?"

"No, Mother died years ago... And now I am alone."

"I am sorry, Aranel," said Elrond as he cupped a hand over one of hers. The warmth and kindness in that touch filled her with a peace she hadn't felt in many years.

"I miss them all so much. Since Mother died, father did the best he could to raise me. My brothers became my closest friends, always standing up for me and protecting me. Like the time you teased when I had to wear that dress to the big banquet. Remember?" Aranel chuckled at the memory.

"Yes, I remember. You hated wearing dresses, but your mother insisted you wear it. I could not resist the urge to pester you about it."

"You were such a bother sometimes, Elrond. Yes, and remember how they came to my rescue. Remember what they did?"

"How could I forget?" said Elrond with a slight laugh. "Elestel picked me up and held me by my feet over the cliff next to the waterfall. Malear told me I had better leave you alone, and Sulthar threatened that if I ever teased you again he would tie me up in the tallest tree and use me for target practice! I learned that day not to upset you with your brothers around."

"Yes, they always looked out for and protected me, but now... Now they are gone, and I am alone..." Aranel fell silent.

Not knowing what to say, Elrond rode on in silence. After a while he spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "I, too, know the pain of losing someone close. My brother, Elros."

"Elros? What happened to him?" asked Aranel, genuine concern in her voice.

"Well, as you know, we of the Peredhil or Half Elven, had been granted a choice: to become mortal and live among man or to remain as one of the Firstborn. My heart has, is, and always will be true to my people. Elros, however, chose to become mortal. That day we walked different paths. It was a very grievous time, our parting. The last words he ever spoke to me were these: 'The bonds of brotherhood can never be broken. Not by time, nor distance, nor choices.' That was the last time I ever saw him. When I received word of his death, what seemed like only a short time later, it was a heavy blow. Elros and I lost our parents at a very young age. I have no true memory of them. Meldince raised us and cared for us like a father as best he could, but he was not our father. Elros is gone, and I too am alone."

"I am sorry. I never knew that," Aranel murmured, her hands hugging his waist. Gently, she laid her head on his shoulder to comfort as much as receive comfort.

They continued on in silence, both very tired, physically and mentally. As night drew near, Elrond called for a halt and soon the group had set up a small camp. Aranel stood in the doorway of her tent, watching Elrond standing next fire, preparing to take his watch. The shadows from the fire fell on his face. As he stood here, a tear rolled down his face, glimmering in the firelight.

Aranel!" Elrond called when he saw her. "I have a present for you!" he told her, indicating the smoke-gray horse beside him whose mane and tail appeared black as night. Aranel reached up and gently stroked its neck.