Third Movement: Nachtmusik and a Cadence

Nights in Imladris were cold, yet this did not trouble Elladan overmuch. Had he been of a race affected by the chill air, he would not have been able to stay upon the balcony as long as he had; as it was, the coming of Rhîw upon Imladris could be felt strongly. After Elrohir had left him in a cloud of furious words, Elladan had retired to his quarters, seeking rest and respite. Sleep had escaped his overactive mind this night, however, and thus his retirement to the balcony.

Though they were exceptionally close, Elladan feared his brother would never understand how torn in two he was: Arda was so very dear to him, and he loved it with his entire being. He was in Arda, and Arda, all its warm mornings and cold nights, the green of its Laer and the bitter sting of its Rhîw; all were inside of him. And yet Elrohir wished for them to leave it all behind, to never to return to the only home they had ever known.

He lifted his face to the wind as it tousled his dark hair and spoke in whispers of a forgotten age, of memories once lived by Elladan in his youth. Though the chill air felt soothing and bore some uncertainties away from his soul, Elladan frowned. Much grief plagued him this night. Sighing and letting down his front if for but a moment, Elladan relaxed his posture and rested his elbows on the railing of the balcony. It felt cold and hard under the moonlight; the marble was unforgiving of Elladan’s troubles, and he supposed only reluctantly did it support him. Many times had Elladan found his father in the same position, staring blankly at the stars but silently taking from them what he could. Thoughts came more clearly to Elrond under Eärendil’s watch. On occasion he would join Elrond in his contemplation by silently approaching and allowing the railing to hold his weight, much as he was now, without word; words were not always needed, as sometimes a presence could be enough. On cold, sleepless nights, Elladan drew from his father’s silent strength, and Elrond did likewise. But now, Elrond was not here with him; not here to provide the unwavering support and guidance that he so desperately longed for.

Once more sighing, Elladan closed his eyes.

“I know not why you return, Elrohir, but if you seek to speak harsh words, I will not tarry here.” Though Elrohir had been exceptionally quiet in advancing, Elladan knew his twin well and sensed his approach even when he had still been in the corridor. He did not turn to meet his brother; rather, he remained leaning upon the marble rail.

Elrohir stepped out of the darkness that had before covered him. He had been content to watch his twin, finding solace in the return of old routines. Since Elrond had sailed to the Undying Lands, Elrohir and his twin had often come to this balcony as one after dark had fallen, content in knowing that the other was, and would always be, nearby. “Peace, my brother.” Elrohir’s voice had lost its hard edge, and in its place was naught but guilt for the knowledge that he had been the cause of Elladan’s dismay. Quietly, he continued. “I do not wish for a confrontation.”

Taken aback for just a moment, Elladan turned a fleeting glance of mild surprise on his twin. Elrohir stepped forward and assumed the same position as his brother, his eyes never straying from Eärendil. Slowly, he began to talk. “Elladan, I would speak with you.” Elladan studied him closely, his brow furrowed in curiosity. Elrohir claimed he did not want a confrontation, yet Elladan could guess what his twin would discuss with him and knew it could end up no other way than in a disagreement. Without word, he urged Elrohir to continue. Elrohir sighed and looked again to Eärendil, drawing from the strength concealed there. His voice was a mere whisper; almost it was lost on the wings of the night’s wind. “While in my quarters, my thoughts brought me back upon all of the Ages of Arda in which we existed. We have not been without our share of pain, Elladan, yet without pain, happiness could not be.” Elladan’s brow furrowed once more; Elrohir’s direction in this conver sation was now lost to him.

A silence followed; Elladan spoke not, for it seemed that Elrohir was trying to collect his thoughts. The wind had calmed now, only blowing enough to ruffle the leaves on the trees and caress the twins’ faces. Moonlight shone brightly upon the Last Homely House and showed its grandeur, recalling to mind times long past. At length, when several moments had passed, Elrohir began once more. “I recalled our mother’s passing to Valinor. Of late I have dwelt upon it.” He paused for breath. “I questioned myself more than once for so long after her departure. I knew not how she could leave something she claimed to hold so dearly; Arda was so beloved to her, yet she left it coldly and without a backwards glance. But now I see that I erred then, and I have grown the wiser for it. I believe I understand.” He looked to Elladan, now, and held his gaze for a moment or two. “Her love was the reason she departed, Elladan. She sought peace and respite after her torment, yet I bel ieve she also sought to keep Arda’s innocence and goodness immortal in her heart. She did not want to see more of its demise, its fall, than she had already witnessed. For this I blame her not.”

Elladan broke away from his brother’s gaze and looked down in contemplative silence. The waterfall to his left tumbled over rocks in soothing patterns, the only sound now in the still night. Unexpectedly, Elladan found a hand placed upon his shoulder, and he looked to meet his brother’s eyes.

“You are not alone, Elladan. Always have I stood beside you, not only because you are my brother, but because you are my dearest friend as well. And it is because of this that I cannot ask you to reconsider what I know you have already decided.” It was then that realization hit Elladan, and he knew what his twin had been reluctant to say outright. “You shall remain in Imladris, my brother, but I cannot tarry in Arda. At sunrise, I will depart for the West.”

Elladan’s eyes closed tightly and his breath stopped in his chest; the decision had not been unexpected. Nevertheless, it impacted Elladan almost as a physical blow, softened only by the moonlight and his brother’s hand upon his shoulder. Elrohir’s eyes were on him, he knew; asking for kindness, for understanding… for forgiveness. No movement did Elladan make to meet Elrohir’s gaze, but his hand strayed to brace his brother’s.

Elrohir studied his twin closely, traced with his sight the guilt etched in Elladan’s face, evident even behind closed eyes. “She asked me never to doubt her love for me; for all of us, ere she left.” Elrohir slowly let his hand drop to his side. His voice was so quiet and melodic, now; scarcely could Elladan separate it from the tumbling waterfall that played, worriless and graceful, beneath the moon. “I would ask you to do the same.” Staying only a moment longer, Elrohir turned and entered the shadows of the Last Homely House once more, leaving Elladan in Eärendil’s care.

Elladan looked out over Imladris from his perch on the balcony and discovered that, despite the thickness of the dark, the pale starlight from above him reached the ground. It illuminated even the blackest recesses and shone like jewels in the water. The wind blew once again across Elladan’s face; despite the approach of Rhîw, the scent of rebirth was in the air, and the remnants of the dying leaves upon the ground whispered a promise of their return. It was something the eldest son of Elrond hadn’t noticed until then.

The night seemed warmer, somehow.

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Laer- The Sindarin name for the season of Summer.
Rhîw-The Sindarin name for the season of Winter.