Elrond's Pain

by Agi

Hi, all! Please don't smile for my English because I've worked hard to translate it for a whole week! I know that after 3 months it is outrageous to demand writing enough well a language but have no patience...And I think it's a good exercise to learn English (I've undone my dictionery!!!).I hope you can like it.And if there is some mistakes you can correct me! Thanks.

Elrond's Pain

Arwen had decided, he knew it well. He tried uselessly to protect her from a cruel fate, it was something that never had been changed. Could he have forced her to leave with her people? No, he would breake her heart, he would make her unhappy for all the eternity throughtout her long life. He would have quenched her joy! Would it have been worth to do it only for his egoism, so that he could have seen her to live? Certainly, no. But his heart filled with pain and he knew it would never have left him.

By now the fate had decided by itself.The ring had been destroyed, Aragorn had become king of Gondor and the White Tree had been found. Nothing could have been changed.Childlike joy which knew neither pain nor danger could be read on her bright face.Was this feeling really childlike? So many years had matured her choice even if it was made with the heart. However he was suffering at the idea of losing her, blood of his blood, soul of his soul.

What would her destiny have been?Now she was happy but a day would have come when there would have been only sadness, painfull days without consolation and he would have been too distant to ease her suffering.Looking at her he felt a dark, empty space filling his soul.In this dark a never forgotten old pain was moving.He tought he had buried it.In the fact too many years had passed by so that it could still hurt him.Or was he mistaken?

As a summer storm the memory of his brother overcame him from the day of his choice till the day of his death. He passed away with quiet peace on his face. Iluvatar's gift of which purpose was unknown also to the Valar and which he would have never understood. Why had Elros chosen that way?

Elrond drew away from the window lookingat the streetsand the courts of Minas Tirith. He leaned his forehead on the cold wall of stone. Oh, how he missed the trees of Imladris! When he rested his hands on the bark of the trees he could feel their vital flux inside which answered to his heartbeats. He could smell the intense scent of the wood, he could seen the rays of the sun playing on the grass covered with dew, he could hear the babble of the fast brooks running down from the moutains towards the ravines jumping from a rock to another.A melody wandered incessantly in his mind without refrain as the singing of the water purified throughout the strata of the earth without age.A story ran throught every single drop.

But there were neither trees nor wild flowers to breake the monotony of the citadel, only dead stones older then elves worked by men.

Elros had passed away a very long time ago. To men he was only a legend, perhaps he had never existed. But for him it seemed as if it had happened only the day before when he had made the promise on Elros' death-bed.

"Promise that your wisdom will be the light for my people to preserv themselves in order not to perish in the dark. Promise that you will help them in the more desperate hours when all hope will be coming out!"

And he kept his promise only for his brother beyond every hope but it had costed him too much in the end.The tears gushed out slowly on his face incessantly.He hadn't succeed in catching that receding melody having that cold in his heart. To loose him forever was an enormous pain . But Elros' memory was also full of sweet scent.His choice had given him happiness and a life he had longed for. When he died ther wasn't fear on his face but pride and peace.Arwen had the same expression without fear, bitterness in her beautiful eyes but she was aware of her future. There was courage, an immense courage. He could only be proud of them and this feeling began to melt the ice inside him.Indeed he had finally begun to sing softly lent against the cold wall of stone giving free vent to his sadness. A light breeze of wind caressed his face drying his tears. Even if he could never have forgotten it in the end he had found the courage to remember.