Rating: G
Pairings: Elrond, Gil-galad, others
Summary: A sad prophecy falls.
Disclaimer: The Prophecy is mine and I am very proud of it. Though it is based on Tolkien's books, I wrote it, so don't use it! If you ask nicely, however, I might let you borrow parts. And I am always willing to help write stuff; if you are having trouble writing a poem or something, e-mail me and I'll give you some of my infinite wisdom. hee hee Seriously though, I love coming up with things like the Prophecy, so feel free to e-mail me. I have no claim to the characters, places, languages, etc that Tolkien wrote about. If you recognize it, it belongs to him.
Note: This comes from my story Thursday, but it can be read on its own. The idea just came from my other story. Obviously, this is not strictly cannon, but most of it is in line with the books.
A wave of fear and darkness swept over the plain before the entrance to Mordor. Even the Orcs fell back as the Dark Lord advanced on Elendil. With a great sweep, the Dark Lord sent many men and elves flying, and still he advanced. Elrond, herald of the High King, could not watch, he could not be distracted from his own fighting. He parried with the evil creatures around him, together with the other elves, forcing them back. Lunge, thrust, stab, his sword was a part of his body and his dance cut down those opposing him. Then a scream, Elrond saw Elendil fall beneath the power of Sauron, his sword breaking in two. Elrond fought harder, trying to get, against all reason, closer.
Then terror raced through his body, as Elrond saw Gil-galad, his beloved Ereinion, attack the Dark Lord. He saw them parry, then he saw the High King collapse. It was too much, with a cry of despair Elrond threw himself at the orcs, closer and closer to the mightiest danger.
Suddenly, Isildur was there, holding the broken Narsil. In a desperate move, the man slashed at Sauron's hand and cut the finger that bore the ring. Air rushed in all around him and the Dark Lord shrieked, withering and dissolving until all that was left of him was dust.
Their master gone, the orcs retreated, falling back into Mordor. There was no cheering among the victors, the field was quiet except for the clinks of armor and blades. Sorrow and loss swept across the field, each searching for those not yet dead and mourning over those beyond aid. Elrond made his way to Gil-galad, alert for any orcs still looking for a fight. None approached him.
There upon the barren land lay the last High King and Elrond fell to his knees beside him. The elf was still breathing, but it was shallow and Elrond knew there was nothing that could be done. His eyes filled with tears as he took Ereinion's hand, already growing cold. The elf opened his eyes and looked at his herald, "Do not cry, my love, for we have won."
"But at such a cost, a price I never want to pay." Gil-galad reached up and brushed away a tear on Elrond's cheek.
"You must, you know the freedom of this land is more important then the wishes of two elves such as we." A sob escaped from the half-elf, tears pouring down his face. "Listen to me, love, I have little time left."
"No, don't say that. I love you, don't leave me! Please don't leave me." But Gil-galad put a finger on the younger elf's lips, stroking them softly. Then the Last High King uttered the fateful words.
"The White Tree may flower
But Gondor will diminish.
Though Northern Men wander
Their History must endure.
Should Isildur's line be broken
Then shall the Dark Lord prevail.
"The Firstborn sail westward
But their Beauty will abound
Till Men's Dominion begins,
Once the One Ring is found.
"Nine will gather in the Black Land
The Ruling Ring shall surface
The Dark Lord's return is close at Hand.
Forge anew the Tall Man's Sword
Strong must the Heir stand.
"Darkness creeps into the Great Woods,
Here the Shadow dwells.
Greet those sent to compete the Evil Power,
But beware the Traitor in your Midst.
Though Two shall seek the Ring,
Only One will remain true.
Mordor burns as the Precious is sought,
The Betrayer will be the Savior.
Forget Past Conflicts and join Forces,
Three Races must come together,
Support a Fourth in his Deed.
"Nine shall walk against the Nine,
Brave Souls on a perilous Quest.
One shall hold a Secret,
Two shall merely follow.
A Fourth will learn of Disaster
While Another will meet his Master.
The Next leaves Others in Despair deep
But shall awaken from his Sleep.
One a Love's Plea shall deny,
One Love's Knot shall tie.
The Last will wield the Light,
And feel the Tug, but win the Fight.
"Many shall face the Test,
And Many shall aid the Fellowship in their Quest.
The Finder gives a glowing Blade,
The Guardian provides Comfort and Aid.
Shepherds of the Forest will march against the Traitor,
Who bears one of the Palantír.
All shall come together under the Hand of the Half-Elf,
While the Lady provides much Insight
And gives the Bearer the Gift of Light.
Music played by a Girl's Soft Hand,
Shall draw Supporters to Aragorn's Band.
The Evenstar an Immortal Life will forsake,
The Shieldmaiden Fighting Arms will uptake.
The Tongue of a Worm will quicken Decay,
But the King of Eagles shall save the Grey,
And the Death of Rohan's King will be delayed.
Two Brothers will ride with the Dúnedain,
And join the Heir on the Dead Lane.
"Hope remains whilst All are true,
But each Ingredient is needed in this Stew.
Follow the Recipe as planned,
Or Dark shall rule over the Land."
"I don't understand," whispered Elrond, grasping both of Gil-galad's hands. They had the Ring now, Isildur had it and would cast it into the fires of Mount Doom.
"You don't need to, just remember," the voice, which had been strong as he uttered each word, was weakening and full of pain. "Save Middle Earth and," he gasped for breath, "remember me, my love, always."
Elrond could not say anything, he carefully leaned down and kissed his beloved one last time. As Elrond's tears fell on his face, Ereinion left for the Halls of Mandos. Elrond sat there, holding the High King's hands, for many minutes, wishing it were all a dream and he would awake, snuggled close to his Ereinion in their soft bed.
But it wasn't to be, Elrond saw Isildur and knew what he must do. He led the man into Mount Doom.
"Cast it into the fire!" The half-elf yelled, his hair blowing around wildly. With fear growing in his heart, he watched Elendil's son refuse and leave. Suddenly it dawned on him and, days later when they heard about Isildur's death, he understood his love's prophecy. There was much more to be done and he could not waste away like he so wanted. Ereinion had known what would happen, he had ensured that his lover would survive and finish what he had set out to do.
Elrond was forced to live, to see through the destruction of the One Ring, and he did.
The End
Send Willow feedback
Visit Willow's website
The characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema. No profit is being made by the authors or the archivist and no disrespect is intented.
Do not post this work elsewhere without the author's consent.