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━━━━»•» act one. age of ruins

00. the fall of gil-galad «•« ━━━━

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ third age ━━ year one

𓇻 lindon; mithlond {grey havens}

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A GENTLE BREEZE CARRYING THE SALT AIR OF THE SEA CARESSED THE YOUNG ELFLING'S CHEEK. The slowly rising sun painted the sky a radiant portrait of soft pink and bright orange. Elgarain's fingers itched for her pencils at the sight of the sea being illuminated by the dawn. But she remained frozen in place, her eyes glued to the sight before her as her fingers played with the soft fabric of her white dress. Her stomach ached with the feeling of stone cold dread. It had been plaguing her for months now, ever since the Last Alliance of Men and Elves set out to confront the Dark Lord Sauron and defeat evil once and for all.

The palace and the surrounding city had never been so empty before. The echoes of her footsteps in the hallways haunted her, reminding her with every step of the war raging in the East. Only a handful of Elves remained in Lindon, most of which formed the Royal Guard to protect her mother, The High Queen, and herself, the heir to the throne. Círdan the Shipwright, Gil-galad's foster parent and most trusted advisor, had chosen to stay behind as well. Most of the youngest Elflings stayed behind too, though some of them would have proudly joined their people in battle. A few of them were lucky enough to have their mother with them, but most had to watch as both their parents marched off to meet the shadow of Mordor.

Elgarain's sketchbooks were filled with the drawings of the dead landscape, the mountain of Fire and the dark tower of Barad-dûr. Of course her young eyes had never seen the poisonous fumes of Mordor, but every single night she dreamed of it. She dreamed of her father, walking through the barren plains of Gorgoroth, his faithful spear Aeglos in his hand and blood coloring his skin and armor crimson red. Every morning she woke in fear for the High King of the Ñoldor, afraid that she would never see him again, afraid that her people would be left leaderless in the aftermath of the battle. Or worse, that Sauron would win and his forces would reach every corner of Middle-Earth and destroy all she'd ever known.

Her hands crumbled the satin dress between her fingers, her heart beating impossibly fast in her chest. Whenever she'd get caught up in her fears and doubts, she reminded herself of the conversation she had with her father before he left. It was still so vividly imprinted in her mind that at times it felt like it happened yesterday instead of months ago.

Gil-galad had taken her to the Havens he built long before she was even born. A city of beautiful buildings carved out of white wood and with many ships in the harbor, waiting to be boarded, white sails proudly waving in the wind. The Grey Havens they were called in the common tongue, though Elgarain had always known them as Mithlond. Elves from all over Middle-Earth came here to sail West, to the Undying Lands, to Valinor.

Her father had shown her the city, as though she'd never been there before and every building, every tree was new to her. She hadn't dared to ask any questions, not until the day had come to an end and he'd taken her up to one of the many Watchtowers. The wooden tower stood tall and proud, built on the cliffs so both the sea and the city were visible in all their glory. Only then did she dare to finally voice what had been on her mind all day: "Adar, why did you show me this?"

A smile had formed on his features as he looked upon his only child, the heir to his kingdom, the light of his life. "Because, Hínya, I might not return from battle."

Her face had fallen at the mere thought of it, her young heart unable to even begin to understand what a life without her father might look like.

"And if I don't return, you will take my place as ruler," he continued, watching his daughter closely as she tried to figure out what it was he wanted to tell her. "Our people will look to you for guidance, to heal them after the pain of this war has passed."

"What if I don't want to rule?" Elgarain had countered, pouting as though that would be enough to erase her bloodline and all that it meant.

A laugh had fallen from his lips, melodic and warm. The sound had always reminded her of home and she couldn't help but smile when hearing it. "Ruling isn't a choice, dear one," he had finally spoken. "We have been chosen by the Valar to lead our people. It is an honor."

He'd turned his gaze to the horizon, watching the last of the sunlight fade into the blackness of the night. Stars shone in the sky surrounding them and the moon was bright enough to provide enough light so Elgarain was able to see the sudden weight that seemed to have appeared in her father's eyes. "Leading people is not a task you must take lightly Elgarain," he'd continued, sounding more serious than she'd ever heard him before. "It will require many sacrifices. You will face many challenges. But as long as you remember what you're doing it for, all of that will be worth it."

"What are you doing it for?" She'd questioned softly.

Gil-galad had smiled, despite the weight, despite the burden, he'd found a reason to smile. "For everything that I've shown you today."

The young Elfling frowned then. "For the city?"

He'd laughed once again and then placed his hand on her shoulder. "For the safety we can provide for our people. For the home we can give them. For the hope we can give them. The hope that no matter how large the shadow of evil might seem, better days will come. We represent hope for our people, dear one, never forget it."

And she'd tried. All the months since he'd left with the Ñoldor army, she'd tried to stay hopeful. Whenever her mother's eyes would glister with tears, it was Elgarain who told a story to try and cheer her up. Whenever the Elflings in the city feared for the lives of their parents, it was Elgarain who invented a new game to take their minds off their fear. The only person she hadn't managed to cheer up, was herself. Too much burden had been placed on her young shoulders and she had no idea how to make it lighter.

Everything would be better when her father returned, that was what she kept telling herself, over and over, until it became a prayer she spoke every night before she slept and every morning when she woke. If she even let the thought in that he wouldn't be alright, if she started to believe her dreams were real, her entire world would crumble. The young Elf was sure she would never recover from the wound her father's absence would leave in her heart. Elves were, after all, not supposed to face the consequences of death. It felt unnatural to even think about it. Death was something she'd been told only men dealt with, but not their kind. They sailed into the West and lived out the rest of their days in peace. Until war came knocking to their door, and death suddenly became very real...

Elgarain could've prepared to take over a kingdom, but she never could've prepared for the pain of losing someone she loved so very dearly.

"Hínya?" A soft voice spoke behind her, finally making the young Elfling turn away from the view of the sea. Her eyes fell on Aerien, the High Queen of the Ñoldor, her mother. Her father always joked she had gotten every bit of her beauty from her mother. From the color of her eyes, to the ivory color of her skin. Only her hair was the same as her father's, falling in brown waves over her shoulders.

"What is it, amil?" she questioned but no answer was necessary, as her ears picked up the sounds of shouts and cheering coming from outside. A smile started to form on her lips. "They've returned!" And before her mother could speak another word, Elgarain darted past her into the hallway.

She could hear her mother call her name but she refused to listen. A sudden excitement had taken hold of her and pushed her legs to run through the long hallways and down the staircases as fast as she could. Aerien hurried after her, but Elgarain didn't slow her pace to let her catch up. She ran into the courtyard of the palace, coming to a sudden halt when her eyes took in the sight before her. The daughter of the head of her father's Guard, Gyda, stood in the middle of the courtyard. Her hands were covered in blood, her eyes filled with the horror of battle and still she stood proud and tall.

Aerien came bursting through the doors behind Elgarain, coming to a halt next to her daughter. She placed a hand on Elgarain's shoulder, as though wanting to prevent her from running away once again. Her eyes were focused on Gyda though and one look at the warrior was enough to drain all color from her face.

The soft footfalls of Círdan came from behind as he joined them in the courtyard. He took one look at her mother and his face fell. "What happened?" he questioned with his soft voice.

Elgarain looked between the two of them, eyes filled with confusion, unable to read between the lines. "What's going on?"

Gyda cleared her throat, shifting nervously from feet to feet before finally deciding on putting her hands on her back, standing up straight like the soldier she was. "Isildur has slain Sauron," she spoke, her voice rang out through the small courtyard.

But if Sauron was gone, why did the brunette look so sad?

"Where's my father?" Elgarain spoke up again, standing on the tip of her toes to look around. Maybe he was playing hide and seek, like he used to do whenever she was sad and wanted cheering up.

"During the battle, to find a moment to strike..." Gyda spoke, then swallowed nervously. "To strike..." she repeated but the words got stuck in her throat once again. "King Gil-galad fought bravely and relentlessly for his people. Gyldorn was by his king's side as the Valar called him back home." Her voice cracked as she spoke and then she kneeled down. "Queen Aerien I am sorry for the tragedy that has struck your family. He has earned his rest."

A pained gasp left her mother's lips, her hand flew up to her mouth as realisation settled in. Círdan, who never let anything rattle him, seemed to fight to keep his balance. But the words bounced meaningless around Elgarain's head. Her father hadn't earned his rest at all, he was needed here, right here at her side. With pain in her heart she looked up at her Aerien, fingers curled in the soft material of her mother's dress. "What's happened? Why isn't father here?"

Aerien slowly lowered her trembling hand and placed it on her daughter's shoulders, turning her so they were facing each other. With tears glistering in her eyes she knelt down in front of the young Elfling and looked straight in her eyes. "Hínya," she whispered, "your father isn't coming back."

Elgarain shook her head. Her lip trembled no matter how hard she tried to stop it from doing so. "No, no, where's adar?"

Aerien had no words of comfort and was forced to watch as her daughter slowly fell apart in front of her. Silently, Círdan placed a hand on Aerien's shoulder, providing her with a lifeline.

Desperately shaking her head Elgarain slowly backed away, tears streamed down her cheeks. When the queen reached out to wipe them away, Elgarain recoiled at her touch. And suddenly she was moving towards Gyda, her small hands curled into fists. "Where is he! Where did you take him?"

The young warrior stretched out her hand, but something made her movements falter and she pulled her hands back, letting the crown princess release her wrath upon her. Elgarain's small fists hit her stomach, her white dress a blur in the wind as she moved quickly, shouting and screaming but Gyda remained in place, steady as a rock. It only angered Elgarain further. She wanted her father and she wanted him now.

"Aranel," Gyda whispered softly.

Somehow the mention of her title was enough to put out the blazing fire of her anger, and all she was left with was an aching pain in her heart.

Gyda swallowed thickly. "Aranel, please. He can't come back. I can't bring him home to you. No one can."

The Elf knelt down in front of her but her heart had taken too much damage. The world had come crashing down on her and she needed to breathe. And so she ran. Her small form disappeared down the hallway, out of their sight. Her feet carried her through the hallways as she ran blindly, tears blurred her vision, making it impossible to see where she was going and she didn't care either.

But she couldn't outrun her pain forever and eventually her legs collapsed beneath the weight pressing down on her heart. And as she cried there was only one thought in her mind above all the other noise. She was never going to hear him laugh again...

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𝕬𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝕹𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . .

I did warn you guys about possible heart break and what better way to start a story than with pain? I am so excited to finally share this story with you guys! I really feel like this is some of my best work yet. 

Diving into the endless sea of lore that is Lord of the Rings was kind off daunting at first, ngl. But I'm so happy I decided to go through with this and share my thoughts with you all. I hope you'll enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Much love, Nelly

ELVISH TRANSLATIONS:

Adar ― father

Hínya ― my child

Amil ― mother

Aranel ― princess