When Mordomin had gone, Elrond fell back into the brooding that had begun the day that Celebrían departed the Valley. The arrogance of Mordomin had only served to enflame the anger and the sorrow that Elrond felt at the departure of his wife. He reflected bitterly that this Sundering had been foretold, and that he and Celebrían had married full-knowing this doom. Knowing had not made the parting less bitter in the end.
In their marriage many years of bliss had passed, and three children had been brought forth, and all had seemed well. Many were the turmoils of those days, and Elrond had not been idle as those events unfolded. Celebrían had been the hidden strength of Master Elrond of Rivendell in those days.
Now Elrond sat alone in his chamber and reflected upon all of the joy that had come into his life and grieved not only for what had come to pass, but for the further partings that he foresaw before him.
Then, at the very height of summer, up the Dimrill Stair and over the Redhorn Pass came unlooked-for a great company from Lothlorien led by Lord Celeborn, and with him was the Lady Galadriel. Descending from the mountain passes they came, upon many horses and drawing many wagons, until they arrived upon the shores of the Bruinen itself. There they stopped, and raised many tents and pavilions, and sang many songs and made merry according to their ways. But they did not cross the Ford, nor seek to enter the Valley beyond.
Yet the arrival of the Galathrim, and their music and merriment, soon drew down to the riverbank the Elves of Imladris, who sat upon the hither bank of the river and they beheld their kinsmen in silent longing. After a time, single Elves from the Valley would cross the Ford and join the Travellers. They were welcomed gladly. Seeing this, more and more came across the River and joined them.
Elrond, Master of Rivendell, had never been the sort to mind the business of the folk that dwelt within his Valley, save that they be well and peaceful, and good to one another. He was, therefore, slow to notice that his Valley had become empty of folk, especially as his grief and anger had turned his thought inward. He did not miss the laughter and music of his Hall when it had gone silent, for he had not ventured near it since the departure of his Wife.
Yet one day, long past midsummer yet before the leaves began to turn, Elrond looked up from his chair in the room that he had set aside for the most private of confidences. He saw Glorfindel standing to one side, as always. And he saw Erestor. And he saw no one else.
Elrond said, “Is there no business, no new guests to greet, no matters great or small for the Master of Rivendell to hear of today?”
Erestor answered, “There is not, Master Elrond. However, there
is a summons from the Lord of Lothlorien which awaits your attention.”
Elrond said bitterly, “I am no petty Lord to be summoned by Celeborn, or any other Elf! No doubt he wishes to rebuke me for the fate of his daughter. Does he not know how I grieve for her loss?
“Let him come to Rivendell if he wishes speech with Elrond!”
Glorfindel then said, “He has. I believe that both he and the Lady know of your grief, much akin to their own. He has come with a great company to have speech with you. He awaits you beyond the Ford, in the camp of the Galathrim.”
Then Elrond stirred himself from his gloom and began to once again see about him. And he saw that the People of his Valley had grieved as he had, but he had comforted them naught.
Elrond then took off his circlet of silver and dashed it to the floor in dismay. And he took off all symbol of station or rank (save a ring only), clothing himself as a simple Elf of the Valley, and made his way down to the River.
As he passed through the Valley, he saw with astonishment how empty it had become.
Despite his simple raiment, all those who saw him descending the bank of the river to cross the Ford knew him at once. For Elrond was tall even among Elves, and raven-haired, and in him was combined the beauty of the Elves, the hardiness of Men, and the majesty of the Lords of the West. Yet when he had crossed the River and come amongst them both the Galathrim and the folk of Imladris greeted him simply as
mellon, that is ‘friend’. They shared with him their meat and drink and invited him to join in their songs. In this last he demurred, pleading that he must go further forth within the camp.
And so Elrond went from fire to fire within the encampment of the Galathrim that sat upon the edge of his Valley. And in his passing he saw many of the Folk of the Valley who were pleased by the healing that their kinsmen from the East had brought. Elrond thought upon this as he walked.
At last Elrond came to the Great Pavilion that had been erected for the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien themselves.
That Pavilion was a great canvas woven of clothe so fine that it admitted sunlight and moonlight but denied entry to rain or wind. It was held aloft by nine great posts, eight upon the perimeter, and one mighty one in the center of the Pavilion. And each of these posts were cunningly wrought to look as though they were living trees. But the central pillar had a smooth, grey bark in appearance, and the canvas spread from its top had the seeming of golden leaves.
Elrond entered the Pavilion as but one of many who sought to dance and sing before the Lord and Lady, but the eye of Galadriel found him at once within the crowd. At her motion, the eye of Celeborn also fell upon him.
Then Celeborn beckoned him forward.
Celeborn greeted him kindly, and said, “Here at last is the guest that we have sought! Welcome, Elrond son of Eärendil! Come sit with us and be at ease. Eat, drink, and be comforted, and learn again that not all is sorrow and loss.”
Then the grief in Elrond welled up within him, but the Lady Galadriel forestalled him, saying, “Let us not speak of what pains your heart tonight.”
Then Elrond accepted a cup of wine from the Lady and drank therefrom. And when he had drunk for a while, he rose up and he danced with his folk, Imladrim and Galathrim alike, and he sang, and he after a time he laughed.
At last Elrond fell into a deep sleep.
When Elrond awoke, the Pavilion had been removed, and the people had gone their ways. There was left only a small tent in which there was a soft bed upon which Elrond had been laid. Beside that bed were two chairs, upon which sat the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel.
The Lord and Lady offered him sweet cakes and cups of cool water and waited kindly for him to come into his full wits.
At last, Elrond said, “I am pleased to see you once again. Thank you for coming. It has been too long.”
Celeborn said, “You think that we are here to rebuke you for her loss. Be at ease, son of Eärendil. Her leaving Middle-earth was foretold ‘ere ever you first were met. As both of you knew, even as you plighted your troth. As we knew, as we gave you our blessing.”
Elrond said, “What would you have of me, then?”
Celeborn said, “We would have speech with thee, for we understand that our first message was not understood.”
Elrond said, “Of what do you speak? No message from the Golden Wood came to me.”
Then Galadriel said, “You would not hear the words of Lord Mordomin, because in your grief you condemned him unjustly.”
Elrond cried, “The Black Hand drove your daughter – my
wife! - to seek the Western Road! She said so to me, in this very Valley.”
Celeborn said, “Alas for the torment of Celebrían, which none of us could foresee. A stroke against all of our hearts. As was intended.”
“’Intended’?” Elrond said. “Who intended this stroke against us, if not the Black Hand?”
Celeborn said, “It
was ‘the Black Hand’. But it was
not Mordomin.”
Elrond said, “Lord Celeborn, you speak in riddles. And my grief is still great upon me, and thus I find that I am not much minded for games.”
Galadriel said, “Not a riddle, Master Elrond. Rather, my Lord Celeborn speaks of a
puzzle. You have assembled such pieces as have come to into your hands and made a picture from them to the best of your wisdom. We have come with more pieces. We must lay our pieces together and see what picture then emerges.”
Elrond said, “Very well. Set forth your pieces and let us see what we can make of them.”
Lord Celeborn said, “Lord Mordomin came to us last year as winter descended. He came from Moria, from the Great Gate; even now we keep a watch upon it.
“He was wounded of body and heart and mind when he arrived. When at last he was healed and rested, I summoned him to us, for we much wished for news of our daughter, as well you might think.”
Galadriel said, “I knew that something ill had befallen Celebrían on her journey across the Mountains; afterward for a time I knew naught of her, save that she was not slain. There was a veil upon my sight.”
Celeborn said, “Fearing for her, I sent Haldír and some of our border guards forth to the bottom of the Dimrill Stair, seeking for news. But they were met by a strong company of goblins and forced back. Haldír then withdrew, and watched, and sent for reinforcement. But soon thereafter the goblins withdrew, and Haldír cautiously ascended the stair.
“He could find little upon the Pass, for the snow had set in early, and there were few signs. Shorn spearpoints of Elven spears such as the People of Imladris bear, and signs of the passage of a company on horseback were all that they could find.”
Galadriel said, “So it was to Mordomin that we turned for news. He told us that your sons had recovered
Celebrían from the goblins; in that he had no part, arriving late. But he stilled the goblin-poison in her veins. And he sent her in the care of your sons to you for healing that could not come upon a mountainside.”
“So they brought her,” said Elrond bitterly. “And in due time, in her body, she was healed. But some wounds are beyond my Power to heal. Such were the ones inflicted up her by the Black Hand!”
But Celeborn held up his hand, and said, “Now we are come to the part that you do not know, kinsman. For after leaving
Celebrían in the care of your sons, Mordomin alone sought the hidden stronghold of the goblins. He slew them all, until only their leader was left. That last Mordomin tormented, until at last the goblin-king gave up the secret – the Elf who had rallied them to attack Celebrían, to set all of these of these plans in motion, had a Black Hand.
“That goblin, Red Scar he was called, taunted Mordomin that he was not the true Black Hand. For the true Black Hand had lured Mordomin into the mountains to die, or at least to remove him from interfering with his plans.
“Then Mordomin removed the glove from his cursed hand and held it up to the goblin, and said, ‘Behold, I am the Black Hand, thou fool.’
“But Red Scar only laughed and told Mordomin that the true Black Hand is left-handed. That he had seen for himself the Black Left Hand revealed and felt the power within it. The Red Scar died as he learned that there was a Black Hand who was right-handed, as well.”
Elrond cried, “You say that an Elf, who has a Black Hand like to that of Mordomin, organized the goblin attack upon the party of Celebrían? This defies belief! Only Sauron had such power upon these shores. But Sauron is overthrown. Lest you forget, I was there when my liege-lord Gil-galad with the aid of Elendil slew him, and Isildur took his Ring.
“Yet why would he have thought to expend his power to create a second Black Hand? Sauron can create Rings of Power with which to subjugate others to his will. As he has done. His Curse upon Mordomin was but a first attempt at that art. Rings are more certain.”
“Sauron has many servants,” Celeborn replied. “For he has many different needs, and many different uses for his servants. He has thralls, and orcs and goblins, and trolls to do his will. But his chief servants, such as the Nazgûl, are for mightier tasks.”
Elrond said, “And what ‘mighty task’ would require that Sauron create a second cursed Elf with a Black Hand?”
Galadriel answered, “The destruction of this Refuge, of course. He hates it for having withstood his armies and having sheltered his enemies after the fall of Eregion. That is reason enough.
“But he also knows that the seeds of his downfall will arise in this Valley if they are allowed to do so in peace. To prevent this he has made this ‘harvomôr’, this Left Hand of Darkness. The attack on Celebrían was only the first stroke.”
Celeborn said, “For some time, evil creatures have been gathering in the Misty Mountains. The goblins are multiplying again. Lothlorien does not have the strength to prevent this. Nor will we be able to aid you against a sudden stroke by goblins striking west from the Mountains. They can hold the passes long against us with but a tithe of their forces.”
Elrond said, “That they may do. But there are many protections woven about this Valley. The Armies of Sauron could not penetrate them in the Second Age. No mere goblin-chieftain could hope to do so today.”
“You are right. No mere goblin-chieftain could hope to do so. Unless that ‘chieftain’ was an Elf who had walked in your Valley aforetime,” Galadriel said. “The name of that Elf, or at least, the one he gave when he walked freely into your Hidden Refuge, is Rácinamir.”
“Rácinamir!” Elrond cried. “But I met with that one. He had no Black Hand, neither left nor right.”
Galadriel replied, “Wise is the Master of Rivendell, and deep is he in all of the Arts known to the Elves. Merged in him is the wisdom of the Elves, and of Men, and of the People beyond the Sea. But even he may fail detect some of the Deceits of the Enemy. Kinsman, you know in your heart that this is so.”
Elrond bowed his head in thought. At last he looked up, and said, “I thank you, my kinfolk, for bringing this warning to me. Indeed, the Enemy used my grief as a cloak to hide the greater threat.
“But the Enemy is wrong if he thinks that this Valley lacks defenders. If goblins somehow find their way to this Valley, they will find Elves armed with bows and spears and swords! With Glorfindel as my shield-man, I shall slay this Rácinamir myself!”
Galadriel smiled kindly at Elrond.
“Valiant are you, son of Eärendil, and mighty is Glorfindel of Gondolin. But only Mordomin can hope to defeat this threat. Black hand must defeat Black hand. Sowing discord between Mordomin and yourself has been a part of the plan of the Enemy from the beginning.
“If Mordomin does not meet
Rácinamir at the Fords of Bruinen when he comes, then Imladris will fall. And with Imladris shall go all of the best hopes of the Free Peoples of the West."
Elrond said, “Then Imladris is doomed. Mordomin and I are estranged by proud words spoken in haste and sorrow. He will not come.”
But Galadriel said, “Yes he will. He will come to you. Need will drive him to seek of you a boon. Be generous when he comes to you, kinsman, and the ill-will that lies now between you will be forgotten.
“You will be well-served in this, for there will be times thereafter in which you will need his sword, in affairs that are of no matter to him. But he will aid you when you call upon him, if you but ask.”
“You say that he will come to me?” Elrond said. “Very well. I shall let it be known that my face is not forever turned from him. If he comes as a friend, he will be welcome.”
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