Fallen Empire

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"When the future comes, it cannot be denied."

Elrond shook his head, fighting the angry tears that threatened to spill. "It is not always so."

"'Tis always so," Ereinion said with a soft smile as he pinned his cloak in place. "It is an end to an Age, the second we have seen. One or both empires shall fall this night, but you will live on to tell the tale."

He threw his arms around his King, his lover, and held him close. Elrond knew the words Ereinion spoke were the truth. With his sacrifice, an uneasy peace would be won, but it would be won at the expense of love and life. He clung to him, breathing in the scent solely Ereinion's, committing the feel of the warrior-king's body to his memory. "It was such a great empire," he whispered against Ereinion's shoulder.

"Aye," Ereinion agreed, wrapping his own arms around Elrond. "And just like all empires, it was destined to fall."

"But it was our empire," Elrond said, still refusing to let go of his lover.

Ereinion gently pushed Elrond from him, meeting the Peredhel's tortured gaze. "Our time has ended."

"No."

"Yes, Elrond. It has passed, just as it was meant to. You know what awaits you after this night, what the long years hold in store for you. Do not go into that future mourning what you could not change. You have my love; you always will. But it is time for it all to fall." He kissed Elrond's brow tenderly, his voice hoarse with his own sadness. "My time is over."

Without offering Elrond another moment, a final kiss, High King Ereinion Gil-galad donned his helm and took his sword in hand. Head held high, with the love of his herald clasped to his breast, he marched out into the smoky night.

He marched into his destiny.