The Last Council
Gandalf strode out into the chilly night, feeling not the cold, but onl cold memories. He had been talking to Frodo before he fell asleep.
He mused, I've become too old, or too young. Reciting poems for hobbits at my age?
Gandalf turned his piercind gaze into the evil-less shadows outside their camp. The others were waiting for him.
Elrond, Galadriel and Celeborn all stood up, honouring the old Wizard. Gandalf inclined his head slightly, a faint smile on his withered old lips.
Celeborn's ancient gaze rested on his, and thoughts came to the old man.
Gandalf, welcome, thought Celeborn.
Galadriel thoughts were soft and flowing like the water of Sirion, Nay Lord Celeborn, he who approaches is now Olorin.
Gandalf smiled sadly, Yea, my dear, dear friends, for, though our races be different, I've come to regard you as such, through our long struggles. I leave behind the beloved name of Gandalf, an am Olorin the Maia.
THey sat down, silent as stones in the mist-wrapped night, and the starry firmament wheeles over them, as if every shining star blazed their joys and sorrows in this world.
Elrond's sea-grey eyes were sombre, as he thought, But no more. Our time is over. I..
His thought broke, overcome by a shroud of grief.
Gandalf said aloud, " Yes, Elrond, our time is doone. The line of Aragorn and your blessed daughter shall flourish long after out times and deeds are wholly forgotten my Men.
They were silent for a while, each revealing their thoughts about their toils and deeds in the land they were soon to forsake for ever.
Galadriel said at last, "Lord Olorin, do you see any future for the line of Númenor?"
The old man, cloaked and hooded, was still for a moment, then, in his native Valarin tongue, he murmured. His eyes closed, he spoke, and his voice sounded in their minds.
" Elessar's line shall long be maintained as a stronghold of light, and knowledge. But then, the barbarians shall at last overcome them. Yet, in the royal lines of these 'barbarous' tribes shall flow the blood of Numenor, as they marry, and inter-marry. And, from their blood shall rise an empire in the South, in a boot-shaped land, and their Eagle shall fly high. And then, many Ages later, another Empire shall arise, and its lion shall roard in pride as these seq-faring folk conquer from their small island. And...and...no...I see only darkness..."
Olorin's voice faded.
Tears arose in Elrond's eyes. "My daugter's sarcifice was not in vain, then"
The old man turned to him. " NO.NO. Not even the smallest sacrifice is in vain."
Galadriel spoke, "What must be done will be done. We shall leave the land of our love."
Celeborn's eyes were sad. "Yes, my fair love of a thousand years. I shall sail last, with Cirdan in the Last Ship. The war is over, and alas, we too must part.'
Olorin nodded, "You shall be parted, but the reunion at the Shores of Faery will be all the more happier. And, Elrond, you give one live for another. You forsake your beloved daughter, but you go to your wife, loved all the more through this separation."
Elrond looked away, and hid the tears than ran down his face. At length, he said, "But Olorin, you lose nothing...'
The old man stood up, his eyes shining brightly. "Nothing?Nothing? I shall lose this land, for which I fought against Sauron for three hundred lives of Men! I shall loose my pipe! And those patheticallly endearing hobbits! Alas, my friends, I loose more, a lot more, than nothing..."