Elros Tar-Minyatur's Journal

Let me tell you a story.
Let me tell you a story.

So this is how it was.

There was a man and a woman who got married. They had a lot of similar qualities, everybody said. The man was a little more adventurous than the woman -- he had a hobby that he really loved. Sailing. A game for the rich, you say? Well, the man had money, his mother?s family being pretty much loaded. And besides, he?d picked it up from his father.

So the guy has this hobby. Lo and behold, the two of them finally have kids (a pretty amazing prospect when you get right down to it; as similar as they were on the surface they never really had all that much to say to each other). Two of ?em. Twin boys.

Anybody who has twins can tell you they?re alike and they?re different. These two were mostly different. One was a lot like their dad, the other a lot like their mom. One picked up the family hobby, the other engendered a lot of whispering about when he was going to start taking an interest in girls. (Well, he did.)

The brothers were different. Nobody ever argued with that idea. I?ll give you an example. When they were pretty young, the brothers were kidnapped by a bunch of slightly crazy relatives. These relatives . . . well, it?s a long story. Let?s just say it was a family squabble. Anyway, these relatives eventually changed their mind about kidnapping the brothers, and let them go. When their parents caught up to them, the tots were at this little pool by a waterfall. One of them was happily playing in the spray. The other was hiding in a little cave back of the waterfall.

It?s how <ahref=http://www.livejournal.com/users/elrondhalfelven>Elrond</a> and I got our names. Him for the cave, me for the spray.

So time passes. Wars start and stop. Mom commits suicide instead of getting killed (I can respect that; I never thought she had it in her) by Angband soldiers while Dad?s off on his big bad quest. Never saw him again, by the way. Man never writes.

Not that I mind.

So anyway. The war ends. Our childhood home *sinks.* I mean literally sinks. Under the ocean. Fucking <ahref=http://www.livejournal.com/users/numberoneenemy>Morgoth</a>.

Anyway. Time comes that we have to choose whether we want to be Man or Elf. Half-elves do that, y?know, though <ahref=http://www.livejournal.com/users/fatherofall>Eru himself</a> knows why. I was a hybrid, I was perfectly happy to be a hybrid . . .

But we had to. Of course Elrond chooses to be an Elf. It suits him. Prissy, delicate, arrogant, thinks he knows everything about everything. Just like Mom.

Not that I mind.

I go the other way. So I?m human, claiming membership in the House of Hador through Dad?s father. Which is okay; it was nice to have family again. Anyway, the Edain get this big boost after the War of Wrath ended: an island.

So they say to me, Elros, you know ships, you grew up around them, get us there.

I say, sure.

We sail out to N?menor. Nice place. Green. Little smaller than I?d like, really, but on the whole not so bad. Of course they make me king, which . . . well, y?know. How do you turn down something like that? So I?m king. So I get married. So I have kids.

Four boys. And Elrond bitches about having three kids *total.* I should be so lucky to have a daughter as well-behaved as <ahref=http://www.livejournal.com/users/arwenundomiel>my niece</a>, even if she picks up scruffy men and takes them home. (And, yes, I suppose she has other habits, like shagging <ahref=http://www.livejournal.com/users/ghostofisildur>ghostly ancestors of her husband?s</a>, but on the whole I?m for that sort of thing, so really all?s well that ends well.)

Anyway, I get old, I get ready to hand off my crown. I tell my oldest boy Vardamir that he?s taking over for me when I go. Oh, he bitches and moans all over the place. Fucking kids. I tell you. I was gonna make the kid absolute monarch of all he surveyed, but nooo . . . still, I won in the end. After I died, that boy was King of N?menor for about fifteen whole minutes. Handed off to my oldest grandson then. Amandil was a good boy, handled it right. He was a king.

So I?m dead. They bury me. Now, I know I?m supposed to go on beyond the confines of the World, that?s the whole point of the Gift, right? But I?m a curious type. It?s in the blood. So I flit around a little bit, go see places I?ve never been to . . . hang around the dwarves and men, and go down south where the Oliphants are, do some general wandering. At one point one of my idiot descendants decides he?s going to declare open war on Aman. So the Valar sink the place where I died, grave and all.

Not that I mind.

Well. Now there?s no resting place for me. I could still go on, but do I? No. I hang around a little longer. Do some spying, watch the politics . . . I love that stuff.

A war starts. A big one. I?m impressed. Other stuff happens. My niece gets married. Of course, the <ahref=http://www.livejournal.com/users/kingelessar>scruffy bridegroom</a> she picked out has N?menor blood, which means they?re related, but then that sort of thing <ahref=http://www.livejournal.com/users/nienor_niniel>runs in the family a little bit</a>.

And then after a while I come up out of the fog I?ve drifted off into . . . and this is what I see.

My brother is still on crack. The elves are still essentially gay. (It?s the weirdest thing. I swear, I think my great-grandfather Turgon was the only heterosexual full-elf in the history of Arda. Maybe great-great-grandpa Elu counts too.) The dead walk and talk and go on dates . . . well, that?s the nice word for it, at least. There?s <ahref=http://www.livejournal.com/users/papa_denethor>a guy</a> who has worse luck with his kids than I had with mine. And <ahref=http://www.livejournal.com/users/lordelladan>both</a> my <ahref=http://www.livejournal.com/users/lordelrohir>nephews</a> . . . it?s possible that Elrond had something of a point when he bitched about them . . . are apparently building some kind of body for <ahref=http://www.livejournal.com/users/darklordsauron>the heir of Morgoth</a>.

So the Valar sank my home. It?s not like I was going to be able to go out and tan on the beach or something anyway.

If push comes to shove . . . this should be interesting. If for no other reason than I can fulfill my childhood ambition and tell Morgoth to shove the Hammer of the Underworld up his ass, and I don?t have to worry about a thing -- because, after all, I?m a recipient of the Gift of Il?vatar. I?m dead. What?s he going to do, threaten to look cross-eyed at me?

So look out, Arda. Elros Tar-Minyatur is back.

Current Mood: accomplished

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