Normally, their place would be beside their Ada, as he prepared to receive the mounted party that was now crossing the long, stone bridge. But these guests were not arriving under normal circumstances. For they had not come to visit their kindred...
They had come to render judgement upon them.
At the forefront, rode the rulers of the three other Eldar realms who, toguether with Elrond, were the most powerful elves in all of Arda.
To the left, seated on a horse the color of seafoam rode Cirdan, Lord of the Gray Havens and the oldest of their kind still living on these shores. So ancient was he that upon his face a beard grew, white as new fallen snow and trimmed close to his strong jawline, in contrast to the long mantle of his matching tresses. His eyes were as blue as the deep seas he so loved, for it was in his realm that the ships used by the elves to make the long voyage to the Undying Lands, were built.
Beside him, upon a horse that seemed spun of cornsilk, was the proud figure of Thranduil, mighty King of Mirkwood. A warrior King was he, for a shadow had begun to beleager his lands of late. Thus did his hair fall, like a flaxen shield, down his back and the light of the stars shone fierce in his eyes. That light now held a cold glint, for it was he who had raised the call for the Council of Judgement.
Next to Thranduil, mounted on an elegant mare of rich, golden hue, rode an equally golden and elegant elleth. It was Galadriel, the Lady of Light, bearer of Nenya and keeper of the Mirror of Far Seeing. Of all the Eldar, it was she who was the true enigma, for not even her beloved Lord had been able to glean the full depths behind her brilliant blue eyes. She was ancient, this Lady. Almost as ancient as Cirdan and like him, was one of only three elves upon Arda to have lived under the light of the Two Trees in Valinor. The other being Glorfindel, who now stood waiting on the steps of the Last Homely House.
Flanking the Lady was her spouse, Lord Celeborn, called the Silver Tree. He was the Lord of LothLorien and a figure of legend in his own right. He had long fought against the evil of Morgoth and then had gone to do battle with the forces of Sauron. Like one of the wondrous Mellyrn trees that grew only on his wooded realm, Celeborn was a powerful figure of indomitable strength, tempered by hard-earned wisdom, and so his words were greatly respected by all. Perhaps that was why his hair seemed the silver of Mithril and why his eyes shone the color of a pale winter's day. Though the coolness of his miem hid a heart full of warmth and passion that had managed to remain undimmed, through out the long ages of his life.
Behind this most impressive lineup, rode a lone figure that seemed an odd contrast not only to the graceful beauty surrounding him, but also to the magnificent horse he was mounted on. That horse's name was Shadowfax, and it's coat shone with a platinum undertone that was solidified in the atonishing star-shaped mark upon it's noble brow.
No such finery adorned the rider. From the homespun robes, to the tattered and ridiculously pointed hat; from the bushy and unkept beard, to the gnarled hand holding a nodenscript staff, he looked to be nothing more than a human, well into the twighlight of his life.
Until one looked at his eyes.
There was a power in them that rivaled, indeed surpassed that of the Eldar, for he had come into being well before the elves were first awakened by the shores of Cuivienen. He was one of the last three Maiar sent forth into Arda by the Valar, after the first four had become sundered from their purpose. One, lost to the evil call of Morgoth. One, lost to the love of an elven King. And the remaining two, lost to an unknown fate.
By many names was this ancient one known. The Grey Pilgrim, the humans called him. To the dwarves, he was Tharkun. While the gentle little folk of the shire, affectionately hailed him as Gandalf. Even those of the Haradrim living nearest to the western borders had a name for him; Incanus. But to the elves, he was Mithrandir.
His true name was Olorin.
He had walked upon Arda, under his disguise of an old wizard, since the begining of the Third Age. And there were only two, aside from his own remaining brethren, who knew the truth of who he was. One, Cirdan, rode before him. While the other, Elrond, now grimly awaited the judgement of his sons.
The grey eyes of the Peredhel Lord betrayed nothing of his inner turmoil, as he surveyed the approaching party. Behind Mithrandir, rode three other elves. Lord Galdor, advisor to Cirdan; Lord Saelbeth, advisor to Celeborn and Lord Calenorn, advisor to Thranduil, and also the uncle of Hallaorn. And finally, bringing up the rear, were the accompanying escort, ten warriors for each realm.
Such was the sight beheld by those in the main courtyard of the Last Homely House. And a wondrous sight it was, indeed. For these, who were some of the mightiest forces of good in all of Arda, had never before come toguether as one. It would have been cause for the most joyous of receptions, but for the reason behind their coming.
At last, the riders came to a stop. As the grooms rushed to lead the horses to the well-earned comforts of the stables, the foremost elves, along with Mithrandir, were met by their host.
" May the blessings of the Valar be upon you, and may the light of Elbereth shine ever in your hearts. Welcome to this realm and home."
So did Elrond intone the traditional greeting, though his own heart could not call forth any of the true warmth in that sentiment. It was Mithrandir who returned the greeting, speaking the formal words declaring the purpose of their arrival, as he was the one that was to preside over the council.
" Elrond, Lord of Imladris. It is a matter of griveous import, which brings us to your house. For we come at the beckon of justice, under elven law. Two of this realm are accused. Do you acknowledge this?."
Elrond inclined his head in affirmative, his voice composed as he answered.
" Your purpose is known. All in Imladris will stand by the final decision of the council. The hospitality of this house is thus freely given. I bid you, enter with unencumbered spirits. Rooms have been prepared that you may rest and refresh yourselves after your journey. I will await you in my study, in four-hours time."
And with that, Elrond and the visitors exchanged curteous bows, before the pages respectfully guided the members of the delegation to the guest wing of the Last Homely House.
TBC...