There was no time here. No time, no day, no night. There was no hunger or thirst. There seemed to be few others – occasionally Elrohir would glimpse distant white-robed figures through the trees or wandering on the edges of Námo’s garden, but he never met them. It was as if he walked through a dream where time had no meaning.
He was never alone, though. Always there was Elladan, and they would walk together through the woods and gardens or sit by the pools. Sometimes Námo would join them – usually silent and enigmatic; at other times offering gentle counsel.
One day Námo came to the twins as they sat by a glittering fountain spilling bright droplets into a series of pools and streams threading through Námo’s gardens. “Will you walk with me?”
Elrohir stood, knowing – somehow – that Námo meant him alone. He glanced back at Elladan uncertainly. “Nay. Just you, my child.” Námo’s voice filled Elrohir’s mind with a gentle summons.
With no further thought he followed Námo through an archway into a part of the garden he had not seen before. Brightly coloured birds sang in the trees and great butterflies with rainbow-hued wings fluttered between flowers. “So,” Námo told him silently. “The time has come when you and your brother may leave here and return to the world. But what is your wish? You can return to Arda clothed in your old body, healed of all hurts and wounds. Or you can stay here, freed from the circles of the world to taste the joy of my garden and know nothing but peace and happiness. What is your choice?”
Elrohir smiled. “I vowed long ago to choose as Elladan does. My fate is his – we will not be parted. If he chooses to stay then so will I. And if he wishes to return to Arda and take up life again, then I will go with him.” He had made that choice many years before his death, after many long, painful weeks and months of agonising over the fate of all the peredhel and the choice between men or elvenkind. The answer, he had found, was simple. He would follow Elladan’s choice and be content.
“No.” Námo’s response was simple and shocking. “This must be your own decision. You cannot let another choose for you – not even the other part of your soul. What is your wish?”
Elrohir was stunned. He had never questioned that eventually, after a period of waiting, he and Elladan would both be released from the halls of waiting and returned to life. He had never imagined that they would be able to stay here in this idyllic garden for eternity – and he had never imagined that he would face that choice without Elladan.
“I …” He hesitated. What did he want? Could he really stay here in the tranquil beauty of Námo’s garden? Here he did not want for anything and the peace he felt far surpassed anything he had ever felt even in Imladris. Here there was no sorrow or pain, and even the memory of his own death was blunted, like a fading nightmare.
Or would he return to Arda and be Elrohir again, and laugh and love again. Live again. Would he find friends and family waiting there, overjoyed to see him returned?
Could he do either without Elladan?
“I …” He paused again. “Does my brother have the same choice?”
“He does. I will speak with him now. But his choice must also be his own, and made alone. Now, my child – what is your wish?”
What indeed? Elrohir was torn by his choice. What should be a sweet eternity in Námo’s garden would soon become an unending torture without Elladan – and if he returned to Arda alone his days would be long and aimless. He swallowed thickly, terrified by the dizzying choice before him. What would Elladan’s decision be? He had to think, try to guess what path his twin would take. If he got it wrong …
“Trust him,” Námo’s calming voice drifted into his mind. “Make your own choice, and trust your brother to make his.”
Elrohir took a deep breath. ‘El, forgive me if I get this wrong!’ he thought, trying to sense Elladan’s mind. “I would return,” he said steadily, strengthened by Námo’s words. “No one could wish for a more beautiful place than this or a more peaceful existence, but I would return.”
Námo smiled again, his love like a warm balm.. “You have always been so impatient, so impetuous, so full of life! Very well, my child, so be it. You may go back. Soon you will leave here and be returned to life. And now – you may return to your brother.” Námo walked away, and Elrohir hurried back through the archway to find Elladan still sitting by the fountain.
Elladan jumped to his feet. “Elrohir!” He came forward, taking Elrohir’s hands in his and searching his face anxiously. “I just spoke with Námo. He said I had to choose – whether to stay here, or return to Arda. And he said it had to be my choice – not yours. And I … I said I would return.” He gripped Elrohir’s hands tightly, his eyes anguished.
Elrohir smiled, blinking back tears. He hugged Elladan, full of joy. “So did I, brother – so did I.”
Elladan gave a laugh that was full of exultation and relief. “Yes! He said I should trust you.”
“Elladan, wait a moment,” Elrohir interrupted, rather confused. “You said you just spoke with Námo?”
Elladan nodded. “Yes – when you left, he stayed with me and told me of the choice we faced – and that this time, my choice must be my own, and made alone.”
“But he …” Elrohir stopped and shrugged. Námo was Námo – ineffable, all powerful, and beyond their understanding. Námo held the lives of all in his hands. And, after all, time meant nothing here. He shook his head slowly and smiled. “So – we stay together?”
“Yes – if you are prepared to put up with me for another lifetime!”
“And for as many lifetimes as Námo grants us,” Elrohir vowed with a grin. “Always.”
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