From The Ashes

30

"What are you doing?" Gandalf couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle as Alassëa naturally bolted from her sitting position. She turned sharply on her heels and looked to him with narrowed eyes. If anything the nearby firelight made them look like sharp amber shards. With a sigh he rummaged in his cloak for his pipe again. He could tell, just by seeing that look on her face, that things were about to get serious.

He had known Alassëa long enough to know when she was about to go off on something. Lighting his pipe, he inhaled and exhaled deeply. He could remember the first time he had seen her, it wasn't that long after she first arrived at Rivendell, if memory recalled. She struggled to fully fit in, but she got there eventually. For the most part she had spent all her time being around mortals, she didn't exactly know how elves were meant to act...a few lectures from Elrond set her right eventually.

With a shake of his head he looked to her, reminiscing, there was a time and place and this wasn't it.

"What is it?"

"I've been thinking..."

"Dangerous business that," Gandalf tried to sound quite frank on the matter but just shook his head lightly. Walking slowly over, he sat down on the wall she was previously perched on. Patting the brick beside him, he watched from the corner of his eyes as she seated herself down slowly by his side.

"It's sad, isn't it?" Alassëa asked though she realised Gandalf had no idea what she was referring to. She turned and looked at him with thoughtfully narrowed eyes. "We...we are gifted with the ability to live on, through battle...that's perhaps the only way to cut us down. But they," she looked over her shoulder at the milling people. "They are so fragile. Do they even know?" She couldn't help but still dwell on the prospect of war. Deep inside she could feel something was going to happen. Tomorrow would not go as smoothly as everyone anticipated. And really, she was not alone, it was clear everyone else felt the same to some respect.

"They're aware, Alassëa. That is why many live every day like it could be their last." Gandalf said while exhaling a smoke ring. Her eyes watched it sail upwards into the air with a frown. "There's more, what is it? Come on, out with it." Though he sounded short tempered by this, he wasn't.

"Most of them will die." Alassëa said blatantly.

Gandalf frowned and fidgeted in his seat, this wall really wasn't comfortable. He turned awkwardly and looked to her. With one hand on his pipe and the other on his knee he nodded at her. "I'm know."

"...But why?" She whispered while her face turned to one of sadness. "I dislike sitting back and watching yet more people perish before me. Too many...I have seen too many people...die..." Alassëa struggled to say, swallowing hard, she looked to the Mountain. They were sitting in a small seated area, most of which had been destroyed. It was hard to tell what was meant to be a stone bench or a wall. This place gave yet another brilliant view of Erebor, which was illuminated by weak moonlight.

"It is their fate," Gandalf reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. Alassëa looked at him with a sidewards look. Tilting his head to the side he shook his head slowly afterwards. "You wish to join them?"

"In dying? No," Alassëa laughed bitterly. "But all things die. Some age and pass on slower than others."

"That's not what I meant." Gandalf frowned, she wasn't an idiot, and he didn't really appreciate her making him seem like a bit of a fool at this moment.

Alassëa looked up at the sky, shutting her eyes she nodded slowly and looked to him. "I do."

"You know," Gandalf sighed and pushed himself to stand. "You must be sure. You cannot go back on this decision."