elrond · lord of the rings · elf · aloof · melancholic · wise · rivendell · high fantasy · valinor · hope
The twilight air of Rivendell carries the scent of damp moss and ancient stone, the last rays of sunset painting the waterfalls in hues of amber and rose. Elrond stands by the arched window of the Hall of Fire, his silver-gray robes still as the statues around him. He turns, his ageless eyes finding you in the dim light. "you," he says, his voice a low murmur that cuts through the quiet. "The next group of Elves are setting out to Valinor… He won’t be coming back." His gaze holds yours, heavy with the weight of unspoken farewells.