The Lastborn: A Middle Earth Story(Book 1)(EDITING)

Chapter 14: Reunion

When Elladan finally left, Gerithor was disappointed. He and the elf had quickly become good friends and had talked for hours. The elf, though young in appearance, was thousands of years old and had many adventures to share, and wise council to give. Gerithor was all too eager to listen, for though he was a Ranger he still had much to learn of the world and its ways.

As he pondered all that he had been told, it occurred to him that his father was staying nearby. He had felt a mixture of surprise and joy when he had been told that his father lived, but in the excitement of all that had happened he had been too busy to stop in and see him. He quickly got up and walked out into the light-filled hallway, squinting a little as the beams of light hit his eyes. He stopped in front of the door that he had been told was his father's and knocked. His heart leapt for joy when he heard his father's voice.

"Come in!" Gerimond said as he opened the door and embraced his son. "It's so good to see you! I thought you must have perished in the massacre, but when I heard that you had survived I was overjoyed!"

"As was I when I heard about you, father," Gerithor said, hugging his father tightly. When they parted both of their faces were wet with tears of joy and relief.

"Come and sit down, we can talk for a little while," Gerimond said and motioned towards a chair. Gerithor sat eased into the chair, still unused to elven comfort. His father slowly sat down the side of his bed. He was silent for a moment, then spoke, tears still in his eyes.

"I'm sorry about your mother," he said, choking a little at the words. Gerithor leaned forward and rested a hand on his father's shoulder. Tears fell down his face as well as he spoke.

"No father, I'm sorry. It was my fault, I could've saved her."

"No, it isn't either of our faults, I think. There's nothing we could've done," Gerimond said and regained his composure. "Do not blame yourself for your mother's death Gerithor." He put an arm around his son. Gerithor looked up at his father.

"I can't help but blame myself. I see it every night in my dreams. I could have stopped it."

"What do you mean?" Gerimond looked at his son with concern.

"I-" Gerithor stopped for a moment. "I had a dream before it happened. In it I saw mother die. In the exact same way it actually happened." He looked at his father.

Gerimond's eyes widened in surprise. There was a moment of silence before he spoke, his tone cautious, as if speaking of something that should not be spoken of. "Have you had dreams like that before?"

"Yes. I dreamt about killing the deer with Aragorn a week before it happened. And before uncle Arathorn died I had a dream about that as well. I'm not sure how it can be happening. I've read of the elves possessing such power, but..." He trailed off.

"Son... Many of the Numenoreans of old also had the gift of foresight. Some could even see into the future through dreams," he said and looked at Gerithor. "One of our kind has not had that skill in hundreds of years. At least, until now."

"How? I have no more Numenorean blood than you," Gerithor replied, looking up at his father in confusion.

"I do not know," Gerimond replied truthfully. "But it may be a valuable skill to have, if nothing else."

"If all it shows is the death of those I care about, I do not want it," Gerithor said bitterly.

"But it may not. You may see other things, and now that you know that they aren't mere dreams, it may show you how to prevent the deaths of those you love."

Gerithor looked away, unwilling to speak of the matter any further. He felt confused, and angry. Who would be cruel enough to bestow such a double-edged-sword of a gift upon him? And why?