Elendil sat down in a comfortable chair inside Gil-galad's tents, and though he would not admit it, his bones had longed for it after the day's riding. He had to admit to himself that he wasn't young anymore.
He looked at Isildur, who sat like child which has just been denied something. Elendil feared he knew the reason. He had also seen the weariness of his men, and had guessed that Gil-galad had called a halt more for their sake than for his own. And if Elendil had discovered Gil-galad's true intentions, then it was sure that Isildur had also.
My son, he thought to himself, why are you like this? Have I failed in my upbringing? His thoughts of melancholy were disrupted when Oropher and his son entered the room, both of them in a merry mood.
The four of them conversed for long (Isildur merely sipped his wine), and Elendil noticed the difference between Oropher and Gil-galad.
The former were dressed in simple, green clothes and wore an expression of no cares
in the world.
The latter wore blue rainment with complicated patterns embroidered on, and he, though smiling, had an air of sorrow and graveness around him.
Elendil did not know whom to prefer; and he decided it was to late to find out. He said goodnight, and followed by his son left the tent. Outside, he stopped Isildur and asked him: "My son, you do know how serious our situation is? How close we are to annihilation without allies?" Isildur muttered that he was aware of that fact, and left. Elendil stood and looked at him dissappear among the many tents; and he knew that his son's evil thoughts would eventually be his ruin.
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Two beer or not two beer, that is the question; by Shakesbeer
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