The Eastern Woman

The ghost realm

Hammon observed what had once been a small paradise on earth, and that had suddenly turned into a ghost town.

He had come on horseback to the valley of Imladris, where his instinct had brought him after the dispute with Degarre.

He had felt the need to confront the one individual who could comfort him and give him answers. The only inhabitant of Arda whom even Goneril had always admired.

Lord Elrond, perhaps, knew better than anyone what was happening in that world that had suddenly gone mad.

The vision of those empty elven dwellings, and the shadows of gray clouds in the sky, threw him into total despair.

The valley of Imladris.

"The desert of Imladris ..." he muttered, as he spurred the horse to cross the stone bridge that led to the entrance of the kingdom of Lord Elrond.

That kingdom was dead.
There was no Elf around. The only movement that Hammon caught was that of the dry and crumpled leaves, which were twirling softly around, dragged by the small whirlpools formed by the winter breeze.

Once arrived under an arch full of climbing ivy frozen by the cold, the soldier stopped the horse. He dismounted, and with an uncertain step he headed towards the center of that little square that once must have been Elrond's porch. He stood right in front of a large house, also uninhabited.

"Oh Eru...what happened, even here ..." he wondered, while a sense of anguish was already making its way in him.

The Elves were leaving Middle-earth, he knew that. They were aware that that continent no longer had anything pure, spiritual, akin to their nature. They embarked from the Gray Havens, to the West, and disappeared. They were heading to Valinor, the green land beyond the boundaries of the sea, the home of the Valar, where they would live their immortal life in peace. It was not an afterlife, it was a real continent, like Middle-earth, just, devoid of evil entities and all the negativities typical of the territories populated by mortals, Men, Dwarves, Hobbits. A peaceful place where cursed spirits like Morgoth and Sauron were not even allowed to come close.

"Elrond!" he shouted then. "Elrond! Where are you!"

What would he do then? He could only go to the hiding place to take the gold, and take the maximum amount transportable by his horse. Yes, but with what purpose? What future could he hope for at that point?

"You're right. It would be useless." a voice said.

Hammon turned around.
He noticed a figure standing on the top of the staircase. An elven lord was watching him. He had a serious, sad, and totally resigned expression on his face.

"Lord Elrond .... is it you?" asked the soldier.

"Once, you would have been welcomed by our guards. Now there is no one here anymore. Only grief." the Elf answered sadly, descending slowly towards him. "And you bring bad news too."

Hammon bowed his head, in a gesture of respect towards one of the most glorious Elves in the history of Arda. And ruler of that place. "Unfortunately yes, my lord."

"I know. I know what's going to happen in Gondor. And if you're looking for comforting words from me, you'll be greatly disappointed. I already have my hell to deal with here." Elrond answered. Then he looked up at his big house.

"I ... I just wanted to know from you why the world seems to have sunk into madness. You have the answers I know. I need answers, Lord Elrond. I am not a wise enlightened person like you. My story is simple: I am a Soldier. A few days ago I left my people, the army of which I have been a member for the last ten years. I had a friend among those men, a good friend, a man who was once valiant and strong, and we fought battles together. We lived terrible experiences, and together we came out of them. I respected him. But ... he turned against me. Suddenly. He confronted me as I was an adversary, not his trusty comrade in arms. I can't ... believe what's happening!" Hammon snapped, pointing to the territory outside the boundaries of Imladris. "I was in Rohan with those men. And I saw an army of beasts sent by Mordor. Legions, in comparison to which ours is a joke. They are preparing to ..."