A Halt in a Long Voyage by Himring

Chapter 1

The teens rating is for the Flying Dutchman concept as such; otherwise any angst in this piece is quite mild.

But ever and anon they return, the seafarers, the missing, from their long voyage. In white-shining Avallone, elves have watched for the good ship Earrame in the Master-stone, until at last, forsaking the Palantir and climbing the stairs to the top of the tower, gazing out over the island southward or northward, they can see it approaching with their own eyes. Then there is much happiness at that news all over Tol Eressea and much haste, but especially in the harbour of Avallone where the Falathrim make preparation for the coming of Tuor and Idril and the Noldor assist them.

All manner of ships and other craft are made ready and loaded with everything good. Then a great part of the population of Avallone, more than half, sets forth onto the bay of Eldamar. At that time, the order of Ulmo becalms the waves for seven days or more. Then the mariners and the engineers of Tol Eressea quickly contrive, out among the waters, a working shipyard and a wooden city, as it were Gondolin or the Havens of Sirion seaborne, linking their craft together with folding bridges and walkways, all arranged so that the harbourless may come to harbour.

There Earrame docks. Tuor steps ashore in the Undying Lands without setting foot on the soil of Valinor. Voronwe embraces him, the first of many, and the grief of their separation is lessened. Immediately, the Falathrim set about necessary repairs, for although Tuor and Idril treat her with care, inevitably Earrame has taken hurt during their adventures that was no more than patched while sailing. Now the ship-builders take over. Meanwhile, there is a feast, with enough kinds of dishes provided by land or sea to satisfy any hunger and enough gaiety to dispel any lingering memories of sea-bound loneliness.

Galdor and Meril have arrived from Kortirion. They bring Tuor and Idril a shoot from the White Tree of Tol Eressea, the seedling of Galathilion. Idril receives the gift with reverence and thanks. It reminds her of both Tirion and Gondolin, but rare and beautiful as it is with its silver leaves, it is also simply a growing thing. She asks for news and is told messages have been sent to Valinor, and more of her kin are on their way. Meanwhile Eldalote crowns her with lavaralda and lissuin and, pulling her aside, lightly talks of politics and family gossip.

But soon all crowd around Tuor to listen, for however far he has gone under strange stars since once he set out with Idril from the Havens on Earrame, the song of the sea is still in his heart and it is in his voice when he tells of it, as if it were the sound of the Ulumuri echoing in his words. He knows all the ways along the coast, from the thunder of white water crashing about the feet of dark towering cliffs south of Avathar to the long, cold, silent shores of Araman and the Grinding Ice.

A flock of white birds arrives from the mainland. Many settle on masts and yardarms, others dive down and fight over scraps, but one transforms, setting foot on deck. It is Elwing, of course, a little uncomfortable among the crowd, but in the dusk Tuor and Idril take her up to the crow’s nest and they speak of this and that until the evening star rises, Vingilot much lower than its wont. Tuor waves, a little guiltily. His son leans down, raising his glass in a toast.

And so until daybreak on the seventh day—when Tuor must travel on.

Chapter End Notes

Incorporating multiple prompts from Tolkien Weekly and Tolkien100:

From Tolkien100: day breaks, the song of the sea, dark tower, the missing, something good, hunger.

From Tolkien Weekly: happiness, grief, hurt, gaiety, guilt; white tower, white tree, white water, white bird.

6 x 100 words according to MS Word.