Nothing in the World is Single by StarSpray

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Chapter 5

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Once work on Eärrámë began, it continued steadily. Eärendil had his own plans for his own ship - in a hazy-someday sort of way - so he spent a lot of time in the shipyards with his father, learning everything he could. Dinner table conversations centered mostly around that topic, except when Idril guided it gently to her desire for Eärendil to spend some time on Balar with his cousin Gil-galad.

“But there’s so much happening here,” Eärendil protested.

“I’m sure there’s just as much happening on Balar,” Idril replied. “Anyway, I’ve been wanting to visit Ereinion; is it truly too much to ask my son to accompany me?”

Put that way, there wasn’t really any way for Eärendil to refuse. He sighed. “When do we leave?”

Idril smiled. “In a few weeks. Plenty of time for you to say farewell to your sweetheart.”

“She is not my sweetheart!”

“He just wants to kiss her, a little,” Tuor added. Eärendil groaned and buried his face in his hands. Both his parents laughed. “You may as well just admit it, son,” Tuor advised. “It’s obvious to everyone. Lady Galadriel has been predicting the match for years.”

“You say that like she’s had some foresight about it,” Eärendil muttered.

“Maybe she has,” Idril replied. “Although I can’t say it takes foresight to come to such a conclusion. Elwing guards her own thoughts and emotions more closely than you do, but I think she’s growing rather fond of you as well.”

“Although the women of her family have been known to have strange effects on the men,” Tuor said, expression growing thoughtful. “There’s that decidedly odd tale about Elu and Melian…”

“I can’t believe everyone really believes they were standing that whole time,” Idril said. “It must be a euphemism, because you know what they were really doing.”

Eärendil choked on his bite of dinner roll. “Naneth.”

“What? Something more than staring at him must have enticed Melian to bind herself to Thingol. I highly doubt it was his even temper and good judgment.”

“I hope you two haven’t been - ahem - standing in the forest watching the trees grow around you,” Tuor said. He had waited until Eärendil lifted his glass to take a drink, and very nearly got sprayed with water for his troubles.

“Adar!”

The next morning Eärendil went to call on Elwing. “The weather is good,” he told her when she came to the door. “Will you come sailing with me?”

“I suppose today’s as good as any other,” she said. “Come in for a moment. I want to change into something more suitable for boating.”

Eärendil stepped into the parlor, where Lady Galadriel sat writing a letter. She rose smoothly to greet him. Eärendil always felt as though Galadriel could see right through him - like she was always reading into his thoughts and intentions. Maybe she was. “I’ve heard Idril is planning to stay a time on Balar,” Galadriel said as she sat down again, waving Eärendil to a chair as well. “Will you be accompanying her?”

“Yes,” he said. “Naneth wants me to get to know Gil-galad.”

“I think you’ll get along well,” Galadriel said. “Or at least I hope so. Perhaps I am not an impartial judge, but Gil-galad is a good man, and will be a good king, given the chance.”

“All right, I’m ready.” Elwing stopped in the doorway, wearing a gown of faded grey, fraying a bit at the sleeves, and patched in places—something that would survive any potential soaking. “We will be out on the bay in Eärendil’s boat,” she said to Galadriel.

“Be careful,” was all Galadriel said, though she smiled at them both as they left.

Eärendil let out a breath as they stepped into the sunshine. “She makes me nervous. The way she looks at you...”

Elwing laughed. “She isn’t always like that.”

“I rather suspect you’ve just gotten used to it.”

Eärendil took Elwing’s hand, and together they ran down to the docks. Eärendil helped Elwing step into his skiff, and in only a few minutes they were skimming across the waves, feeling the spray on their faces, and waving to other boaters spending the day on the water. As Eärendil adjusted the sails, he glanced down at Elwing, who sat very still, peering over the side of the boat into the waves. “So,” he said. “What do you think?”

She looked up at him, strands of hair blowing across her face. “I half expected to feel seasick. But I don’t.”

“That’s good.”

“Yes. Oh - look!” Eärendil leaned forward, pointing out toward Balar, where a pod of dolphins had drawn up beside a fishing vessel. “Dolphins. A lot of the fishermen befriend them.”

“I’ve heard tales of sharks,” Elwing said, peering into the water with a frown. “There aren’t any in these waters, are there?”

“Not that I’ve seen, though Aerandir said he knows a few people on Balar who have been bitten. He may have just been trying to scare me, though.”

Elwing laughed. “Did it work?”

“No.” He paused. “Well. Not much.”

As they sailed farther from the shore, Elwing gazed out at the sea, beyond the bay, beyond Balar. “It’s so vast,” she said softly. “Doesn’t that frighten you?”

He shook his head. “It makes me want to know what lies beyond it,” he said. “Not Valinor, really, but what might lie to the south, or the north, what lands lay undiscovered by us, and who might live there. It’s huge, but so full of possibility and adventure.”

“I think I would hate being out at sea, unable to see land.” Elwing glanced over her shoulder toward Sirion, as though to make sure Beleriand had not vanished while she wasn’t paying attention.

“Here,” Eärendil said, preparing to turn the boat around, “take this rope.” He showed Elwing how to manage the sails, and how to steer, and after he tossed a line into the water they made their way to a deserted stretch of beach some way from Sirion, to cook and eat their catch. Elwing gutted the fish while Eärendil built the fire out of driftwood, and found some flat rocks to rinse off and use to cook the meat.

As it sizzled, he told Elwing of his mother’s plans to go to Balar for a time. “No doubt we’ll end up spending all summer and the winter there,” he said.

“Galadriel has spoken once or twice of going as well,” Elwing said. “She asked if I should like to visit Gil-galad’s court, but I should prefer to stay here.”

“I think the Noldor enjoy politics more than the Sindar,” Eärendil said. “Most of them, anyway.” He wrinkled his nose. “I’m only going because Gil-galad is my cousin. Or at least, he is my mother’s cousin...”

She smiled a little. “Your first cousin once removed, to be accurate.” Eärendil shrugged. “Well anyway, he can’t be all bad. His mother is a Sinda. From Mithrim, I think, although I think Galadriel might have mentioned she was related somehow to Daeron.”

“Well, one thing I don’t think I’ll mind, is the parties.” Eärendil grinned at Elwing. “With stately dances to harps and lutes, and Noldorin wine light as a summer breeze…”

Elwing rolled her eyes. “That sounds painfully boring.”

“Not entirely boring. Or at least, the ones in Gondolin weren’t.”

“Balar isn’t anything like Gondolin.”

“I’m sure the dances aren’t that different.” Eärendil got to his feet and pulled Elwing up. “I used to watch my mother waltz with her father. Your hands go like this…” He placed Elwing’s hand on his shoulder, his hand on her waist, and took her other hand in his, “and then you dance, like this…” He hummed a tune he vaguely remembered Glorfindel (or Ecthelion? Perhaps both) playing, and together he and Elwing waltzed around their fire. Elwing’s skirts whispered across the sand, and as they settled into the rhythm of the dance she relaxed, even smiled as she spun lightly beneath Eärendil’s arm.

When the song ended, or at least the part Eärendil remembered, they stopped, but Elwing didn’t move to step out of Eärendil’s arms. “That was rather nice,” she said, smiling at him. “Not very exciting, but nice.”

“I think part of the appeal is that one is able to converse with their partner,” Eärendil replied. “I mean, we couldn’t because I was providing the music, but…”

“You have a good voice,” Elwing said, finally stepping back. “Like your father.”

“Well, unlike my father, I have absolutely no skill with the harp.”

After they ate the fish, and lounged for most of the afternoon on the warm sand, they covered the dying fire with sand, and together pushed the skiff out into the water. Once out in the bay, Eärendil looked west. The sun was setting, turning the western sky a dozen shades of deep blue and purple; in the east, the first stars flared, heralding the twilight. Only two feathery clouds hovered in the sky, two bright streaks of gold.

When he turned his head towards the north, he saw other clouds, seemingly untouched by the setting sun - dark, roiling, heralding a violent storm.

They did not speak throughout the short voyage back to Sirion, but when Eärendil helped Elwing out of the skiff, she did not let go of his hand, and kept holding onto it as they wound their way through Sirion’s streets (oddly quiet, perhaps in anticipation of the storm) until they reached home. Then, she broke the silence. “Today was nice, Eärendil. Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” he said. They stopped to look at each other in the twilight. Eärendil wanted to say something else, but couldn’t think of anything. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Elwing’s lips, deciding he had better do it before he lost his nerve. He fully expected to be slapped, or for her to turn and disappear into her house never to be seen by him again, but instead of doing either, she tugged him back down and kissed him, rising onto her toes, eyelashes tickling his cheek.

She pulled back and smiled at him, while Eärendil, in an effort not to say anything stupid, ended up saying nothing at all. “I will see you tomorrow, Eärendil. Good night.”

“Good - good night?” Eärendil watched her disappear inside, and then turned to go home himself…

Only to find his mother in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, clearly trying not to laugh. He felt his face flush hot, hearing his father somewhere behind her laughing. “I take it your outing went well?” Idril asked as Eärendil stepped inside.

“It went very well, thank you,” Eärendil said. “I think I’m going to go change…”

“We’ll be down here planning the wedding,” Tuor said. He raised his wineglass to Eärendil in a toast with a grin and a wink.

“Adar,” Eärendil began to protest, but his mother cut in.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tuor.” She poured herself a glass of wine and sat down. Eärendil crossed his arms and opened his mouth to thank her, but then she added, “We can’t start planning the wedding tonight. It will have to be a blend of Sindarin and Noldorin traditions, I think. We’ll consult Galadriel tomorrow…”

“Oh for the love of…” Eärendil threw up his hands and left the room, and his parents’ laughter, behind. It was nearly impossible to be happy about the day and the way it ended when they were busy laughing at him over it.

But as he lounged on his bed, a book on his lap in case someone came into the room and caught him daydreaming, Eärendil played back the evening. He knew the grin on his face was silly, but that was all right, now that there was no one to see it. It wasn’t just the kiss that made him so happy, it was the fact that she had kissed him.

He drifted off to sleep to the sound of his parents laughing downstairs, and dreamed of sunlight on clear water, until he was woken in the middle of the night. What had woken him, he at first could not tell. Eärendil sat up in the darkness, listening hard. It had been a noise, of that he was certain. All of a sudden it was like he was back in one of their camps, after fleeing Gondolin, when everyone was on alert and no one slept more than an hour at a time - when even a rabbit in the bush or a bird alighting on a branch had warriors leaping to their feet and reaching for their swords, because one never knew when a stick breaking in the forest heralded not a deer but orcs…

The soft plink of something hitting his window made Eärendil jump, but when it happened again a moment later, he took a deep breath and got up to investigate. He was in Sirion; there were no orcs anywhere near here, and even if there were, his parents sent out regular patrols so there would be ample warning. Stop being stupid, Eärendil.

The sounds at his window turned out to be pebbles, tossed up from the garden. Eärendil opened his window just as another one soared up, and bounced onto the windowsill and then to the floor. He leaned out, scanning the ground for their source. He thought at first it might be Aerandir, but it turned out to be Elwing. Her pale face glimmered in the starlight, and as soon as she saw him she turned and darted into the gardens, quick and silent as a shadow.

It too considerably longer for Eärendil to sneak out of the house. Every floorboard suddenly seemed to creak the moment he put his weight on it, and for one tense minute he froze halfway into the kitchen, sure that he heard Voronwë walking around. But eventually he made it out, pausing by the door to pull on his boots, before hurrying into the garden, heading for the honeysuckle bushes, behind which he found Elwing, sitting and twirling one of the pale blossoms in her fingers. “Is everything all right?” he asked as he crawled through the branches to join her.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said without looking up. “And I felt lonely.” She glanced at him briefly, without turning her head.

He smiled, a little. “So you sought my company? I’m flattered.”

“I suppose I woke you. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind. Though we should be careful, lest someone sees us. My parents already want to start planning the wedding.”

Elwing winced. “They saw us in the courtyard, then?”

“Yes. My mother mentioned consulting Lady Galadriel on the wedding tomorrow, but I think she might have been joking.”

Elwing looked up at him. “You remember we joked about this. Getting married.”

“Yes, we did. You were certain it would never work.”

“I am still not sure it would,” she said. “You still intend to build a ship and sail away, don’t you?”

“I’d come back,” Eärendil said. “And you could come with me—”

Elwing shook her head. “No, I couldn’t. I could not leave Sirion—I have responsibilities to my people, to the Iathrim and other Sindar who will look to me to rule them as soon as I am deemed ready. You Noldor may have plenty of kings to choose from, but I am the last of Thingol’s line.”

Eärendil wanted to protest, to say there weren’t plenty of kings—only himself and Gil-galad, now that he thought of it, if one didn’t count his mother and Galadriel (which the Noldor never did, for some reason)—but he said nothing. Instead, after a full minute of silence, he said, “You’re talking as though you are seriously considering marrying me.”

Elwing rolled her eyes. “Well I cannot think of anyone else I’d like to marry. And you—I didn’t want to, but I have grown rather fond of you.”

“I’m…flattered?”

“It’s not—I didn’t want to like you because I didn’t want to like any Noldo. I thought—well. It doesn’t matter anymore. It was a childish idea.”

“No, I understand.” Eärendil hesitated a moment before putting an arm around Elwing’s shoulders. She leaned against him, tucking her head against his shoulder and under his chin. Her hair tickled his nose. “Ours is an…odd courtship, isn’t it?” That made her laugh. “But I think I’d rather not talk about getting married just yet. I mean, I realize so far we’ve done everything much more swiftly than is normal for Elves, but…”

“If we’re going to marry, we should do it before your parents depart,” Elwing said. Eärendil grimaced, and he must have tensed because she said quickly, “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like to think of it.”

“The work on Eärrámë is coming along swiftly…”

Elwing sat up suddenly. “Come with me.” She took Eärendil’s hand and pulled him to his feet. He followed her back through the garden and, to his surprise, into her home. She paused in the middle of the kitchen and turned back to Eärendil, pressing her finger to her lips. Then she gestured for him to remove his boots. Eärendil complied, wishing he dared ask her what they were doing, but she did not give him the chance, seizing his hand and pulling him to the stairs. They crept up slowly, freezing every time Eärendil hit a creaky step (Elwing stepped so lightly and silently he almost wondered if she floated), and once Elwing pressed both hands over his mouth when he stubbed a toe, to muffle the whispered curses.

But at last they made it to her room, filled with soft golden lamplight, and could relax, and speak in whispers. Eärendil sat on a chair and rubbed his sore toe as Elwing delved into a trunk at the foot of her bed. “Why are we here?” he asked, trying to resist looking around. Her room was sparse, for the most part, but she had pine boughs and flowers in a couple of vases, giving it a fresh, woodland smell, and the desk was laden with books and papers. He peered at one of them and found a partial translation of a lay apparently written by Elemmírë of the Vanyar. Eärendil did not recognize the words; it was not one ever sung in Gondolin.

“I want to show you something,” Elwing replied. She pulled a somewhat-tattered satchel from the very bottom of the trunk. Eärendil recognized the work as that of the Laiquendi; Voronwë had a similar satchel, though bigger and more salt-stained. “Since my father gave this to me, no one else has seen it,” she told Eärendil, sitting back on her heels, expression solemn. “Not even Galadriel or Celeborn.”

Eärendil slipped to the floor, heart suddenly pounding as he realized what she was about to show him. “Why are you showing me?”

“Because—because it’s important. But…” She clutched the satchel to her chest, now frowning at him. “You must tell no one. Do you promise?”

He nodded. “Of course. I promise.”

And she opened the satchel. It was as though it held a star inside, and when she drew out the Nauglamír Eärendil’s breath caught in his throat. It had been set in the center of the great necklace (made for shoulders far broader than Elwing’s) and was surrounded by dozens of many-colored gems that seemed lit from within by bright fires. But none could compare with the Silmaril itself. Its blazing light filled the room, casting everything in sharp relief, and illuminating Elwing herself, making her hair shine and eyes sparkle.

But only for a few moments. Elwing returned the Jewel to its satchel, and the satchel to the bottom of the trunk, while Eärendil blinked spots out of his eyes. In comparison to the Silmaril, the lamp on her desk seemed no brighter than embers. “Galadriel keeps telling me I should wear it openly. On high days, or at festivals.”

“Why won’t you?” Eärendil asked.

“Because when the rumors are proved true, it is only a matter of time before word reaches Maedhros.”

Eärendil frowned. “You don’t think—they wouldn’t, not here, where there are Noldor…”

“My father did not think they would attack Doriath,” Elwing said quietly, “because we were Elves. Even so, I fear they will hear the rumors and come to Sirion anyway.” She turned to the trunk, running her fingers lightly over the wood. “I hate the Silmaril. I don’t care if it’s been hallowed by Elbereth herself—what are the Valar to us, here in Beleriand? They sit on their thrones in the Blessed Realm behind their mountain walls while we live in constant fear. Sometimes I think about just casting it into the Sea to be done with it.”

“But you don’t.”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t. I wish I knew why.”

“Well…” Eärendil reached out to take Elwing’s hands. “Thank you for showing me.” He smiled when she looked up at him. “I think I should go, now, though. Before someone discovers my boots in the kitchen.”

“That might be best.” Elwing got to her feet and led the way back to the kitchen door, both of them creeping slowly and as silently as they could. This time Eärendil did not run into anything. Elwing leaned against the doorway as he picked up his boots, deciding to cross the courtyard barefoot.

“Good night,” he said.

“Good night, Eärendil.” Elwing stepped forward and rose onto her toes to kiss him. But she lost her balance and Eärendil had to catch her with his free arm and they banged heads and noses instead of actually kissing, and when their helpless laughter made a light go on in a bedroom overhead, Eärendil planted a swift kiss on her cheek before racing home, not even caring about all the smug, knowing smiles he would receive when word reached Sirion at large.