Where the Ocean Meets the Sky and the Land by StarSpray

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Chapter 10

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In the end, few of the Teleri were eager to go, but they agreed to sail a fleet to Middle-earth to bear the armies of the Vanyar and the Noldor to war, though they themselves would not set foot on that land. It was less than Elwing had hoped, but at least it was something.

"I would go fight," said Minyelmë as they sat on the beach together on afternoon, letting the waves wash up over their feet. Elwing watched a hermit crab scuttle along, buffeted by the surf. "But my mother and my sister have forbidden me." She sighed, falling back onto the sand dramatically.

"I do not blame them," said Elwing, still watching the crab. "You died once already; they do not want you courting it again."

"Yes, yes, I know. And I'm not going to sneak onto a ship anyway, like Lúnamírë seems to fear." Minyelmë put her arms behind her head and stared up at the puffy clouds slowly drifting across the sky. "Elwing…I'm sorry, I know you must be sick to death of these sorts of questions, but—"

"It's all right," Elwing said, amused. The hermit crab was now exchanging one shell for another. "Who did you want to ask me about? I may have actually known them."

"Princess Lalwen."

This was surprising. Elwing looked at Minyelmë, who was frowning now up at the sky. "The last I heard, she was on the Isle of Balar with Gil-galad," she said. Minyelmë's relief was visible as she relaxed into the sand. "But I thought you didn't…"

"I haven't been to Tirion since the Kinslaying," Minyelmë said. "I wasn't here for all of it—only the aftermath. But Lalwen was. I found her on the road, still covered in someone else's blood. Our parting was bitter, and now so are the memories."

"I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago, now. I'm truly not sure whether I want to see her again or not, but I am glad that she's safe. Or as safe as one can be, anyway."

The hermit crab was now scuttling away, leaving a zig-zagging trail behind it on the wet sand. Elwing watched until it was swallowed up by the foamy surf, and then looked back at Minyelmë. A little hesitantly, she said, "I did not meet many of the Noldor who were at Alqualondë. I think most of them have died. But those I met in Sirion or on Balar regretted it deeply. I have never spoken with Lady Lalwen, but I would imagine she feels the same way."

"Perhaps," said Minyelmë. "But Lalwen was never one to dwell on past mistakes or regrets."

"That isn't the same as not having regrets," said Elwing. "But you know her far better than I do."

"Maybe I did once." Minyelmë sighed, and sat up. "But enough of that. I don't want to dwell on past mistakes either. Let us talk of the future. What are you going to do now, cousin?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you. I know you have your handful of people to think of, but what is it that you want to do, cousin?"

"I don't know. I have not thought beyond the coming war."

"Well, perhaps you should start."

Elwing looked down along the beach toward the shipyards, which were swarming with workers, Elf and Ainu alike, as they hurried to craft enough ships to take the armies of the Noldor and the Vanyar to Middle-earth. Everyone spoke of what was coming as though their victory were assured. Of course it would be easy for them to think so. The Valar were marching themselves to War, and nearly all of those who dwelt here in Valinor knew nothing of war, and so little of the Enemy and what he was capable of. "I don't know if I can," she said.

Minyelmë sat up. "Then I will help you! Tell me, Elwing, if you could live anywhere at all in all of Aman, where would you choose? Do not think of safety or defense or obligation."
"How can I ignore all of those—"

"Elwing, just for a moment, please. What do you want?"

Elwing looked down at the sand and tried to think about it. It was very difficult not to turn her mind to defenses (Alqualondë still horrified her, a little, at how easy it would be to overrun), or to think about her responsibilities to the Sindar who continued to trickle out of Mandos and to make their way to the coast because that was where she was.

And then it occurred to her that her own desires did not conflict with what she knew those Sindar wished for. They had little desire to dwell right on the coast in Alqualondë, but there were forests aplenty between Alqualondë and the Pelóri, and no one lived in Araman to the north, which was mostly uninviting wilderness. Elwing could dwell outside of Alqualondë yet still near the coast—she thought of that high cliff that jutted out into the sea where Aiwendil had taught her to fly—and her people could dwell nearby or wander where they liked, always knowing where to find her. And she would be close to Alqualondë—only a few minutes, if she chose to fly. And there was even a natural harbor there, where Vingilot could be anchored when Eärendil was finally permitted to return to the earth.

"Ah, so you do have some ideas," Minyelmë said, watching her face. "Good!"

"Maybe I do," said Elwing, raising her head. She felt, to her surprise, a great deal lighter than she had just a few minutes ago. "But I don't have the faintest idea how to go about turning them into reality."

"If you mean you don't know how to build a house," Minyelmë laughed, "have no fear! There are some Noldor I know who would delight in building a new home for you. And," she added, leaning in to lower her voice almost conspiratorially, "such a project would go a long way to repairing the friendship between the Noldor and the Lindar."

"Says the woman who refuses to set foot in Tirion," Elwing said. "Are these your words you are speaking or someone else's?"

"That has little to do with old resentments," said Minyelmë. "But it is true that I am echoing Ëarwen, and that it is not entirely a coincidence that Lady Anairë is arriving in Alqualondë tomorrow."

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Lady Anairë arrived the next afternoon, with a large party of craftsmen out of Tirion, including Mahtan, to lend their skills to the shipbuilding and to begin shoring up the stores of weapons and armor that would be stored in those ships. Anairë herself swung out of the saddle and embraced Ëarwen with a cry of delight. She wore a riding gown of dark blue edged with silver, and her hair was coiled up in many braids studded with beads of silver and diamond. There were rings on her fingers and a glittering gem-studded chain around her neck—she was every inch a fine Noldorin princess. And she shared Idril's smile.

The formal greetings were soon over with, and the company scattered to whatever tasks they had come to Alqualondë to do. Ëarwen looped her arm through Anairë's as she turned to beckon Elwing forward. "Anairë, this is Lady Elwing, daughter of Dior son of Lúthien daughter of my uncle Elwë," she said. "And wife of Eärendil son of Itarillë."

"I am so happy to meet you at last," said Anairë. She took Elwing's hand in hers. It was warm and soft, though with a writer's callouses on her fingers. Her voice was just slightly deeper than Elwing would have expected. "I was sorry to have missed you in Tirion."

"I am honored to meet you as well, Lady Anairë," said Elwing, inclining her head. "I am only sorry that Eärendil is not here as well."

"As am I." Anairë smiled again, and laughed. "Though it is difficult to imagine my little granddaughter with a child of her own!" For a moment Elwing was afraid she would ask after Idril, or Turgon—but she did not. Instead Ëarwen steered them all inside, talking of ships and of the antics of Ëassalmë's children, and asking after the goings on of Tirion.

Elwing did not learn what Lady Anairë in particular had to do with Minyelmë's insistence that she think about the future until a few days after that. Isilmë dragged her out onto the beach to build sandcastles. Elwing mostly sat and watched her do the building, except when Isilmë instructed her to help construct a tower or to hand her a seashell to decorate the walls. Elrond and Elros had done much the same—the difference being that there were two of them and only one of Isilmë, so there were far fewer scuffles and arguments. Elwing spent most of the afternoon trying not to imagine what her boys were doing or who they were with.

As Isilmë finished her tallest castle yet, they were joined by Ëarwen and Anairë. Anairë had abandoned most of her jewelry and her heavier Noldorin dresses for a lighter gown in the style of the Teleri, and she wore her hair loose like Ëarwen did. "Look what I've made, Aunt Anairë!" Isilmë exclaimed, jumping to her feet to show off her castles. Anairë laughed and showered her with compliments, though they were not the usual kind.

"Anairë is an architect," Ëarwen told Elwing as she sat down on the sand beside her. "She's always sketching plans, though there's been little enough need for new houses or halls in recent years."

"But now you think I will need one," Elwing said.

"If you wish. Minyelmë seems to think you do." Elwing made a face, which made Ëarwen laugh, as Anairë finally came to join them. Isilmë had abandoned her castle building in favor of racing the waves up and down the beach, pausing occasionally to pick up a seashell or piece of driftwood that caught her fancy. "Anairë," Ëarwen said, leaning back on her elbows in the warm sand, "what sort of house would you design for Elwing?"

"I cannot possibly answer that question, Ëarwen. I only met Elwing a few days ago. What sort of house would you like, Elwing?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know where you'd want to live?" Ëarwen asked. "You won't offend either of us if it isn't Alqualondë or Tirion!"

"Well, there is a place…" Elwing paused as Isilmë came to drop her growing collection of trinkets beside Ëarwen before skipping away again. A few tiny crabs scuttled out of the pile and away into the sand. "It's a tall promontory that juts out of the coast—a little ways north of Alqualondë."

"When did you go out there?" Ëarwen asked, surprised.

"Aiwendil took me there."

"Who is Aiwendil?" Anairë asked.

"A Maia. He knew my great-grandmother." It occurred to Elwing that she had neglected to tell anyone besides Minyelmë about her flying adventures. She hadn't meant to keep it a secret, but it seemed an odd thing to bring up now. "There is a natural harbor there," she went on, deciding that was a conversation that could wait for another time. "And the forest is not far away."

"I think I know the place you mean," said Ëarwen. "I would not have thought you'd choose such a high place, but I imagine the view is lovely, of the coast and the Sea." Elwing nodded.

"It would be a challenge to design a home for such a place," Anairë said.

"Shall we go take a look at it?" Ëarwen asked, sitting up. "We can take my boat, and pack a picnic for supper. Isilmë! Come along, my dear."

An hour later the three of them, Elwing and Ëarwen and Anairë, were in Ëarwen's small sailboat, making their way out into the bay. Elwing peered over the side to see in the clear depths the shape of a woman, just for a moment, moving beneath them. She turned her face up and winked before dissolving into thousands of tiny bubbles. They passed by dozens of other smaller and slightly larger boats, and Ëarwen called out greetings to each one, before bursting into a joyous and playful sailing song. Anairë joined her after a few lines. Elwing was content to sit and listen.

It had been a long time since she had gone out on the water for nothing more than pleasure. Usually when she had stepped on a boat in Sirion it had been to go to Balar, though even then it was more usual for Círdan or Gil-galad to come to her. Not since she and Eärendil had been young had she been coaxed out for pleasure jaunts across the Bay of Balar. It was nice to do it again, though she was still mostly useless when it came to sailing. Ëarwen and Anairë worked together with the ease of many long years of practice and familiarity.

The jaunt up the coast was not a long one. The afternoon sun was bright and warm and the wind was strong in their sails. As they sped over the water it felt almost like flying. Elwing closed her eyes and tilted her head back to enjoy the spray on her face as Anairë and Ëarwen laughed together and burst into song again. Maybe she should learn to sail. It would be a wonderful thing to surprise Eärendil with, when he returned.

"Is that it?" Ëarwen asked finally, as the promontory came into view.

"Yes, that's it," said Elwing.

"Whatever did Aiwendil bring you out here for?" Anairë asked as she gazed up at it, shielding her eyes with one hand.

"To fly," Elwing said, and found herself laughing at the looks on Anairë and Ëarwen's faces when they turned to stare at her. "Like this." She got to her feet and leapt from the boat, as though she were going to dive into the water, but instead her body shifted and changed and her wings caught the breeze and she went soaring up, and up, and up, the little sailboat shrinking beneath her until Ëarwen and Anairë were tiny as dolls, and the world opened up around her. She circled over their heads as they continued on to the natural harbor she'd described for them, and as they made their way onto dry land she flew down to join them, stumbling a little as she regained her usual form upon touching the ground.

"How did you do that?" Ëarwen exclaimed. "You never told me you were a skin-changer!"

"Aiwendil tells me it is thanks to my great-grandmother Melian," Elwing said. "It was a power I did not know I had until Ulmo awoke it in me."

"Ah, now I see why you would like to live here!" Anairë said. She slung a satchel over her shoulder, while Ëarwen hefted a basket with their supper inside. "Let's go take a look at the top of this cliff! How do those of us without wings get up there?"

It was more difficult on foot, but Elwing showed them the path that she'd found when Aiwendil first brought her. The view was as lovely as always, though it was getting darker now, the sun drifting back behind the Pelóri and throwing the coast into shadow. In the forest farther inland Elwing heard the faint sound of singing voices. Her folk with wandering hearts were already out exploring. Elwing sat on a large boulder while Anairë walked around, examining the land and looking out in all directions. While she did that, taking a sketchbook out of her satchel and a piece of charcoal to sketch or take notes, Ëarwen set out their picnic. "What is she doing?" Elwing asked.

"I have no idea," Ëarwen said cheerfully. "I don't know the first thing about designing buildings, unless they're sandcastles. And even then mine are always lumpy. Pastry?"

As Elwing accepted the pastry, Anairë came back to join them. Her fingers were smudged with charcoal and she had a streak of it across her forehead where she had pushed her hair out of her eyes. Her sketchbook page had several half-started drawings and a dozen lines of scribbled notes that Elwing could not quite make out. "Elwing," Anairë said, eyes bright, "how would you like living in a tower?"