Morning Mist and Silver Sun by StarSpray

West Away

written for Tolkien Weekly's Coastal drabble challenge

West Away
Wave

Sam paused to watch the waves lap gently against the sand. He leaned on his walking stick and sighed. The Havens stood gleaming in the golden sunset, only a short walk away. Did Elves have inns, he wondered? Well, if not, he could find Círdan's house, he supposed.

"Well met, Master Hobbit!" someone called out. Sam turned to see a pair of Elves, identical down to their clothes, approaching from down the beach. "Have you come to sail away West?"

"Of course he has," said the second Elf. To Sam, he added, "And we are to be your sailing companions!"

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Proper Introductions
Cliff

Sam squinted at the Elves. They'd come down from the cliffs just to the north, seemingly, and though at first he'd taken them for Master Elrond's sons, it was soon clear they were not. They had an air about them he'd come to recognize in much older Elves, like Lord Celeborn. "I'm not in the habit of journeying with folk whose names I don't know," he informed them. "Specially when they seem to know mine already."

"Of course, forgive us," said the first Elf. "I am Elurín, and my brother is Eluréd." They bowed together, and chorused, "At your service!"

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Sails are Set
Pebble

They walked together down the pebbled beach, slowly, for Sam was getting on in years, as he tried to remember where he'd heard his companions' names before. But they reached the harbor, and a ship awaiting them with Círdan beside it, before he could call up the memory. Círdan smiled at Sam, and Sam grinned. He'd lived quite a full life, and now he was quite ready to find Master Frodo again, and take some rest.

"Farewell, at last!" Eluréd exclaimed, smiling, stretching his arms out as though to embrace the whole world. "And now to see what lies Westward."

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Shire Craft
Bucket/Spade

As they settled into the boat's small cabin, Elurín peered curiously at Sam's things. "Why did you bring a spade?" he asked. "There isn't any gardening to do in the middle of Belegaer!"

Sam ducked the spade, and its matching hoe and smaller trowel, under his bunk. "I thought I might find a bit of garden over there on Eressëa," he said, blushing a bit. "And I don't suppose there's many hobbit-sized tools to be found there."

They could be made, of course—but there was nothing like good Shire craft-work, in Sam's opinion, when it came to digging potatoes.

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"What are these buckets for?" Sam asked, as his companions pulled out a small stack of them on deck, as he envisioned rather vividly the three of them frantically bailing out of their swiftly-sinking vessel.

"For catching rain," Eluréd said.

"Or fish," his brother added. He opened a compartment and pulled out a large net. "I hope you don't mind if we leave the cooking to you, Master Gamgee!"

Sam grinned. "I don't mind at all, Master Elurín." They had plenty of food—waybread and such—but not even Lady Galadriel's lembas tasted better than a good freshly fried fish.

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Obscurity
Shell

It didn't take long for Sam to recall his companions' names from the histories—in which they played an even smaller part than he had. "But where have you been living all this time, then?" he demanded.

"Oh, here and there," Eluréd said. A dolphin had brought them a few crabs, and he was busy prying the meat out of the shells. "We made it a point to keep out of the way of nearly all the important things."

"Easier not to die that way," Elurín added cheerfully. "Mandos has always sounded so terribly boring."

Sam choked on his crab.

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A Warm Welcome
Ship

Beautiful ships sailed out of Alqualondë and Avallonë to meet them, manned by laughing silver-haired mariners.

And then they were docking, a small crowd clustered on the pier—and Frodo was there, and old Gandalf, both of them grinning broadly. Frodo laughed when Sam wobbled, his legs still used to the rocking of the ship, and embraced him tightly. "Dear Sam, welcome to Elvenhome!"

"I'm very glad to see you still here, Mr. Frodo, and no mistake!"

"Welcome to Eressëa, Master Gamgee," said Gandalf, eyes twinkling like stars. "And welcome at last, Dior's sons! Your sister is waiting for you!"