Fair Winds and Following Seas by bunn

Chapter 1: The High King goes to war

Gulls were crying over the green rolling waves and the long white shores that lay before Alqualondë.  The day was fading,and the shadow of the mountains stretched long and blue across the town and out onto the white beaches, though the sky above was still bright.

In a great arc reaching from the north of Alqualondë and far to the south, white tents were arrayed in long rows.  Serious-faced Noldor in groups of eleven were heading up to the tents, armed and armoured, while behind them, the sea was filled with small boats, Teleri at the oars, ferrying the Vanyar host back to land.   The Vanyar were singing as they crossed the water, but the Noldor were silent. 

The High King of the Noldor entered his tent and removed his high helm as his armour-bearer began removing his greaves. 

“Not bad at all,” Finrod said to him, arms on the table, the only person within sight who was not wearing armour.  “That was the fastest yet.” 

“Unloading the ships into the small boats went very smoothly this time,” his father said, looking thoughtfully out at the great white ships anchored in the deep water, their masts still shining golden in the late afternoon light.  “Even if the shore is held against us, I think we will be in good enough order to fight our way ashore.” 

Finrod came over and began to help the armour-bearer by undoing his father’s sword-belt.  “I hope and believe that you won’t have to,” he said. “Morgoth never showed any interest in attacking from the sea, and I can’t recall a single battle where he tried to hold a coastline.”

“Still, if we must, then we’re ready.  Eönwë has said that the next tide...”

Finrod made an unhappy face as he put the sword into its place. “Are you sure you won’t let me...”

His father shook his head. “Finrod. We have discussed this. I need you in Tirion. The Valar have forbidden it anyway.  And your mother...” 

“Your mother has lost too many of her children,” Eärwen’s clear voice said, as she came into the tent and put her arms around her eldest son. “Arafinwë must go, I can’t change that.  But you... You went with them, and are returned beyond hope. Let me have something left here in the west. Don’t go charging out to die all over again, Finrod, please!”

Finrod looked down into her wide grey eyes and shrugged helplessly. “Sorry, Mother. It just feels terribly wrong, somehow, to...” 

“To be the one left behind, when your people go out to war?” his father said wryly.  “Yes, I agree. But sometimes it is necessary. You’ll survive it. I did.”

Finrod grimaced, and then nodded, giving his father a quick smile. 

His mother let go of him. “Go on,” she said.   “Go, say your farewells to Amárië. She should be back ashore by now.”

Finrod nodded, turning the gesture into half a bow. “Her turn to go; mine to stay, I suppose.”  He turned to go and then swung back. “ Father, is there anything more that I can do to help?  I’ve just been through the plans again.”

Arafinwë shook his head. “Go,” he said, and made a shooing gesture with one hand. His armour-bearer took it as a command addressed to both of them, and retreated with the king’s armour. 

As Finrod left, Eärwen came to stand beside Arafinwë. “Do you think he’ll vanish, and reappear across the Sea?” 

Arafinwë sighed.  “I don’t think so. If he does, then I can’t stop him. I won’t try. He’s not a child to be forbidden his own choices.  I know that, even if the Valar haven’t realised it yet. If he chooses to be on board one of the ships tomorrow...”

“Then I will have lost my last son, again.” Tears were running from the corners of her eyes, but her small face was resolute. 

You could come with us , Arafinwë thought, but carefully did not say, or let her see the thought. To let her see it would tear open all the old wounds again, would break the marriage that they had carefully put back together, these last few hundred Years of the Sun. She was letting him go without recrimination, and that should be enough. Was enough.  

“He knows that.”  

 “Mmm,” Eärwen said.  “Perhaps. You have to let them grow up and away, Anairë keeps saying, but then, all her children and her husband are dead already, and there’s no word of their return.” 

“Poor Anairë.”

“Yes.  Poor Anairë,” Eärwen repeated, reflectively. She looked up at him, frowning, but the corners of her mouth were pulled taut. “If he comes out to battle, will you face him too?  The Enemy, I mean?” 

“I’m not my brother.  Neither of them,” Arafinwë told her gently.  “I am the third and most junior commander of this host. I shall follow Eönwë and the commands of the Valar...”

“You mean yes,” she said furiously, and took him fiercely by the arms for a moment and shook them, before she let him go. “Don’t die , Arafinwë!”

“I’ll try not to,” he said, “I really will.” He opened his arms to receive her as she wept.

Chapter End Notes

The idea that the Host of the Valar needed to rehearse their arrival in Middle-earth is inspired by the D-Day landings, which were rehearsed on the British coast several times over before the army landed in Normandy.