The Last Ship by hennethgalad

Chapter 1

Read Chapter 1

The Last Ship.- 

 

  Frodo had found a (to him) vast coil of pale grey rope in a quiet, sunny corner of the deck; the perfect place to doze after a particularly hearty luncheon with the elves.

  He woke slowly, someone had covered him with an elven cloak, and Galadriel was passing him, unseeing, heading to the prow where Glorfindel stood, gripping the railing and staring forwards as though his will could drag the ship faster through the starlit water.

   He had been there since the grey ship had left the Havens, and now Galadriel softly spoke his name. Glorfindel made no motion, Galadriel put her hand on his shoulder and said

   'You must rest, my old friend, you must eat. You know he is waiting, you know the captain is sailing as close to the wind as the sail can endure, you know there is nothing to see yet. Please, come into the feast and join us.'

  Frodo peered into the gloom; elves might see by starlight, but all he could see was a pale gleam as Glorfindel turned his head.

   'I am sorry, Galadriel, I know that you consider my grief to be immoderate, especially since he is your brother, but I...' his voice choked into silence.

   Galadriel led him away 'Come, my friend, remember what he himself would say concerning the power of wine to heal the spirit.'

  Glorfindel laughed softly 'He did, did he not... you are right, of course. Lead the way, my lady.'

 

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   After second breakfast the next day, Frodo found Elrond leaning over the stern. It was a bright, breezy day, there had been dolphins earlier, which had drawn the elves, singing, to the railings, to hail the sleek, spouting forms flashing through the air and sparkling water.

   The timbers of the ship creaked as the wind stretched them, ropes slapped against masts, sailors called their incomprehensible terms to each other, and another great sail billowed up a mast and filled with a great snap of taut canvas.

   When the flurry of activity had ceased, Frodo looked up at Elrond, who smiled warmly at him 'You have another question, young hobbit ?' he asked, and Frodo reddened slightly

   'You are so patient, my lord, and you know that I try to find the answers by myself in the library, but I think that this story has not been written down.' He looked at Glorfindel, almost level with them, alone up at the prow.

    Elrond nodded slowly 'It is Finrod that he loves.'

   Frodo was astonished; Finrod Felagund, a character so mythical that even Frodo found it hard to accept that he had walked Middle-Earth, the thought that not only did he exist, but that Glorfindel was waiting to see him again...

   He gaped at Elrond then suddenly remembered Galadriel 'Her brother !' he exclaimed 'Finrod is her brother, she was talking to Glorfindel last night...'

   Elrond smiled 'The truth is, Frodo, he is just as mythical to me as he is to you; he died to save the life of my great-grandfather. Without him, well, things would have been very different...'

    Frodo nodded, Finrod Felagund had always been his favourite of the old heroes, with his harp and his badge of golden flowers 'Golden flowers !' he exclaimed.

   Elrond smiled and nodded 'Yes, but you must ask Glorfindel himself to tell you the tale, for he knows it best.'

    Frodo looked cautiously at the tall, powerful elf, gripping the prow with white-knuckles; there was something of the lion about Glorfindel; the poise of the muscular body, the golden mane, secretly Frodo had always thought Glorfindel should have been the king of the elves, Elrond had always seemed to him to be more of a professor than a great leader. Glorfindel looked so much more like a king should look, and however charming he had been to Frodo, Frodo was still nervous of appearing foolish to him, which of course was inevitable. Worse still, he knew Elrond could see all these thoughts flickering across his face.

   'Come, Frodo, I will ask him to speak of Finrod and you will listen.' Before Frodo could protest, Elrond had taken Frodo's small hand in his and led him across the deck.

   Glorfindel, looking tired but calmer, turned when Elrond hailed him, and smiled at Frodo.

   'No land yet ?' asked Elrond, Glorfindel waved a hand dismissively and looked at Elrond.

   'Frodo is wondering why you cling to the prow...' said Elrond softly. Glorfindel nodded and looked down at Frodo, who had the sensation that a tremendous effort was being exerted to focus, not only on what Glorfindel's eyes saw, but on what his mind experienced.

   'Finrod...' said Glorfindel 'He awaits me in Valinor... I have endured more than six thousand years without him, but it was not until the very instant that the Ring was destroyed that I felt the full agony of separation.' he looked at Elrond, who kept his face expressionless 'I have wondered often since then whether the rings of the elves have not been used to guard more than places; to guard people, from themselves...'

   Elrond sighed 'My family owes him a debt that can never be paid; without him, none of us would ever have been; it is barely worth asking whether he would wish to spare his beloved Glorfindel pain. Naturally we did all we could.'

   Frodo could feel their eyes exchanging messages above his head and beyond his comprehension. Finally Elrond said

    'It will soon be over. You know he will be waiting.'

    He turned to Frodo 'The story is a familiar one to me, I will leave you to hear it from Glorfindel.'

   Glorfindel looked at Frodo for a long moment then smiled and sat down. Frodo, as he scrambled up onto the bench that ran around the inside of the prow, saw Elrond, as he walked away, seem to stagger, and lean on a railing for a moment.

   'The old fool' Glorfindel muttered to himself 'He is in as much pain as I am, he has lost his wife, his daughter, his home and his ring, he has never even seen the Light and yet he would seek to give me of his own strength...'

    Frodo looked up at him, surprised. The elves were extremely reluctant to discuss the Light with mortals, ostensibly because mortal senses could not percieve it. But Gandalf, whom even Frodo had begun to call Mithrandir, had once explained that the elves feared a traitor could find a weakness and use it against them. Since that was all he would say, Frodo felt no closer to understanding. But it did seem that the Light was closer to water than flame, that it could be hoarded or given, a solid, substantial thing.

   Frodo shook his head, it was more difficult to explain, Elrond had once said, than the concept of colour to one blind from birth, like trying to explain vision at all, and even then... Glorfindel stretched out his long legs, put his hands behind his head, then laughed shortly to himself

  'You should have read the book I gave to Aragorn.' he said. Frodo looked up at him 'Before we left Gondor, I gave to Aragorn a book, in two parts, half of which was my journal, in which I tried to write about how we met' his jaw clenched 'And how they separated us. The other half was the journal Finrod kept in Nargothrond, in which he too told our tale, and long letters he wrote to me, knowing he could never send them, for Turgon took me into Gondolin and there I remained until the end, and none beyond its borders ever found it from without, save the Enemy, and that by treason. Finrod sought me for hundreds of years, while I...'

  his voice tailed off. Frodo felt a terrible pain of sympathy, remembering how Sam had been prepared to invade the Tower of Cirith Ungol alone to rescue him.

  'Poor Finrod.' he said finally. 'But how can I read the book if Aragorn has it ?'

   Glorfindel smiled 'Of course you cannot, I will tell you how it was, though alas, I am only a soldier, it would take a bard to tell it aright. A bard such as Finrod. ' He sighed and leaned forwards, resting his hands upon his knees. 'We met at Mereth Aderthad, by a pool at Eithel Ivrin...'

 

 

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Chapter End Notes

another fragment of Laurëlot