Come So Far by Tyelca

Come So Far

She stood at the prow of the ship, staring ahead into the distance. The light of dawn reflected in her eyes and almost blinded her, but she resolutely kept scanning the waves for a sign of land.

It wasn’t often that a ship sailed from Valinor to Middle-Earth, practically unheard of even. But she had gone before the Valar and in clear, concise words set out her plea. She supposed they must have caught a glimpse of her absolute refusal to take no for an answer; after a few objections they’d relented and given her a ship.

She’d told them the same thing she’d told the people in Tirion when she’d first proposed her plan. She’d been met with fierce opposition, but her single argument - “I have borne seven children and only one still lives. I will bring him home.” - had destroyed any and all resistance.

Even her late husband’s family, newly returned from the dead, were apprehensive. She had heard stories, of course, everyone had heard the stories, and many of Finwë’s line took her apart and tried to convince her not to go through with her plan.

She had smiled at them and left anyway.

She had toyed with the idea at first, wandering the shores of Valinor but always avoiding Alqualondë, that once-happy place now forever tainted with the memories of a massacre. She didn’t think she’d be welcome.

One day, when the clouds turned a dark grey and the waves swelled to enormous heights and unknown ships sundered, she witnessed many a mortal man suffer the drowning fate. She’d been struck by the overwhelming thought that any of those arrogant mortals could’ve been her son. She made her decision then, but stalled in its execution. Apprehension of people’s reactions had been once reason, but the fear that she wouldn’t be able to find him, or worse, not be able to convince him to come back, was her biggest concern.

For many years she told herself he would walk off a ship any day and come right back into her arms, but time passed and she forced herself to acknowledge that wouldn’t happen.

The mariners, Elves who had once sailed this very route with her husband in ships stolen from a murdered people, had informed her they would see land today. She didn’t know how they felt about her and she didn’t know how she felt about them. She had not been so foolish as to ask Olwë for seafarers; she also didn’t know anybody else with the necessary experience. When she’d stated her desire to row alone over the ocean, Fingolfin had reluctantly brought her in contact with this crew, and she’d accepted his offer.

She had not asked the sailers why they’d chosen to accompany her on this mission and she had no idea how far their loyalty stretched. She had found it wise not to inquire into such things, for it planted the seeds of doubt and ideas in their heads. What would happen, would happen. She’d avoided all conversations.

The morning sun rose steadily and the air cleared, allowing her eyes to roam far and wide. Her hands gripped the railing tightly.

Today she would see the shoreline of Middle-Earth, that place that held for her such a strange combination of sorrow and joy. She was not so foolish as to think she would find her son today; many moons would come and go before that time. But it was a start and that slightly eased her restlessness and offered her some semblance of peace.

In the distance she thought she could make out the vague outline of land, but it could be her mind playing tricks on her. It had been for the past week. But around her the mariners were busier than the many days before and she took it as a good sign.

The sun rose higher and her vision improved. There was definitely land ahead; the first part of her search was done. The easiest part.

But she was determined. She would find her son.