'his eyes unclosed' by hennethgalad

Chapter 1

        "blending living night and deep dream, as is the way with elves.'

The House of the Spear
Mithlond
500 of the Second Age

From Ereinion Gil-galad
To Lady Celebrían

       Stars shine upon you, dear cousin, and thank you for the letter you wrote me, and for the marvellous cup you sent, my crew were so impressed that every carpenter in the havens, and beyond, is working full time making them for all the sailors. You were inspired by the bones of the shoulder, you say ? That is both grisly and remarkable, how did you come to see such a thing ? And what in the void made you think of setting a cup in a shoulder socket to keep it from spilling ? Truly, you are the daughter of Galadriel, the mere name of whom brings all my elves to rigid attention.

   My ship is in fine fettle, thankyou for asking; frisky as a foxcub, I can feel the eager pride in the very tiller under my hand. It is sad that you live so far from the sea, I would wish to teach you the reading of wind and wave, and let you feel the great thrill of turning a mighty ship with a mere push of the hand. But you have seen the sea, I need not persuade you of the magnificence of the realm of Ulmo.

   By the void Celebrían, you must forgive my writing, and my handwriting ! I would confide in you, if it please you, otherwise my secretary would say these things in the fitting manner, but I know you will not mind.
   I was disturbed to hear of your dreams, for I too have had evil dreams of late, and, what is worse, I too dream of horses. At first I dismissed them, as you did, but night after night, the same horror brings me awake in trembling dread. At first, of course, I laughed at myself, as you did, for all who ride dream of horses from time to time. But not as we have done.
   You say that when you dream, the peril pursues you; for me, it is before me, but I know that I cannot reach it in time, yet still I must ride. I would know, has any understanding of this dream come to you yet ? I myself have no notion what it may portend, whether we shall face some peril together, or if, as I fear, I shall fail you in some way. Oh Celebrían, there are so few of us now, it makes me want to weep, though I dare not, for should I but start, my tears would be unnumbered. Well, what are the old songs for, if not to quote ? You may be wise to keep far from the sea. At times when we sail in shallow water and some great hill of old Beleriand casts a shade deep in the sea, at those times...
   Well, it is hard, nor should we forget the lost, so many lost.

   I think you should tell your mother of these dreams. She is very wise, Círdan thinks her the wisest in all Elvendom, and you know how cautious he is, so I think you can believe him. The lady Galadriel may remember similar dreams that have come to others in the past. I know you say that you can find nothing in the scrolls, but I really cannot search myself, I am sadly negligent of theory, and spend my time entirely on practical things. But there are such sensible people seeing to the scholarly things that I feel happy to leave them to their debating, and generally I follow their advice.
   There seems little real anger; I suppose we are all too relieved that the turmoil has ended, and the shadow lifted from the world. It must be ! I know you are worried, and, now that I have read your letter, I too am concerned. But my dear, it is indeed true that the Enemy had allies as well as slaves, but where are they ? We have scoured the north, and found nothing but those magnificent horses we sent your people; the refugees from Dagor Bragollach, my elf says.
   I am sorry, dear Celebrían, but there is nothing I can do, I am a soldier, well, a sailor, in truth, and I can only fight an enemy that I can see. If there is some... some shadow of malice haunting our realms, it is beyond my wit to perceive, much less confront.
   I must return to the subject of your mother. Speak with her, she sees things that we, who have seen only Eärendil, cannot imagine. She may understand the nature of the threat, and the nature of the weapons we shall need to defeat it.

   But I will end on a hopeful note, because as my elf, who you shall meet when next the Music brings us near, as he says, 'Expect a sour apple sometimes, for Arda is marred.'
   It may be that we are both dreaming not of a new threat that has come to trouble our futures, but merely the echo of the false notes from the Ainulindalë itself. If only I could persuade you, perhaps then I could persuade myself.

   In the meantime, we are befriending the horses, and encouraging those with an interest in travel to scour the lands for traces of the refugees of Thangorodrim, for no one, no one knows who, or what may lurk in the dark forgotten corners of our much diminished world.

   Oh Celebrían, perhaps we ate some sour apples, and are poisoned for a time ! There is peace from Ered Luin to Ephel Duath, and beyond, as far as we know; what is it that we should fear ? Especially if we can remain friends as well as kin, then my heart may rest, and the sound of hooves may comfort me, and not bring me awake with silent screams.

   My poor little cousin, though not so little now, eh ? Ha, Círdan was gruff when he spoke your name, asking to be remembered. As though you could have forgotten him ! I will never forget the time you met him, and we quarreled, for you could not believe that such a beard belonged to an elf, and you cried and cried until he picked you up to comfort you, and you pulled his beard ! You little orc, he was so astonished I thought that he would drop you !
His beard is longer and whiter than ever, come and pull it again, I know that you wish to ! Oh, I miss you and your mischief, if only you were nearer the sea, or I did not have so many things to see to here, or I could think of something other than the sea or Círdan (!) to lure you here with. But no, you and your family are again in the best place in all Arda, where all the new things are happening and I'm away in my remote gull-haunted haven, missing all the fun. Of course, the lady Galadriel draws all to her, the wise and the foolish alike; some for her wisdom, and most for her beauty. I am sure that you are as beautiful as her, though to me you will always be the rosy-cheeked elfling who pulled the beard of Círdan !

I have written to your mother and father, but greet them for me as your kin and your friend,
Ereinion Gil-galad.