A Son's Most Important Journey by Cirdan

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A Son's Most Important Journey

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Earendil and Elwing walked hand-in-hand along the beach. Many felt that their love was nothing more than an alliance of convenience, but they knew otherwise. They were the only Half-elves; they had only each other. There were some things understood between them that no one else could possibly understand. It was this difference that made them so often seek solitude away from others.

They stopped at a cove and watched the waves, still hand-in-hand. Then Earendil brought Elwing's hand to his lips. Perhaps he would even have kissed her on the lips if his father hadn't shown up.

They weren't quite sure where he came from. They just suddenly became aware of his bright blue eyes staring at them. He said no word, only turned and left.

Earendil sighed. "I'm sorry. My father can be like that."

"It's okay. I sometimes wonder how my father would've been if he was still here," Elwing said, and in her words was such sorrow that Earendil could not help but to take her into his arms and kiss her cares away. There was wisdom in her honesty. It was better to have a father, however annoying, than not.

---

Earendil brought Elwing to his home so that she might bring back with her a few slices of Idril's delicious strawberries-and-cream cake. Unfortunately, instead of finding his mother in the dining room, his father was at the dining table and studying star charts while scratching the stubble at his face. They were light-footed and almost upon him before Tuor realized that he was no longer alone. He looked up suddenly as if he were a deer being hunted, and he gathered his maps quickly while muttering some unnecessary apology under his breath. Before Earendil could tell him for the hundredth time that it was fine for him to use the table of his own house, Tuor has already disappeared into the other room.

Elwing put her soft hand over Earendil's and said, "I've heard that Lord Tuor spent many years alone in the wild and that, even in Gondolin, he preferred to be apart from people. It's hard for him to change even now."

"I know you're right," Earendil said with a sigh, "but I wish we could be closer. Often, I hear tales of the bond between father and son, yet I know that my Elven blood separates us as a swift-running river."

"Then perhaps you need to pay more attention to your Mortal ancestry," Elwing said. "Often, I wish I could speak to the poor Men who live among us here at the Havens of Sirion, but the Doriathrim distrust them because of Turin and his cursed fate."

"The Gondolindrim are no better. Turgon was of like mind to Thingol in that manner, and aside from Hurin, Huor, and Tuor, the Elves of Gondolin have had little dealing with Men." Earendil looked toward the exit through which Tuor had retreated. "Do you think he spends his time among them when I don't see him about?"

Elwing smiled. "In all honesty, I can't see it of him." Her fond smile becomes somewhat sad. "I think he must spend a lot of time alone."

Earendil nodded and decided that that had to change.

---

After a day of duties among the remnants of Gondolin, Earendil sought out his father. With much difficulty, he found Tuor on the beach working on his ship. Tuor insisted on making every plank on this ship by himself, though he often learned the skill of the shipwrights by working on other ships. Needless to say, Tuor's ship was far from completion.

"Mind if I join you?" Earendil asked. Tuor looked up from his work, having missed the Elven light footfalls of his son. He gestured for Earendil to sit. "So what are you doing?" Earendil asked.

"Sanding this piece of wood smooth," Tuor said simply.

Tuor looked at Earendil quietly and waited to see if his son would stay or leave. Earendil had decided earlier that he would spend the short hour before dinner with his father, and his Elven stubbornness insisted that he follow through with his original plan. Earendil picked up another sanding tool and began to rub it back and forth more in irritation than any real desire to do work.

"Not like that," Tuor said finally. "Like this." He demonstrated the longer sanding motions that would produce a more consistent result.

Heartened that his father had actually spoken, Earendil began to sand the wood with new vigor.

That didn't last long. Tuor spoke no word to him, and often, Earendil wondered if he even cared that his son was present.

Earendil endured his hour of torment and afterwards told himself that he would never do such a boring thing again.

But, after many weeks, Earendil did go back. The second time was the same as the first.

Many more weeks passed before Earendil went back again. He decided that he'd rather be spending his time with Elwing.

And then almost a year passed before Earendil helped his father again on the ship. This time, as he worked, he studied Tuor's face and realized that, although those eyes were still brilliant and blue, the skin at the corner of his eyes were stretching. Then he noticed that Tuor's weather- worn face had also aged. This was not the same father he'd known in his youth.

Then after, Earendil joined his father at least to work on the slow building of his ship.

---

When the ship was at last full-wrought, Tuor looked upon it proudly. Its name was to be Earrame, and the naming ceremony would occur when next Lord Cirdan came to the Havens of Sirion.

"I'm going to miss working on the ship," Earendil said wistfully. Tuor nodded his agreement. "Maybe we should begin work on another ship," Earendil suggested cheerfully and was surprised when his father shook his head.

"The calling of the Sea has ever been strong in my heart since I first came to these shores many years ago, but I did not wish to heed that calling until you were fully grown," Tuor said solemnly. "Yet I am myself fifty this year, and by the reckoning of the Elves, I should only have just reached my maturity." He watched the Sun slowly sink lower in the sky. "I think that I should leave before my health fails me and I'm no longer able to sail."

"But sail where?" Earendil demanded desperately, though he knew that he must've sounded childish at that moment.

"To the West," Tuor said. His gaze was still upon the golden Sun that lighted the skies in reds and pinks. The crested waves shimmered as the rolled to and fro.

"Why? You can't set foot upon the Blessed Realm."

"No, but Idril can," Tuor said. "If I can bring her home so that she might walk with bare feet under the trees alongside her esteemed father and her mother, then I would be happy, even if I can only watch their bliss from the prow of my ship."

"You may not even make it that far," Earendil said darkly. "The storms of Osse are fierce, and many ships seeking the West have been lost."

Tuor turned from the sunset to meet his son's eyes. "I know."

Only then did Earendil realize that there were more grey hairs in Tuor's beard and hair than before and more wrinkles about his eyes. Though there were other Men about the Havens of Sirion, Tuor was treated as lord of the people of Gondolin and dwelt mostly among Elves.

"At least wait until after my wedding to Elwing," Earendil begged.

Tuor raised an eyebrow. "That might be long in coming. You're both still very young."

"We're Half-elven," Earendil said with a shrug. "Besides, everyone knows that we're going to be married to each other eventually."

Tuor smiled slightly. "All right. I'll wait at least that long, especially since you seem to have made up your mind." His smile broadened. "I remember a game that Lord Glorfindel and Lord Ecthelion played with me when I had at last decided to propose to your mother. Let's see how much time passes before you actually propose to Lady Elwing."

Earendil laughed, and his voice was like that of a young boy's though he was already of Tuor's stature. "Don't worry, Father. I won't take as long as you did."

---

A year after the engagement, Earendil and Elwing were wedded. Soon after, Tuor and Idril sailed West in Earrame. But it is sung that, alone of all Mortal Men, Tuor was numbered among the Elven race, whom he loved, and his fate is sundered from the fate of Men.