My Heart is with the Sea, my Heart is with You by chrissystriped

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Chapter One

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Círdan stared at the thin paper of the letter the dove had brought. The writing, tiny and narrow to make the most of the space, was swimming before his eyes.

Company arrived in Lothlórien. Mithrandir dead. Durin’s Bane = Balrog. Fought it on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. Both fell.

It couldn’t be! He didn’t want to believe it! But he knew in his heart of hearts that it was true. His dreams had been heavy for the last nights. Full of fire and darkness. If Durin’s Bane was indeed a Balrog, he could well imagine that his brave Olórin had sacrificed himself for the Cause — but also for the people in his care.

He sobbed, a tear falling on the paper in his trembling hands. Olórin had always been so focused on the well-being of others. Even in the Time of Waiting, on the shores of the Sea, he’d come to console the Teleri, left behind because they had looked for their missing leader. He had been subtle, back then, not like Ossë who showed up one day and never really left again. You rarely remembered Olórin, but his words stuck in your mind.

 

~*~*~

 

It had taken Círdan tides upon tides of careful listening and watching to finally find him. He was subtle and somehow hard to remember, but wherever he went the grumbles stopped. People had been discontent, feeling left behind and ill-treated after such a long road. Some even called themselves now the Eglathrim — the Forsaken. 

Who were the Valar? they said. Maybe the Quendi who’d refused the invitation had the right idea.  

But always , when the voices became too loud , another rose up, quiet yet powerful. 

The Valar cared. It took a long time to pull the island over. What were a few more years after the decades of the journey. Weren’t they happy, here at the shore?  

Círdan was. He'd taken one look at the Sea and fallen in love with it. But he also wished to catch this elusive elf — if he was an elf — and see what to make of him. There had been a darkness in the North, and while he didn’t think its agents would talk well of the Valar, he couldn’t take any risks. And so he found him, sitting at a camp-fire with a few hunters, listening to their stories. Círdan sat down beside him. 

“I’ve been watching you,” he said under his breath. “People seem to barely notice you, but wherever you go , the mood seems to lighten, the voices of discontent fail and there’s laughter and happiness. No one seems to know you, or where you came from. Who are you?” 

The elf smiled at him, his eyes were blue and sparkled in the firelight. “You seem to have noticed me,” he said with a warm, sweet voice. 

“It is my duty,” Círdan answered. “Elwë is missing, Olwë is often gone, looking for him. In their absence they look to me. If a stranger walks among us, I have to know. Won’t you tell me your name?” 

“I’m just a wanderer,” the stranger answered and rose. 

Círdan blinked slowly, looking around at the other elves. Hadn’t he just been talking to someone… He shot up and whirled around. Wanderer, indeed! He’d given him the slip. Círdan smiled wryly. He clearly hadn’t wanted to tell him his name.

 

~*~*~

 

He’d seen him again after that. Sometimes from afar, sometimes closer, but he’d never managed to sneak up and talk to him again. The Wanderer had just smiled at him, sometimes accompanied by a mischievous wink. He’d been more playful then, less weighed down by the cares and worries of a task that seemed too big for him in his darker moods. 

Círdan buried his face in his hands. Had he lost him forever? Maiar could regain their fana in time, if they lost it, but Olórin had been much more bound to his body than was usual. He had been incarnated, it had been a hroa, not a fana. 

What would happen to him now? Would he go to Mandos, like an elf? Or was he… No he could not simply be gone! 

The Ring , Círdan thought. Sauron was still alive because he had put a part of himself into his Ring. Narya was nothing like that, of course, but what if… what if Olórin had — facing death — used it to tether himself to the world of the living? Círdan shuddered at the thought of his dear maia lying somewhere in the dreadful dark of Moria, not alive, not dead, waiting for someone to rescue him. 

The paper crumpled when he clenched his fist. He would go there, he would find him. Even… even if he could only retrieve his body. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes and he gave himself over to grief. His fea fluttered against the inside of his hroa. Círdan pulled himself together with difficulty. No, he could grieve when he was sure he’d lost him. 

He stood up, wiped the tears from his eyes and went to find Galdor. 

“Do we have any maps of Moria in our possession?” he asked. 

“I… doubt it.” His counsellor of many years stared at him. “There might be some in Imladris. What do you need it for, if I may ask?” 

“I need to travel there”, Círdan answered. He should tell him that Mithrandir was gone, but he couldn’t. The thought alone made his throat close up. He coughed. “And fast. I can’t wait for someone to ride to Imladris and back.” 

“Maybe the dwarves… Dís seemed fond of you, when she came here for the sea air.” 

Dwarves were notoriously secretive about everything concerning their kind, but it was worth a try. 

“Why do you need to go to Moria, Círdan?” Galdor called after him as he turned toward the dovecote. 

“Something I can’t talk about,” Círdan answered. He couldn’t. Not right now. Not when the thought cut his heart so deeply.

 

~*~*~

 

Honoured Lady Dís,

I hope your health has been satisfactory . Feel free to visit Mithlond whenever you like, I enjoyed your company very much. If I might be so bold as to ask a favour of you? Urgent business I can’t talk about makes it necessary for me to travel to Khazad-dûm. As I do not want to get lost in the mighty halls of your ancestors, I hope to acquire a map from your people.

Your servant,

Círdan, Lord of the Havens

 

 

Dear Lord Círdan,

Whatever for? Well, you said, you could not talk about it, so I won’t try to wheedle it out of you (but I’m quite tempted to visit just for that reason). Most of our library was lost when the Dragon came to Erebor, but some was saved. There might be a map. If I could find it for you, would you give me a discount of ten percent on all transactions for a year?

Your friend,

Dís, Lady of the Blue Mountains

 

 

My dear Dís,

You must be joking. I can give you no more than five percent. I’m sure I can find a map in Imladris, if I must. .

Your friend,

Círdan

 

 

 

Dear Círdan,

If you could get it from Imladris, you wouldn’t have come to me. Seven percent and I’ll see the copy reaches you a week from the arrival of your agreement.

Love,

Dís

 

 

Dear Dís,

As always you drive a hard bargain. As the Lord of the Havens I agree to your terms. Make it three days, if you can.

Your friend,

Círdan

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Chapter End Notes

This fic was written for TRSB 2022 for Naurrakoiel's artwork: https://rauko-creates.tumblr.com/post/694881731070885888/my-heart-is-with-the-sea-my-heart-is-with-you