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

Coda

Círdan stood at the railing of the ship that would take them across the Sea and watched Olórin saying goodbye to his hobbit-friends. He was nervous and excited — and a little heartbroken. 

Finally he would finish the Great Journey. Finally he would see what was on the other side. But it hurt to leave behind his home of so many years. His house had looked so empty when he’d left it, his belongings already stowed in the hold — and the city was empty too. His people had slowly trickled away over the centuries. 

It was his turn now. He was not sure if he’d have been able to if it wasn’t for his love for Olórin. His Wanderer. He could not let him leave alone again. 

They had spent a lot of time together in the last years. Círdan had been forced to stay in Lothlórien until the news of the fall of Sauron had arrived and then he’d ridden to Minas Tirith with Galadriel and Celeborn for the wedding of their grand-daughter. Olórin had been there, safe and whole and looking as happy and carefree as he’d never seen him since his return to Middle-earth. 

Círdan had been worried about his people. He’d managed to send Galdor a bird, but he felt guilty for leaving Vaima and his crew out in the wild with no news of him. He’d almost made up his mind to take a ship to Pelargir and up the coast, when Galdor himself had arrived, having been invited to the festivities, and told him that his crew had made it home safely. 

Nothing could have stopped him then from staying at Olórin’s side. They’d ridden slowly back home and even though Círdan sometimes missed the sea, he was too happy to miss it for long. 

And then Olórin had stayed. Oh, he visited his friends in the Shire and Rivendell and even down in Gondor now and then, sometimes alone, sometimes with Círdan at his side. But he often stayed now with Círdan. He’d moved in with him, it was common knowledge now that they were a couple. Not married, yet, but maybe… 

Círdan smiled to himself. There were some Noldor on the other side who owed him a favour. Maybe he’d commission a wedding ring once they’d settled in. Olórin came up to him and took his hand. 

“Are we ready?” he asked and Círdan nodded. 

“We are.” He kissed him and leaned into Olórin, who stroked his bearded cheek, fingers playing with the small dwarven ornaments in his still growing beard. (Dís had laughed her ass off when he bought them from her.) 

“Let me give the order to weigh anchor,” he said, reluctantly disentangling himself from his love’s embrace. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” 

“I’ll be right at your side,” Olórin answered. “From now until the world’s end.”