A Return Is Not a Homecoming by grey_gazania

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Chapter 2

Círdan had built himself a cozy house farther up the coast, all smooth, polished wood with a peaked roof and sea lavender planted along the walls. It reminded Gil-galad of his house in Eglarest, but on a much smaller scale. That place had had to be large, housing as it did not only Círdan and some of his most called-upon advisors, but also Ianneth and Gil-galad – or Ereiniel, as she’d been in those days – as well as any honored guests who might have come to visit.

 

When he let her inside, she saw that the place was comfortably furnished and decorated to Círdan’s taste. Even though Gil-galad had never set foot inside before this moment, she found that she instantly felt more at home here than she had at her grandmother’s place in the city. Círdan’s personality had stamped itself into the walls in a way that made his house feel intimately familiar.

 

They’d bought a loaf of brown bread and a fine turbot on their way to Círdan’s home, and Gil-galad set to work fileting the fish while Círdan put away his tools and changed from his work clothes. When Círdan returned to the kitchen, he said, “I’ll take over from here. Why don’t you open one of those fine bottles of wine that you brought. The white, I think.”

 

Smiling, she complied, pouring two glasses, and then sliced some bread for each of them as Círdan’s pan-fried the fish with some of the herbs Gil-galad had brought.

 

Once the fish had cooked, they sat down together at the small table in the kitchen and began their meal. At first they ate in companionable silence, but after a while, Gil-galad said, “I’m honestly surprised to find you on the coast. I would have thought you would be exploring. I remember you telling me that whenever you finally came to Valinor, you would want to see as much of it as you could.”

 

Círdan didn’t answer right away, but poked at a forkful of fish in silence. After several long moments, he said, “I did explore. I saw the Pelori, and the woods of Oromë, and Taniquetil, and the Gardens of Lórien. My nephew showed me all the wonders of the Swanhaven. Valinor is everything I ever dreamed of.” He paused again, and then, quietly, added, “And yet.”

 

“And yet,” Gil-galad echoed. She took a sip of wine and said, “I think I know what you mean. It's beautiful here, but it’s in a way that’s almost… I don’t know. Too perfect, maybe? It’s hard to put into words. Everything is ageless and glorious, and yet it still feels like something is missing. It’s not home.” She hesitated for a moment and then asked, “Can I see your hands?”

 

Círdan obliged, laying his hands palm up on the table within Gil-galad's reach. She took them in her own and said, “Your hands are the same. You still have your calluses, and there’s that scar from the time Eärendil was first learning to use a lathe. But now look at mine.”

 

She held her own hands out, showing that they were smooth and unblemished. “My hands haven’t been this soft since I was a little girl. My calluses are gone, my scars are gone, my tattoos are gone… These hands don’t feel like mine.” With a laugh that wasn’t really amused, she said, “This body doesn’t feel like mine. I lived a life, and I had the marks to prove it. And now they’re gone. Like none of it ever happened.”

 

“I think the idea is for the re-embodied to start over,” Círdan said, squeezing her fingers briefly and then letting go.

 

“It’s hard to start over when it feels like what came before has been erased,” Gil-galad said. “I am who I am because of what I lived through. I mean, what are we, if not the culmination of all of our experiences? What are our bodies, if not maps of our lives?”

 

Círdan took another sip of his wine, looking at her with a pensive expression. “I’m not certain they understand us,” he said after a moment. “The Belain, that is. You’re not the only one of the returned I’ve spoken to who feels ill at ease here. I think they mean well,” he added, “but… You remember the War of Wrath, when the Herald told us the Belain would be sinking Beleriand. It worked; it took care of Morgoth. But it was chaos, and we were dealing with the repercussions for centuries afterwards. And I never got the sense that the Herald understood why so many chose to remain in Middle-earth.”

 

Gil-galad had been nodding along as Círdan spoke, and now she said, “Middle-earth was home. Valinor doesn’t feel like home. Not yet, anyway.” Looking down at her hands – so alien to her still – she confessed, “I feel useless here. I’m not needed here; they have kings coming out their ears. What am I supposed to do with myself?”

 

At that, Círdan laughed and, dryly but not unkindly, said, “Why do you think I’ve gone back to being a shipwright? It’s been wonderful to see Olwë again and to explore Valinor, but I need something to do with my hands.”

 

“Understandable. You’re a master craftsman,” Gil-galad agreed. But she had never been one. She’d tried her hand at a dozen or more crafts as a young woman, but had never felt that spark about any of them that true craftsmen talked about. If she were to pick something to do with her hands, it would be to train with her spear again. She’d always felt most at home in her body while training. But somehow that seemed inappropriately warlike for a land that was supposed to be a place of peace.

 

“I think you just need time,” Círdan said gently. Then, after a moment’s silence, he said, “I missed you, you know. It was never the same, ruling Mithlond on my own.”

 

Gil-galad smiled, feeling her own expression soften. “We made a good team,” she said. “I always felt it was an honor to work so closely with you. No slight intended to my Noldorin relatives, but you were certainly the most competent ruler of the First Age. I learned a lot from you.”

 

“I was happy to teach you,” Círdan said. “You were a remarkable girl, and you grew into a remarkable woman.” Taking her hand in his once more, he squeezed her fingers and said, “You’ll find a place here. And you’re welcome to stay with me as long as you like.”

 

“I’d like that,” said Gil-galad.

Chapter End Notes

I thought this was going to be a one-shot, but Gil-galad has informed me that we're not finished.

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