Rising as if Weightless by StarSpray

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Chapter Two

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For weeks Elwing had been distracted, gazing out eastward toward the horizon. Eluréd also watched the horizon, trying to see what she was looking for. Was it his imagination, or was the evening star growing brighter?

Four years had passed since Eluréd and Elurín had emerged from Mandos. The world was still very big and very bright and there was still so much to see and touch and taste and discover—it was overwhelming, sometimes, until Elwing reminded them that they had all of the time in the world, and they didn’t have to see it all at once.

That was just as well, Eluréd thought as he took another bite of his porridge. He didn’t think Elwing would approve of Elurín’s desire to see the Helcaraxë—even from a distance. And there were plenty of other places to go and things to see.

Abruptly Elwing rose from the breakfast table, hurrying to the window. She flung it open and leaned out over the sill. “What is it?” Elurín asked. “What are you looking at?”

Meril, seated by the hearth with her mending, chuckled. “Vingilot, I would guess,” she said. “Yes, definitely Vingilot.”

“Elwing!” Elurín cried, rushing to the window where Elwing had just vanished. Eluréd was at his heels, and as they peered out they saw her soar up and away in her shape of a great white bird. The sun caught on her wings and made them shine, diamond bright against the water. As she wheeled up toward the sky, Eluréd gasped, seeing a ship descending from the sky. He knew it would, of course, but hearing the tales and seeing it were very different. “Look, is that him?” Elurín gripped Eluréd’s arm, pointing. “Is that Eärendil?” There was a figure at the prow of the ship, gripping a rope and leaning out so one of his feet dangled in the air. The thought of doing something like that made Eluréd’s stomach churn, but Eärendil seemed entirely at east. He flung out his free arm and caught Elwing as she transformed back into herself upon reaching the ship, and the spun down onto the deck and out of sight.

From behind them Meril said, “Well go on down to the docks! They’ll be there soon.”

“Race you!” Eluréd yelled, and took off running down the stairs. It was along way down, for they had been breakfasting in Elwing’s tower room. And then they had to make their way down the path to the cove, which was steep enough in places that they couldn’t run. Eluréd had the head start, though, and his feet hit the dock a full two seconds before Elurín’s. “Ha! I won!”

“Good morning, young princes,” said Falathar from the deck of Nimroval. “Here to greet Lord Eärendil?”

“Yes!” Elurín said, as Eluréd was still catching his breath.

“You’re just in time. There’s Vingilot.” Falathar set aside the sail he was mending and pointed out of the cove; on the open water Vingilot was clearly visible, descending and touching down smoothly onto the surface, hardly sending up any waves as she glided from flight to sailing. The whole ship seemed to shimmer in the light of the sun and the Silmaril, which was fastened to the mast above the helm. Figures moved about the deck and among the rigging, sometimes visible and sometimes discernible only through some other sense that Eluréd had but could not name. Falathar glanced at him and smiled. “Eärendil can’t sail Vingilot alone, so it is crewed by Maiar of Elbereth. They come and go as they please, and it seems to delight them to go sailing through the heavens with one of the Children.”

Eluréd wondered if it would be permitted for them to go on such a journey one day. Perhaps he would ask Elwing. He and Elurín trailed after Falathar to the end of the dock; Falathar caught the ropes that Eärendil threw to him alongside his greetings, and let Eluréd and Elurín help to tie them. He’d been teaching them sailor’s knots of late, and Eluréd thought that he was becoming rather good at them.

Neither Elwing nor Eärendil bothered with a gangplank. Eärendil leaped down first, landing lightly on the dock, and caught Elwing when she jumped after him; he spun her around before setting her down and turning to embrace Falathar. Elwing had said once that Eärendil always came home covered in stardust, and now Eluréd could see that it was true. He brushed it off of himself, and it fell to the boards of the dock, sticking there like diamond dust. “Eärendil,” Elwing said, “these are my brothers Eluréd and Elurín.”

Eärendil turned to them with a smile. He was shorter than Eluréd had expected, and looked somehow younger—young and fierce and full of joy, and shining in the light of the Silmaril like a lord of the Maiar. Eluréd almost felt shy, though Elurín did not seem bothered, and stepped forward to take Eärendil’s hand as he greeted them. “I am very glad to meet you at last,” he said.

They walked back up the path to the house, Eärendil with an arm around Elwing’s shoulders, holding her close as though he did not want to let her go even for a moment. Elwing leaned into him, stardust catching in her dark hair. “You look like one of Lady Elbereth’s handmaidens,” Elurín told her. That made Eärendil grin and kiss her until Eluréd made gagging noises and they had to stop because they were laughing.

The household greeted Eärendil joyfully. The day was spent out in the garden, where Eärendil lay on the grass proclaiming how he had missed solid earth in between telling them about the wonders he had seen on his voyages. As he listened, Eluréd felt his desire to see them himself growing, and when he looked at Elurín he saw the same desires reflected back in his eyes. “Could we go with you one day?” Elurín asked finally.

“When you’re older,” Elwing said immediately. Then she and Eärendil exchanged a glance that Eluréd couldn’t read.

Eärendil said, “Certainly. I would enjoy the company, and there are many wondrous things to see out there.” He rolled onto his stomach and plucked a clover blossom from the grass. “But we’ll talk more when your sister deems you old enough.”

“In the meantime, there is another voyage that we can all take together,” Elwing said. “I have spoken a great deal with Finrod about it, and he promised to have all in readiness when Eärendil returned.”

“Oh?” Eärendil looked up at her. “Where are we going? I thought you hated long voyages.”

“It isn’t that long. And I won’t tell you yet. It is a surprise.”

“But is Finrod coming with us?”

“Yes. We’ll take Nimroval to Eressëa tomorrow.”

“Oh, good,” said Eärendil as he rolled onto his back again, stretching his arms out as though to run his fingers through as much grass as possible. A butterfly landed briefly on his nose before flitting off to the roses. “I hope you will allow us time to visit my parents.” Elwing only kicked him gently in response; he caught her bare foot and kissed her ankle. Elurín rolled his eyes at Eluréd. Were they going to be so grossly affectionate all the time?

The next morning dawned bright and clear, and they all boarded Nimroval to set sail down the coast. Vingilot remained in the cove, shining like the star it was with the Silmaril still hung on the mast. “Shouldn’t you put that somewhere safe?” Elurín asked Eärendil, pointing to the jewel.

“It is somewhere safe,” Eärendil said. “There is no one here who would steal it.”

Eluréd looked back at the Silmaril, shining brightly in the silver setting that someone had made for it. He had never seen it except set into the Nauglamír, and it was strange not to see a thousand other smaller gems surrounding it, all gleaming with their own inner fires in response to the Silmaril’s. But he’d seen the Nauglamír several times since, for Finrod wore it often, and had gotten used to that. He turned away and ran to the prow to look for dolphins. Falathar stood at the helm, and Eärendil swung up into the rigging as they passed out of the cove, letting down the sails as they turned south. It was a familiar voyage, more familiar than the path on land that led from Elwing’s tower down to Alqualondë and the Calacirya. Eluréd and Elurín had not been back through the pass since they’d come to live with Elwing; she did not want to overwhelm them, she said, with too much travel too young. But they were ten years old now, and if Elwing had not already told them that her surprise involved a voyage Eluréd would have hoped that they were at last going to see Tirion at the very least.

By early afternoon they had come to Eldamar, and to the quays of Avallónë. Everyone who happened to be at the harbor called out greetings to Eärendil, welcoming him back, some asking how his voyage had gone. Eärendil answered all of them, often by name, and always with a smile. Eluréd and Elurín kept close to Elwing as they disembarked; perhaps, Eluréd thought, she was right to worry about overwhelming them.

It was better when they left the harbor, and passed down a tree-lined street to Idril and Tuor’s house—where they found Finrod also awaiting them. Idril embraced Eärendil, and Finrod scooped both Eluréd and Elurín up into his arms. “Soon you’ll be too tall for me to hold you like this!” he exclaimed. “Good gracious. Are you ready for our trip?”

“Yes,” said Elurín. “Where are we going?”

“Oh no, you won’t get me to ruin the surprise.” Finrod was resplendent that afternoon, wearing the Nauglamír over a set of very bright green robes, embroidered with golden flowers and sunbeams. His hair was a loose cloud of gold falling about his shoulders. In a low voice he added, “Let us go out to the garden and let your brother greet his parents properly, hm?”

Eluréd loved Finrod, with his easy laughter and unending store of tales, and his quiet understanding when, on occasion, Eluréd or Elurín woke from troubled dreams of dark snowy woods and the smell of smoke and blood lingering in their noses. He was also one of only a handful in Valinor who knew Taliska, the tongue of their father and grandfather. He was also the one to tell them about their nephews, who Elwing had had to leave behind when they were only six years old—the same age that Eluréd and Elurín had been when they’d been left in the winter woods of Doriath. They had not died, Finrod had been quick to assure them, they had in fact grown up into great heroes and, in the case of Elros, a great king. He had chosen the fate of Men, and ruled over the Edain on the island that the Valar had made for them. Neither Elwing nor Eärendil were allowed to go back to Middle-earth, but it was unclear whether they could go to Elenna, though Finrod said it was unlikely.

“What your sister and Eärendil did saved the whole of Arda from Morgoth’s power. But for such deeds there is always a price to pay. Your grandfather lost his hand and your grandmother lost the life of the Eldar, for their deeds. Elwing and Eärendil lost the chance to set foot again upon mortal lands.”

They had not been in the garden more then a few minutes before Voronwë wandered out and asked if they would like to go to the market with him. Of course they did, for both Finrod and Voronwë could always be counted on to buy sweets, even when Elwing scolded them for it. The market of Avallónë was bustling that afternoon, shops with their doors and windows flung open, stalls with vendors hawking their wares. The air was thick with the scents of flowers and perfumes mingling with the smells of cooking meat and baking bread. Many musicians were playing many songs all at once, and over the music was the roar of voices talking and laughing and shouting. The first time Eluréd had gone to the market he had wanted to leave immediately—there had been too many people all in one place, more even than in Great-uncle Olwë’s court that first time they had visited Alqualondë. But few of those people paid him any mind, and now it was one of his favorite places to visit, for there was always something new to see.

Today there was a dance performance in the middle of the square, right by the fountain. The crowd gathered was so thick that Voronwë picked up Eluréd, and Finrod Elurín, setting them on their shoulders so they could see. Many other children were lifted up the same way, and when he was not watching the dances spin and leap and throw one another high into the air, Eluréd waved to friends and playmates. They also visited their favorite baker, who presented her newest creation to Eluréd and Elurín. She was from Doriath, and called them her little princes, and always had small versions of her tastiest treats for them. These new cakes were sweet and rich chocolate filled with orange flavored jelly, juicy and tart. Eluréd did not like oranges as much as he liked pineapple, but they were Elurín’s favorite, and they went much better with the chocolate. The baker also had lemon tarts that Voronwë bought for Eärendil.

“Voronwë,” Elurín said as they left the bakery, “do you know where we are sailing to?”

“I’m afraid I have been sworn to secrecy,” Voronwë said gravely. And then he distracted them with the news that Elemmírë of the Vanyar was visiting the island, and they were going go see her perform at Finrod’s home that very evening. She was going to sing songs of Valinor’s Noontide, and of the War of Wrath. “And perhaps if we ask nicely,” Voronwë said as they passed out of the crowded market onto the quieter streets, “she will sing something of Beleriand. The Lay of Leithian, perhaps.”

“Or a part of it, anyway,” Finrod said. “I find it’s always a little awkward when someone requests that when I’m in the room. And my father has finally managed to extricate himself from the shocking complexities of Tirion’s politics to come to visit for a time. I expect him at any moment.”

Elurín wrinkled his nose. He had a bit of orange jelly stuck to his cheek. “Will we have to bow and present ourselves to him like we did when we met Great-uncle Olwë?” he asked.

“Absolutely not,” Finrod said. “We shall be at my home and I have forbidden all bowing.”

“His subjects find this rule very disconcerting,” Voronwë said. “For they still hold him to be their king, you see, even though Nargothrond is no more.”

“Even though I gave up the crown long before!” Finrod exclaimed. “I gave it to Orodreth!”

“I thought you cast it on the ground,” said Eluréd.

“Well, yes, but someone picked it up afterward, and I gave it to Orodreth before I left. Very informal as far as coronations go, but I was very annoyed at the time, and also Beren was impatient to be gone. Either way, I was not a king when I departed from Nargothrond, and I continue to not be a king here. I suppose I am a prince still, and if my father decides to hang up his crown I shall have to take it up, but I’ve more than half a mind to hand it straight over to Idril if that happens.”

They were returning up the walk to Idril and Tuor’s home then; the windows were open, and Idril leaned out of one to say, “You certainly will not! Bad enough everyone on this island continuously comes to me with their problems after you send them away.”

Voronwë leaned down to half-whisper to Eluréd, “This is quite a different argument to the ones happening in Tirion before the Noldor departed!”

The talk of kings and crowns made Eluréd wonder what the Sindar in Valinor thought of his sister. She only rarely went out to do queenly sorts of things, mostly settling disputes that could not be taken care of by anyone else. Most of the Sindar lived on Tol Eressëa, and seemed to be among those who bothered Finrod or Idril. But surely someday there would be more Sindar in Valinor—come across the Sea or come from Mandos—and then what would they do?

“What are you thinking about?” Elurín asked him after they delivered the pastries to the other adults and retreated back out to the garden.

“Kingdoms,” Eluréd said.

“Why?” Elurín wrinkled his nose. “We don’t have to worry about any of that. There’s not enough Sindar here for it to matter, anyway.”

“It’ll matter someday,” Eluréd said.

“But that’s the best part of Elwing being the oldest now. She’ll have to worry about all of that, but we won’t.”

That didn’t seem right. They would when they were older. “Do you think our father will come back from Mandos?” Eluréd asked.

Elurín frowned at him. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“Well, he got to choose, like we did.”

“And well all chose the Elven life,” said Elurín. “Why wouldn’t he want to join us?”

“Elros didn’t,” Eluréd said. “He’s going to die, just like Grandmother Lúthien and Grandfather Beren—and Grandmother Lúthien chose that, too.”

Elurín frowned at him. “Why are you thinking about all that?” he asked. “Stop being sad, and let’s climb that tree out by the garden wall.”

“But I’m not sad,” Eluréd said, even as Elurín ran off, no longer listening. “I just want to know.”

Elwing called them in as the sun began to sink toward the Calacirya. Finrod’s party that evening was not formal by his standards, but they still had to dress the part of princes. Elwing herself was already dressed in shimmering white and silver, with pearls in her hair. Eärendil’s robes were deep blue, shimmering with tiny diamonds scattered across his shoulders like stardust. Eluréd dressed in his favorite robes, forest green with tiny elanor blooms along the buttons. Elurín had decided he preferred red, and his robes were the colors of autumn leaves.

The splendor of his guests was of course nothing compared to Finrod, who not only wore the Nauglamír but practically dripped with finery. “Cousin, you look like a walking dragon’s hoard,” Idril said as he greeted them at the door. To this Finrod only laughed and gestured them inside. Not far into the wide room where the party was gathered, they met King Finarfin, who was dressed in pale green and silver and wore significantly less jewelry than his son. Queen Ëarwen was with him, and they greeted Eluréd and Elurín kindly, and embraced both Elwing and Eärendil.

Elemmírë, the guest of honor, had ink under her fingernails, and splatters of it on her sleeves. Her clothes were fine but not new, and ever so slightly rumpled, as though her mind was so full of other things that there was no room left for such silly concerns as dressing. When they were introduced she peered at Eluréd and Elurín curiously from her seat beside a large harp inlaid with gold and silver leaves. “Well met, young princes,” she said. Her speaking voice was disappointingly ordinary, only a little deeper than was usual. “I am glad to meet you at last.” Her smile was kind, and made her eyes crinkle up. “Do you have any requests for me this evening?”

Eluréd looked at Elurín, who bit his lip, hesitating. Then he blurted out, “Do you know any songs about the Edain?” Elemmírë surely had never seen Middle-earth herself, but if she was a loremaster as well as a singer, as Eärendil had said she was, surely she had learned some songs…?

“I do,” Elemmírë said. “I rarely have the chance to sing them. You are of the House of Bëor, are you not? Findaráto has taught me some of their old songs. I will gladly sing some for you tonight. Though I must beg your pardon if I do not sing them quite right, for I learned them from Findaráto’s memories, and not from those who first wrote them.”

“That’s all right,” said Elurín.

“Thank you, Lady Elemmírë,” said Eluréd.

They found Elwing and Eärendil seated already with Idril and Tuor, near the hearth where a small fire crackled cheerfully—more for the sound and the light than the heat, since it was a warm evening. The four were all leaning comfortably into one another talking and laughing quietly together, the very picture of a happy family. Eluréd did not stare, because he did not want Elurín to scold him again for being unhappy. But the sight of Idril with her arm around Elwing’s shoulders made him very suddenly and sharply miss his own mother.

He forgot about everything else, though, when Elemmírë began to sing. Her voice was like silk, soft and smooth and so light that at first he almost did not notice that she had begun. She sang many songs, including half a dozen Bëorian songs that, according to Finrod’s whispered commentary, dated back to their wandering days. She also sang many other Elven songs, about the Two Trees and about their destruction, and also about the making of the Sun and Moon. Those were all sung in Quenya in a mode older than the dialect now spoken, but Elemmírë’s power was such that one didn’t need to know the language to understand her, for her songs conjured waking dreams so strong that Eluréd could almost feel the heat of Laurelin on his face, and the mist of Telperion’s dewdrops as they splashed into the great starlit vats arrayed on the hillside.

Eventually he really did fall asleep, and only half-woke to find himself being carried back through the dark, quiet streets. It was Tuor carrying him, and when he said something, his low voice rumbled in his chest, somehow comforting, and Eluréd fell back asleep, only to wake when the morning sun fell on his face in his bed by the window. Elurín was curled up beside him, still sleeping deeply. Eluréd sat up and leaned on the windowsill, watching the boats of the Teleri flit about the bright blue waters of Eldamar. The bay was always so different from the wider sea, so much calmer, the water clearer. He didn’t know if that was the power of the Teleri or the power of the Valar.

He and Elurín spent most of the day on a long stretch of white beach where most of the island’s children congregated on sunny days, playing games and building sandcastles and paddling in the shallow waters. They met many of their friends there, and when Elwing came to call them home they were sunburned and sand-covered, and eager for supper. “Are we leaving tomorrow?” Elurín asked her as they walked back down the lane.

“Yes, with the morning tide.” Elwing seemed almost as excited as they were to leave, though hers was tempered by unaccountable nervousness. “So you need to be in bed early.”

“Yes, Elwing,” Eluréd and Elurín chorused dutifully.

They did go to bed early, but they didn’t sleep, instead tossing and turning in between whispers about Elemmírë’s singing, and continued guessing about there destination. Elurín thought they were going somewhere far to the south along the coast, but Eluréd wasn’t sure what Elwing would want to take them there for. All he knew about the southern reaches of Valinor was that once upon a time the creature Ungoliant had dwelt there, before Morgoth had found her. Elurín reasoned that there must be something, and if they knew what it was it wouldn’t be a surprise.

Eluréd had expected them to take the Alqarámë or Nimroval on this voyage, but instead when Eärendil and Elwing took them to the harbor they found Finrod and Falathar waiting for them aboard none other than Eärrámë. Elurín whooped and raced up the gangplank. Eärendil turned to Elwing with raised eyebrows. “This is a seagoing ship, love,” he said.

“So it is,” Elwing agreed.

“Are we going where I think we are?”

“Maybe. I suppose you’ll have to wait and see.” Elwing kissed him and followed Elurín up the gangplank.

“But it isn’t allowed!” Eärendil protested as he sprang after her. Eluréd went to help loosen the first ropes on the dock before the workers ushered him away. He ran up the gangplank, and Falathar pulled it up after him. Elurín was already scrambling up the rigging to the crow’s nest. Eärendil had followed Elwing below decks, and Eluréd could hear their muffled voices.

“Are they arguing?” he asked Finrod.

“No,” Finrod said.

“Are we doing something we shouldn’t?”

“No. Here, help me hoist the sails.”

The sails unfurled in a great fluttering of undyed canvas, so unlike the brightly colored sails of all the other ships Eluréd had seen. Except Vingilot, he thought as he watched the wind fill them. Vingilot, too, had undyed canvas sails, and both ships had less ornamentation. Eluréd walked down the length of the deck, running his hands down the railing, as Eärrámë drifted out of the harbor, thinking of the trees these planks and rails once had been, and of the soil in which they had grown, no long vanished beneath the waves of Belegaer. That was the same soil that grew the trees under which he had been born, that his own hands had dug into…

Except not these hands. Eluréd looked down at his small hands where they rested on the pale, smooth wood. These hands were not the same hands that had held onto his mother ’s skirts or tugged at his father’s hair, that had gripped Lúthien’s as she swung him up and around, dancing beneath the stars to the music of Lanthir Lamath. These hands had been spun out of magic and memory. The hands that he had been born with were long ago turned to bone and then to dust, and they too now lay at the bottom of the Sea, buried in the wreck of Neldoreth.

He had stopped near the prow of the ship, and Eärendil joined him as they passed out of the bay onto the Sea. “You look terribly serious,” Eärendil remarked. “What are you thinking about, Eluréd?”

Eluréd looked up at him. “Did you really know it was me, or did Elwing tell you?”

Eärendil’s smile did not quite reach his eyes. “I do have some experience with twins, you know,” he said. “Oh, but don’t ruin my confidence and tell me I’ve got it wrong and you are really Elurín!”

Eluréd giggled. “No, I am Eluréd. Elurín is in the crow’s nest.”

“Ah, good. But what are you frowning at? I thought you were excited for this voyage.”

“I was thinking about dying,” Eluréd said. Eärendil blinked. “I mean—I had a body, before. But that body is gone now and this one—I was born in Middle-earth but this body wasn’t, and I only just realized, because I was thinking about the ship and the trees that the wood came from, and…” Eluréd found his eyes stinging with tears that he didn’t understand.

“I see.” Eärendil ran his own hand over the railing, and leaned forward on it. The ship caught a wave and water sprayed up over them, cool and refreshing. “You know, your body would not be the same even if you had not died in Beleriand. We are always changing—our hair grows, and our fingernails. Your teeth are falling out and being replaced. Your body would still not be the same body that walked beneath the trees of Doriath or Ossiriand.”

“I suppose,” Eluréd said. And it didn’t feel different—even when he’d first stepped out of Mandos, he’d felt a little clumsy and slow, but that had been more like waking up after a very long sleep. “It just doesn’t…feel fair.” And of course it wasn’t fair—only in the opposite direction. If things had been fair, he and Elurín would have long ago passed out of Mandos to wherever it was that Men went. So really it was stupid to feel upset, and he said so. The sun was shining and the world was at peace, and there was no reason at all to be upset still about things that happened so long ago and that he should have healed from in Mandos.

Eärendil rested a hand on Eluréd’s head for a moment, the weight of it warm and comforting. Not fatherly, but older-brotherly. “Meaning no disrespect to Lord Námo,” he said, “I don’t think healing works like that. I think you have to understand what happened in order to heal from it, and you were too young then, and in Mandos, for that.”

“Do you think I’m too young now?” Eluréd asked.

Eärendil glanced down at him. “I don’t know,” he said. “I wish you were too young to have known any of it.”

“Eluréd!” Elurín called down from the top of the mast. “Eluréd, look!” As Eluréd and Eärendil both turned, Elurín leaped from the crow’s nest. Eärendil cursed and leaped forward, but there was nothing to catch as a silver-winged bird soared out across the water with a cry like laughter. The bird—Elurín—turned and circled back around the ship several times before alighting on the deck, where he turned back into himself in the blink of an eye, just as Elwing did. “Did you see?” he shouted, spinning in a circle before throwing himself at Eluréd. “D’you want to try? Come climb up with me!”

Eluréd looked up at the rigging, and shook his head. He was not nearly as daring as his brother. “No, I don’t think so.”

Elurín tried only one more time to convince him—he knew better than to push, and when Eluréd insisted on remaining on the deck Elurín ran off again, jumping off the prow of the ship this time to take flight again. “Elwing!” Eärendil called, “You’d better be ready to fetch your brother if he falls into the Sea!”

“He won’t fall,” Elwing said as she came to join them by the railing. She rested her hands on Eluréd’s shoulders. “It takes a great deal more than an afternoon of flight to tire that much.”

By the time evening came and Elurín could be convinced to return to the ship for supper, they had passed out of sight of Valinor, save the peaks of the Pelóri in the far distance. All around them was the Sea and it seemed to stretch on and on forever. The winds were brisk, and as the sun sank westward, painting the clouds bright orange and gold, a whale surfaced near Eärrámë, shooting a great spout of water high into the air before it sank back beneath the waves.

“In Sirion it was said to be good luck to see a whale while out fishing,” Falathar told Eluréd and Elurín as they prepared for their supper. “They are beloved of Lady Uinen, as the dolphins are the favorites of Lord Ossë.” He paused in thought and said, “We did not see whales on our voyages into the West.”

“Not until Elwing joined us,” said Eärendil.

They sailed on, until one evening Elurín was back in the crow’s nest, and called down excitedly, “There is land ahead! I see land!”

Elwing had been sitting with Eluréd on the deck playing a game with cards. Now she got to her feet and gazed to the east. “It’s Elenna, isn’t it?” Eluréd said. “We are going to Númenor.”

“Not quite to Númenor,” she said, “but to its waters. Finrod sent word ahead, and they should be watching for us.”

Eärendil swung down from the rigging. Both he and Elwing seemed excited and apprehensive all at once. Eluréd wondered what it was they were doing there, if they couldn’t visit the island itself—and who was watching? Elros?

“Elwing, may I fly out to the island?” Elurín called down from the crow’s nest. “Please?”

“No, Elurín,” Elwing said, voice suddenly and uncharacteristically sharp. “Stay on the ship.”

Elurín didn’t argue, and after a little while he came down to the deck to watch with Eluréd as the island grew larger and clearer in the distance. “Look!” Eluréd exclaimed after a time. “There is another ship, coming towards us!”

Eärendil and Falathar scrambled around the ship to adjust the sails, slowing Eärrámë and preparing to meet the other ship. Elwing alternately sat near the prow or paced across the deck. Eluréd had never seen her so nervous, not even when they had been introduced to Olwë’s court for the first time. It had to be Elros on that other ship coming to meet them, Eluréd thought. How strange to meet his nephew, who was not only grown up but grown into a great king.

At last the ship came close, and Eluréd could see a figure at the helm leave it to someone else before running to the prow, catching a rope to hold himself steady as he leaned out over the water. His stance was just like Eärendil’s when he had descended on Vingilot from the sky, one foot dangling out over the waves, one hand raised to shield his eyes against the sun’s glare. He was tall and his skin sun-browned, and his dark hair blew like a shadowy banner in the wind.

Beside Eluréd Elwing ceased her pacing with a small, almost pained sound. Eluréd looked up to see her standing stock still, her hands covering her mouth, tears in her eyes. “Elwing?” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s—he’s so tall,” Elwing choked out.

“But why’s that making you cry?” Eluréd asked.

Elros did not wait for their ships to come close enough together for a gangplank to be laid across the gap between. Instead he left the prow and, as the ships came up beside one another, he took a running leap from his deck to theirs, ignoring the cries from his crew to stop and wait just a moment. He stumbled when he hit Eärrámë’s deck, but didn’t fall. As he straightened, turning on his heel to face them, Eluréd felt the air rush out of his lungs as though someone had punched him in the chest. Beside him Elurín sucked in a breath, and grabbed at his arm.

Of course, Elros wasn’t looking at them. “Naneth,” he said, half-gasping himself.

“Oh, Elros!” Elwing rushed forward, and Eärendil swung down from the ropes above them, and even though he was taller than both of them Elros disappeared in a tangle of hair and arms and tears. All three of them were talking at once, and Eluréd couldn’t make out any of it.

“What is the matter?” Finrod asked as he joined Eluréd and Elurín. He had been calling back and forth with the Númenórean sailors, exchanging greetings and jokes. “You two look as though you have seen a ghost.”

“We have,” Eluréd said, as he finally began to catch his breath again.

Elurín added, “He looks like our father.”

“Ah.” Finrod glanced at the reunion. “My mind goes always to Lúthien—but of course, I never got to meet Dior. I am sorry no one thought to warn you. But come meet the other mariners! They are eager to meet you.”

Finrod helped them across the gangplank to the Númenórean ship. It was strange and delightful to see so many Men at once; Eluréd realized that he’d only ever known one at a time—first Beren, and then Tuor—and now there were Men from all three of the Houses of Edain and more. They were more than happy to answer all of the questions Eluréd and Elurín had about Númenor—about the Meneltarma and about the cities they were building. One older man told a tale of bears coming together on an evening in the summer, how he as a boy watched them dance together, slow strange dances beneath the moon. His companions teased him and some said it was only a tale for children, but the man insisted that he had seen it with his own eyes.

Eventually everyone gathered on the deck of the Númenórean ship, which was larger than Eärrámë, for a feast brought by Elros and his mariners. It was then that Elros was formally introduced to Eluréd and Elurín. He sat himself between them; his eyes were a little red still, but there were no traces of tears on his face. “So you are my uncles,” he said. “I am very glad to meet you!”

Elurín wrinkled his nose. “You’re too old to be our nephew,” he said, and Elros laughed. He did not sound like Dior, at least. He sounded more like Eärendil, or Tuor. “And if you are a king, where is your crown?”

“I left it at home,” Elros said. “I dropped my very first crown into the Sea the week after I got it, and Elrond never let me forget about it. So I leave it at home when I go sailing. It isn’t as though the crew doesn’t know who I am. But enough of me—I want to know more about the two of you!” He peppered them with questions, some of which were more about Elwing than about them, and he reciprocated with tales from his own childhood in Sirion. For most of those tales he drew in Eärendil or Elwing or both of them, beginning them with, “Naneth, Adar, do you remember…?” They were all happy tales, full of sunshine and sandcastles and sailing trips in Vingilot around the Bay of Balar. And in them Elros was never alone, even when Elwing or Eärendil were not present, for Elrond had been there—in a way that he was no longer, and could never be again.

They spent several long, cheerful days there just within sight of Númenor. Elros, Eärendil, and Elwing spent almost all that time together, whether with the rest of the company or a little apart, talking for many hours. Eluréd supposed there was a great deal to talk about, since they hadn’t seen one another since Elros had been a young child. The same age that Eluréd and Elurín had been when Doriath was attacked. For their part, they spent their days learning about Númenor and the mishmash of cultures and languages and traditions that were slowly coming together to create something new.

On the morning of their visit’s last day, Eluréd found himself seated near the prow of Eärrámë, alone, as Elros emerged from the cabins of his own ship. He spotted Eluréd almost immediately, and made his way over to join him. “Good morning, Uncle,” he said, just to make Eluréd wrinkle his nose at the title.

“Good morning,” Eluréd said. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” Elros sat down on the deck, long legs sprawling out in front of him. His resemblance to Eluréd’s father was not so startling anymore, though it was still strange.

“Why did you choose the way you did?” Eluréd asked. The question had been in his mind from the start, but there had not been a good chance to ask it. He didn’t want to do so while Elwing was there, to remind her of just what Elros’ choice had been.

For his part, Elros did not seem surprised by it. “Choosing the fate of Men, you mean?” he said. Eluréd nodded. “I’m not really sure that I can explain…do you know why you chose to be counted among the elves?”

“We were in Mandos,” Eluréd said. “And I’m not sure now that I really understood what it meant. There was a doorway that we could choose to go through, and we could see many spirits of Men passing through it. Or there was another doorway that hardly anyone was passing through, except maybe one or two at a time, and it was through that door that we knew we would see our mother again. And that was really all we wanted, was to see Nana.” He swallowed a sigh. “Only she hasn’t come out yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Elros said. “But at least you have your sister, and Lord Felagund, and I’m sure a whole flock of other relatives.”

“Oh, yes,” Eluréd said. “We aren’t unhappy. But I don’t know which one I’d choose now.”

“I think yours is a special case,” Elros said. “Elrond and I were already grown when we were given the Choice, and we had just survived the War of Wrath. I chose as I did because it felt right. We are neither Men nor Elves, but to hear of that door through which the spirits of Men pass—it doesn’t frighten me. I want to know what lies beyond it—though not yet, of course. In my youth all I knew was death and destruction and fear, and there is a part of me that has been greatly wearied by it. Now the world is at peace at last, and I hope that it will last, but someday a shadow will rise again. That is the way of things in Arda Marred, and I do not think that I can face something like that again. Once is enough. But while I am here I can build something that will last, something beautiful and meant for peace, for generations upon generations to learn and grow and live and love without anything like the fear that I once knew.”

“What about Elrond?” Eluréd asked.

“He chose as he did because it felt right,” Elros said.

“Is he afraid of that door?”

“I don’t think so. There isn’t much that Elrond fears. And I think fear would be a poor reason to make the Choice one way or the other.”

Elurín emerged onto the deck, then, and with a running leap took flight, soaring up in a spiral around the mast. “Can you turn into a bird?” Eluréd asked Elros.

“I never tried,” he laughed. “And I had better not start trying now. I’d fall and break something, and that’s hardly a very kingly thing to do.”

They did not say farewell until late that night, when the moon was high and the stars were bright. Eluréd did not hear what Elwing and Eärendil said to Elros, for they stood clustered together apart from the rest. When Elros at last returned to his own ship, and the gangplank was removed, Elwing came to wrap her arms around Eluréd and Elurín; her face was wet with tears. “Are you all right, Elwing?” Elurín asked as Eluréd wrapped his own arms around her.

“Yes, I’m all right,” she said. “I know that he is well, and doing what he was always meant to do.”

As the ships drifted apart, Elros returning to his island kingdom, and they to their seaside tower. They would meet again, Eluréd thought. Not often, for this was the sort of thing that skirted too close to rule-breaking, but as Elros’ ship disappeared into the distance, a whale surfaced in the water between them, just briefly, grey and blue and massive, exhaling like a great sigh before sinking back beneath the waves.