To Whatever End by Grundy

The road goes ever on

The journey is much longer this time, stretching out so long that Finwë begins to wonder if they will ever reach the Sea. Marching is much slower than riding, and even when eventually they find horses, the ones on this side of the Sea are not the same sort of horse the Rider had.

By the time they smell salt water, Finwë has become very familiar with what goes into keeping the march progressing smoothly; the feeding, camp-making, head-counting, packing…

He is also more intimately familiar with loss.

Elwë will not see the Trees again, nor build that house on the starlight side of the hill they had spoken of. He disappeared under the trees; Elmo may still search for him, but Olwë had rallied those of their people who would go on rather than continue a search he deemed as fruitless as the one for his sister.

“I know I am not who you hoped would be standing at your side by the great water,” Olwë says, a note of apology in his voice.

“You are not having second thoughts?” Finwë says, fear making him gruff.

“No, but it comes to me that I should wait a bit longer, in case more of my people catch up,” Olwë replies softly. “I cannot leave behind any who would go.”

“I will not be able to convince Ingwë to delay any longer,” Finwë warns him. “He would have Ullubōz move us tonight if he could.”

“No, I know he is impatient to see the marvellous light again,” Olwë chuckled. “Though I think we must find a more approachable name for the great one of the waters. He has been very kind, and my people like him too well to name him so.”

“What do you propose?” Finwë asked cautiously.

Olwë has proven himself a good leader in his brothers’ absence, but sometimes his ideas are as interesting (in the dangerous sense) as any of Elwë’s.

“That island will hold your people and Ingwë’s quite comfortable, but add my people to it and it may be a bit tight. I mean to ask Ulu if he would perhaps take you over first and bring the island back for us, to give more of our people a chance to catch up if they are minded to do so.”

Finwë does not think it a good plan. In fact, he fears it means he will lose Olwë just as they had Elwë and Alwë, and likely Elmo as well by now. But he cannot argue when he can hear the faint flutter of hope in Olwë’s words that perhaps, just perhaps, this time things will end well and Olwë’s brothers will be join him on the strand and be waiting when the island returns.

“I will not speak against it,” Finwë says slowly, “if you promise – and I mean promise – me that you and Lirë will still be here when it is time for you to make the crossing.

“Ulu has said he can protect us here, so close to the Sea,” Olwë replies with a smile. “So it is a promise easily given.”

But he does not promise the impossible, no matter how much he may hope for it.

“Very well,” Finwë says. “I will see you again by and by.”

“Safe crossing,” Olwë smiles.

“And you!” Finwë replies.