Time and Tide by Keiliss

Time and Tide

Celeborn enjoyed the chance of a walk, he even found himself smiling at the impertinent gulls that swooped and dived at them, looking for food. Most of the beaches along the bay near the new settlement were narrow strips of pebble and shale but this one boasted a crescent of soft sand bordered by moisture-rich grey-green vegetation.  At summer’s end the sun warmed gently rather than beating down from a cloudless blue sky, while the sea tossed lacy wavelets up onto the shore and then drew them teasingly back.

Galadriel was playing with the sea. She had taken her shoes off and was walking in and out of the tide line, sidestepping incoming waves then following the retreating tide a few steps into the water, almost though not quite dancing. He watched her, glad of the sight of her enjoying herself for a change after so much tension and pressure over the last years.

“It’s a good place your nephew’s found,” he said, gesturing back the way they had come. “Defensible land bordered by mountain and sea, fertile earth, a river mouth with the makings of a good seaport one day.”

“It will be a great seaport,” she agreed, eyes sparkling, darting back from a tiny wave that frothed and rippled into the sand.  “Ereinion wants to settle on the other side of the channel, leave this one to Círdan. That would mean a place for trade and another, close but separate, for ship building.”

“The separation should make him happy.” Círdan had never quite accepted his fosterling was now a king, and it made for a regular butting of heads.  “Now the Ban on your people has been lifted, he finally has a reason to experiment with all those ship designs he goes on about.”

She shrugged, something she did every time the Ban was mentioned, and looked away. “They will need more ships, yes.”

The argument for or against sailing raged amongst the Noldor, except for her and her cousin Gildor, Lalwen’s son. Finwë’s grandchildren had taken a long walk up into the hills above the new settlement, and when they returned she was at peace and they both refused to engage in further debate over it. When it was time for her interview with Eönwë she would give him her answer, was all she would say. Celeborn alone knew neither she nor Gildor would be leaving in the foreseeable future.

“Shall we settle here?” he suggested, letting the matter of departing Noldor drop. “We could build a house up there, amongst the trees. It would give us a view right across the bay while still feeling part of the forest.”

“We could have a house there if you like,” she said, more thoughtful now. “We won’t stay forever, but while we are here and for times when we might care to return… I can speak to Ereinion about it.”

“We aren’t staying?” he asked, startled, made careless by the sun, the swooping gulls, the roar of the sea that almost swallowed their voices. “But you agreed, this is a good place.”

They had been at sea for weeks after Balar was half drowned and the coast of Beleriand disappeared under a blanket of angry water. When they reached land again and rounded the coast to find the great river emptying into the sea, she had said it was a good place: without being obvious, Ereinion had waited for her nod before giving the order to drop anchor. The river mouth had been shrouded in grey mist for two days after, and so someone – Lindir, he thought – had called it Mithlond, the grey haven.

“And there will be others, some good, some bad,” she replied, her voice flat and level, coming from that far plane where the Sight dwelt. “And this will be a safe home to many, a great, strong Kingdom, but – in time all Kingdoms fall. Where now is Doriath, where is Gondolin the White? They lie under the new sea. This too will decline and diminish in its time. When I sail the palaces will lie in disrepair and chickens will peck in the streets…”

Her voice trailed off into the hiss of the waves. He reached over and took her hand: he had learned that this grounded her after these episodes.  She took her eyes from the unseen sea and looked at him, fighting off confusion. “I…. I think it was a long time from now, my sailing,” she said hesitantly.

He nodded, held her hand tighter, making her come closer to him. “Your Sight was right, there’s a cycle to things. One day the towers of Ereinion’s city will gleam in the sunlight and there will be towns all along the coast, but nothing lasts forever. It was a long time away, Alatáriel. Don’t worry at it, let it be.”

“I don’t know what it means.”  After so many years he was tuned to her and heard the fractional shake in her voice, the tiny tell-tale hint of fear. She had seen places diminish before. Most recently they had watched the vastness of Beleriand disappear under the sea. “I don’t know what will happen, if there will be a war or some other disaster or…”

“It means that in time many elves will cross the sea and this land, this kingdom, will grow smaller. Whatever else there is, let it come when it’s due.”  Celeborn spoke firmly, taking a breath and willing the dark away for them both. “For now… the sea is playful and the sand sunwarm. Can we just enjoy this day, this time, and let the future take care of itself?”

“Celeborn the Wise, as ever.” And she smiled and the shadow drew back from her eyes. “For now I shall speak to my nephew about building a house up on that hill with the sea for me and the trees for you. And if we leave in search of adventure, it will still be there. For as long as we keep coming back.”

Chapter End Notes

thanks to Red Lasbelin's muse for quick beta.