Beside the sea in Sirion
There lived Elwing the elven-fair,
Born of the son of Lúthien,
Beloved of the Mariner.
She dwelt for long in peace and joy
With Silmaril in treasury,
But all the sons of Fëanor
Cast shadows of their treachery.
They came as thieves in dark of night
With helms and shields and arms of war,
And slew the People of the Seas
As they had done in Valinor.
Swift was that war, and high its cost,
For many Eldar there were slain
Or taken captive by the sons
Of Fëanor amid the fray.
But Elwing fled by hidden paths
To sea-cliffs carven high and steep:
The Silmaril about her throat,
She cast herself into the deeps.
The waters roared amid the winds,
And Ossë laughed and played upon
The frothy waves, while far below
All hope seemed lost, and Elwing gone.
But Ulmo came to where she drowned
And bore her up above the waves
On strong swan-wings: thence she embarked
Upon a journey long and brave.
Across the stormy heavens rent
By tempest-winds and fiery light
She soared above the heaving seas
On wings of silver-grey and white.
The Silmaril still shone on her
As swift she flew upon the gale,
And soon saw Vingilot below,
Her sails and banners shining pale.
Upon the deck of timbers white
She fell, and landed in a swoon;
Soon Eärendil met her there,
Himself as pale as ray of moon.
The Silmaril, upon her still,
Strewed dazzling light upon her wings,
Spread out on either side of her
As she lay still and quivering.
Then Eärendil took her up,
Holding her gently to his breast.
He laid her down, and him beside:
For long they lay in silent rest.
But in the shadows as they slept
She lost her wings of white and grey,
And soon again in elven-form
In Eärendil's arms she lay.
Then Eärendil woke and saw
Her arms about him, and her hair
Wind-strewn across her face and his,
And she again the elven-fair.
The Silmaril in mithril set
With other gems of lesser worth
Still glittered at her throat, as fair
As some clear star cast to the earth.
Their prow they turned toward the West,
And as the day broke at their hind
They sped along the sweeping seas,
The Blessed Realm and hope to find.
With Silmaril as lantern-light
Which blazed upon their silver sails,
They crossed the mighty seas in hope
That by that light they could prevail.
They passed beyond enchanted isles
Of shadows and of sleeping-spells
That Irmo set in ages past
So Valinor was shrouded well.
And on beyond the gloomy seas
They passed, as none had come before,
Until they saw the looming peaks
Of Pelóri in Valinor.
Then Eärendil walked ashore,
But Elwing leapt into the foam
And followed, for her love of him,
To roam wherever he would roam.
He bade her stay and wait for him,
And went alone to Tirion.
The pathless moon shone high above,
As silver as Telperion.
Among the folk of Alqualond
Elwing resided by the sea.
And she, though of the Exiles' kin,
Was welcomed by the Teleri.
She told them tales of wonders lost
From Doriath and Gondolin,
And of the sack of Sirion,
Where kin had spilled the blood of kin.
So Eärendil found her there
As he returned from errantry,
Where he had moved the Valar's hearts
To hear his woes and aid his plea
For pity on the Eastern lands,
And on the folk who suffered there,
The selfsame anguish to endure
Though later fate they could not share.
Then Manwë's summons came again,
And both were called to Eldamar;
They wandered far through Tirion
And came before the fair Valar.
There Manwë gave a choice to them
To live the elven span of years,
Or swiftly fade as mortals do:
But none could say, in joy or fear?
In memory of Lúthien
Did Elwing choose immortal life,
And Eärendil chose the same,
Although his heart was filled with strife.
So were they judged, and was their fate
Decreed, to live for ages long;
Then doom fell on the Mariner
As has been told in tale and song.
His ship was borne through Gates of Night
As he stood valiant at her prow,
To bear the Flame of Westernesse
That gleamed in mithril on his brow.
He sailed the starry skies alone,
Where Elwing's heart could not abide,
And so the Valar built for her
A tower high and white beside
The eastern shore. There long she dwelt,
And sea-birds came by day and night:
They taught her all their languages,
And she learned too the craft of flight.
And often at the fall of night
Or at the breaking of the day
She flew to meet Eärendil
On regained wings of white and grey.
'Tis said and sung she dwells there still
Beside the sea in Eldamar,
To journey nevermore again
Back to the lands where mortals are.
And though her fame is oft outsung
By her beloved Mariner's,
His light may not now grace the skies
If not for bravery of her.