Author's Note:
Disclaimer: Do not own LOTR.
Flames not appreciated. Constructive criticism welcome.
This is not romance and is not to be taken as such. Kindly respect this viewpoint.
Enjoy!
~S~
Chapter 1
The air was fresh and salty, and the skies were bright blue and clear. He could hear the sounds of the sea gulls, beckoning him and calling him to the Sea. Mixed in their songs were the sounds of the waves crashing against the shores and the sides of the many ships at the docks.
"The ship will carry you beyond the Sea." The elf standing beside him said, slightly bent with his hands clasped behind his back and dressed in simple white shirt and light brown trousers and lightly colored shoes. Pointed ears were visibly in the freely flowing silver hair and his neat beard was cropped close to his jawline. "You should have no trouble on your voyage. The Sea is calm and it seems that Ulmo may have alerted Valinor of your coming."
"I am no longer king." Thranduil said, his own hair flowing freely in the wind. His head felt considerably lighter, with no crown resting on it, and with it his heart felt just as light, with no duty binding him to Arda.
"Perhaps, but you have been king. And your people will still accept you as one, when they cross the shores."
"And when will you cross these shores?"
"When the last ship leaves," Círdan answered. "Until then, I will linger. Keep heart, Oropherion. You will be welcome there, and your heart will know peace. This voyage is not something you are doing alone. With your friend and his family are some others who take this voyage. The remnants of the Noldorin, who had wandered for too long on these shores. They will take the ship with you, for they are weary of this land."
"You still talk like the elves of old." Thranduil muttered under his breath. Círdan chuckled.
"I am old."
The sailors were loading the last of their luggage on to the ship. The tides were rising, and the sun was bright over them. Soon the captain of the ship called out and it was time to leave.
"Fare thee well, Thranduil of Eryn Lasgelen." Círdan said, straightening and unclasping his hands so that he could place his hands over Thranduil's shoulders. The older elf smiled, the skin wrinkling around his eyes in warmth. "May you find peace in Valinor, and may you find your family there in contentment."
"And may none of your ships ever stray." Thranduil answered, placing his own hands over where Círdan's were resting. The older elf gave him a comforting squeeze before letting go. "Give my regards to your father and your wife."
"I will."
Thranduil bowed his head in a last show of farewell before turning away. He searched for his friend, who would be accompanying him. he found him standing at the edge of the docks, hands on his hips as he regarded the ships before him.
"Fion," Thranduil called. The elf turned at the sound of his name and for once, Thranduil was struck at how much younger Fion looked without his strict warrior braids, his stern looking face and his uniform. His black hair was bound with a single leather band, and he was dressed in a simple crimson shirt with black trousers and shoes. Thranduil himself was dressed simply, in blue shirt and brown trousers. His staff he left behind, for he saw no need for it, and he left his crown with something like a relief. His people he loved greatly, and the forest he ruled over even more so, but this time, it was only himself that mattered. "It is time to go."
"I will tell my family." Fion said, nodding, before running off lightly inside where his wife and daughters were waiting.
It took them just a little while longer for all of them to be boarded. Thranduil was the last to board the ship and as he stood on the plank, he glanced back. His eyesight was sharp but not as sharp as his son, but even Legolas' eyesight could not pierce the leagues between Ithilien Forest and Grey Havens. He wondered what his son was doing, before finally setting his feet upon the ship's deck. As soon as he did, the plank was pulled away and the sailors went to work.
When the ship set sail, however, Fion suddenly tensed and turned his head around fast. Thranduil caught the yearning look his friend cast at the shores they were leaving.
"Do you have any regrets?" Thranduil spoke softly. His words were slightly drowned in the shouts of the sailors and the cries of the seagulls.
"We are leaving Legolas at a critical time." Fion said at last. "I could not help but feel guilty at it. But at the same time the Sea calls for me. I could not ignore it."
"You are not to blame. When the sea-longing claims us, we have very little choice but to follow it. And do not worry for my son. Legolas is strong, stronger than either my father or I ever were. He will be able to weave through it with little difficulty."
"Just the same." Fion said, still looking at the Grey Havens as the sailors slowly guided their ship away from the docks. "You cannot blame a mentor to have the tendency of looking after his former apprentice. Standing by him while he is facing trouble has become something of a habit."
At the docks, Círdan raised a hand in farewell. Both he and Fion did the same. It was Círdan who first lowered his hand and turned to leave, and only then did they look away.
It took them a while to get used to the rocking motion of the ship. All too often did they stumble and slip, with a nearby sailor catching on to them to save them the embarrassment of falling face down on the wooden deck. They did, however, had to suffer through the chuckles of amusement of any sailor who caught them. Soon, though, they become used to the motion, and moved about easily.
He felt strangely nostalgic throughout the voyage. With nothing to look at except for the vastness of the Sea and the blue-green waters below and the bright blue sky above him, memories seem to come back to him. He remembered little things, like the warmth of his mother's side as he fell asleep curled in a blanket while she sang lullabies, the thrill of a chase through the trees of Doriath with Celeborn's younger brother while both Celeborn and Oropher were immersed in some conversation on lore. He remembered the thawing of snow when spring would arrive in Doriath, the lights in the court of Thingol in the midsummer's festival.
Some memories were bitter and dark, like the time of the Feanorians coming to their city in the dead of the night, the screams of his mother as their house burned to the ground with her trapped within, the feel of his father's body after he breathed his last but he could not bring himself to dwell too long over them. The sun was too bright and the winds were too carefree and wild to let him linger on such thoughts. All the while, Fion too joined him on the deck, both standing side by side with their hands resting upon the wood while they stared out. Fion too dwelled on his own thoughts, and they seldom spoke.
At last, one day, while they were sitting side by side with their backs against the side of the ship, Thranduil finally spoke.
"Do you remember when we first met?"
Fion had his head pressed against the wood behind him, face upturned to catch the sunshine. His eyes were closed but he heard Thranduil, for his lips twitched upwards.
"Aye, I remember. I brought you food when you refused to eat."
The conversation simply took flow from there. They remembered the little things. Silvan dialect was different from Sindarin, and though the Silvan elves had contact with the Sindarin, few like Fion and some others could speak Sindarin fluently. Time had taken its toll, and slowly Silvan simply faded away, spoken only by the Silvan elves and that too was rare. They remembered the wariness they had around each other, before it gave to companionship and then to friendship. Thranduil remembered Fion's wedding and Fion remembered Thranduil's. They remembered taking part in each other's joys. For when Fion had his daughters, Thranduil was nearing his wedding. Then when Fion mentioned his son, he fell silent.
"It is said that we will meet our kin on those shores. And the dead are reborn, if the Noldorin are to be believed." There was longing in Fion's voice, mixed with a hope that sounded so fragile. "Would I meet my son there?"
Thranduil placed his arm around his friend's shoulders, pulling him close.
"I know not, Fion." Thranduil said, his voice quiet. "But the Valar are not unkind. If Valinor is promised to heal past hurts, then I will believe it." He thought of his father, and his mother, and his heart too was filled with longing.
They were not the only ones on the ship to journey to Valinor. There were two ellyth and three ellyn journeying with them. They kept to themselves, except for exchanging courteous words with them when they sat to break their fasts in morning, afternoon and night. But they had a different sort of unease and anticipation than either Fion or Thranduil had. They paced uneasily, or looked out impatiently.
"They are more restless than we are." Fion said, once glancing at them.
"It must be different for them. They are going home, after all." Thranduil said. But he glanced at them more than once. He wondered if Artanis was this impatient to return to Valinor. He did not have much love for the Noldorin, in spite of the fact that she was wed to Celeborn and was kin by marriage. But he could definitely say that he bore respect for her, a grudging one.
Fion was silent beside him before suddenly sighing.
"Not all ships find the undying lands."
"You speak of Amroth's ship." Thranduil said. Fion nodded in reply. Thranduil twisted at the waist, rising slightly as he placed a hand on the floor beneath him. He raised himself just enough to look over the side of the ship. He had heard tales of the Sea, being treacherous and cold sometimes and calm and quiet at other times. But he saw no harshness or trickery in the Sea. "I think Círdan was right. Ulmo does want us to pass to Valinor. I doubt we have anything to fear."
There were times when night fell that they sat and listened quietly to the sailors singing and playing their tunes on their flutes. It was strange and outlandish to their ears but it was merry with a lilt in their tunes that seemed to beckon them the same way as the Sea.
How long they were on the ship, Thranduil did not know. But a part of him missed his son terribly. He was always in contact with his only child, and if they did not speak face to face then they could mind-speak. But as soon as he left the shores of Arda, he felt the connection break. He could not sense his son's presence, or of any elf of Arda for that matter. The loss left him feeling strangely out of sorts, till he finally got used to it and he resigned to the fact that he will not be able to speak to his son until he too set sail.
Then they once spoke to the captain who told them that they had covered nearly half the distance. The feelings of loss, and the sliver of regret he was feeling was fading as excitement and anticipation took its stead. He had gotten used to the salty sea air and the bland food they had on the ship. Their lodgings were comfortable, and he found that he was not too bothered by the rocking motions of the ship. But now he wondered about Valinor. He had heard great things about it, and his expectations were made quite high. He heard of palaces with countless steps and built using marble. He heard of halls with vaulted ceilings and chandeliers. He heard of shores strewn with gems and jewels, and the sails of the ships made by the ellyth of Teleri descent. He had heard of universities there, one of which once had Maglor as their top instructors of music and lore. He also heard of their dense and lush forests, teeming with deer and other animals. He wondered for a while if he would see Thingol, Melian or Finrod Felaguand and his brothers.
Some days more passed and at dawn, he awakened to a cry and a scurry of footsteps. He left his bed quickly, heading up after hastily dressing. When he reached the deck, he realized what the cry was about.
They had spotted land.
From the distance it did not look too impressive. But the longer he looked, the more details his eyes sought. He saw the ships were shaped in more elegance than the ones Círdan had designed. The ships were built in the shape of swans and their sails were silver and white. But it could not be Valinor, for it seemed to small in his eyes.
"This is Tol Eressea." The captain said, coming to stand beside him. "we are forbidden to go any further than this, for while we sail, our hearts do not wish to come to Valinor just yet. Another ship will take you from here to Alqualonde. Keep faith." The captain said, sensing disappointment though Thranduil hid it well. "You will reach Valinor soon enough."
~S~
Author's Note:
Different from what I usually write. Flow of writing was meant to be more LOTR in feel.
Just another chapter to wrap it up. Tell me what you think.
P.S. Fion is an original character. The first meeting he and Thranduil are talking about is mentioned in my one-shot "Glimpses in the Life of A King".