I own nothing.
His mind is clear for the first time in years. Tuor sees the world clearly for the first time in so many years, and if that is a consequence of living in Aman and what Idril has done, then he is grateful. He does not remember much of the years when he was not himself, and supposes he should be thankful for that, but what he does remember consists primarily of the wary eyes of his son, and the strained face of his wife. That is reason enough to wish never to return to those days.
Tuor remains in body as he was when they set sail for the west. His hair is graying, his face lined. His knees are stiff, and he is not as spry as he once was. But they tell him, Idril tells him, that she prevailed upon the Valar to grant him the immortality of the Elves. He is the same in flesh, but in spirit, he will never die.
There are moments when this bothers him. He was not consulted beforehand, and even if it is doubtful that Tuor would have entirely understood what Idril was asking of him, he would have liked to have been asked. Tuor also hoped, once, long ago, to greet his human forebears when he died. To know Huor and Rían as he was never able to know them in life.
But the moments of disquiet pass like shadows after rain.
Tuor was raised among the Elves, and the only real experience he ever had was humans was in the thrall of the Easterlings. He has no memories of Huor and Rían. Annael and Gilrin were the only parents he ever knew. With the immortality of the Elves, he will never see Huor and Rían, not until the breaking of the world. However, he will lay eyes on Annael and Gilrin again, eventually. He will meet again with all of the friends he lost to death, living immortal in Aman.
That is ample compensation for undying flesh.