Where art thou gone? The day is bare,
The sunlight dark, and cold the air!
Tinúviel, where went thy feet?
O wayward star! O maiden sweet!
O flower of Elfland all too fair
for mortal heart! The woods are bare!
The woods are bare!
— The Lay of Leithian
The swan disappeared beneath the Sea. Ariel stared at the rippling water, appalled. "But how will I get back?" she asked.
The water gave no answer.
She waited a moment. And waited. When it became clear that no answer would come, Ariel gulped nervously and turned to take stock of her surroundings.
She was no longer in Middle-earth.
A pale beach fanned out around her, uninterrupted by random shrubs. Behind her, the unbroken sand rose up a steep dune into a sudden shock of greenery.
There seemed to be no one around.
Ariel considered her options. The shores of Lindon were gone over the horizon, but her way home lay directly before her. She could swim.
She could also drown.
Ariel considered it. She would not like to die by drowning. Not yet! Ideally, she would die old and wrinkly, fat as a mûmak and surrounded by children and grandchildren, and then be buried in the Hallows.
So she picked a direction and began to walk.
Her stockings squelched with every step she took. Ariel paused to unlace her boots. She stepped out of them and tipped the leathers over, shaking seawater and sand out of the waterlogged soles.
Then she continued on her way, barefoot but for her sodden legwear.
The sand was warm, though mushy from the swash. Her damp dress chilled in the wind.
Ariel stayed close to the Sea. The water lapped at her ankles in a constant cycle before receding.
She was in Aman, but where? Eressëa? Alqualondë?
The Sea hummed, pleasant and useless. Ariel kept her eyes peeled for a tower.
Ahead of her, the beach stretched out far into the distance, several leagues of shimmering sand. No odd sprouts of grass disrupted the expanse. It was beautiful but strange, perfect in a way that did not seem natural to her.
Overhead, the Sun climbed its mountain in the sky. By the time it reached its peak, Ariel's clothes had dried well enough to unstick from her skin, but the landscape remained the same.
She walked for some time. The Sun had begun its descent. The soles of her feet itched, irritated by hours of treading on sand.
The Sea kept her company, singing wordless songs. Ariel found herself at ease enough to hum along. She had no reason to be afraid. Had she ever been afraid before? She walked in the Uttermost West!
At most, Ariel felt inconvenienced to be here. Her stockings were ruined, and she was thirsty and hungry, and her father would never let her go on an adventure again, or ever near the Sea again.
They had always worried the Sea would steal her away.
But Ariel was not overly fussed. She was a daughter of Men. The Valar would have to send her back.
In the distance, something twinkled.
It was the first change in her static path. Her breath caught in her throat, and Ariel hastened her steps to see it more clearly.
A tower!
It lay perhaps a league and half away, rising from somewhere over the hill to her left. Where exactly it rose from, Ariel could little discern, but that she could see it at all was a clear indication of its height. The steeple glinted brilliantly in the sunset.
She picked up her pace. Her boots swung by the laces at her side, occasionally bouncing off and scuffing the other. The Sun drew ever nearer.
The sky had turned a blood orange, as rich a colour as the exotic fruits that travelling merchants brought from the Rhûn. Against the bruised backdrop, the distant white tower looked like a silver knife cutting through the peel.
Ariel's stomach grumbled in displeasure. She would have liked a blood orange. The only thing in her pouch was a rock. She could not eat a rock.
The Sea urged her onward.
A familiar star had risen some time ago from the same direction, outshining even the tower. Ariel recognised it for the Gil-Estel, the guiding light that long ago led her forebears to the Land of Gift.
The sight of it put her ill at ease. A whole day had passed! Word of her disappearance would have reached Eldarion by now. His rangers must be scouring Forlindon in search of her, and, not finding her, venture further northwards, or turn to Harlindon without.
Yet they would not find her there, either.
Her brother would be beyond reason. Ariel might never be permitted out of his sight again. She might even be returned to Gondor before her due. What a fate! Ariel resolved to pin the blame on the Sea.
But first, this thing must be done, so on she went.
In the darkening sky, the tower was a shining beacon, a lighthouse beckoning wanderers abroad. The Sun had set almost entirely when at last her feet carried her to her destination.
It was a bustling port.
White quays stretched out to Sea, undampened by the evendim. The tower lay farther afield, twice as tall as Elostirion and twice as proud. No swan-ships she could see, though many a white barge moored alongside the landing.
She must be on Eressëa.
Elves milled about in numbers the likes of which Ariel had never seen, save perhaps in Lasgalen, not quite as teeming as Harlond by the Anduin, yet neither as quiet as Harlond of Harlindon.
They were unremarkably dressed. Ariel might have seen a mariner in Pelargir dressed in that unadorned linen, or a fisherman in Dol Amroth shod in those plain sandals, but there was a joy to their spirits that was foreign to her.
Ariel stared in wonder. The song of the Sea faded into a quiet thrum, drowned out by the bustle of the harbour. A mariner spotted her and called out a greeting in Sindarin.
"Tinúviel! Tinúviel!"
Ariel laughed.
It was not the first time she had been called by the name, and it would not be the last. Ariel walked in her mother's likeness, and Arwen's likeness was not her own.
The proclamation had drawn an audience. She found a number of eyes on her. They had the look of the Sindar, ash brown-haired for the most part and of no great stature. Ariel was taller than many, but she had her mother's height, and Arwen the Queen Evenstar stood no less tall than her husband.
"Lady Evening Star," one cried, "how come you hither?"
"Whither have I come?" asked Ariel in turn. Eressëa, she was sure. Their speech she knew to be Grey-elven, and their manner alike to the elves of the Grey Havens. In Alqualondë, she did not think they would speak Sindarin as she knew it.
"Tol Erya," came the answer, "the Lonely Isle!"
Eressëa! As she thought.
"Well met!" they called. "Well met, Lady!"
"Well met!" Ariel replied, charmed. "But I am not who I look."
"Undómiel?" they gasped, and "Undómiel!" they exclaimed.
Ariel laughed again. "Her daughter!" And she introduced herself: "For Ariel Dúnadan I am, Aragorn's daughter, and from Middle-earth I am come."
Gasps and exclamations arose. "Dúnadan?" she heard, and "Middle-earth?" and "Aragorn the Elfstone?" and "Aragorn the King!"
"Be welcome!" they cried joyously. "Be welcome, Elennor!"
A new name! Ariel loved to receive names. She thought the scribes in Minas Tirith would like this newest one. They had always lamented that her name did not begin with the same star as her brother and sisters.
Invitations were issued and accepted, but first it was decided that she should be brought into their commune. The tower of Avallónë was magnificent to behold, fairer than the Tower of Ecthelion, though not as great.
Inside, the tower was made of the same white stone, studded with pearls and seashells and other glittering rocks fished from the seabed. Scales were carved into the walls with intricate detail, and Ariel ran a fingertip along the ridges, marvelling.
There was no lord who abided here, she was curious to learn. The elves on Eressëa more or less saw to their own affairs. Many were Falathrim who awaited Círdan's arrival, though some were Noldor who loved the Sea too well to return to their landlocked cities.
Ariel wondered who sorted disputes. Just as the thought came to her, some disagreement was stirred over which lord to send to and where, but the ladies ushered her away before she could try to settle it.
To a high room they went, in the eastern wing of the tower, and Ariel was quickly shown into the bathing chambers. They must have taken in the sorry state of her riding dress and sought to make amends at once.
She perceived the clamshell tub with great delight. The exterior felt real enough, though the interior was pearly-smooth, and the ladies had it filled with hot water and tree oils to banish the smell of saltwater that clung to Ariel's skin.
Her hair was unwoven, the mithril pins placed in a dish to the side. The brooch on her cloak was likewise removed and set elsewhere with her girdle and pouch before her damp clothes were at last carted off to be washed.
It was a blessed relief to sink into the warmth. Ariel might have fallen asleep, had she been alone. It would be very funny, she thought, to drown in the bath, when she had crossed the entirety of the Sundering Seas with nary a scratch. The irony of it pleased her.
Around the tub, the ladies had begun a hymn to the Lady of the Sea. Ariel did not sing along, but she listened and thought of Tar-Elestirnë, who hated the water but died there.
That would not happen to Ariel.
When she died, if she did not die of old age to please her mother and father, she could only hope it would be in the arms of the ocean. They were as familiar to her as the arms of her own parents.
But not yet. There were still things to be done — like eating!
In quick succession, Ariel was bathed and dressed. Her borrowed gown was simpler than aught she owned in Gondor, or even in Arnor, with closed sleeves and a short trim, embroidered but otherwise unadorned. The lady it belonged to seemed embarrassed by its modesty, but Ariel would have been quite happy in rags, so long as they were dry.
Once she was presentable, they walked her out and down another set of winding stairs and into a lively great hall.
An archway with no doors led into a vaulted chamber, the ceiling low and close. Starlight flooded in through a series of windows that encircled the far side, setting corals to shimmer. A music of voices, light with song and laughter, filled the air.
Ariel observed the elves with great pleasure. The affair reminded her of the joyous feasts held in the Elvenking's underground halls, though the caverns there wound as ancient roots, dark and deep. Here was a strange timelessness, as grains of sand trapped in sea glass.
The mariner who first greeted her had sprung to his feet at the sight of her. "Araniel," he said, and, offering his hand: "Let me present you."
Ariel obligingly placed her hand in his. He was shorter than her by half a head, which made him taller than most of the Wood-elves she knew, who often only reached her chin.
Her escort led her to the high table set upon the raised dais before the open wall. A lord might sit there, if they had one, but Ariel guessed it served visiting ladies just as well.
A long introduction there was given, and warm welcomes received, and so began the feast of the evening.
Every dish came first to Ariel, who happily partook of all, starved from a whole day of walking unfed. The cod roast was delicious, and vegetables topped with colourful roe decorated her plate as well as her belly. There was clam in pickings and stew, and fresh bread baked in prawn oil, and sweet wine and strawberry cake afterwards.
Ariel talked and laughed. Her new friends were eager to learn all comings and goings across the Sea. They asked after their lord, and Ariel told them how she had seen him not two days past, before she set off to Forlindon. Lord Círdan was well but weary, and awaited only Celeborn her great-grandfather and the Elvenking Thranduil, the last of his kinsmen who would not yet part with their land of birth.
They asked after Ariel's beloved father, who they loved half as well as she loved him. They asked after her beautiful mother, who they loved twice as well as they loved her father. They asked after her beautiful brother, who they grieved to never meet. And they asked after her beloved sisters, whose own fairness they lamented, never to be seen across so vast an ocean.
And then they asked after Ariel herself, and Ariel laughed to say nothing, for there was nothing to say, only that the Sea loved her as well as her own parents loved her, and there could be no greater love than that!
That brought cheers all around, and they sang songs to the Lord of Waters until dawn.
It was very late, or very early, by the time Ariel was returned to her chambers.
Amidst the sunless wind, there was a chill in the room, for all that it was spring. The same ladies who dressed her for the feast undressed her for bed. They must have caught her shivering; a small fire was quickly stoked in the hearth and a thick robe wrapped around her shoulders before they bid her goodnight.
Ariel was finally alone. She rubbed her eyes sleepily and wandered over to the bed. What a day it had been. Perhaps she was in a dream.
A gentle breeze whispered in, stirring her drowsy attention. Sleep tugged dejectedly at Ariel, but she wanted to see the sunrise now.
The sprawling balcony stretched out far enough to fit a table for four with space left over for turns, and overlooked the port of Avallónë and the Great Sea over yonder.
Ariel watched the waves come in and recede. There were familiar shapes bobbing in the water, sleeping seagulls, and far, far over the horizon, the Sun had begun its westward journey.
She was only half awake when she noticed the falling star. No, not a falling star — it was the Star of High Hope.
Addled with sleep, Ariel watched its descent. The star drew closer and closer and at last came to stop upon the quays beneath the tower.
Down below, mariners rushed out to pull the ship into dock. At length, the familiar brilliance seemed to diminish, as though shrouded with something, but it was still bright enough to see a figure disembark from the deck.
Ariel caught a glimpse of blue raiment shimmering, and a flash of golden hair glimmering, and—
Oh.
Belatedly, she remembered Eärendil.
Her feet carried her to bed in a daze. She was convinced now she was dreaming.
The song of the Sea lulled her to sleep.