I did not know how long I had stayed here, wandering the shores as I sang my laments for the man who I had held dearest to me. Yes, a man. Mortal, soon to pass away and leave me. Forever.

The call of the Sea drew me, every day more. But the dread of leaving Middle Earth, my last connection to Estel, weighed heavily on my mind, and always I told Gimli 'Not today.'

I could not, I would not leave. When Estel had died a piece of my soul had been ripped away. He had been my home for longer than I could remember, like a brother to me, but so much more, and how could I just leave the place that held so many memories of days gone by?

Gimli knew how I suffered, he saw it day by day, and I knew he had felt a great deal of what I was feeling now, even if it wasn't as intense. He had been there when Estel passed, saying his own goodbyes. He had seen how I begged Estel to stay, as much, if not more than Arwen.

Elladan and Elrohir had clung tightly to each other, both soon to be the other's only remaining family on Middle Earth. They could still sail for the West, but they did not feel the Sea Call, and the thought of abandoning their life long home forever was painful to them beyond comprehension.

Despite all the tearful pleas though, King Elessar had passed, leaving his friends and family devastated, although he had gone peacefully and willingly.

Arwen had fled Minas Tirith to only Eru knew where, leaving Eldarion to comfort his sisters and take up the rule of Gondor. It had seemed rather selfish and cold to me, but I could not say I blamed her for wanting to just leave it all behind, nor was I in any condition to be showing comfort to anyone.

The twins went back to the desolate and empty Imladris, once so filled with light and laughter, to mourn for both their sister and foster brother.

And then I, I took Gimli to the shores, where there once were ships lining the coasts, waiting to sail into the Uttermost West, and now there was nothing. Not a soul, save for the seagulls.

Ah, the seagulls, they were the ones who had woken in me the fierce desire to live by the sea, forsaking all my woodland customs just to be with the gulls. I hadn't, of course, but the thought had entered into my mind more than a few times to just leave Gondor and go to the Sea, to hear them sing to me endlessly. But no, such thoughts were selfish, and I knew it would only be a deep regret when Estel passed, to think that I had wasted time by the sea when I should have been with him.

I knew I could not stay there forever, mostly because Gimli was with me and if I did not take him to the West he would soon leave me too. But still each day I put it off, and would have continued to do so if it was not for the events that followed.

The moon was shining brightly between the somewhat cloudy skies, and I, as always, sang for Estel. Gimli was listening, and I could only imagine that he also felt like lamenting through song, but he had admitted many times before that he was not good with singing or the making of songs.

As I neared the end of my song though, a ghostly voice seemed to echo around us. It came from the sea, but also from the shores. It was all around us, a lament of it's own, woven through ages and ages of sorrow, loneliness, and despair.

Gimli looked like he was almost ready to faint, but the lament captivated me, although it saddened me, and to my astonishment I found that my long since tear spent eyes were watering. I stood, drawn towards the singing. It was soft, yet strong. Filled with the dreadful despair of being utterly forsaken, with no hope of ever being called back to the place of rest.

As I looked on, my heart begging for just a glimpse of the maker of the music, I descried in the distance a figure. The gulls were no longer singing their mournful song, all was quiet save for the dreadfully beautiful singing and the crash of waves against the shore.

The form was that of a man, or so it seemed, but deep in my heart I knew who it was, though I did not realize it till after. He was lit eerily by the moon, and his waist-long jet black hair blew about his face and the harp in his hand. I could nearly hear his tears, and I wondered if he ever felt peace. If there was ever a time when his weeping ceased, so great was his sorrow.

His words were in the ancient tongue of the Noldor, but they pierced through my heart like a knife, and suddenly I understood.

I could not stay in Middle Earth, waiting till I was forsaken of all who were dear to me and the world crashed down around me. I could not live like this, like a wraith living only in legend, forsaken of all save the mourning wail of the seagulls, my only purpose in life to lament, hoping beyond all else that my prayers would be answered and I would be allowed to pass into the Light of the West. I had to sail.

I shuddered and blinked, but when I opened my eyes the figure had vanished. The gulls were crying once again and I could hear Gimli's breathing behind me.

I knew who it was, and the realization struck me like a chord. None had seen him since his disappearance thousands of years ago. Many had heard, but none seen. He had sung for me though, giving me hope through his despair.

'Macalurë' I breathed.