Earendil writes about another stage of his life.

By the Shore

I look back on my formative years by the Sirion with great fondness. Without a House to run and endless ceremonies of court, my parents spent more time with me. We often shared food around an open hearth with our neighbours and those servants who were once required to eat in the kitchens by custom. I was then allowed to mingle with children of all classes, and even Edain children. There were chores to be done, but we often turned them into a game of seeing who could find the most cockles and other shellfish for dinner.

There were still lessons naturally. My Nana taught me my letters. My Ada taught me more practical stuff like woodworking and hunting. They had Galdor teach me to fight as well. The men took turns guarding the palisades that protected us from any marauding orc bands even so far west. Whatever land we had access to was poor and the crops we coaxed from it meagre. Instead, we relied on Lord Ulmo's bounty and whatever our hunting parties could find in the coastal forests.

The Sea. When I first saw it, it took my breath away. Ada chuckled and confided that he felt the same. This was no clear fountain, gurgling brook or meandering river. It roared. The winds whipped up whitecaps on the waves and the gulls danced and screamed above it. This was the sight that greeted me where the Sirion emptied into the Sundering Sea. Nana spoke wistfully of a land far beyond, somewhere grandfather has been seeking to return to. There stood another White City known as Tirion.

Among my new playmates was a girl with solemn eyes and hair as dark as a raven's wing. Elwing. Like me, her people had been forced to flee their homeland. Unlike me, she had not been so fortunate with her family. Only she remained in the care of a handful of squabbling kinsfolk. There was Oropher, who did not like the newcomers from Gondolin at all. Amdir and Thranduil, who definitely had better things to do than babysit little Elwing. There was Celeborn, who was distant kin to me, having married a cousin of my grandfather. Celeborn's wife thought it fine that Elwing be allowed to play with me though the others thought otherwise. Aunt Galadriel even encouraged it, until Oropher and his supporters voted for Celeborn and her to leave Sirion for the Isle of Balar as our envoys to the High King of the Noldor.

At that young age, most of the grownups' politicking just flew over our heads. I never really cared much for Elwing's kin, not even Aunt Galadriel who scared me. No mischief wrought by us could slip past her. The Edain children claimed it was her magic that allowed her to know whether you were lying about that broken pot or missing fruit. Her hair was unique to say the least, all silver and gold. Her sharp blue-grey eyes seemed to catch everything.

When I was about ten, Ada took me to meet Cirdan the Shipwright to be apprenticed to him. No doubt it was at Lord Ulmo's instruction. I was to build ships, so we thought. Lord Ulmo thought otherwise. Nana knew the signs clear enough when they came on me. She had seen it often enough in my Ada. Once the chores were done, we could spend hours on the beach listening to her song, dreaming of distant lands and open waters. Many times, we would linger until the moon rose or Nana grew impatient and came to get us for dinner.

The Sea called out to us then, as she still does for my adar. I did not understand the first stirrings as a young boy seeing the Sea for the first time. I only understood it grew more insistent with passing of years and the further we are from Ulmo's realm. Thankfully, Lord Ulmo has already ceded me to the service of Lady Varda, sailing the black sea amidst her stars. The yearning no longer eats at me. For my Ada, he now lives in a cottage by the shore on an island, and takes to open water for weeks on end, to my Nana's chagrin.

I lived for a time with Cirdan on the Isle of Balar, learning about laying keels, raising masts, caulking, and rigging sails. The ships fascinated me. I dreamed of hopping on one such vessel and departing on a journey into the unknown. Of course, such a deed would not be looked on kindly by the Falmari who depended on their ships for their livelihood. There were other more distant reasons of course, an unspoken shame from the distant past. I understood it had something to do with why the Sindar lords did not take kindly to my people.

Time flew under Master Cirdan's tutelage. Under his mentorship, I designed my first sailing ship meant for open water and long journeys. It was about this time Aunt Galadriel visited and insisted I return home to visit my parents, for my father was mortal and we should treasure the little time we have left together.

Back in the Havens, I saw that the Edain playmates of my childhood had grown up. Many of those who were not carried off by accidents or illness as children were now parents themselves of fast-growing children. They were already worn down by life. The elven children were of the same age as I, yet they were still children by Elvish reckoning. They were far less developed physically than I. It greatly startled me to see my father's hair and beard streaked with grey, and both his feet and mind had slowed with the creeping of age. My mother looked the same, but she seemed more troubled. Perhaps it was on my father's account and the dread of their inevitable parting. My father seemed a one possessed. He wanted to build a ship and he desired that I assist him in his task despite Nana's misgivings.

It was an awkward reunion. As was my habit, I took a stroll on the shore to escape my troubles. Too much had changed in the years I was away. It was then that I chanced upon her.

Like me, Elwing is of both kindred, Eldar and Edain. She had slowly become estranged from her playmates in the same way as they grew apart from her in maturity and lingered behind in childhood. Afterwards, we would meet at moonrise on the shore. Two lonely souls yearning for understanding. Elwing was a beautiful child who grew into a truly fair maiden. I was smitten to say the least. After all, she held descent from the legendary Luthien. I truly believe we fell for each other that summer.

Perhaps our elders were caught unawares, having no idea how us children of mixed parentage would grow. If we had been fully Eldar or Edain, Elwing's guardians would have kept a firmer eye on her instead of allowing her the freedom to roam as she did. My parents would have sent word to her many uncles to formally seek her hand in marriage. No one ever thought to give us that talk, which I understood was given to Edain children in their teens and Elven ones in their fifth decade of life in most families. Instead, we were left to struggle with what had been a friendship between two children blossoming into something more.

We had always been comfortable with each other's company. Perhaps I fancied we would be as my parents. I did not realize how much we were still children at heart despite our mature bodies. I did not understand Elwing as well as I thought, at least not then.

Author's Notes:

Some hindsight on Earendil's part on his relationship with his wife.