The couple have a very rocky start to their lives together. Elwing's mental and emotional state is worsened by her possession of the Silmaril.

On the Rocks

Most speak fondly of their honeymoon, a time of bliss early in a union before reality sinks in. For me, it was like running aground on a sandbar on leaving the harbour and being stuck there for all and sundry to gawk and laugh at. After we were done with our nuptial night, I was roused by a grumpy Sinda valet with my new fancy clothes. Apparently, I was now their prince consort and obliged to join my wife in smiling and greeting her people. I suspect most of them would not pass up the opportunity to lob rotten tomatoes at my face.

I tried seeking assistance from Lords Galdor and Egalmoth, only to be advised to take my new wife's lead as this was the secret to a happy union and domestic life. Just look at my parents. I do believe my Nana was more lenient with my sire. Not that Elwing would mind much what I wear now she has that fancy gem to play with. But court protocol, you know. I was reluctantly put into my fancy new clothes so I may join my bride. To add insult to injury, Egalmoth insisted I wore Noldor court garments, which made me wish I had accepted the first set of clothes brought to me in my chamber that morning. At least breathing would have been easier.

We did lie together, as was expected, but it was hard to let ourselves really go with random servants knocking at inappropriate times to ask if we needed a bath run or more wine. No, we do not need help getting ready for bed, thank you very much. I can unbraid my wife's hair alone. It became a race to get it over with before some idiot strolls in with a midnight snack from the cook. On hindsight, we were both idiots. I am sure shoving Elwing's dressing table against the door might have given us some privacy.

By now, Elwing's interest in me had been replaced by her dear Ada's Silmaril. She would go all blubbery at times about her lost family, which really puts a damper on any ardour on my part on most nights. We never had this issue when we were out in the dunes. I blame the Silmaril for that. Look, I did try to be sympathetic, but I thought they would have gotten her over that by now. No one showed me any sympathy when I started wondering if my parents were never coming back. I had not met Lord Ulmo then and I do not know if he might welcome my parents or sink their ship.

Six months into our union, everyone and their wife were questioning as to why there was no sign of any heir to fallen Doriath or Gondolin. I packed up my bags and headed back to Balar where Cirdan and I finished building the Vingilote. It took the better part of a year. Once the ship was ready and seaworthy, I sailed her home to my wife. On reaching the coast, I found she had her people build a tower where she stayed with her Silmaril glowing atop it like a lighthouse. If the Feanorions spotted that glow, methinks it would be a matter of time before we receive a letter of demand from Maedhros. Flaunting it in their faces was too much of a provocation. I was surprised when no attack came during my time away. Still, I had a word with Egalmoth and Galdor about strengthening the defences, seeing Elwing refused to put away her precious necklace.

The years that followed were a domestic disaster. By our third year, we were snapping at each other when Elwing was not absorbed by her necklace. The room at the top of the tower was small and we kept getting into each other's way. I moved out of her room in the tower and shacked up with Egalmoth and the guards on the pretext of maintaining our defences. I took to spending more time away sailing and exploring along the coast. At least my ship does not whine about a headache or get paranoid about me wanting to surrender the Silmaril to Maedhros. Look, I did receive a letter from a member of the House of Feanor, but that was Celebrimbor who somehow continued using his grandfather's seal on his letters despite repudiating his father. It was nothing but a business transaction concerning an order of nails for Cirdan's shipyard. I spent the last two weeks of that visit barred from the tower by her guards.

My conjugal visits also became less frequent when I was in the Havens. It became a matter of duty for the both of us when Elwing did allow me to lie with her. Our people were still waiting for an heir and being half-Mannish, they did not know if we were immortal or susceptible to old age. We owed them that reassurance at least.

As to my explorations, the Sea-longing bit and it bit hard. I was happiest away from Sirion, away from the demand of being de facto leader of the survivors of Gondolin and the Sindar, and away from the stranger the Silmaril turned Elwing into. Naturally, my absences did not endear me to the Sindar nobles at all. I counted at least five thinly veiled threats towards my person during one dinner alone.

Perhaps I held out hope that I might run into my parents during my voyages and direct them to return to the Havens and lift some of the burden of leadership off us. It never happened. I never saw my parents again until after the War of Wrath, and that was from a distance.

I know the bards have crafted many ballads about my heroic adventures during this time. Most of which are grossly exaggerated. About that spider, for example. I did not encounter Ungoliant. I doubt I will be here writing my memoirs if I did. Moreover, we understand Giant Spiders are a forest-dwelling or terrestrial species, and unlikely to be found at sea or on the coast. We did not encounter any giant spiders unless you count that palm-sized tarantula I brought home from the south as a present for the boys and got myself banned from seeing them for the next two cycles of the Sun.

Also, the first and only dragon I slew was during the War of Wrath. I did not 'quench my sword in dragons' blood' during my voyages, like a certain irksome bard formerly of Menegroth put it. Having to escape unfriendly native Secondborn after accidentally burning down their longhouse down south, getting chased by ice-bears up north… the list goes on. Who in my crew can forget that little misunderstanding with an island chieftain that saw me ceremonially wedded to his cow-sister literally?

I do wonder why no one has written about those less-than-heroic but more truthful anecdotes. Sometimes, discretion is the better part of valour. One does not go about looking for monsters to fight and expect to live a long healthy life. I might have had Lord Ulmo's protection, but Lord Osse and the storm-Maiar do get carried away at times with their games. There was no guarantee the next storm Osse whipped up would not be the one to break Vingilote's back.

By year 532, our people's prayers for a heir were answered. I only found out I was a father to six-month old twin boys when I sailed in for a visit at Aunt Galadriel's insistence. I had been looking forward to spending time with my mentor. Yes, Elwing's letter went missing somehow or she forgot to write to me at Balar. I was not even given a chance to name them before Elwing had another one of her episodes and barred me from seeing her, our boys, and more importantly to her, her Silmaril. I hated that gem.

After being barred from seeing my sons, I set my mind to finding proper father-names for them, which is difficult given I barely knew them. A sailor of Avari descent informed me that his people left the naming to the mothers for the first twelve years of their children's lives. The fathers named their offspring formally afterwards, so that was no need for me to go giving myself a headache yet. Little did we know.

Author's Notes:

Earendil has had it with his wife and the Sindar by this stage. He is also being brutally honest about setting the record straight on his adventures. He cannot figure out what exactly is wrong with his wife apart from her obsession with the Silmaril. Doubt they had any healer skilled enough to guide Elwing and Earendil through their issues.

Elwing will probably rewrite this chapter as well.