By: Fondued Jicama
Written for: UnDeadGoat
A watery blue sky filled the horizon; a peculiar wind was blowing in from the East. It spoke of change in low whispers and high trills, the musing of the winds expressed by their touch on the scraggly scotch-broom covered hills.
In the damp silence right before dawn, a small company on horseback meandered slowly down a straight and level path. All of them were solemn of face and quite noble looking, except for a very old Hobbit. His head was resting on his nephew's back, a contented smile on his old lips.
The weight of his uncle's head did not bother Frodo or affect his riding, as much of their journey had been taken with old Bilbo leaning on him in some fashion or another.
As the sun rose, wispy white clouds scuttled across the sky. To the West it was almost as though a thick wool-like blanket has been pulled up over the rim of the world. The small company took their time, and the blanket in the sky shrank back as if a great hand had folded it up and set it aside.
Sunlight struck the lead horse and his rider, Elrond Peredhil. A few feet behind him rode the Lady Galadriel, and then Frodo and Bilbo, and Sam on his beloved Bill. After this was a small host of other departing Elves.
More light poured onto the narrow winding trail, as the morning grew older. As the company turned sharply right and rose up to the same level as the surrounding hills, the ever-present tone of horse hoof-beats was overlaid by the shrill sound of gulls, and on another level yet, the rhythmic crashing of the surf. All eyes, save those of the sleeping Bilbo, peered downward.
A small bay was the first thing they saw; and then, as their eyes looked farther inwards, there was a silver ship at a grey dock. Right up at the cliffsides stood several great buildings. They were hard to see, for they were carved in such a way that they looked much like the rocks themselves.
At the sight of the silver vessel, the Elves felt their hearts stir. To Galadriel, it was a feeling of relief; a great part of her heart was made lighter just by seeing the ship that would take her home at last. Her voluntary exile had kept her away for too long.
The horses picked their way down the slanted road carefully. The pathway was smooth and even all across, albeit a little steep. Frodo and Bilbo's horse slid nearly a foot on the sand-covered rock, right before the path opened up into a flat flagstone courtyard with a silver gate at the fore.
Below and to the front of them was the sea. The horses' nostrils flared at the smell of salty winds assaulting the bay. But there was one horse who was not troubled: the great Shadowfax, with Gandalf the White beside him; for they had come to join the company on this last journey.
The Hobbits stared out into the ocean, mesmerized by the unfamiliar waves, until a tall bearded man appeared at the gate and opened it for them. He walked well for a man with a white beard, as the sleepy Bilbo commented into Frodo's ear.
Frodo smiled. "He is an Elf, Bilbo," he said gently. "That is Cirdan the Shipwright. He is to take us across the Sea, to our new home."
"Our new home," Bilbo echoed softly, his head dipping back down to his chest.
As Cirdan reached the Hobbits he bowed smoothly, and turning to the Elves and the Maia he greeted them in his own tongue.
-But even as they stood there, and other Elves were going aboard, and all was being made ready to depart, up rode Merry and Pippin in great haste. And amid his tears Pippin laughed.
"You tried to give us the slip once before and failed, Frodo." he said. "This time you have nearly succeeded, but you have failed again. It was not Sam, though, that gave you away this time, but Gandalf himself!"
"Yes," said Gandalf; "for it will be better to ride back three together 'than one alone. Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil." 1
Then he and Galadriel and Elrond stepped onto the ship. Frodo came right after, helping Bilbo up onto the gangplank, and he could still hear Sam crying. Poor, poor Sam, he thought, I do hope you find yourself. No. I know you will find yourself.
The white sails unfurled. The breezes picked up and the winds of Men and Middle-earth came down into the Grey Havens and swept the last of the Great Elves out, out into the ocean, and towards their home.
Night is upon Lothlorien. In the tallest tree, on the highest flet, the Lord and Lady of the woods sit by each other in silence. There is something that Celeborn wants to say, but doesn't know how.
A chorus of crickets has started to sing in the background. Galadriel looks at her husband and smiles; she knows what it is that he is trying to say. She understands.
"You worry that you will not see me again," she supplies for him, when he cannot say what he is thinking. "You are afraid, but still you would see me depart."
Celeborn looks at her in silence, and everything about his looks verifies her conjecture. It is in his hesitancy to speak. It is in the strength in which he holds her hand. It is in his eyes.
When he does not reply, the Lady closes her eyes and muses to herself aloud. "Would you still let me go, if we were to be apart forever?" The crickets' chorus grows louder, as if to drown out her words.
Celeborn's eyes darken; he raises his hand to her cheek and turns her face towards him. "Is this what you have foreseen, my Lady?" Yes, he looks afraid.
Galadriel rises from her seat, walking to the edge of the flet. Her dominion- the world of light that she has built- stretches out all around. A thousand lamps cast a pool of white down from the trees.
Even as he is coming to stand beside her, she speaks. "If I had foreseen such a fate for you and I, I would not leave you. I would not make you choose."
An hour later and they were still rowing. Frodo sat quietly next to Bilbo, who was still sleeping. The waves lapped lightly against the ship as it cut gracefully through the water; and Galadriel stood at the helm, staring into the mist.
There was no sound from the water- no gulls, no splash of fish, no crashing of wave upon wave. The only thing that could be heard was the calling of memories regarding the things that had been left behind.
"Our people are fading, Hir nin.
I will join them in a place of unceasing Light.
I will look to the East as each new day begins,
I will watch the Sea with every rising of the sun."
Soon the fog had rolled away, and the sun was glinting off of the waves. The Lady of Laurelindórenan looked up from the waters and beheld the sight of a land she recognized still.
She glanced to her right and saw Elrond smiling. She could tell he was thinking of Celebrìan, and of how close he was to seeing her again. And as her daughter had waited for her lord to come, so Galadriel knew it was her fate to wait as well.
Someday, she knew, there would be a ship for her Celeborn; and the winds of Middle-earth would bring him home to her again.
(Beta provided by Aubrey petite soleil)
1.) Comes directly from the RotK text.