Diclaimer: Middle-Earth and all related belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his kin. The individual characters are of my own imagination, though their names are supported by the "Name Finder" thing at Council of Elrond. Also, the elvish spoken here is also courtesy of CoE, though in all honesty I think it still belongs to Tolkien anyway.

She stands at the docks, waiting. Her kin file past her onto the ship, many of them not looking back. They shall never return to this land. There is nothing for them in Endorenna – Middle Earth. All of them beautiful and ethereal, they seem to glide from the forests to the waiting ships, which are also as lovely as the fair folk that board them. The dying sunlight spills over the water, and a gentle breeze, smelling of sea-salt and lands beyond, plays with the edges of the lone she-elf's cloak. A mother begins to sing a lament for her son, who fell at Helm's Deep, and shall never see the shores of the Undying Lands.

Two other female elves turn and see the one standing there on the dock, looking out at the forest from which they emerged. They cast worried glances to each other and then go to her.

"Rîlaiss," one says; she is the tallest, and seems to have inherited the beauty of several generations, with long, silk hair of blackest night and eyes bright with starlight. "You must come. The ships are about to depart."

"I wait for Dagoron."

The mother continues singing her lament. Her voice rises and falls, intertwining with the sea breeze.

The light is dying. Rîlaiss removes the hood of her cloak; she is fair-hared and blue-eyed, with a face that is carved with patience and care. It is now obvious that she and the ebony-haired elf are sisters, though the only resemblance is in the gentle, careful construction of their features. Also, the other elf standing there is their sister, with coloring like Rîlaiss. They are both taller than Rîlaiss, who is the youngest, the baby of the family, cherished by her sisters and their older brother, Dagoron.

"Rîlaiss," the oldest sister says, "Dagoron is not coming. You must not wait for him."

"He promised me he would come," Rîlaiss answers quietly. "I wait for Dagoron. He will come."

The lament falters for a moment, the voice of the grief-stricken mother breaking with her mourning. Then she continues, her voice wavering only a little with her pain.

"The ships will not wait," the other sister says. "Sister, listen to Lhinniel. Listen to me. Dagoron is not coming. He fell with Haldir and the others, in the East."

"I am listening to you, Essilië," Rîlaiss replied. "He will come."

The sisters try in vain for a long while to convince their sister to come to the ship and accept that Dagoron is not coming. But Rîlaiss stands gently firm, parrying their words with her own, acknowledging all they say, and yet staying still.

Like the sea, the melody of the mother's song rises and falls…

Finally, Linniel and Essilië relent and depart from their sister with tears and sadness. Next comes Adarhídh, and he stands silently beside Rîlaiss for several minutes, then says, "He is not coming, child."

"He will come."

"The ships will not stay much longer. You will be left here if you persist in this, for Dagoron comes not."

"He will come."

Adarhídh looks down at her, a single tear glistening upon his cheek. "Rîlaiss, I would not leave any one of my children here. If Dagoron were coming, do you think that I would be pressing you to depart now with us?"

"He will come."

Adarhídh turns her head and forces her to look into his eyes. There are tears in his own, testimony to the breaking of his heart, but in hers there is only calm patience and trust. The elegy continues on…

"Rîlaiss," he whispers. "Youngest of my daughters and my children. Your brother is not coming – he fell in battle, and his spirit is now free. He comes not to these Havens. He shall never see these shores, he shall never feel the sea-breeze on his face…" His voice broke, and it too him a long while to recover. "Rîlaiss, I cannot lose two children."

"He will come."

And Adarhídh saw that his daughter would not be swayed. He kissed her forehead and murmured, "Nai i Valar nauvar as ely." And so saying, he left her and returned to the ship.

They waited a little longer, but then they could wait no longer, and they departed. And the sisters and their father and their mother, who sang the threnody for her lost son, wept and cried, "Namárië! Namárië!" But the lone she-elf paid them no heed, whispering to them, though they could not hear, "He will come."

And so she waited, never moving, the etherealness of her being fading and becoming like that which is forgotten and yet still lingers. No tale can quite tell how long she waited – days, or years, or centuries, but she was certain that Dagoron would come, and never did she lose faith.

And then upon one silent, still day, a great wind surge from the east and she opened her arms and embraced it, feeling, in its caress, her brother's kiss on her cheek. And then she could hear his voice, calling to her, "Rîlaiss, Rîlaiss, you waited for me, dearest sister…"

She smiled and laughed and whispered, "Dagoron, I knew you would come… I told them and I waited…"

And then there was her brother, standing tall and proud in the clothes she had seen him depart in, his bow and quiver at his back, his armor shining gloriously. And he embraced her and with another gust of wind their spirits were swept away from the Havens, and they were taken up to the stars, to exist in peace with each other forevermore…

A/N: Thought I'd translate the Elvish for you. (Quenyan)

Nai i Valar nauvar as elyë ­– "May the Valar be with you."

Namárië – "Farewell."