Disclaimer: Tolkien owns Elrohir, Earendil, the Simaril, and Earendil's
boat. I own the plot, which actually exists.
A/N: Earendil sails his ship of elven-glass and mithril through the skies of Arda, the Simaril as the Morning Star bound to his brow. Just so you know who he is, he's also Elrond's father, and a half-elf who chose immortality.
Twilight of Stars
Elrohir was walking on a starlit plain. In reality, it was more like he had just left the plain, and now brushed through trees to go- somewhere, he didn't know where, but he knew it was important.
The deep black dome overhead offered countless promises, and Elrohir's own glow shone out in response to the warmth of the stars.
Wandering gently up the 'path' he found himself upon, he wound about a little patch of silvery-leafed athelas. The plants were growing taller and thicker than any he had seen before.
The small clearing could not really be called that. It was like, almost, the end of land and sea, yet it was not. It was- somewhere else.
The boat stood in front of him. Pale and almost ghostly, and yet all too real. She was a delicate craft, this Sky-Sailer, and lovely too, but he saw her for only a moment.
Instead, he saw her master.
He was a dark-headed Noldo, fine-featured and somewhat familiar. His face was noble, yet friendly, and he smiled at the younger Elf warmly. There was a great jewel bound to his brow.
Elrohir almost stopped breathing.
The jewel was all joy, all laughter, and it caught his mind and sight so that he could think of naught other than it. It drove away any pain that he still felt, any sorrow, and, as he looked, he saw within it's depths two great trees, and their blossom was life and their fruits were the stars. When he saw it, nothing else mattered.
He somehow ripped his gaze from it, and met the eyes of the other Elf. The other held out a hand.
"Ride in my ship, Elrondion," he said, in a voice that told Elrohir that he had to, that murmured of wonders that had to be seen before he could even think of believing them, but, once viewed, could not be forgotten.
Elrohir stepped softly forward, accepting the proffered hand and allowing himself to be guided to the ship.
"Where are we going?" he asked his companion.
"Higher than the sun, faster than the moon," came the reply. "Beyond the stars, below the sea. We race the fire, Elrondion, we sail the skies."
Elrohir climbed carefully aboard the strange craft. It seemed to him that she tried to lift of her own accord, but he could not be sure.
"Up now, my star-rider, let us fly again!"
They left the world behind.
Arda was a different place. She moved, spinning slowly, and the ship took the current of air that was left, he was never sure how. All he knew was that suddenly they were soaring, the wind pressing at his face, the Noldo beside him laughing in sheer exultation as he worked her course with incredible skill, and then Elrohir was laughing too.
The stars were different, but he did not see them. He saw only the world, and waited- but saw no sun. No brighter light than the stars was there, and there was no moon.
"Where are they, moon and sun?" he inquired.
"They are not born yet. We sail before the falling of the Two Trees. Melkor is not yet come. Look!"
Below, he saw figures, first lying still, then sitting up and looking round. He could have shouted in joy, but the atmosphere did not seem to allow it. They were savouring this moment, engraving it into their memories.
A black spot spread across Arda. It moved near to the newborn figures. He wanted to shout, to warn them- but he could not, and he watched with aching heart as the shadow took the first of his kindred, twisting them horribly, until it created orcs.
And then Orome had come, and was speaking to the remainder.
When he saw the Two Trees, it was better than seeing the Simaril.
He could not tear himself away, until Morgoth destroyed them, and at that moment he wept at what had been lost, wept until the sun rose for the first time, and Men awoke.
He saw all that had been. He did not remember much, and understood little, but he had been granted an honour beyond words, and that stayed with him.
But the history of the world was insignificant beside the splendour of the stars.
They were magnificent, wondrous, the very meaning of beauty. They were all he could say, and much he could not. They were true perfectation.
The ship danced betwixt constellations. She swooped through nebulae. She leapt over red stars and swung round blue ones. She dived under the green and drew circles round the white.
She showed him a place he had not known existed, no, many such places. She gave him memories he would treasure forever, even there after many thousands of years.
The only thing to do so other then his closest friends and family.
At last, the journey began to draw to a close. They were idling now, taking the time to enjoy all that they saw.
The world came into view.
He had seen to the middle of the Fourth Age before they left. Now they were a long time from there.
Elves were sleeping, many of them. So many...
He could see his children.
"You may speak to them," his guide whispered.
So he leaned over the side as they hovered above the grass.
"Take care of our Twilight, Wind Helm," he breathed. "Keep them both safe, Devotion."
He caught the other looking at him.
"Ninquedil, Tholinsul, and Tindome," he heard his companion murmur. "White Devotion, Wind Helm, and Twilight full of Stars. Fitting names, much like your own."
The boat took off again. Light as a zephyr, she floated up, gliding into the dome of the sky like an owl on the wing.
This time, when they re-entered the atmosphere, the sun had gone again.
He disembarked the craft, then turned and bowed.
"I thank you for the ride, Mariner."
"A star shines on the hour of our meeting. Fare you well, Elrondion."
And then Elrohir woke up.
A/N: Yes, I'm evil. Sue me. This chapter does have plot relevance, if only in that it encourages Elrohir and gives him an extra reason for something he does later on, as well as telling him where to go, and a lot of excess hope.
As for what he'll be doing- let's just say that it's a bad idea to pair two Elves in the gladiator ring. They are literally a couple of deadly monkeys.
A/N: Earendil sails his ship of elven-glass and mithril through the skies of Arda, the Simaril as the Morning Star bound to his brow. Just so you know who he is, he's also Elrond's father, and a half-elf who chose immortality.
Twilight of Stars
Elrohir was walking on a starlit plain. In reality, it was more like he had just left the plain, and now brushed through trees to go- somewhere, he didn't know where, but he knew it was important.
The deep black dome overhead offered countless promises, and Elrohir's own glow shone out in response to the warmth of the stars.
Wandering gently up the 'path' he found himself upon, he wound about a little patch of silvery-leafed athelas. The plants were growing taller and thicker than any he had seen before.
The small clearing could not really be called that. It was like, almost, the end of land and sea, yet it was not. It was- somewhere else.
The boat stood in front of him. Pale and almost ghostly, and yet all too real. She was a delicate craft, this Sky-Sailer, and lovely too, but he saw her for only a moment.
Instead, he saw her master.
He was a dark-headed Noldo, fine-featured and somewhat familiar. His face was noble, yet friendly, and he smiled at the younger Elf warmly. There was a great jewel bound to his brow.
Elrohir almost stopped breathing.
The jewel was all joy, all laughter, and it caught his mind and sight so that he could think of naught other than it. It drove away any pain that he still felt, any sorrow, and, as he looked, he saw within it's depths two great trees, and their blossom was life and their fruits were the stars. When he saw it, nothing else mattered.
He somehow ripped his gaze from it, and met the eyes of the other Elf. The other held out a hand.
"Ride in my ship, Elrondion," he said, in a voice that told Elrohir that he had to, that murmured of wonders that had to be seen before he could even think of believing them, but, once viewed, could not be forgotten.
Elrohir stepped softly forward, accepting the proffered hand and allowing himself to be guided to the ship.
"Where are we going?" he asked his companion.
"Higher than the sun, faster than the moon," came the reply. "Beyond the stars, below the sea. We race the fire, Elrondion, we sail the skies."
Elrohir climbed carefully aboard the strange craft. It seemed to him that she tried to lift of her own accord, but he could not be sure.
"Up now, my star-rider, let us fly again!"
They left the world behind.
Arda was a different place. She moved, spinning slowly, and the ship took the current of air that was left, he was never sure how. All he knew was that suddenly they were soaring, the wind pressing at his face, the Noldo beside him laughing in sheer exultation as he worked her course with incredible skill, and then Elrohir was laughing too.
The stars were different, but he did not see them. He saw only the world, and waited- but saw no sun. No brighter light than the stars was there, and there was no moon.
"Where are they, moon and sun?" he inquired.
"They are not born yet. We sail before the falling of the Two Trees. Melkor is not yet come. Look!"
Below, he saw figures, first lying still, then sitting up and looking round. He could have shouted in joy, but the atmosphere did not seem to allow it. They were savouring this moment, engraving it into their memories.
A black spot spread across Arda. It moved near to the newborn figures. He wanted to shout, to warn them- but he could not, and he watched with aching heart as the shadow took the first of his kindred, twisting them horribly, until it created orcs.
And then Orome had come, and was speaking to the remainder.
When he saw the Two Trees, it was better than seeing the Simaril.
He could not tear himself away, until Morgoth destroyed them, and at that moment he wept at what had been lost, wept until the sun rose for the first time, and Men awoke.
He saw all that had been. He did not remember much, and understood little, but he had been granted an honour beyond words, and that stayed with him.
But the history of the world was insignificant beside the splendour of the stars.
They were magnificent, wondrous, the very meaning of beauty. They were all he could say, and much he could not. They were true perfectation.
The ship danced betwixt constellations. She swooped through nebulae. She leapt over red stars and swung round blue ones. She dived under the green and drew circles round the white.
She showed him a place he had not known existed, no, many such places. She gave him memories he would treasure forever, even there after many thousands of years.
The only thing to do so other then his closest friends and family.
At last, the journey began to draw to a close. They were idling now, taking the time to enjoy all that they saw.
The world came into view.
He had seen to the middle of the Fourth Age before they left. Now they were a long time from there.
Elves were sleeping, many of them. So many...
He could see his children.
"You may speak to them," his guide whispered.
So he leaned over the side as they hovered above the grass.
"Take care of our Twilight, Wind Helm," he breathed. "Keep them both safe, Devotion."
He caught the other looking at him.
"Ninquedil, Tholinsul, and Tindome," he heard his companion murmur. "White Devotion, Wind Helm, and Twilight full of Stars. Fitting names, much like your own."
The boat took off again. Light as a zephyr, she floated up, gliding into the dome of the sky like an owl on the wing.
This time, when they re-entered the atmosphere, the sun had gone again.
He disembarked the craft, then turned and bowed.
"I thank you for the ride, Mariner."
"A star shines on the hour of our meeting. Fare you well, Elrondion."
And then Elrohir woke up.
A/N: Yes, I'm evil. Sue me. This chapter does have plot relevance, if only in that it encourages Elrohir and gives him an extra reason for something he does later on, as well as telling him where to go, and a lot of excess hope.
As for what he'll be doing- let's just say that it's a bad idea to pair two Elves in the gladiator ring. They are literally a couple of deadly monkeys.