I'm reallysorry for taking so long...too much stuff going on to write. Only short this time, but I hope to update soon. Thanks for sticking with me!

Chapter Twenty-One:

Current Mood: wistful

Current Music: Sand in my shoes - Dido

We're about to dock on the shores of Lorien, though I find myself thinking wistfully of Mirkwood. These past few days have been far from easy, with not only my parents aboard, but also both Ameron and Haldir in the same space. It has been extremely difficult keeping my affections for Haldir hidden from those who should not know about it. I want nothing more than to be able to act on them, but Ameron seems determined to win back my love and, to some extent, he is succeeding.

This, of course, does not change the fact that tomorrow Haldir will be back on border patrol, and I may never see him again. It's frustrating knowing that something will happen and there's nothing you can do about it. If only things were different. If only the Valar had seen fit to give me the life I would choose for myself.

Then I wouldn't have to say goodbye.

Mirien watched the shore creep closer and closer to her from across the Anduin. She closed her eyes as the wind caressed her face, smiling at its gentle touch. The moment of peacefulness was short-lived however, as soon the sounds of activity behind her could no longer be ignored. 'Couldn't someone else be the Captain for a while?' she mused to herself. She reluctantly turned away from the soothing wind, but was promptly regretting that decision.

"You there," her father's voice addressed one of her officers. "This deck should be spotless! An that port sail should not be left lax like that, is there anyone here who actually does their job?" With a grieved sigh, Mirien stepped forward, the sacrificial lamb taking on the punishment for her crew.

"Father," she called to him as cheerfully as she could manage. "My officers perform their duties admirably." She used a careful tone, so as not to provoke his ire. He seemed to consider her statement, and then sigh in displeasure.

"It seems that the definition of 'admirably' has changed somewhat since I had my own command," he grumbled. Mirien saw the pained expressions on the unfortunate crewman he had chosen to vent on, and offered him an apologetic look. "You know, people have changed too," he went on. Mirien listened half-heartedly as she attempted to steer him away from her crew. "Centuries ago, elves were born, they reached their maturity, married and settled down and had a family. Now you'd be hard pressed to find an elflings under two hundred!" He stopped as they reached the bow and turned to her. "Perhaps that is part of the problem," he said, mostly to himself. "There has not yet been a child for you and Ameron. You don't have a stable marital life, what with constantly being away from each other."

"It's the nature of our jobs, Adar," she put in, "we knew that when we married."

"Your mother worries, you know."

"Mother always worries," she smiled despite herself. They stood in silence, watching the horizon slowly approach, all but basking in this rare moment of peace between them. Almost, Mirien could convince herself that they were a normal family, at least for that moment.

"There you are." They turned to greet her mother, who looked for all the world as if she belonged out at sea. The sheer outer layers of her gown fluttered in the breeze, giving her the look of a maiden of the sea, somewhat akin to Uinen the fair.

"You look lovely, my wife," her father greeted her.

"We have nearly arrived, mother," Mirien greeted, "would you like to watch from the bow?"

"I would love to, dear," she said, ascending the step up to the slight platform and taking her place beside her husband.

"I must go attend to my duties," Mirien explained, looking beyond them as her crew prepared for landing, "I will see you after?"

"Of course."

Haldir had spent the morning gathering his belongings and fighting the headache he still refused to admit he had. He had not left his cabin all day, and it was only at hearing a crewman announce their imminent landing that he even had thoughts in that direction. She was out there. He might run into her. He might loose his composure in public.

He might have to say goodbye.

At last when he deemed he could wait no longer, he shouldered his pack and left his cabin. He was halfway down the hallway and nearly to the stairs when she nearly bumped into him on her way down. They stopped and stared. After what seemed like an eternity, she nodded in an official manner.

"Captain."

"Captain," he nodded back. She continued down past him, their shoulders brushing on the way, when without thinking about it, he reached out and grabbed her arm. She spun around in surprise, eyes locked on his, face mere inches from his. Once his heart finally began to start beating again, he cleared his throat, letting go of her arm, the memory of that contact imprinting indelibly on his memory.

"I," he began, but did not know how to continue. After a breath he tried again. "I just wanted to get a chance to say goodbye." Her eyes still locked with his, she nodded, slowly, all but admitting the fact that they both knew there was far more to his action than he had let on. Her face was still so close to his, somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that he could feel her breath on his lips. But then slowly, she backed away.

"Goodbye then," she whispered. Before she could think to say any more, she backed away down the stairs, and left him alone.

It would be the last time they would see each other for ten years.