Chapter Five: The Return
Aeleth of Mithlond sat silently at the desk in her study, gazing out the open window at the dark sea beyond her home. The wavy silver hair that cascaded over her pointed ears blew in the wind, and she shivered slightly.
"Aeleth?" said a voice behind her.
She turned, seeing that her father had entered the room. He carried a plate of food and a goblet of wine; she turned away as he entered the pool of light cast by the lamp on her desk.
Lord Cirdan's hair was as silver as his daughter's, as well as his neatly-trimmed beard. Their eyes were the same bright turquoise, and they even shared the same smile, so the elves of the Grey Havens said.
"Ada," Aeleth smiled. "What brings you here at such an hour?"
"I'm concerned about you," said Cirdan quietly, moving to his daughter's side. "You haven't eaten for two days now."
Aeleth sighed. "Do you think I'll ever see my son again?"
Cirdan's eyes saddened. "How long has Daeglir been missing? It has to have been at least nine years—"
"Ten."
"Ten, then," nodded Cirdan. "My point is, you've waited so long, and heard no word of his whereabouts. It's high time to face the truth: he might not come back."
"I know," Aeleth whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "But is it a crime to hope?"
"No," said her father gently, caressing Aeleth's cheek with the back of his hand. "Of course it isn't. But – what in Arda…?"
The elf-lord stared intently at the lamp on the desk, his eyes riveted on the flame in the glass.
"What is it?" asked Aeleth, frowning.
Cirdan shook his head, replying, "Nothing… a trick of the light."
"What?"
"I thought I saw a face in the fire, that's all," the elf-lord shrugged, turning away. "It's gone now, if it was even there."
"That's where you're wrong," said a voice.
Both elves gasped; Cirdan took a step back from the desk. "Who's there?"
"An old friend," the voice replied.
"Show yourself," Cirdan ordered.
"I have," said the voice calmly. "Just keep looking into the fire."
Wonderingly, Cirdan removed one of the glass panels of the lamp, so that the flame would be more clearly visible. His eyes widened in shock when he saw the face.
"Gandalf!" he gasped.
"Yes," the fire-spirit nodded. "I have a message for you, and your daughter."
"What is it?" asked Aeleth, her eyes alight.
"Your son Daeglir is safe and well," Gandalf smiled,"and he is on his way here as I speak."
Aeleth sobbed in joy. "I told you, Ada! It's never too late to hope!"
"Where is he?" cried Cirdan.
"Go down to the docks," Gandalf instructed. "You will see a small boat approaching the harbour; it holds the child. Elrond of Rivendell and Galadriel of Lothlorien are with him, though you may not see them at first. In fact, it's doubtful you will see Elrond at all."
Cirdan replaced the glass panel of the lamp, picked it up and hurried outside, Aeleth at his heels.
Father and daughter rushed through the dim haven toward the docks, where the water was lit silver by the light of the full moon. Bobbing in the midst of the light was a small boat, just as Gandalf had said.
"Just a bit further," Elrond reassured Daeglir, as the longboat drifted on the inky sea. "You're nearly there."
"Look," cried Galadriel suddenly. "Isn't that Cirdan on the dock?"
"Yes," said the wind-spirit elatedly. "And his daughter is with him. Perhaps…"
"Perhaps what?" asked Daeglir.
"Perhaps she is the woman you remember from your past," Elrond beamed. "She just might be your mother!"
As the boat drew nearer to the pier, the dim figures of Cirdan and his daughter could more clearly be seen. The two elves could see the boat better as well.
"This is wonderful!" cried Aeleth. "My little boy is coming home… oh, Daeglir!"
Galadriel smiled when she heard Aeleth's voice. "I think you were right about her, Elrond – she does sound as though she is Daeglir's mother. 'My little boy'…"
Elrond nodded. "Did you hear what she said to Cirdan? She called him 'Ada'… he could be your grandfather, Daeglir!"
If the boy had had eyes, they would have been filled with tears of joy. "I have family!"
The boat reached the dock, and Aeleth instantly scooped Daeglir into her arms, crying with happiness. "Oh, ion nin…" (my son)
Daeglir's face was all smiles. "Nana…" (Mommy)
Cirdan beamed as he embraced his grandson. "How on earth did you get here?"
"Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel helped me," Daeglir replied. "They're here."
"Where?" asked the Lord of Mithlond.
"I'm right here, sire," said Elrond calmly, breezing up to his friend.
"Lord Elrond?" cried the astonished elf.
"The very same," the wind-spirit nodded.
"Where is Lady Galadriel, then?"
"Down here, sire," the water-spirit called. "I'm in the water."
Cirdan knelt at the edge of the pier, staring down into the dark sea below him. The shimmering figure of Galadriel rippled gently, smiling up at him. "Good evening, sire."
"Good evening," the elf-lord said politely, trying not to sound too baffled. "How in Arda is this possible?"
"That is a strange tale," Galadriel replied. "It began with paperwork, and somewhere in the middle the three of us became spirits; as you've seen, the tale ends here."
"No, it doesn't," Elrond told her. "The tale should end when we get our bodies back, and that hasn't happened yet."
"Do you know when it will?" she countered.
"Not exactly, no…"
"Hmm."
Cirdan was about to speak, when there came an ominous increase in the speed of the wind. Thick black clouds were boiling in the sky, obscuring the moon and darkening the world. Icy raindrops splattered down onto the haven as lightning flickered not far off.
"Looks like this storm's going to be a big one," said Cirdan.
"Brilliant," smiled Elrond.
"That didn't sound at all sarcastic, if you were trying to," Gandalf told him.
"I wasn't," Elrond replied, more loudly as the wind began to howl. "I've been thinking – if it was a storm that made us spirits, perhaps another could change us back!"
"An interesting point," said Galadriel. "Lord Cirdan, you had best get inside."
Cirdan nodded as he got to his feet, and he and his kin hurried into the main building of the haven.
Elrond was tossed about in the air by wailing gales as the storm swelled steadily. He began concentrating on becoming his old self, regaining his body and being able to withstand the wrath of the tempest. He had had enough of freedom.
Galadriel rocked back and forth as waves flowed past, around and through her again and again. What she wanted most of all, right now, was to be able to climb out of the sea and seek shelter in Cirdan's haven; her so-called serenity had not been at all satisfying.
Gandalf hovered between worlds, watching and waiting for the right moment. He was certain that his true being belonged in a body of flesh and blood, not of heat and light. The lightning hadn't given him power; it had imprisoned him.
But now he saw his chance.
"Get ready," he called to his friends. "Our time is coming."
On a sudden whim, Elrond slid into a wind that raged over the ocean. Galadriel was suspended just below him; Gandalf was gazing intently down from above, and counting. Five, four, three, two...
He struck.
The world went white.
Cirdan observed the blinding flash from his bedroom window. Shielding his eyes, he blinked to clear his vision after the light faded. What in Arda had just happened?
The storm seemed to be over, as if that bright light had suddenly ended it. Moonlight was trickling down from the clearing sky; it illuminated the three figures floating limply in the sea.
The elf leapt up from where he had been sitting at his desk, racing outside. He sprinted down to the pier, gasping in horror. The bodies of Elrond, Gandalf and Galadriel drifted slightly in the water, but somehow remained afloat, just near enough for him to reach.
And reach Cirdan did. He lay down on his front on the edge of the dock, stretching out his arms as far as they would go. He carefully drew all three friends to him, one at a time, and pulled them out onto the solid stone dock., praying all the while.
It took a short time for the elves and the wizard to recover their senses. All three stared around blearily as they sat up, exchanging curious glances with Cirdan and each other.
"We're back," were the first words spoken; they were uttered by Elrond. The half-elf pushed his soaking, windswept hair out of his eyes, climbing slowly (and unsteadily) to his feet.
"Argh…" Elrond cringed at the stiffness of his newly-regained body. "And just when I had gotten used to floating."
"I second that," added Galadriel, smiling as Cirdan helped her to stand. "Thank you, sire."
Elrond then helped Gandalf upright; the wizard looked very disgruntled as he wrung out his long beard. He scowled as the elf snickered at him, but didn't say anything.
Cirdan smiled at the three of them, his blue-green eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "It's good to see you all again," he said brightly, with a sideways glance at Elrond. "I wish to thank you all for returning my grandson to me. You gave both myself and my daughter, as well as Daeglir himself, the greatest gift anyone could give."
"I barely did anything," said Gandalf. "If you wish to thank anyone, then thank Elrond and Galadriel; they did all of the work."
"Don't be so modest," Cirdan chided the wizard.
"I wasn't," he insisted. "I was being honest."
"Whatever," Cirdan smiled. "Why don't we all go inside and dry off properly?"
All three friends willingly agreed to this.
After towelling off and changing into dry clothes lent to them by elves of Mithlond, the three Ring-keepers discussed their next move: to stay the rest of the night at the Grey Havens, or to return to Rivendell.
"You are more than welcome to spend the night here," Cirdan told them graciously. "I can show you some spare bedrooms, and I'll ready horses to bear you back to Imladris in the morning."
"Thank you, sire," they smiled.