There was indeed nothing much that Tarisilya could still do. In his usual stubbornness, Aragorn had made certain of that himself by denying himself the help of her healing hands.
Sure, she could have tried to chase away what was laying so heavily in his lungs there and made every breath an adventure. But that would only have meant even more pain for him and wouldn't have changed anything in the long run. The sickness had already done far too much damage. When she sat down on the edge of his bed, he was looking frighteningly small, wearing one of his old government tunics, his hair almost white and stringy, his cheeks hollowed. If she'd intervened, he would only have tortured himself more than he wanted to, so she let it be.
Instead, she silently stayed by his side, with one hand on his chest, renewed the herbal compresses there, again and again, thereby relieving him at least of the twinge in his airways, and kept his cough under control when he was being conscious for a few minutes of disorientation every now and then.
Aragorn's wife was sitting by his other side just as silently, not moving a muscle. She just smiled at Tarisilya gratefully sometimes before she braced her arms on her knees again and cried away without a sound.
Occasionally, Legolas would be next to Tarisilya or Arwen and press one of them against him comfortingly when he wasn't busy sitting over there on the windowsill, withdrawn, singing songs for his Ring Companion who was growing weaker by the hour. Or when he wasn't busy taking care of the most necessary duties together with Eldarion, Eldarion's younger sister, and Minuial who had also arrived from Rohan by now, work that didn't even stop existing in such an hour of grief.
Aragorn's children and grandchildren were taking turns being on the watch. They were also singing for him though, in his deep sleep, he couldn't hear it, and lay by his side again and again, with tears in their eyes, to enjoy the last hours they could still have with their King.
In the late evening hour then, there were heavy, dragging steps echoing outside in the hall that Tarisilya hadn't heard in quite a while. Legolas and she looked up in relief at the same time. Time had also left traces on another of their companions. For a while, they hadn't even been sure if it would actually be possible for Gimli to go on this last journey that Legolas had promised him when they had all traveled Middle-earth together, all these decades ago. But no affliction, no matter how painful, could apparently have kept the Dwarf-Lord from paying his respects to the big hero of the war as he was departing.
"Outrageous, can you believe it?" It was calming that Gimli could still rant in offense just as well as he'd used to, that you could already hear him before he even came limping through the door. He was bracing himself on that elegant silver cane again that he had already carried with him at his last visit for the yearly ring celebration, held by a hand clad in the usual silver-gray glove with the stuffed middle finger that was hiding the handicap from pitying eyes that he'd gained in the Moria Kidnapping.
"There you go, enjoying a few nice years in Aglarond, and everything here goes haywire immediately. What's that nonsense I hear, laddie?" His free hand braced on his hip in determination, he approached the bed, but a single look at the patient had his words lose their energy bit by bit. "Such drama because of a little cough, that's just like you, Elessar. Don't get any funny ideas! And stop pretending you're asleep, or I'll have to pull you out of that bed by the ears!"
"I'm afraid, I'm no longer capable of that much pretending, Master Dwarf." By now, Aragorn's breathing was so weak that Tarisilya hadn't even realized, he must indeed have woken up again at some point in the last few minutes. His eyes clouded by fever, there wasn't much in the room that he could still see right, but when he spotted his very haggard Companion who'd greyed completely by now, a tender smile curled on his lips.
"Eldarion, I think we need to send some of the harvests to Rohan. With how thin you've become, you'll fall off the elves' ship before you reach your destination, Gimli."
"Nonsense," the dwarf grumbled but then was taking Tarisilya's place quite gladly when she vacated it for him, after greeting him with a quick kiss to his bearded cheek.
After she'd put another cloth on Aragorn's chest, once more soaked with each and every soothing herb that Tarisilya had ever gathered in her stash, the King didn't seem to be in any pain right now. He hadn't been talking that much at a stretch since the morning. In her career as a healer, Tarisilya had had to let enough patients go to know what that meant.
Which meant for her, and for Arwen and Eldarion, too, that they had to leave Gimli and Legolas alone with the King at least for a moment, no matter how hard it was for them.
These friends who had risked their lives to save this world from doom back then deserved it to go that last battle, one of the hardest of their lives, alone one last time.
Tarisilya never learned what they'd been talking about in that room in these few minutes; she didn't need to know. It was reassurance enough that Legolas didn't look pale as a ghost anymore when the door was being opened again at some point and her husband led a quietly sniffling dwarf outside who was looking clearly crestfallen now.
Gimli heavily dropped onto the stony bench in the waiting hall and buried his knobbly face in his hands. He did no longer have the ax with him that he'd carried on his back earlier; it would lay under the King's bed now.
"Go, stay with Gimli," Tarisilya murmured when Legolas stopped in the doorway indecisively, visibly torn by the wish to either stay by Aragorn's side or be there for his friend who wasn't being any less close to him. "I'll call you when …"
When. Even as someone who had already seen so many Secondborn die, and a few elves, too, she couldn't get it out.
Aragorn wasn't just another leader of mannish realms taking his leave. His demise would make these realms lose part of their splendor, their pride, their glory that under Aragorn's leadership, had blossomed so brightly again after the war.
At this moment, Tarisilya was very glad that Legolas had instinctively ignored his people's confused questions a few months ago and had indeed initiated the building of their ship a lot earlier than planned. She didn't think that she could have stayed here for even another month once it would be over.
But at least for now, Aragorn was still having enough strength to open his eyes when she sat down by his side again and rested her hand on his chest. Maybe he had only waited for the two of them to be alone for a while, to be able to gift her with this loving smile. "I never saw you so much at peace with yourself, Ilya."
Sometimes, this man who was so much younger than herself, still managed that she had to lower her head in embarrassment even after all this time. She raised one shoulder and dropped it again. She didn't think, he would be angry that it was this day of all times that suddenly allowed this utter, overwhelming calmness to flow into her soul. That led her thoughts towards the image of her father again and again that she'd suppressed for so long, of how he was standing at the white beach every morning with a yearning sigh, just like he'd promised her. That had her imagine how Tegiend's eyes, so similar to her own, that had been filled with so bitterness, so much anger before his departure, would finally shine again.
"What can I say? I'm going home too."
"Thank you, Ilya." The feeble twitch of his hand let her know what he wanted, so she left her chair to sit on the bed, holding his right hand firmly in hers, leaning closer to him so that he did no longer have to strain his hoarse voice so much. "For everything that you did for my realm and my family, and for turning around back then when the west has called for you. Nothing could make me happier than knowing that my closest friend is allowed to spend his eternity by your side."
"It was not a burden." Tarisilya squeezed his hand a little harder so that he could feel the cool metal of her wedding ring on his heated skin, the memory of one of the most beautiful days of her life in Imladris back then. Back then, the King had been by her side as well, putting his duties into the background for his family and friends which he'd always hated to do so much.
"Thank you. For bringing the other half of my soul back to me from the war. And for allowing us to spend the most beautiful years of our marriage in your land. For making this realm safe again, so that my children had the honor of experiencing the life of the Secondborn before the sea will part us from it forever." Now it was happening after all, now she started to blink violently though that was the very thing she had just promised herself not to do. "I just wish you could come with us, Aragorn, both of you."
"Oh, Ilya." Yes, that was definitely an amused glow in his reddened, grey eyes. One that had her blush about her own immaturity that sometimes still existed in her, and her childish stubbornness towards the inevitable. Only the loving caress of a wrinkled, spotted hand on her cheek that did actually not even have enough strength for such gestures anymore, had her look up again.
Aragorn wasn't crying. He also wasn't looking back, or to the future with even a bit of regret or fear. And even now that his last strength was leaving him, he still used it to comfort someone else. "My place is elsewhere. If the Valar are gracious, I will someday be allowed to share it with the she-elf who has dedicated her life to mine. How would that make me fret? Take good care of this crazy elf out there, and of your children, that's all I can ask of you. You better take that seriously. I'll personally check on you every now and then, to make sure you're behaving yourselves."
"Good luck with that," Tarisilya chuckled under tears. "How well do you know us?"
She caught his hand when he couldn't keep it up anymore, put it back on the mattress … and startled when she saw that Aragorn had closed his eyes again, that his head, his gaunt body had sunken into the mattress a lot deeper.
"Legolas! Arwen!"
No, it wasn't over yet, but almost.
Aragorn still managed to hold on until Legolas had taken Andúril from its retainer on the wall over the bed and had put it into Aragorn's hands. He also managed to exchange a few last sentences of their final goodbye with Arwen. When his children were sitting by his side again, his two Ring Companions respectfully retreated a few steps, with Legolas' arm firmly wrapped around Gimli's shoulders.
With a last kiss to Arwen's hand, her tearstained face nestled against his neck, with Eldarion's head resting on his chest and Minuial and her sister firmly holding his hands, the King of Gondor and Arnor drew his last breath.
The sudden, cruel coldness had Tarisilya wrap her arms around herself, shaking. An echo of a deafening silence spread both in the room and in the hall outside, even in front of the windows, as if the men in the streets, the birds in the trees, even the wind on the river felt what had happened. For a moment, she felt completely lost, more than she ever had at a deathbed.
Then her husband started to sing, choked, and she got up as if on strings, grabbing his free hand with hers before her knees could give in. Her voice and his melted into a deep, melancholic unity that gave her the strength to make it even through these last minutes of goodbye, just like it had always been Legolas' unwavering strength that had carried her for centuries.
the clouds are veiled now
Eru close my eyes
and give my soul a place to hide
until it finds peace
fate is carrying on
breaking my waves
until I'm no longer blind to see
what still lies ahead
she sings for me as she did
when we walked the grounds as one
the rain washing our skin and mind
bonds unbroken until the end of time
turning tide when it tried to bury us
graced by the powers in the eye of evil
left by our wits in the depth of grief
yet fate kept on carrying us on
through every turn of the sun
every time turmoil would find us
our love would run deep
until this day we chose to forget
that fate once would set us apart
treasuring the gift of the Valar
that was your life
your light set every room ablaze
your kindness chased away all dark
proud and noble until the last of seconds
gentle benign with your head never bowed
fate doesn't ask
love purer than eternity
dancing on silver shores in a dream
watching the world from golden halls
and a land forever lost
drowning and breathing the sea
going your own way, never wavering
every lifetime too short
and every second a lifetime
as the midsummer sun set over Rivendell
your light set every room ablaze
your kindness chased away all dark
proud and noble until the last of seconds
gentle benign with your head never bowed
a stride never straying afar
a truth of old in every song
dignity of kingdoms of old
laughter of a firstborn child
a broken sword brought back to life
when fate came to crash the life of the free
you stood and told it to move
never once despairing or abandoning
the light across the sky
fate doesn't ask
it will not let me follow
the journey carries on
into a world without your grace
in my heart you will be safe
until the stars shall burn out
When they had finished, Legolas stepped up to the bed one last time to rest his lips on Aragorn's forehead for a moment.
Tarisilya let him go when he stumbled outside, probably onto a tree there; the first refuge he was seeking out in his first grief couldn't by her side as he was too overwhelmed by having let someone go who had been his closest friend for more than a hundred years.
Only when Tarisilya could be sure that Arwen was in good hands with her children, for now, she followed him. She sat on the limb under his, nuzzling her head against his leg, and shed her own tears for the biggest King these realms had ever seen and would ever see until the end of all life. A few of Legolas' tears fell on her hair while he caressed her neck, wordlessly, lost in a pain of the kind that their folk only rarely had to go through and that many Firstborn weren't exactly envying the two of them for.
The other elves had fled from it in the last few centuries, some only as late as in the last few years. Even Aragorn's closest friends and his family of Imladris had left it to Legolas and her to say this last goodbye, and maybe Tarisilya should have been angry with them.
But she had never been a friend of blaming her decisions on others.
They were sitting there until dawn, ever until they saw Cyron and Élnen approach them, clad in dark, tight robes, their gold blond hair tied back with the help of the circlet of their realm. Only now, Tarisilya firmly took Legolas' cold hand in hers again. "It's time."
He still couldn't get out even one word, but he followed her without resistance when she slipped to the ground. But when he landed next to her, he kissed her, fleetingly, gratefully, and she tasted the last of salt on his lips.
For now, they both had run out of tears.
Eldarion who seemed surprisingly composed in spite of his very pale skin color, welcomed Cyron and Élnen with a short embrace when they entered the room again. "Thank you for being here." Tarisilya knew that the new King would have spared the two still-so-young elves to come to the city on this sad occasion without resentment; they had talked about it often enough.
It wouldn't have been necessary that two adolescents already had to face the pain of mortality. But that had been their children's decision. Tarisilya and Legolas had given them that choice when they had left for the city.
It would have been a lie, saying that Tarisilya wasn't a little proud of the two of them for not letting anyone keep them from supporting their friends in this heavy hour.
"Don't be ridiculous." Cyron gave Eldarion the usual, friendly little dig with his elbow, clearly avoiding looking at the bed though, the countless snow-white bouquets now adorning it revealing first farewell ceremonies.
"We loved him just as much, you know that. We're not going anywhere. We're going to help you with everything around here until you're feeling better. Right?"
Cyron turned his questioning gaze towards Tarisilya and Legolas, pausing visibly when he realized, his parents' faces were not only marked by grief but also by relief. "We're not just leaving, right? Ada? Nana? We have to be there for aunt Arwen and the others, don't we?"
He stopped for good, seeing Tarisilya's pained grimace, and how she was burying her face against Legolas' shoulder in sadness, suddenly tortured by the very black fear that 40 years ago, her own brother had almost started to hate her for. For the first time since receiving the message from the capital that had not come unexpectedly but had still been so very burdening, the young elf seemed to understand the kind of burden his parents had imposed on him and his sister by not just fleeing together with the others which would have been so much easier.
He sank down onto the same chair that Tarisilya had used to make the last few hours as bearable as possible for Aragorn, and covered his face with his hands, sobbing quietly, shyly gazing at the old King's lifeless body between his fingers again and again until his sister came to stand next to him and lovingly pressed his head against her belly so that he wouldn't have to see it anymore.
Legolas kissed Tarisilya's neck calmingly, and shook his head almost imperceptibly. It was alright; she didn't even have to say anything. Her son had understood.
Just a few years ago, the two of them might really have to be seriously afraid that Cyron in particular, who was connected to this world by so much more even than his sister was, wouldn't be able to bring himself to say goodbye when it came to it. Back then when he had spent so much time in Ithilien together with Eldarion, when Aragorn's son had taught him more about hunting and tracking than even his own father had before. Or later when he had left behind the last years of his childhood, had had his first glass of ale together with Eldarion, had shot his first wild animal alone, when those two had ceaselessly caused trouble in the streets of Minas Tirith …
But then they had been in Mithlond together, the four of them, after Aragorn's first really bad sickness back then, so shortly after the Quarter Celebration of the end of the war that had made them realize that time was slowly but certainly getting short. That had been when their children had heard the wailing scream of the gulls for the last stragglers among the elves for the first time as well. When they had come back, it had been Cyron himself who had asked Legolas when they would start building their ship.
His and Élnen's burden would be goodbye, just like Legolas' and Tarisilya's was grief.
"There's a boat waiting for you out there, mellon." Eldarion took his friend lovingly by the shoulder. "Please, don't hesitate, I'm begging you. I am letting you go with the happiness that my family was allowed to spend the best time of our lives with some of the last Firstborn of these realms."
His legs still shaking, he went to his knees between Cyron and the bed and pressed his lips to his father's white hand. "You were the light and the rock in our lives until ada took his last breath, but we were always only a chapter in yours. Such is the will of the Valar."
Minuial who had silently stayed in the background so far, with her arm firmly wrapped around her mother's completely petrified, snow-white silhouette, came to stand next to her brother and pulled Élnen close who was quietly crying away now as well. "Don't … Everything is alright, sweetie. We'll never forget you. You know that, don't you? And I hope, you won't forget us either."
"Never." Legolas and Tarisilya went there almost at the same time, taking their children in an embrace together, and not excluding Aragorn's children from it either. There wasn't anything else left they could do here.
"We're leaving. When he finds his peace, look to the west. That is from where we, too, will accompany him on his last journey."
"Do you know where you'll go already?"
Tarisilya cursed soundlessly when Arwen promptly startled so badly that she started to sway on her feet, her legs trembling. She quickly stepped up to her friend and held her tight, leading her a bit away from the monument that she hadn't left for half an eternity.
By now, even the last funeral guests had left. The widths of the plain the meadows of which were still green even at this time of the year, with its countless stony statues guarding the resting places of the sons and daughters of this city, were practically empty. The guards would soon want to close the gates of Fen Hollen.
Then Tarisilya at least should no longer be here. That was why she couldn't have waited any longer before addressing the Queen, no matter how much she had hated it, bothering her when she had been so deep in thought.
It wasn't impossible that this special law that Aragorn had established before his death on short notice, would also allow his wife as an exception to the usual rule to keep entering the sacred grounds for as long as it would be necessary for her to at least start dealing with her loss.
Tarisilya wouldn't be able to wait that long. She had to board a ship down there by the river.
After a brief moment of offense flashing in the deeply sunken eyes behind Arwen's veil, her friend seemed to remember that as well. Instead of flaring up, she tiredly put her head on Tarisilya's shoulder, gladly accepting her friend's embrace for a last time.
Tarisilya was surprised the other she-elf could even still stand on her own feet. She couldn't have eaten anything in days, couldn't have had any sleep for even longer. Even without being able to make out her face clearly, Tarisilya knew that the first fine wrinkles that had appeared on Arwen's face in the course of the last few years, had become a lot deeper. More than anything else, this was depressing proof of part of her not having been here, in this place, for a long time. Though she had given up eternal life to be able to stay by Aragorn's side: Her body that was still reacting very elvish in many regards would doubtlessly have allowed her to get much older than even the extensive lifespan of the Númenór made it possible.
But the Queen had decided against that long before being at her husband's deathbed. At this point, it was only a question of when she would be able to bring herself to say goodbye to her children. And where.
"Lórien," Arwen finally murmured against Tarisilya's neck belatedly, audibly with a bad conscience when she felt her friend startle, pained, at the mention of her old realm that had long died out. "I know. There's nothing left there. That exactly is why. I don't have to see anyone there. And that is where he and I once pledged ourselves to each other. That's where it shall end."
"Did it ever enter your mind that maybe it doesn't have to?" Tarisilya asked her without any hope, but the healer in her didn't allow her to not try at least once. "Did you never consider coming with us into the west? You did so much for this world … I'm sure the Valar would never deny you being reunited with your family. We always had a place for you on our ship, you know."
"No, Ilya." Arwen slowly pulled back the veil of her grey and black dress, letting her see the silver in her jet-black hair, the deep emptiness in her eyes. "I have made my choice for the life of Men, just like my father and his brother have once made their choice. Mine was always going with him, no matter where, ever since I saw him for the first time. My life really only started with him, and without him, there's nothing left of it."
She approached the marble memorial once more with wobbly steps that Gimli had helped build in the last few days, this softly bedded, resting statue that depicted the most worthy version of Aragorn they could have dedicated to him, from all of Aragorn's timeless features to the sword handle in his hand. Resting her almost transparent hand on the cold stone, Arwen turned her eyes to the sky. "My place is no longer here, Ilya. My path takes me to the holy halls where Aragorn will be waiting for me if the Valar are gracious. And then our common path might lead us to whatever fate has planned for us. But no matter where that is, I will never be far enough to not keep an eye on you. So don't do anything stupid."
"You know, your husband told me the same," Tarisilya remarked, quietly laughing and crying at the same time.
And that was also how she said goodbye to her friend then when a soldier over there at the gate let her know, it was time with an inviting gesture towards her.
Outside in the streets of the sixth level that she had spent so much time of her life among Men in, Legolas was waiting for her, to go with her on her very last walk through the city, towards the harbor.
The persons who were last to go ashore before the Lords of the last elven realm of Middle-earth would set foot on Aman, at last, made for quite an uneven team.
First – finally –, there was Thondrar's tall, strong shape that had become almost unrecognizable. And not only because Tegiend remembered quite well that since his arrival, Glorfindel had been talking about his son's bad handicap with a worried expression again and again; that he'd been afraid for years that his completely insane offspring would throw himself on the next best orc blade after all now that no one had been watching him anymore.
That fear seemed to have been unjustified. Thondrar's arm, albeit still comparatively thinner, was wrapped around the shoulders of his companion who was a great deal smaller than him. It was free of any brace or sling, and it didn't look as if that odd little being there had to support him. Besides, his hair was a lot longer than it used to be, and then this rich, golden robe … Tegiend had to bite back a grin, wondering what the Lord of Cair Andros had possibly used to bribe his substitute with so that he would doll up for once for their arrival in the Undying Lands.
No one had apparently had the guts to do the same to the dwarf by Thondrar's side; in his dusty, dark worker tunic, he didn't only look out of place because never before had a member of his species been allowed to enter these lands. But thanks to Galadriel's still quite reliable visions, the people waiting on these shores had already been prepared for that, too. And the powers that were in these realms had given their permission, almost seeming resigned. Presumably more because after a few decades of Thranduil's presence here, it was well-known already that messing with this family caused more headache than it did anyone good, and less because they hadn't wanted to deny one of the Ring-bearers such a heartfelt wish. Therefore, no one had anything but a lenient shrug to spare for the sight.
In many regards, the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen simply took after his ancestors. If only he'd actually shown his face now, too …
"Tegiend. Calm down. Take a deep breath. You're driving me crazy. Should I be offended that you haven't been half as nervous at our wedding? Then again, I'd probably have tossed you into the river before the first blessing."
Sighing, Haldir put a hand on his neck, the way one would calm a whining kitten. But he couldn't take his eyes off of the plank himself where the still quite slender but already fully grown silhouettes of two elflings had shown up next, each of them leading a black Mearas-horse behind them by its reins. That was the point when there was no more holding Tegiend back, at last, so his Captain followed him with an amused snort.
Yes, Haldir was right as usual, of course. And Tegiend who had spent a few more years here than him after all should know that even better than his husband did ... Actually, you didn't throw yourselves at the arrivals with hugs and words immediately, no matter how badly you had been waiting for them.
But by now, Tegiend had enough experience with which kind of elves quickly left the harbor upon their arrival because, for them, it would have been too painful to be standing around on the beach for days to come and look to the past, and which of them often preferred to spend weeks, standing still. He was quite sure that these two adolescents there whom he'd never been allowed to meet before, were still far too unbalanced to mingle with the other former residents of Cair Andros who were already looking for a place by the water, with the typical, still quite slow, almost sleepwalking steps, to recover from the strains of the journey and their last time among the mortals.
The dwarf, understandably, had no interest in that either. And in spite of his visible exhaustion that only allowed him to shuffle away very slowly, bent over his cane, he was still attentive enough to realize that Thondrar's eyes were drawn to the whooshing waves again and again as well. "Come on, get back there. Not even you have to keep up that whole hero act now anymore. I'll take care of them."
With a good-natured hum on his rubbery lips, the dwarf linked arms with the two young elves, gladly letting them lead him across the dock and up the steep beach.
It was impossible for Tegiend to hide the relieved smile on his lips when he approached the three of them, with his partner in tow.
From the corners of his eyes, he could already see Glorfindel somewhere in the front row of the people waiting, too.
And in spite of all big announcements regarding patience beforehand, Tegiend's father had arrived at the beach as well. Almost faster than Tegiend did, he hurried towards the elvish boy and the she-elf who looked so much like their mother, except for their hair and eyes that had the typical color of Thranduil's family.
"Hello …" Still a little shy, the she-elf was the first to speak up. "You … you look just like nana. Well, you look a little older."
"Élnen! Please!"
Smiling in embarrassment, the boy put his arm around his sister. Cyron was his name – Tegiend remembered a number of tales from elves who had only left their old home behind when the connection of two elves from realms that had formerly been completely estranged, had been blessed with an offspring for the first time. For politeness' sake, the boy introduced the two of them once more though.
"The others will need a little time, I'm afraid."
He took a brief look back over his shoulder at the plank where the silhouette of a she-elf very well known to Tegiend had shown up now, too, who was firmly holding her husband's hand as she took him ashore, to Tegiend's disappointment walking towards the others on the beach indeed.
"Please don't be angry. They need a moment to themselves. It was a difficult goodbye. It's only been a month since we had to let King Elessar go."
"Let them rest as long as they need to. Time has no longer any meaning now, ion. Never again." As so often, it was Vandrin, stopping Tegiend's yearning and impatience with a comforting hand on his back. At least he knew now that this feeling would only be plaguing him for a very limited time to come.
"At least our long wait to finally be allowed to meet you comes to an end on this day of happiness. I am your grandfather, and this is your uncle and his husband. If you are ready … A whole village is waiting anxiously to welcome the last Firstborn born on Middle-earth."
"We have heard a lot about you. And it is our honor." Cyron bowed lightly towards Tegiend and Vandrin, visibly curious in spite of the sadness that still had a hold on him, too.
He took another look back at his parents who had sat down on the beach, with Tarisilya nestling closely against her husband, who were staring at the sea together, at everything they had left behind. It made the heart of the young elf heavy, too, but that was a pain, the Lord and Lady of Cair Andros would have to deal with alone.
None of them could do anything here right now, though the young ones didn't like to leave their parents alone. When they would see them next, they would hopefully have learned how to laugh again.
In the meantime, there were other things they needed to do. Cyron wrapped his arm that looked quite strong, probably from excessive archery, tighter around Gimli who was almost falling asleep where he was standing already. "We're happy to go with you, but unfortunately, not all of us are destined for eternity. Our first way has to lead us to Lady Galadriel … haru." That came a little hesitatingly still, but it sounded beautiful. Right. Good.
"She's already waiting for you in our village, just like your other grandfather. He's been running up the walls of his cave for days," Vandrin revealed with a mischievous smile.
"Just leave the horses here for now. They'll find enough to eat, and they'll be happy to stretch their legs after spending so much time on the ship. Come on, Master Dwarf. The others in the village can't wait for your wild tales from the war."
With a smile, Vandrin pointed at the small cart that he'd been clever enough to come here with. Two of the deep black Mearas that had been born in these lands in the course of the years thanks to Tegiend's stallion and then thanks to Tarisilya's mare, were hitched up to it.
A fine glass of wine and spending the evening by the fire … That sounded like the perfect way to let this turbulent day end right now.
"Are you not coming?" When the streets had almost emptied already, Tegiend turned around with a frown once more.
The others who had been waiting had been satisfied with taking a first look at their so-long-missed loved ones for now; they were ready to wait for the final reunion a little longer.
But Glorfindel was still standing at the edge of the beach, with his hands tucked inside the wide sleeves of his robes, his arms folded. The Gondolindrim shook his head with a smile and let himself fall onto the sand, similar to how the Lord and the Lady had. "I'm not in a hurry."
"That might take a while," Tegiend warned him, without much hope to change the legendary warrior's mind. Just because the three of them were related in a certain way which had come to light completely unexpectedly a few decades ago, that didn't mean, Tegiend or Vandrin would have more influence on the former general's inner life that was often so complicated, much to Elrond's chagrin.
"My son had to wait for me all his life," Glorfindel replied unimpressed. "For him, I think I'll survive spending a few weeks under the sun of our home."
"I'll let Lord Elrond know."
Tegiend nodded at him understandingly, turning towards the cart with a heavy heart when a large hand was tenderly placed on his back. Once more, Haldir knew better what was going on inside of him than he did himself.
"Do you want to …?" His partner pointed at the arrivals' unmoving silhouettes. "I'll wait with you if you want me to. You had to do without her for far too long."
"Exactly. So I can manage for a while longer. She's fine, that's all I needed to know."
Yet Tegiend couldn't quite suppress a wistful sigh that quickly turned into a loving beam again though when he saw the young elves sitting on the cargo area floor whose life had only just begun. Who, unlike their parents, wouldn't have to deal with the pain and fear of war but who were blessed with the happiness of spending their eternity in the possibly most beautiful place of all. And from now on, Tegiend wouldn't miss another day of it.
He took a brief second to lean over to Haldir and kiss him. "Thanks for coming here with us. Let's go."
When the horses trotted off, they remained seated, leaning back against the cart's low, sun-warmed walls, opposite the young elves who had Gimli sitting between them. They were cautiously holding the elderly dwarf tight during the ride that was quite bumpy while they were eying the surroundings that were their new home with big eyes for the first time.
When the evening mist covered the dunes more and more, Cyron reached past Gimli's belly to take his sister's hand, almost at the same moment when Tegiend felt Haldir's well-known, soothing touch on his bent leg. The last heaviness of saying their final goodbye to the old world blurred with the rich colors of the hills, was sinking down behind the horizon together with the sun, was carried away by the gulls far across the sea that would part the elves from the Secondborn forever from now on, or until the world would break and be remade.
They were home.