Written for Tolkien_Weekly's "transactions" challenge series.
They Would Not Yield the Jewel
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Celeborn was waiting outside the twins' nursery with a paper and a frown. "A message has come from Maedhros Fëanorion."
Elwing took it. The words were of friendship and entreaty, but the undertone was stern and threatening. The remaining sons of Fëanor wanted the Silmaril.
She remembered the fire and blood and screams the night Doriath fell, and thought of her sons sleeping just behind the door, and also of her little brothers, now long dead.
"We will not give up the Silmaril while Eärendil is at sea," she said. "Tell Maedhros this. Perhaps that will buy us some time."
.
And She Sat in Sorrow
Borrow
The stars glimmered overhead, dimmed by the half moon that hovered over Sirion, casting sharp shadows and making the sea waves dance silver.
Moonlight always made her remember Doriath, and her grandfather's stories. "I saw her dancing like a dream by the enchanted Esgalduin, and flowers blossomed at her feet." Her grandmother always laughed when he waxed poetic.
Lúthien had followed Beren on his quest, and sung a tower to rubble and Morgoth to sleep. All Elwing could do was stand atop a parapet with a borrowed spyglass, scanning the empty horizon and praying for a glimpse of familiar sails.
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Knowledge of Their Oath Unfulfilled
Sell
"They will not wait for Eärendil's return," Galadriel said. Firelight glinted on her hair. "I remember their oath taking in Aman." Her skirts whispered across the floor as she turned to pace.
Elwing wanted to believe what some from Gondolin were saying, that Maedhros would wait, that Maglor was honorable, that Ambarussa would follow their brothers' lead.
But none in Sirion were strangers to treachery, be it from an attack by allies in the snow or secrets sold to Morgoth. "What would you have me do?" Elwing asked, wishing (yet again) for Eärendil's presence.
Galadriel sighed. "I do not know."
.
Sudden Fear had Fallen
Lend
"What are they doing?" Elros asked, standing on his toes to peer out the window. Elwing hoisted Elrond onto her hip and looked out as well. It was raining lightly, but that had not stopped all of the men (and many women) of Sirion from lending a hand to the improvements being made to their defense.
"They are making sure we are safe," Elwing said.
She watched Celeborn directing men at the base of the wall. They sought to build it higher, but there was no stone here, only wood and sand and water. And Fëanor's sons would bring fire.
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She Cast Herself Into the Sea
Bequeath
She had watched them rush the walls of Sirion, Noldor fighting Noldor now, as well as Sindar. Elves fighting Elves – how Morgoth must be laughing!
Now Maedhros sheathed his sword, holding out his hand that dripped with blood. "Give us the jewel," he demanded.
The Jewel – the Silmaril – bequeathed to Dior at Lúthien's death, and come to her through his. Elwing clutched the Nauglamír to her chest. There was but one way to end the bloodshed.
"No, wait!" Maedhros lunged, but he was too late. Elwing stepped back, and closed her eyes as the sea rushed up to meet her.
.
Given Leave to Choose
Gift
The Valar had gifted them the choice, they were told. They must choose whether to be counted among Elves or Men. Eärendil, still weary after facing the Powers, looked to Elwing. He would follow her choice.
She thought of her courageous grandmother, the Elven princess who had chosen death, and how all who had known her – who had merely known of her – mourned her loss. She thought of her family slaughtered in the halls of Menegroth (and her sons' uncertain fate) – and she could not imagine choosing death.
"I choose the fate of the Firstborn, for Lúthien's sake," she said.