Chapter 2

The next day, Elrond, Arwen, and Lindir set out in the early morning mist. There was no fanfare, for it was not widely know where they were going and what they planned to do. Elladan and Elrohir said their farewells, unable to hide their worry for the safety of their sister underneath their serious visage. "We will keep things running in your stead, Adar," Elrohir murmured. "Keep her safe."

"Always," Elrond replied, clapping both of his sons on their shoulders. "Navaer."

The guards looked on curiously as they passed, but no questions were asked. Elrond was grateful for their trust in him, but he wondered how they would feel if they knew where he intended to go.

Unfortunately, they would be returning to Mithlond, the very place Elrond had just come from. They planned to borrow one of Cirdan's smaller vessels and sail up the coast, going through the Gulf of Lune and then turning north. Elrond was unfamiliar with the waters, and anything he had learned of sailing was some very basic knowledge as a child. They would need help getting to Tol Himling, and hopefully Cirdan would be willing to give such aid.

"This will be no short journey," Elrond warned his companions. His estimate of four fortnights from start to finish was perhaps unrealistic, especially considering he did not know how long it would take to search Tol Himling. "We must pray the weather holds, for it would be dangerous to sail in stormy waters."

"Ada, do not worry on things we cannot predict," Arwen said reassuringly.

Elrond sighed. "My foresight has not aided me in this journey." Did it bode ill?

Arwen laughed softly, and her musical voice soothed Elrond's worries slightly. "Then you are just as prepared as the rest of us. I at least will choose to be optimistic."

"As will I," Lindir agreed with a smile. "Shall I play us a tune?"

"Something light-hearted," Elrond replied, and his heart lifted as Lindir plucked a merry tune on his hand harp. They were still in safe lands, and would soon be crossing the Ford of Bruinen. Guards regularly patrolled the area, even though Elrond could not see them. As they approached the river, it sparkled in the sunlight. Luckily it had not rained recently, and the current was calm as their horses clip-clopped through the water to the other side.

Arwen had not traveled much in this direction, and her eyes were wide and child-like as she beheld the wild beauty of the Trollshaws. Elrond wished he had traveled further abroad with her in the past, for she had led a relatively sheltered life. "Ada, the trees whisper to one another, but I cannot understand them."

Lindir paused in his singing to listen, but did not seem alarmed at what he heard. "They are content at the moment, and sense no danger in the area. However," Lindir became more serious. "These lands are more dangerous after nightfall, so we will be staying at various established outposts when we rest for the evening."

"Are you familiar with their locations?" Arwen asked curiously.

Lindir nodded, "I helped Lord Elrond in establishing some of the trade routes between Imladris and other cities and realms, and the outposts were a necessary part of making sure goods and people remained safe from harm."

"Lindir, please call me Elrond. We have known each other far too long for such formalities, especially while on the road."

Lindir grinned at him cheekily. "Of course, my lord." Arwen giggled as Elrond sighed dramatically.

Luck was with them, for they met no threats on the road during their few days in the Trollshaws. If the soldiers in the outposts wondered why their lord was traveling this direction again so soon, they did not comment on it.

As they crossed the Last Bridge, which went over the river Mitheithel, they stopped abruptly and gazed at the stark contrast in landscape. "It is so…barren," Arwen commented with a frown. "Why do the trees stop here?"

"It is called the Lone-lands," Lindir replied quietly. "Or Eriador, in the tongues of our people."

"Very few dwell here anymore, if any at all," Elrond continued. "Hence, the name."

"Where did they all go?" Arwen asked, almost as a whisper.

"These lands once included Cardolan, and Rhudaur, and many wicked battles were fought here as Arnor slowly fell to ruin," Elrond replied tonelessly. He had seldom traveled these lands, even when they were prosperous at the height of Arnor's might. It was eerie to see how desolate they were. "We must continue."

There were few safe places to camp, with the exception of some sheltered ruins and a small inn on the far western side, on the Great East Road near the borders of Breeland. They had received suspicious glances and were nearly refused a room due to being Elves, but Arwen was able to use her considerable charms to change the Innkeeper's mind. The price was surely inflated, but there was no use arguing about the rate.

The journey through Breeland was uneventful, but Elrond could not help but let his eyes stray towards where he knew the Barrow-downs were located. The Witchking had sent the barrow-wights to haunt the once Dunedain-occupied lands of Cardolan. Great kings were buried there, and now were haunted by these fell spirits. It grieved him to know how much his brother's people had suffered and lost, while he was ensconced in Imladris. He knew he had a duty to protect and safeguard his people, but it did not fully assuage his guilt. The town of Bree was a little more welcoming to his traveling party, especially when Lindir charmed the Inn of the Prancing Pony with his light-hearted tunes. Arwen seemed uneasy around so many strangers, and had seen few Men in her life besides the Dunedain who occasionally stopped in Imladris. She stuck close to Elrond's side, and it reminded him of how she followed him like a shadow when she was a child, eyes wide and curious.

When Elrond had passed through the Shire on his previous journey, he had paid it little mind, but now he took some time to marvel at its beauty. Green, rolling hills and sprawling farmlands were dotted with smials, built into the hills themselves. However, despite the clear signs of a large population, the Periannath, or hobbits as they preferred to be called, kept themselves scarce. Mithrandir was fond of them, and had mentioned they disliked Big Folk and were skilled at hiding and remaining unseen if they wished.

Finally, after many days of travel, Elrond could see the towers of Mithlond in the distance. He shivered involuntarily, wishing more than anything to just turn around and forget this mission was even happening. The pain was still too fresh, having just left his ailing wife on a boat in this very harbor. Arwen noticed, and gave his shoulder a squeeze as she rode closer to him. "Perhaps there will be news of naneth's arrival to Aman?"

Elrond shrugged, "Perhaps." He found it unlikely, but there was always a small chance. "Let us continue, for we are not far from the shores."

Lindir shifted his music in a more sea-themed direction, and soon enough, they were greeted by a small party of Teleri Elves. Elrond could see some flickers of surprise and puzzlement over his presence, but they did not question him on his reasons as they escorted the small party to the main hall. Cirdan met them at the bottom of the stairs with a smile, his eyes twinkling as he noticed Arwen among them. "My lady, I have not seen you since you were but an Elfling. Look how much you have grown!"

Arwen blushed, ducking her head at his words. "Indeed, it has been a long time, hir nin Cirdan." She dismounted gracefully and curtseyed. "Thank you for welcoming us to your fair dwelling."

"Of course, you are always welcome here," Cirdan replied, motioning to Elrond and Lindir in kind. "Halenthir will stable your horses, and you will be shown to your rooms. Do you know how long you will be staying with us?" His ancient eyes locked with Elrond's, curiosity evident in his expression.

"Likely only until the morning," Elrond answered, breaking eye contact. "It will depend on how long this part of our errand takes to complete."

There was a beat of silence, before Cirdan said, "We can speak more once you have refreshed yourselves. Would you like to eat in your rooms, or join the others in the hall?"

"Perhaps we might speak as we eat?" Elrond suggested.

"An excellent idea," Cirdan replied with a smile. "I will have food sent to my sitting room, where we may dine together."

Elrond mechanically washed and changed into his customary, more formal robes. His thoughts were racing as he considered how he would broach the subject of borrowing a ship to find Maglor. The Sons of Fëanor were not well-regarded here, for Cirdan and his people had faced much pain and hardship due to their deeds. He also did not know how to sail very well, especially not a vessel large enough to traverse the potentially treacherous waters near the coast. Would Cirdan be willing to lend a crew to help? He also desperately wanted news of his wife, if there was any to be shared. The captains and crew members sometimes did not return from their journeys to Aman, preferring to stay there instead.

Hearing a soft knock, he shook himself from his musings and met his daughter and Lindir in the hall outside. It was a short walk down a few hallways to get to Cirdan's quarters, and despite the lovely sculptures and wall hangings lining the walls, Elrond did not have any interest in perusing them at the moment. Perhaps when things were more decided, he would show Arwen around. The seashell architecture was quite something to behold.

Once they had entered Cirdan's rooms and began eating their plates of fresh fish and locally-grown fruits and vegetables, Cirdan began speaking. "I sense your errand is of a pressing nature, Elrond. Or, at least, one of great significance to you."

The food felt like lead in his throat, and he swallowed with some difficulty before replying, "Yes, my lord, and I fear you will not like it." Cirdan frowned, but remained quiet while Elrond attempted to find the right words. "Glorfindel reported some curious findings to me recently, which his scouts had discovered on their latest travels. They were following up on rumors of a haunting voice on the wind, far to the north and near the coast."

"Why were his scouts so far from Imladris?" Cirdan asked, brow furrowed in thought.

"Glorfindel felt there was more to the story than just rumors and legend," Elrond answered. "He decided to go himself, once the stories had been confirmed, but did not tell me of these travels until after he returned. He felt it was important to investigate himself before bringing the matter to my attention, and you will soon understand why."

Arwen was watching Elrond intently, anxiety swirling in her eyes at the way his hands were clenched tightly together. Thankfully he was not shaking, as it would not be befitting of an Ellon of his age and station to show such weakness. When the silence seemed to stretch a little too long, she gently said, "Adar, would you like me to continue?"

Elrond shook his head and shoved down his embarrassment. "I am well, daughter. Just gathering my thoughts." He tried to smile, but if Arwen's concerned frown was anything to go by, it probably was more of a grimace. Turning to face Cirdan again, he continued. "Glorfindel believes the voice to be coming from Tol Himling, and as you know, the small island was once the fortress of Himring in Beleriand. He thinks the owner of the voice to be-"

"Maglor," Cirdan interjected lowly. His frown was more pronounced, and his jaw was clenched tightly.

"Yes," Elrond breathed. "It is possible he yet lives, haunting the coastlines with his voice as he roams. It seems he may currently have settled on Tol Himling, and I am sure you know of my history with him."

"He kidnapped you and your brother," Cirdan said gravely. "Him and Maedhros. They slew my people and yours at the Mouths of Sirion, and took you away as hostages." His eyes burned with old pain and anger, even so many years later.

"That is how it began," Elrond carefully continued. "They meant to trade Elros and I for the Silmaril Elwing had fled with as she jumped to her death." There was old pain there as well; it felt like she had abandoned them, all for a shiny jewel which had caused so much grief and left much blood in its wake. He still had not fully forgiven her for it, despite how much good had come from it. His eyes flicked out the window, where Vingilot had just taken flight on the horizon. Sometimes it overwhelmed him, to know his father and possibly his mother were just out of reach. Would he ever see them again?

"Yet love grew between you," Arwen added encouragingly. "You have told me how Maglor and even Maedhros had grown to care for you and Uncle Elros, up until the end." Until they had shipped them off to Gil-galad and attempted to steal the Silmarils from the camp. That was the last anyone knew of Maedhros and Maglor's whereabouts, and it was assumed they both died in the sinking of Beleriand.

Could it be true? Could Maglor and even Maedhros still live, ages later?

"What would you ask of me?" Cirdan asked, face as hard as stone. Elrond held in a shudder, for he had never seen such an expression on the usually affable and friendly Ellon.

Elrond took a deep breath and met Cirdan's eyes. "We wish to borrow a boat, to sail to Tol Himling and discover the truth."

"Will you bring them into custody for their crimes?" Cirdan replied. "It is only right for them to pay for the atrocities they committed." Truthfully, Elrond had not considered this. He assumed if one or both of them were found alive, that they would hopefully return with him to Imladris, where they would be safe and could recover from living in the elements for so long. They would need intensive mental and physical healing, he was sure. Yet, they were guilty of many crimes. It would be just for them to face consequences, but of what kind?

"Yes, if we are able to convince them to come with us, they would need to face these charges," Elrond answered slowly.

"How will you 'convince' them?" Cirdan asked intently. "The three of you would stand no chance against them, even in their weakened states, should they respond with violence. I would need to send warriors with you, along with a crew of experienced sailors to help you to and from your destination."

"Warriors will not be necessary-" Elrond interjected.

"I insist," Cirdan replied firmly, and Elrond could feel a flicker of Power in his voice. Cirdan was no ordinary Elf; he was one of the first to awaken at Cuiviénen, all those countless years ago. The amount of hardship and obstacles he had overcome and survived…it was beyond imagining. It made Elrond feel like a child. "In fact, I will go with you myself."

Elrond blanched, thinking this was perhaps one of the worst ideas in history. "It may cause more problems than we can afford, and increase the risk of failure and violence. They hold no love for you and your people."

"However," Lindir murmured, and all eyes turned to him as he spoke for the first time. "They may also feel much guiltier at seeing Cirdan and his people. Perhaps they will return with us to atone for the Kinslayings." It would be a great risk, but could it pay off?

"Ada," Arwen whispered, taking Elrond's hand in her cool one. "They make a good argument, and we need help to find them. Do not take so much of this on your shoulders."

"Do you mean to harm them, should we succeed?" Elrond asked seriously, shoulders tense. "Would you shoot them down on sight, out of revenge?"

Cirdan looked offended, "My people do not kill others of our kind, unlike Maglor and Maedhros. You have nothing to fear in that regard. We will only fight to defend ourselves, should we be greeted with violence. I thought you knew me better than that."

"I am sorry," Elrond apologized, feeling small. "This is very difficult for me. I also feel anger towards them, for their deeds and how we parted. Yet, love does not fade easily from my heart, and I only wish to see for myself whether one or both of them live and are escorted to safety. If they attack any of us, I…I will not stop you should you retaliate in kind, but I hope to avoid violence."

"As do I," Cirdan said, with compassion. Elrond jolted as he felt Cirdan's hand squeeze his shoulder firmly. "The question will be whether or not it is them, or if it is truly just a rumor or legend. Or perhaps it is someone else entirely."

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," Arwen said lightly, and her smile seemed to inject a little more light into the room as candles flickered and starlight filtered through the windows. "Shall we rest, until tomorrow?"

Cirdan nodded, and everyone stood. "I will speak to the captain and crew I am considering, but I will not order anyone to do this," he warned. "This mission is completely voluntary, and if I cannot find any who will go, you will need to find another way."

"Understood," Elrond replied firmly. "We will see you when the sun rises." At that, everyone retired to their rooms. He did show Arwen a few of the more intricate carvings, but she could tell he was exhausted, and pulled him gently along until he found himself in front of the pearl-dusted door. "Sleep," she whispered. "If you need me, I am right next door."

"I am well, do not worry for me," Elrond insisted, kissing her forehead. "Goodnight."

Despite his exhaustion, he did not sleep well. His reverie was full of flashes of his childhood with Maglor. His soft smiles, and bright voice as he sang for Elrond and Elros. They intermingled with memories of his lessons with Maedhros about history and politics. While the Ellon rarely smiled, it was always a small victory to see his scarred lips curl up crookedly at their antics. He taught both of them a little of swordplay and archery, and promised to always protect them, even though he must have known he could never truly keep such a promise.

Yet he could also remember the day of their capture, and the feel of hot blood trickling down his cheek from a scratch on his forehead, caused when they ducked into the cave where the Fëanorian brothers found them. They had run from the fire, and the screams of the dying echoed sharply around them, Elros' sweaty hand in his as he pulled them to a hopefully safe place. Maglor and Maedhros had looked like figures from their worst nightmares as they silhouetted the entrance of the cave. Maglor had crouched down and held out a hand, gently beckoning them out. Elrond remembered the sharpness of the hunger and thirst in his belly, and the mix of fear and relief that someone had found them. Elros had screamed and threw himself in front of Elrond, a sharp rock in his badly shaking hand and he croaked for the older Ellyn to stay away. The only warning was a sharp sigh of frustration before Maedhros swooped in and threw both of them over his shoulders, and Maglor took the rock from Elros as it had begun to cut into his little hand.

They kept them as safe as they could during those decades of the War of Wrath, and when it was clear their parents would not be coming for them, they became their foster-fathers. Atto was Maglor, and Atya was Maedhros. Elrond had naively believed they would always be together as a family. Those hopes were shattered when they were brought to Gil-galad, and the parting was bitter. Harsh words were spoken by both himself and Elros, and Elrond knew his brother regretted them deeply. He remembered a conversation they had once, towards the end of Elros' life, where he asked Elrond to apologize on his behalf, should they ever be reunited. "Tell them I love them, and wish more than anything to take back the hateful things I said. Tell them I will see them again someday, at the remaking of the world. At least, this is what I believe. For how can I bear parting with you, the other half of my soul, without the hope of such a reunion?"

It was with these words echoing in his mind that he woke. It was still dark, but a very faint light was just beginning to appear in the sky. Elrond sighed heavily, knowing today would not be an easy one. He was surprised at the wetness on his face, and noted he must have been crying in his dreams. To this day, he still missed Elros fiercely. He wondered what Elros would have thought of this journey; he was always the more practical one, and less optimistic. "He would probably call this foolishness," Elrond whispered to himself with a rueful smile.

It was not long before he was in Cirdan's study, along with Arwen, Lindir, and a small group of Elves. They were clearly those whom Cirdan had selected, and Elrond was grateful for the aid, despite being unsure how this would impact any reunion. "We are ready to depart, once you gather your belongings," Cirdan said, looking very different in his casual sea-faring attire, in sharp contrast to his usual flowing robes.

"We will join you shortly," Elrond replied, and it felt like only a few moments before they were standing on the docks. He clenched his fists tightly and focused on his breathing as the fresh memories crashed over him like the waves onto the beach. The boat they were to use was of smaller size and more appropriate for the journey they were to take than the one Celebrian and many others had boarded to sail to Aman, but it took all of his focus and willpower as he robotically kept moving forward. Arwen and Lindir were already next to the boat, shooting him concerned glances as he tried to force a smile.

Elrond gripped the railing tightly as he boarded the boat, wondering if this was how Celebrian had felt. Was she as shaky and nervous as he was? Or did she only feel relief to be leaving the land which had brought her so much grief? She had not looked back after kissing him lightly on the cheek, breathing her farewell and meeting his pain-filled gaze with her lifeless one. She had looked like a wraith as she moved across the deck and away from him, and two Elves had hovered next to her in case she were to lose her footing. Cirdan had been at his side, an arm firmly around his shoulders as he desperately tried not to collapse in his grief. It was all-encompassing, and returning to these same docks brought it back sharply.

As soon as he was on the deck, Arwen looped her arm through his and stood closely to his side. Elrond covered her hand with his own, squeezing gently in comfort. He knew she must be hurting as well, even if she had not been present to see her mother leave these shores. "Well, are you ready for an adventure?" Elrond asked, hopefully with a light voice.

Arwen laughed softly, "I have never been on a boat in the Sea; I hope I do not get seasick!"

"I have some ginger you can chew on, should you begin to feel nauseous," Elrond assured her, patting the pocket of his tunic with his other hand.

"Ever the healer I see," Lindir interjected with a smile. They all walked across the deck and to the other side of the ship, staring out at the presently calm, sparkling waters. Elrond let the gentle sound of the vessel floating in the bay calm his nerves, which were replacing some of his grief. He sent up a few quick, silent prayers to Ulmo and Ossë for the journey to be smooth, not sure if they would listen or if it was just a fruitless exercise to make himself feel better.

"Do not fear, mellon nin," Cirdan said, having come up behind Elrond. "My people will steer this vessel right."

"Are you certain you wish to come?" Elrond asked.

Cirdan nodded, "I think this meeting is a long time coming, although I know not what state we will find them in, or if both will be there. Such a long time separated from interaction with others could lead to madness."

Elrond sighed, "You are right, of course. I can only hope they can be reasoned with."

Cirdan said his farewells and directed the crew to head out. The sails were unfurled, and snapped as they caught the wind. They turned West and began the journey towards Tol Himling, first traversing the Gulf of Lune and then turning North.

The waters were calm in the Gulf, and Elrond marveled at the cliffs on either side, which had been carved by years uncounted. Arwen was flitting around the deck, asking anyone who would indulge her questions about sailing and the various animals to be found in the sea and along the cliffs. She looked beautiful in her pale lavender dress; despite its simplicity and being more function than fashion, it accentuated her figure, and Elrond found himself narrowing his eyes at anyone who's eyes lingered a little too long.

"The journey will take a few days," the captain explained when Elrond asked. "Depending upon the weather and other conditions. We will stay relatively close to land, but not so close that the rocks are a danger to us. The risk of going too far out is that the Sea can become more temperamental." She paused, clearly considering something.

"Is there something you wish to ask?" Elrond inquired, aware of the hesitation on her face.

"I was the captain of the ship which carried the Lady Celebrian to Aman," she said softly. Elrond's breath froze in his chest, and for a moment, he was unable to speak. "She is safely in Tol Eressëa, in the city of Avallónë. There were others waiting on the shore to greet her, and they seemed to be family of some relation, but I do not know any of their names."

"How was she, when you last saw her?" Elrond croaked.

The Elleth smiled, "She seemed very happy to see them, and I think she is in capable hands."

A huge weight was lifted from Elrond's chest in that moment, "That…that is well," he muttered, blinking tears of relief away. "Thank you for telling me of this, for it brings me great comfort."

"Of course, Lord Elrond," the Elleth replied. "Now, if you will excuse me, I will continue with my work."

Once she left his side, Elrond hurried over to Arwen and shared the good news. The exclamation of joy echoed in the salty air, and the others could not help but smile. "Do you think any of daernaneth's brothers were there to greet her?"

"Hmm," Elrond hummed. "If they had been reimbodied, I am sure there is a good chance."

"I hope so," Arwen said. "I will be very glad to meet them someday."

Elrond hugged her again, but a sense of foreboding came over him in that moment. He shook it away, wishing to focus on the here and now.

As soon as the ship turned North out of the Gulf, it felt like the wind slapped Elrond in the face, and it was not a warm one. He squinted and could see the waves churning angrily further out into the Sea, but as of yet, things were still calm where they currently were located. Elrond prayed again for safe passage, and wondered if the Valar knew what he was up to. They didn't concern themselves much with the people of Middle Earth, having pulled away from it to focus on their own paradise. Ulmo alone was still rumored to have remained nearby, along with his Maiar, but who was to say if he cared about the doings of a handful of Elves?

It was difficult to rest on a moving vessel, but he tried to relax in the hammock he was given as it swayed back and forth slightly. Lindir was snoring softly nearby, and Arwen was in another area of the ship with the other Ellyth. Things had been going well, and weather conditions were expected to remain favorable for the duration of the journey. However, Elrond knew better than to get his hopes up. In life, things had not gone well for him many times, and he had lost much. Perhaps it made him cynical, but he would rather call it realistic. The chances of this all going smoothly were slim.

The next day passed much like the first, and they made good progress up the coast. The waves became a little more frequent in the evening, but no one seemed concerned. Cirdan seemed to be in his element as he strode around, helping where he could and educating anyone who would listen about the Sea. He shared some tales of times past, keeping thing light-hearted. His descriptions of Cuiviénen were fascinating, and Elrond had trouble picturing so many Elves just waking up into existence. They had no centralized language, and were experiencing everything for the first time. What was it like, to be directly asked by the Valar to travel to Aman, which was so far from all they knew? Elrond knew he must have lost friends and loved ones during the Great Journey, and even before they had left, but Cirdan kept those tragedies out of his tales.

It was the third day when things became difficult.

The day they arrived at Tol Himling.

Elrond's eyes were wide as they landed on the sandy beach. The crew threw down anchors to help keep the ship in place, and most disembarked, having never been to this place. It looked somewhat unremarkable, but there was a strangeness in the air. He could hear some birdsong and the occasional rustle of critters in the trees, but it had a muffled quality to it which made Elrond uneasy.

"So far so good," Lindir whispered.

Elrond turned to face Cirdan, who was nearby. "I think I shall go first. Perhaps if only I meet with them, they will be more inclined to listen to my words.

Cirdan frowned, "It seems risky. What if they mistake you as an enemy, or a vision conjured by some force of evil?"

"Adar, he makes a good point," Arwen said. "Maybe I can go with you? I am no warrior, but I can appear harmless when I wish. They may feel less threatened by an Elleth."

"They may mistake you for Luthien," Lindir interjected jokingly. "You look much like her."

"Perhaps we can use that to our advantage," Arwen countered, and Elrond became more and more worried as he noticed her thoughts congealing into a plan, which would most likely be risky. "Maybe if I go first and act as a distraction, you can get closer without them being aware of you until you are almost before them." This is what she had suggested in Imladris, but he had dismissed it as fanciful.

"Absolutely not," Elrond said firmly. "It is too dangerous."

"Because you going alone is so much safer?" Arwen countered stubbornly. "You know how I have learned to communicate with birds. I could send a message via one to Cirdan and the others, should we need help."

"We would not be far," Cirdan added. "Out of sight, but not out of reach."

After a long moment of consideration where Elrond thought of every horrible thing that could happen, his shoulders drooped as he shrugged. "We shall try, but," Elrond held up a finger. "If there is even a hint of danger, I am sending you away, iell. I will not have you hurt because of this."

"Very well," Arwen replied, trying to look composed but Elrond could see the sense of adventure brightening her appearance.

"Here," Cirdan said, and pressed a staff into Elrond's hand and then one into Arwen's. "The landscape could be difficult to traverse. Let this aid you as a walking stick of sorts." Elrond trained his gaze to the jewel at the top suspiciously. "It is just for decoration, and not for power," Cirdan assured him.

"Very well," Elrond replied, turning his attention back to Cirdan and shouldering a small bag of clothing, healing supplies, and food. His sword was strapped securely around his waist, and a dagger was hidden in each boot. Arwen had her own slim sword, and knew how to use it well, but Elrond would do everything he could to prevent her from needing to draw it. "Navaer, mellon nin. I hope to see you soon."

"Call if you need us, for we will not be far behind," Cirdan said firmly. "Do not hesitate."

With that, Elrond and Arwen were off.