The seas were roiling with live horror, tentacles lashing at their surface in a torrent of froth. Great horrors, nameless things that lurked in the deep places ere Sauron came into Arda, rose to the surface of the sea and the sunlight for the first time, in these last days. On their backs they bore the armies of Morgoth; each beast was vaster than any ship ever built by Men, a mile long from stem to stern, with tentacles twice that length studded with awful sucking disks and tremendous claws, and beaks that could swallow a dozen whales moving with horrid intent. Lesser horrors of the ocean swarmed about the army-bearing monsters.

Seven Balrogs were the champions of the evil army, armed with whips of living flame drawn from their own bodies and swords of fire forged from their own souls; they rode upon the seven greatest of the crawling dragons. A greater number of serpentine drakes slithered behind, each bearing a dozen or more Orc-troops on its back, and wargs and werewolves ridden by Orcish warriors in black armor with blades of iron formed the flanks. Often an Orc and his steed on the flank would fall into the water, and beast and rider alike would be snapped up by the sea beasts.

Above the great nightmares of the deep and the horrid legions they carried, the sky was darkened with the wings of fell beasts and the winged dragons, and the hindmost of the winged dragons was the hugest of all things that had ever flown, vaster than Ancalagon himself; and upon that dreadful steed rode Morgoth the fallen Vala full-armored in iron and onyx-crystal, with a black spear that hissed with malevolent virulence in his right hand, and in his left he bore the great shield of his blazon, black without image or sign.

Indeed all evil things advanced upon Tol Eressea, and the seas were shaken by their passage.

Meanwhile, on the other end of the Straight Road...

The ruins of Mithlond were utterly lost, buried under millennia of change, and only the memory of Elamanelessa guided them to the proper site, now an unmarked stretch of the Atlantic a few dozen miles from the coast of northern France. When they had arrived, she climbed onto the gunwale and swayed there, chanting Elvish words in a lovely musical voice, 'Echoriath aure, telperion lembas, caras hroa!' as she wove a spell, her form and face glowing with a subdued blue luminescence, then jumped into the water; a huge bubble of air sustained by her elemental sorcery surrounded her as she sank to the bottom.

When Elamanelessa reached the seafloor, she plunged her hands into the bottom and cried out loudly 'Entuluva namarie!' The mud was torn aside in a great pit descending to the very roots of Arda, and in it shone the light of the Water Silmaril. With a mere gesture it flew into her hand, and she ascended to the ship. She mutered a few inaudible sorcerous words and walked on the air over the ship's gunwale, landing gracefully next to Feanor and presenting him with the Silmaril. "Your work, I believe?"

"Thank you, my lady," the Elven craftsman replied, overawed by the nearness of Elamanelessa's beauty and the graciousness of her kindly words and actions toward him. "Ever shall I be in your debt."

"Yet shall that not be long, though till world's end it be," Elamanelessa replied playfully, "for the End approaches and the forces gather even now for the Battle of all Battles, the Last Battle, Dagor Dagorath."

"I swear my debt to you not for one world or age only," Feanor said gravely, "but for all worlds and for eternity, even after the Second Music is sung and the Elves depart Arda at last for what we know not."

"Have you not learned to avoid rash oaths even now?" Elamanelessa answered him, a twinkle of star-laughter in her eyes.

"All swear rash oaths, Elves and Men alike, when they are in love", Feanor replied, almost gulping at the admission, "and I love you."

"But what of Nerdanel?" Elamanelessa replied.

"She departed from me ages before this, even before my death."

"But it is custom of all the Eldar, and judgment of the Valar themselves, never to remarry."

"When did Feanor Curufinwe ever bow to custom or judgment of Vala or Maia, Elf or Man? And ye are Elamanelessa the prophesied, fairer than Luthien Tinuviel who was and is no more, and ye carry the authority of the Valar. You may remand the judgment, if you desire."

"Feanor, if ever I married any who live upon Arda, in Middle-Earth or Aman, it would be you; for in you alone do I find a spirit like unto mine. All other Elves and Men seem beside us two half-spirited cravens. But until this battle is won and my duty done, it is not mine to wed or speak of love. Come to me when all is won and the Second Music beginneth; then I shall take your hand in mine, and I say to you, though they would deny it now, Manwe shall hallow our union and Varda bless it, the fruits of Yavanna will fill our tables at the wedding-feast and the sleepy flowers of Lorien's gardens adorn them. Now let us set these matters aside and prepare."

Turning to the ship-captain, a tall gray-eyed Sinda, she said "Bear us out to sea some great distance, beyond the edge of sunken Beleriand."

When that had been accomplished, Elamanelessa spoke. "Great has my power waxed as the End approaches; and now it is time for me to begin my task." She gestured at the seafloor and spoke resonant words: 'Galadhon undomiel, silima feanturi!' And there was a mighty shaking as of the foundations of Arda, and a noise as if seas and skies were rent, Feanor and the other Elves gasped in awe, and from the sea rose Beleriand with its forests and rivers, mountains and valleys, fair as had it been in the First Age; but all unpeopled.