Part Three: Songs

The Havens at Mithlond had always been a quiet place, filled with the bittersweet memories of thousands of departures and farewells. Elladan dismounted as he and Elrohir approached the quays, the last of the Elves of Imladris behind them. There was but a mere handful left who had remained throughout the past century or so.

Círdan approached the sons of Elrond and bowed, indicating the ship that awaited them. "All is prepared, my lords," he told them. Elrohir thanked him, and began seeing to the boarding of their company. Their horses were led away after one final, fond farewell. Most would be taken to Arnor, where there would be need of them.

Few of the Elves carried bags or packs with them, for the Elves put little stock in material possessions. Changes of clothes and food were already aboard the ship, and more awaited them in Valinor. Elladan, however, had his small pack with him, with Elendur's package safely tucked inside. He joined Elrohir, and gazed out over the waves, down the firth, where it opened up to the wide, grey Sea. Somewhere, gulls called to each other, their cries reaching the sons of Elrond in haunting echoes.

He wondered if it was this difficult for all Elves to take these final steps on Middle-earth, to step onto the gangplank knowing that there was no going back. It was so simple to think about it, and to speak of it, but to actually do it…

Elladan glanced back over his shoulder, to the Ered Luin which rose in the distance. Dwarves still mined there, and beyond lay the Shire, and the lands of Eriador that he had wandered with his brother for nearly three thousand years.

Then his view was blocked by Lord Celeborn, who placed a hand upon his shoulder and smiled encouragingly. He knew what Elladan was thinking, and understood, for he had walked the lands of Middle-earth far longer, and remembered even back to the height of Elves' power, before Beleriand was destroyed.

Once the last of their company boarded the ship, Elrohir, followed by Lord Celeborn and Elladan, walked up the gangplank. Círdan stood upon the quay as his people untied the ropes to release the ship. The sails were let down, and the wind caught them immediately, drawing the ship away from Middle-earth toward the Straight Path that would lead to Valinor. Círdan raised a hand in farewell. Elladan returned the gesture until the ancient Elf was out of sight. Then he lowered his hand to the smooth rail of the ship, watching the land until they emerged from the firth, and even that faded to a grey line on the horizon, lingering for a long time in Elven sight until finally vanishing forever.

When he could no longer see the shores of Middle-earth, Elladan turned and went to the bow of the ship, where Elrohir stood, watching the waves idly. The melancholy of departure was slowly fading, replaced by excited anticipation for their arrival on the shores of Valinor. "To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying," Elrohir sang softly as Elladan joined him. "The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying."

"West, west away, the round sun is falling," Elladan murmured in reply, watching the sun sink toward the Western horizon. It was a song they both knew well, for Legolas was wont to sing it when the longing lay heavily upon him. "When do you suppose we will reach Valinor?"

"I do not know." Elrohir shrugged, and grinned at Elladan. "It is not as though anyone has returned to report." Elladan laughed.

As twilight fell over the Sea, one of the other Elves began singing, her sweet voice rising over the ship, and easing the last of the grief felt by those aboard. Elladan and Elrohir sat by the railing and turned their eyes to the sky, to the stars, and lifted their own voices to Elbereth.

A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath!

Overhead, the stars seemed to dance as they had never danced over the trees of Middle-earth.