I own nothing.
"Back so soon?"
No one in the encampment really noticed when Eärwen snuck away from her family's dwelling. Papa and Uncle were arguing again; Mama and Auntie were out visiting friends; Cousin Galadhon absolutely would not play with her, and told her to go find someone else. Well then, Eärwen would find someone else to play with, or at least be with. Mama had told her not to wander out of sight of the encampment, and as for those creatures that sometimes harassed the camp, they always came from the mainland further east, not from the sea.
Eärwen loved the sea for which her father had named her. She loved the smell of brine, the feel of sand on her bare feet and foam and icy water on her legs. She loved the clarity of the stars, and the way they sparkled on the crashing waves.
She loved the one who would appear out of the waves when she came.
There she was, perched atop one of the barnacle-crusted rocks peeking up out of he waves, running her legs absently through the water. Her slippery, iridescent raiment shimmered wetly. Her immeasurably long hair fell over her shoulders, the rocks, the shallows of the sea, up to the shore, where its tendrils stuck to Eärwen's legs as she walked. "Uinen!" she cried in delight.
Uinen was what Papa called a Maia, a person who was not of the Ellalië. She was a spirit, he said, but a good spirit, not like the flickering spirits that would sometimes appear in the woods, trying to lure them away. She watched over them, along with her husband Ossë, a Maia whom Eärwen had never seen, while they waited on the edge of the sea. What they waited for, exactly, Eärwen still did not truly understand. Uinen tried to help her with that, when they met.
When their eyes locked, Uinen slid gracefully down off the rock. She waded up to shore, and somehow managed to do so without her hair tangling in every obstacle or tangling around her legs. The Maia knelt down in front of Eärwen. "Hello to you, little Eärwen," she said, in the voice that sounded more like ebbing water than a person's actual voice. She smiled warmly, and her smile, like so many of the other features of her face and form, seemed like something taken from someone Eärwen knew—Uinen's smile came from Aunt Lindarë. Far from unsettling, though, Eärwen found it comforting. "Have you come to see me?"
Eärwen nodded, and Uinen sat down on the sand, facing the sea and patting the ground beside her, so that Eärwen would sit with her too. There they sat, beneath the stars, staring out on the west.
What are the lands beyond this one like?
That was the question on Eärwen's mind—indeed, despite her young age, she suspected that it was the question on everyone's minds. And though she was young indeed, Eärwen knew that this was the reason that the Lindar had gathered beside the sea. They were waiting for something (and what that 'something' was, she did not understand) to take them across the sea to what her people called the Blessed Realm.
But none of the Lindar had ever seen the Blessed Realm. They did not know what it was like; they had never seen those lands. Uncle Elwë was supposed to have seen those lands, was supposed, in fact, to have come back to his kin bearing wondrous tales of the Blessed Realm, urging them to journey there. But Uncle Elwë had been missing, had been gone since long before Eärwen was even born.
Uncle Elwë was who Papa and Uncle Elmo were arguing about, even as Eärwen sat beside the sea with the Maia Uinen. Eärwen had heard them arguing, no matter how much her family tried to shield her from it. Papa wanted to stay by the sea; he seemed to think that either Uncle Elwë was already dead, or that if he was still alive, he would find his way to them. Uncle Elmo was certain that Uncle Elwë was still alive, and far from stay where he was and wait for his oldest brother to find him, Uncle Elmo wanted to go out and find their brother himself.
"If we go looking for Elwë, we could lose our last chance to take our people to safety!" Papa argued. "Do you want that?"
"Do you want to just abandon our brother here for some place we've never seen?!" Uncle Elmo retorted hotly. "Just how long was Elwë there, anyways? How did he know that it was safe, and that the Valar hadn't just taken him to a place in those lands where there was no danger?"
One really didn't have to be an adult to pick up on the atmosphere of uncertainty clouding the encampment of the Lindar.
And Eärwen was a little uncertain herself, really. She was curious, wanting to see the lands that they'd gathered on the shore, waiting to be taken to. Eärwen had been born by the sea, and she had no desire to leave it. She had no desire to do what Uncle Elmo was proposing they do, and go back into the woods looking for Uncle Elwë. Yes, she knew that he was her uncle, and that they shouldn't leave him alone, but she had never seen him, and Eärwen knew the sort of danger that lurked in the woods.
What were these lands beyond the sea like? Were they really as safe as Uncle Elwë had claimed they were? Would they be as welcome and homely as the land Eärwen knew?
"Uinen… What are the other lands like?"
The Maia looked down at her, brow furrowed quizzically, and that was the expression of Alatavar, the boy three tents down. "Have you forgotten already, little one?" she asked, in a voice that Eärwen could not for the life of her tell whether it was supposed to be amused or hurt.
"No," Eärwen was quick to reply. She hadn't forgotten. Uinen had told her stories about the lands she had come from, the shores and streams and lakes, the gardens full of flowers, the mountains that pierced the sky. "But I wanted to hear again. Especially about those trees you keep talking about."
The Two Trees featured greatly in Uinen's tales, and they were probably the most fascinating part of her stories. A gold Tree and a silver one, with leaves and flowers that gleamed so brightly that they lit up the sky and turned it gold and silver too. It seemed too fantastical to be real. The only reason Eärwen believed Uinen's tales was because she trusted her not to lie.
Uinen stared at her for a long moment, and Eärwen didn't know whose expression that was. "Very well," she said finally. "We have no names for them in your tongue, and the names we do have would not be pleasant to your ears, I think. Lady Nienna watered the green mound on which they stand with her tears, and Lady Yavanna sang them into life. A tree with a shining silver rose first. His leaves are dark green above, and silver below, and from his countless flowers drops of silver light water the earth beneath. A tree of gold rose next. Her leaves are a young green like a young beech, gold-gilt; her clustered flowers gleam so bright that at times, even my eyes ache when I look upon them. Their lights wax and wane, and at times they mingle…"
Eärwen listens to her words, but with Uinen's voice, so like an ocean tide, it's easy for the Maia's voice to run together with the crashing waves at their feet. She listens to Uinen's words, and hopes that when she comes back to her family, they'll have stopped arguing about what to do.
Ellalië—the Telerin form of 'Eldalië'; 'the Elven-Folk', usually a term used to refer to all of the Elves
Lindar—'Singers'; the name the Teleri of Aman use to refer to themselves (Quenya)