Chapter Two

Sea and Shore


The elven host, split between sea and land, spent weeks in constant march. The sons of Fëanáro led by ocean under the flag of their father. Eve spent most of her time sitting in the swan ship, alone, praying. She prayed for the souls of the dead Falmari and Noldor. She had decided long ago that Eru Ilúvatar and her Christian God were the same and thus he would listen to her. Nothing but praying brought her consolation alone on the ship.

Pityo and Telvo alternated learning to control the swan ship and trying to keep her company. The sea had calmed after the Doom of Mandos had been pronounced, Uinen silencing her tears. At least Ossë had not arisen in wrath.

Three weeks into their northern sailing, half of the ships moved to the shore. Snow dusted the ground this far north, though the Helcaraxe crossing lay a month away at least. But Pityo and Telvo needed more food for their ship, and Eve demanded to see Finno.

As the ship drew close to shore, Eve insisted Pityo help her to the prow. She was a royal lady of the Noldor after all, and she intended to see this side of Valinor before they left it. The mountains of Araman rose in the distance, and dark shores of stone met them from the sea. A small contingent of elves met them as they ran ashore.

"Here, Eve." Pityo offered his help on the left.

She hobbled with him down a plank onto the rocky shore without speaking. Tears ran down her face, freezing in the wind of Araman. But as they reached the ground and the constant sea movement left her, she looked up and saw him.

"Elmendë." Finno's voice cracked as he saw her. The armor she remembered seeing him in during the battle had been replaced by dark clothes and a black fur cloak. She took in his entire form, the form of her husband.

Eve grinned through her tears. "Finno." She moved from Pityo and grabbed her husband desperately. They didn't speak. Eve breathed in the scent of her husband and her tears came again. "Finno."

Pityo and Telvo stood to the side talking to a few of their father's followers who had missed the boats. Those who had taken the march on land had stopped at Formenos and gathered supplies which needed to be spread to the ships as well.

"Your leg?" Finno asked a minute later, pulling apart from Eve. "At least you are standing." He looked her up and down. "The twins did well it seems."

Eve gave a short laugh. "If you let go of me, I'll fall-"

"Eve I am not going to let go of you." He grabbed her into a hug again and kissed her forehead. His own tears fell into her messy auburn hair. "I promise."

"I love you," she whispered into his chest. Eve dried her eyes in his shirt. "You wouldn't happen to have a dress I could change into. This one is still bloody and salt soaked."

Finno chuckled. With a quick motion, he picked her up bridal style despite her objections that she could hobble on her own feet, and together they went to the marching camp. Though without the Two Trees there was no concept to measure day or night, the whole elven host had agreed to rest at that time.

Telvo and Pityo followed after Finno. The camp had been erected with several large tents, the types of things used at festivals and dragged by horses. More than half the elves slept on the cold ground in the open. Fur cloaks had been distributed where they could, more often than not they ended being used by Formenos elves who were used to the cold.

"Seriously, Finno. Findekáno! Put me down-"

"Eve!"

Eve whipped her head around and found the golden hair of Elenwë and Itarillë bobbing through a sea of dark haired elves. Her face lit up and she forgot her complaint against her husband.

Finno carried her towards them. As Elenwë and Itarillë came to them, Eve insisted she be put down again. Finno obliged, setting her on her backside on the snow. He sat next to her.

"Eve!" Itarillë jumped into the arms of her aunt and buried her face in Eve's hair. "Mother said you were aboard the ships!"

Eve laughed and kissed Itaril's cheek. "Hey little lady. Yes I was. My brothers protected me."

Elenwë sat down on Eve's other side and hugged her. "We were so worried! How's your leg?"

A small smile grew on Finno's lips. He looked up from the ground as Turvo and Aro both made their ways to them through the resting crowd. When they came near, Finno stood and left Eve with the women.

"How are you two holding up?" Eve asked them quickly. She was eager to speak about anything but herself.

Elenwë shrugged and grabbed her daughter. "As long as we have each other, we're fine. We have missed having you my dear. Finno has been a nervous wreck!"

With a laugh, Eve shook her head. "He wasn't the only one. I certainly haven't been calm." She looked around. "Where'd he go?"

Itaril smirked. She pointed to the left. "He went with Father."

"Turvo didn't even say hi!" pouted Eve.

Elenwë just laughed. "I am sure they will be back."

As they spoke, a light snow began to fall again. Eve, exhausted from all the movement she had done that day, leaned back and watched the flakes descend from the star-speckled sky. Itarillë giggled and snuggled next to her, laying her head on Eve's bent arm. Her golden hair fell in ringlets past her shoulders and got in Eve's face.

"Whatcha doing?" Eve murmured to her.

Itaril smirked back. "Whatcha doing?"

"That's what I asked you!"

Itaril just grinned wider and repeated her statement. "That's what I asked you!"

Eve laughed. "We are not playing this game right now, Itaril."

Before Itarillë could repeat her statement back again, Finno and Turvo reappeared above them. The former helped Eve sit up while the latter held a red, wool dress from Eve's stock at Formenos.

"Oh you two are amazing," Eve said. As she leaned against Finno, she hugged Turvo as best she could. "I don't suppose there's any good place to change?"

Elenwë shook her head. "We have all had to dispense with privacy on this march."

"I suppose so," Eve muttered. With help from her husband and Elenwë, she changed from her torn, salty dress into the new warm red one. She used snow to wash herself, and her skin finally felt clean beneath the wool. "Thank you."

"Of course, my lady," Finno teased. He sat down with her again. "So tell me, how have they been treating you on the ship?"

"Like a queen," Eve admitted. "My brothers will want me to return with them, I'm sure. And it may be best as I clearly can't walk."

Finno frowned. "Our supplies are short in terms of horses and carts. If you wish to take the ship, I will not judge you. We besides, the ships will have to come aground periodically."

"It may be best," Eve admitted. Tears filled her eyes. "I am not choosing them over you, Finno. But for everyone involved-"

"Peace, Elmendë," he whispered, pulling her into a hug. "You know I understand."

She nodded. "How are the others?"

Elenwë grinned at her. "I think Artanis and Iríssë are enjoying this trek far too much. Artanis has her own company she leads, and Irí manages one with Aro, though he would protest this fact."

Turvo's smirk confirmed her statement. "He has always been her favorite, and sometimes he regrets this fact."

"Findo mourns for Amarië by his side," Finno added a few moments later as the laughter died. "Still he does his job and leads what small bit of the House of Arafinwë still marches. Aiko and Ango as well. They have never wavered."

"And the people?" Eve looked around. "How are they?"

"Valiant as ever," Finno assured her. "We all wish vengeance for Grandfather. We will achieve it."

"But Mandos-"

Finno grunted. "I think perhaps Mandos' words were spoke to frighten the Noldor into submission. Our father will not lead us astray, and Fëanáro cannot destroy an entire people with his hasty oath."

Eve agreed. "Maybe you're right."

"Trust me," Finno encouraged. He looked at Elenwë. "Don't you believe me, Elenwë?"

The woman shrugged. "I will keep Itarillë safe from danger, whatever comes." She hugged her daughter, pulling her close. Then she frowned. "And that includes making her wear shoes. Itarillë where in Aman did you hide them this time young lady!"

They all looked and realized Itaril now went barefoot. Eve started laughing and covered it with a fake cough, but both Turvo and Elenwë looked cross. Turvo's eyebrows came together as he looked down at his daughter. "Itarillë."

"Sorry," she apologized sheepishly. "But may I stay and keep them off until Eve has to leave?"

"It is snowing, Itaril," Elenwë reminded her. "Do not let me catch you doing this again!"

"But mother, boots are so constraining," complained Itarillë. When her mother refused to budge, she conceded. "Alright."

"You have until your father returns with new boots," Elenwë ordered. She turned to her husband. "Her grey wool ones are with our camp. Go get them."

Turvo rolled his eyes. "Of course, my lady."

"Thank you." Elenwë looked away and gave Eve a small wink.

As they sat for another hour, Finno had a healer look over Eve's wound. The elf confirmed her wound still healed well, but that it remained at a critical stage and walking should be avoided at all costs. This sealed the decision that she would return with Telvo and Pityo.

They came for her soon enough. Elenwë bid farewell with a smile, reminding her that they would catch up the next time the ships went ashore. Itarillë quietly made Eve promise to not wear shoes sometimes. She insisted this would remind Eve of Itaril.

"I don't need reminders to think of you," Eve had assured her. But she promised anyways.

Finno carried Eve back to the boat. Settling her down comfortably amidst wools, blankets, and furs, he kissed her. This time they parted without tears and pain, a distinct improvement over last time. Eve finally began to believe that things may actually start to improve for them. Leaving Valinor was a new adventure, one that she would take with her husband.