The song of the larks woke Niphendriel. Two weeks had passed since the wedding, but she was still adapting to living alone. She was a daughter of Doriath and one of the Yavannildi. She had married young, and her husband's family drew her into the responsibilities of court life in Doriath. When elflings did not appear, she assumed more responsibilities and pursued her interests in botany. At times, she had helped coordinate the farmers around Doriath to plan for balanced plantings to feed their people. Then, late in their marriage, by elven standards, they had been blessed with children. First, Erestor was born; his name, 'one alone' was a testament to the fact that they had despaired of ever conceiving; however, their joy was multiplied when Calimdriel arrived but a yen later. All too soon, their dream came crashing down at Sirion. Her heart nearly stopped when her beloved's fëa split from her own. But she had been strong enough to survive. She would not leave her children orphaned. For many years, the task of raising Erestor and Calimdriel well was all-consuming. But now they were grown, and her baby was married.
"What am I to do in this third version of my life?" She pulled on a shift dress. Out of habit, she reached for her brush. With long, gentle strokes, she brushed out her hair. He used to enjoy watching her do this in the morning. Sometimes, it led to more pleasurable activities. But that was so long ago. What was she to do with the time ahead of her? Should she return to botany, pursue new interests, or a combination of both? Glorfindel reported that only a handful of elves had yet been released from Mandos halls. She had been born soon after the founding of Doriath and had never laid eyes on the western shores. Her husband, parents, two sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins were likely all still in Namo's care. What use would sailing be if there were no one there to greet her? How could she leave behind her children and the only land she had ever known? They might not need her as they once did, but she was well aware of how she had drawn strength from her extended family – a family that was now lost. It was time now to reinvent her life again as she had at Tol Galan, Balar, and most recently Mithlond. Starting over was never easy, and now it would mean starting over as a widow whose children were grown and gone. She heard the call to morning songs. These melodies to Elbereth had been a balm to her soul these weeks. Her feet followed the call, and her spirit rejoiced at having this time to reflect on the past while having time to quietly contemplate the direction her life would take.
"O Elbereth! Gilthoniel"
"Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!
Oh Queen beyond the Western Seas!
O Light to us that wander here
Amid the world of woven trees"(1)
Xxxxxxxxxx The Havens xxxxxxxxxX
"Amillë (Mother) knew I would not return with you." Galadriel's voice was low. Her Adar would be sailing at dawn. The ships were loaded. This first voyage of twenty ships would transport all the injured, the remainder of the Vanyar, the Noldoran, and half of his warriors.
"She holds to the hope that someday you will return to us." Finarfin hugged his daughter tightly.
"It will never be as it was." Galadriel reminded him.
"No, it will not. We do not expect it to be. You have matured into a formidable force. You can be a positive influence for learning." Finarfin smiled suddenly. "But do not be fooled into thinking that life in Aman has been static. We have also grown and changed. When you left, the youngest son of Finwë had only scant duties in the court. Now, your Amillë and I rule most of our people in the west."
"I do not doubt that you both rule more wisely and equitably than Grandfather. The Noldor of Aman could not ask for a better leader." Galadriel meant it sincerely.
"The task could be lightened immensely with the help and support of kin and a competent councilor."
"You have not trained them in all this time?"
"Oh, we have, but those most skilled – councilors, healers, teachers all departed without warning. It made the training of new people much slower and more difficult. In some subjects and crafts, we had to wait for the favor of the Vanyar or Teleri to change so that their gilds and schools accepted a handful of Noldor pupils. I think you will face the same challenges as you take stock of the remaining elves and their skills. There is no neighboring kingdom to supplement any areas in which Gil-Galad's people are deficient. The talented must be taught, nurtured, and developed."
"So, you have seen plans for the royal centers of learning." Galadriel smiled.
"It is a good start. But you and Celeborn will not remain here long to gift them your skills."
"Perhaps only intermittently."
"Though you speak it not, I know you yearn to explore the deep forests of this world." Finarfin paused and wrapped his arms around his beloved daughter. "Please be cautious and careful. I know you are no longer my little elleth, but I fear the dangers you face far beyond my protection. We love you dearly and wish you only joy."
"I will be careful, Adar. Please give Amillë my love. I love you both dearly." Galadriel and her Adar treasured these last few hours together. Indiriel and Ereinion had planned a small gathering to toast those departing for the West.
Xxxxxxxxxx The camp of the Avari xxxxxxxxxX
"I am looking for Elrond." Erestor asked the healers.
"He was in the next meadow making notes about herbs." The Elleth informed him. "The wedding was beautiful. Your family must be very happy."
"I have never seen my sister so happy," Erestor smiled and thanked her. Elleth's openness led him to inquire about his friend. "How is Elrond's recovery going?"
"I have not been directly involved in this case," the healer informed him, but at Erestor's look of disappointment, she added, "The chief healer seemed pleased. I have only met your friend in passing. He has quite a reputation for forever asking questions."
"That would be Elrond." Erestor laughed merrily, which seemed to put the junior healer at ease. "He has an insatiable curiosity about everything. The stories I could tell you!"
"The scuttlebutt is that he can not bear to sit idle. Yet, he is here to learn how to meditate." She smiled and turned to see other healers approaching. "Have a good day, Erestor."
"Thank you." He smiled and waved to the other healers before venturing off to find Elrond. The further he walked the quieter the forest became for the voices of elves were absent. Only nature provided music with songs of birds, the whisper of the wind, and the rustling of the trees. He felt suddenly glad that Aran Gil-Galad had suggested that Elrond accompany them. For it was apparent that most of the Avari kept their distance from the young peredhel. Erestor nearly jumped as the guard suddenly appeared. The Avari warrior spoke no word but motioned for him to stop. Erestor nodded and lifted his hands in a gesture of compliance. The warrior ran his hands along Erestor's frame, obviously searching for any concealed weapons with a light touch.
"Erestor," the guard's voice intoned softly. "A new protocol to assure the young Prince's safety."
"Was there an incident?" Erestor inquired with worry. The guard left the question unanswered.
"We are prepared. The meadow is guarded. Look for the willow trees. Your friend sits by them at the water's edge." Erestor thanked the guard and followed the path down to the pond. The willows were in sight, but he saw no sign of his friend. He closed his eyes and listened. The songs of crickets were accompanied by throaty frog croaks. He heard the scratch of fingers rubbing against a surface. He focused on the noise, and suddenly, dark hair appeared that waved like smoke on a wind he could not feel. The back of a seated figure was now visible. Elrond was crouched in a meditative pose. Something held Erestor back from speaking aloud. Instead, he quietly walked up and sat down beside his friend. Elrond's eyes were closed, and he had assumed a meditative pose. He fingered a flat stone.
"It is the correct size and weight for skimming." The soft tenor announced as Erestor jumped.
"I thought you were meditating."
"Sometimes," Elrond paused. "Although being encouraged to mediate for hours on end is very tortuous."
"What do you mean by skimming?"
"A children's pastime in villages near a pond or water." Elrond paused. "Selena's children were very fond of it. Such flat stones are best." He handed Erestor the stone.
"What is the point?"
"What is the point of meditating? But I digress. You have to throw it in such a way that it bounces many times off the surface of the water before it sinks."
"It always sinks in the end."
"As do many other things." Elrond stiffened slightly. Erestor sought his eyes. They were silver and strangely powerful. For a moment, it seemed as if they could pierce his very soul, and Erestor felt apprehensive.
"Who are you? What are you?" Erestor felt fear creep along his spine, and he had to remind himself that this was indeed still the same person who had long been his friend. Elrond, though, seemed to sense this fear. In response, he edged slightly away from Erestor and turned his gaze towards the water.
"They compete to see who can skim the stone the furthest and who can make the stone jump the most times. Sometimes, there are even wagers. Here." The peredhel's voice seemed toneless, and Erestor could not read his face. With a flick of his wrist, the stone bounded out and skipped eleven no twelve times across the lake's mirrored surface, sending concentric rings outwards from each place where it kissed the water's surface. "Both the angle and velocity are important."
Erestor could not comprehend the appeal of an Edain children's game. Indeed, he tried hard not to stare at Elrond, who was now pointing to a green leaf disturbed by the stone's wake.
"The stone's wake influences all things on the lake for good or ill." The soft tenor sighed. "That beech leaf has now capsized and will sink to the bottom. While the little ant caught on the maple leaf is now being pushed towards the shore. Perhaps he will make it to safety."
"This is the outcome of your day of meditation?" Erestor gaped.
"Sometimes it is hard to tell whether it is for good or ill. We make our mark our impact for a short time."
"With stones?" Erestor did not follow.
"We make our mark with how we use our talents. Our time is short."
"Not elves."
"Are we the same as before the war? Will we be the same a hundred years from now?"
"I doubt I will change so much."
"Listen to what your heart tells you. I am sure if you asked, Gil-Galad would agree to you employing your amazing cartography skills while strengthening ties between the Sindar and Noldor."
"Are you telling me to leave?" Erestor asked. Elrond's palm opened to reveal another stone.
"Would you like to try a stone?"
"It will sink like the other."
"We share a tent. One would have to be blind not to see that you are torn by what you feel are your duties to Gil-Galad compared to your Naneth, Oropher, and your sister. You long to join Oropher's party as they explore the forests of Arda."
"Are you sending me away, my Prince?" Erestor tilted his head and smiled as Elrond grimaced at the title.
"I have no power to send or order anyone. Indeed, riots might ensue if I overstep my bounds." Elrond's laugh was a little forced. The silver eyes glinted oddly as Elrond paled and trembled slightly. Erestor put his arm around his friend and pulled him closer.
"You are here to recuperate. But solitude and rest do not seem to agree with you." Erestor teased, glad that he could be of some comfort. Erestor gave thanks that his Naneth and Sister were with him and that they were safe and happy. Elrond would all too soon lose the last of his kin when Elros sailed for Númenor. "I will speak to Aran Gil-Galad when we return. So I know you are safe and well cared for should I decide to explore and make maps with Orophor and his sons." The comment earned him the anticipated groan, and he had to stifle a laugh. "I think the powers ask too much of you." Erestor thought as he held the exhausted elf. "Perhaps I will contemplate the stone-skipping game while you rest."
Xxxxxxxxxx An evening at the Havens xxxxxxxxxX
"One more round." Orondo raised his hand toward the bar.
"I think you have had enough." Ingwion's voice was stern, and his eyes were serious. "You would not want me to report you to the High King."
"You would not." The color drained from Orondo's face. Glorfindel's laughter rang clear and melodious.
"You are improving, Ingwion. Soon, your deadpan delivery will have your uncle guessing." Glorfindel was happy that the royal Vanya could escape the feast early and join his people. Teaching sarcasm was challenging, especially to an elf as old as Ingwion.
"More wine?" The elleth came with a carafe.
"Please!" Chimed many elves at once.
"It will not be the same without you, Glorfindel." Ingwion threw his arm around the reborn's shoulder.
"We shall miss you." Orondo agreed, as did the others who were celebrating their last night in the Havens. The ships sailed tomorrow. The tavern was packed with Vanyar and a handful of Teleri who had snuck off their ships. Most of the Teleri from Aman reused to step foot on this land. Songs brightened the already rowdy tavern.
"Do not forget to give yourself time to recover," Ingwion said.
"You either. Aman is not without its cares and dangers. Some will think you bring back a taint just by having visited here."
"I think we are tainted, not by these lands but by the war." Orondo shivered, remembering the sounds of battle.
"We grow by our experiences. If they cannot see that, then they are deluding themselves. " Ingwion returned with a conviction he did not truly feel.
"It is too easy to fool oneself and pretend one's own problems and cares are the same for everyone." Glorfindel offered.
"Glorfindel! Such deep words for someone who has not made it to their majority." Ingwion teased.
"At least not in this body, but I am well beyond that if you count…"
"That does not count!" Orondo interjected. We left some interesting instructions to your favorite peredhel and a letter to the young king."
"You did not!" Horror showed on Glorfindel's face, which merely prompted more laughter and song all around. The hour was late indeed before the friends retired. The ragged band of tipsy Vanyar sauntered to their makeshift tents to snooze their last few hours away in this land where beauty, excitement, and danger were everyday experiences, where peoples of every kindred interacted for good and ill.
"Bestow my best wishes to Elrond. May Elbereth protect you all." A youthful voice made Glorfindel turn in surprise.
"Ingalor!" Glorfindel was surprised to see the young Vanya and reached out to embrace him. "I expect to see you grown and displaying a proper occupation by the time I return to Aman!"
(1) The Elven Hymn to Elbereth is Tolkien's creation not mine.