𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖗

There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil—a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.

— Jane Austen, Pride & Prejudice

Unlike the last time I had run away from being imprisoned, I was not crying. I was so furious I was, in fact, shaking. But I managed to put a reasonable distance between me and Anarion before I found a small river, washed for the first time in a week, and inspected my saddlebags.

There was plenty of food, my money, my clothes and a few healer instruments. This was probably Berendine's doing. There was also a map - thank the Valar!

But there was also an item I would never have expected: Elwen's least favourite tiara.

I couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh Neya, we jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire, but I hope our new destination proves to be more profitable," I told my horse while giving her a rubdown. She whinnied.

It was strange to be back on the road by myself again, and the solitude calmed me. I should have known what Anarion's true colours were. Time and time again he had proved he was unwilling to step up and assume responsibility, either wallowing in despair, or refusing to do what was needed. The first time I had met him, I had to drag myself and him out of the mud and dead bodies, and petition the Elves for help so we could escape. I had pulled him up Mount Doom. Yes, he had convinced Isildur to destroy the ring, but only under duress.

Glorfindel had been right about him from the start. He lacked honour. All I could see was his potential. He could have been a good king. He could have been a good soldier.

I had thought he wasn't as bad as Isildur, but he had also enabled his wicked older brother. Just because he wasn't outright evil, I thought, didn't make him good. And I could explain to him again and again what the right thing to do was - it didn't matter. I couldn't make him do what was right. I could make him take his responsibilities seriously.

The more I saw of the world, I thought, the more disappointed in it I became. And yet, I had to live in Middle Earth and make the best of it. I was running out of places to live. As I consulted the map, and navigated as best I could, stopping in villages for a few days here and there, I became used to my own company again. When I had left Lindon for Cardolan, I had cried every day, but now I felt hardened to my trauma. I had less friends in the world - in fact now both the kings of Gondor and Arnor were my enemies - but I felt stronger. Perhaps it was my anger. Once again, I had been treated poorly. But this time, I felt no loss for leaving Arnor. I passed the great Lake Evendim, and nervously took a mountain path.

As Neya and I hiked up the narrow path through the tall mountains, I could see the fortress city in the distance. It felt good to put leagues between us, even though the air was thinner the further we climbed and it worried me. I wished I had spent more time with Berendine and it was a wrench to leave Joy. And I dearly wanted to know how things progressed between Elwen and her dour - but worthy - lord. But overall, I had felt so ill at ease in Arnor.

I longed for the sea. It would soothe the homesickness I felt, and perhaps I would find some answers to the niggling feelings at the back of my head. The strange voice that spoke to me when I was in water. The fact that no one would tell me who my father was - despite that it was clear that they not only knew who it was, there was some suggestion that they knew him. And yet, what could compel them to hide it from me? Who could my father possibly be?

Yes, it was good to be out on the open road again. Alone with my thoughts, my mind drifted to Minas Tirith and Isildur. I had an ominous feeling about the two brothers. I truly never wanted to see either of them ever again.

Perhaps you don't have to, a little voice inside me said. I couldn't believe I had fallen out with all three kings in Middle Earth.

It really had to be some sort of a record, I thought, as I sat under a cloak at night. The rain was thunderous and was running down the path at high speed. Neya was an Elvish horse and so unbothered, but I wished I could find shelter. It took days for me to dry out again, and as soon as the mountains were in the distance, I felt safe again.

I followed a river for two weeks. It flowed into the sea according to the map, which relieved me from studying the map. Map reading was never one of my strong points, but then horse riding had never been a strength either. Look at me now, I thought, brushing down Neya for the night.

One day, I woke up to a face peering over me in the beginning of the morning light.

"ARGH!" I screamed, and scrambled to my feet, my hand on my knife.

"Do not be afraid," said the figure, its hands raised in peace, as my eyes struggled to adjust to the low light. "We saw you on the banks of the river, all alone, and thought to offer you our company."

Once I realised that the four people weren't going to kill me, I began to breathe.

"It's not safe for a woman to be alone, even though there are no servants of Mordor nearby," said the second figure. It unwrapped the cloak from around its head, revealing dark curly hair, and a dark face. But pointed Elven ears. I stared at them.

"We are going to Mithlond," said another Elf, who pulled off his scarf to show his face, too. "Will you join us?"

"I am for the Sea," I said, shakily, my eyes scanning them.

"Mithlond is by the sea, may we travel together?" asked the female Elf. Slowly, I nodded my head.

"I've never seen an Elf with curly hair before," I blurted out.

"Are you familiar with our kind? You must be, for you have an Elf-bred horse," said another, kindly.

"I am Shivo," said the smiling Elf. "We are Teleri," she said. She introduced her three companions, another female and two males, and I told them my name. I gathered up my belongings and packed up Neya, who was sniffing them with interest.

"Your skin… is my colour," I said, confused. "I've only ever seen Elves with straight gold, silver or brown hair, and pale skin. None with curly black hair."

They were also considerably shorter and more delicately built, I thought. They almost looked human, but didn't exactly feel it.

"You have met our Noldor and Sindar cousins. We are Eldar, but we do not dwell in Lindor or Lothlorien… or even Greenwood. We like to live by water, and we are not warriors," said Shivo.

"You weren't in the war against Mordor?" I asked.

"There is more than one way to fight a war," said Elion. I knew that from experience, thinking of the months I had spent sewing men up, or tending to sick dwarves, or cleaning bandages.

"That's true. I'm a healer," I explained.

"We know," said Shivo. A little discomforted at how they knew that, I asked what was in Mithlond.

"We are going to Valinor," said Davon, dreamily.

Awed, I had more questions but felt unequal to the task. I didn't know much about Valinor, other than it was a beautiful land for Elves, Maia, and of course, the Valar. Mortals weren't allowed to go there and couldn't find it even if they sailed towards it. Elwen had talked about Numenoreans feeling resentful towards their loss of mortality and the chance to live forever in Valinor. But Numenoreans were entitled; their island had sunk because their king had tried to kill the Valar and hadn't there been a slave trade on the island? And had they worshipped Morgoth? I couldn't say I really understood what had happened.

Luckily, we were only four days away from Mithlond, Shivo told me. They were quiet companions, but I wasn't in the mood to talk. And what could I have said? That I had to flee both Lindon and Arnor? That I had left Glorfindel, and had been locked in a room by Anarion? It was all too traumatic to relay and I was exhausted even thinking about it.

Despite having a horse, my need for rest stops - including to sleep at night, was making their journey longer, I realised, after the first day. I apologised for holding them back.

"We are in no hurry to leave Arda, only we know that it is time to leave," said Mordo, lying on his back looking at the stars.

"We would not leave Glorfindel's mortal in the wild," said Shivo. My heart jumped.

"You know Glor?" I asked, desperate for news about him.

"Only by reputation. All Eldar know of his sacrifice," Shivo said. I felt ridiculously disappointed. "Sleep. We will watch during the night," she continued.

They were generous companions. Not only did they keep watch at night around my camp bed, they shared with me fruit and nuts, and refused to take anything in return. They weren't like any Elves I had met before. They walked slowly - almost ponderously - next to me as I rode on Neya. They told me that they were craftselves and had liked to build towns and cities for Elves and mortals - and even Dwarves. They liked building things that lasted, they said. And so were sad when they felt the Call to the sea.

"But we won't bore you with our Doom," they said, sadly, and only smiled when I protested I wasn't bored.

I was glad that I had company on my journey to the sea, for I was starting to get nervous. As soon as I started to hear the seagulls, my stomach dropped. But while I may have felt trepidation, it was nothing to the change that came over my companions. They all reached out to embrace each other and whispered words of comfort.

"We have never been to the Sea before," said Shivo, through tears. Surprised, I smiled at her.

Mithlond turned out to be a large harbour town with a few houses of grey stone dotted around, and a beautiful and large docked ship. I'd never seen an Elvish ship before, and I looked at it with curiosity; it was sleeker than the man-made ones, and only had one sail. It was rippling in the wind as we approached.

An impossibly tall Elf stood at the gates of this small town. He was the most unusual Elf I had ever seen - even taking into account the Teleri elves. The Teleri Elves bowed to him, and he inclined his head back, and spoke to them in Quenya. They moved past him into the town.

"But you have a beard," I said, rather stupidly. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Greetings to you, too, mortal," he said in a deep, slow voice. "My name is Cirdan."

I remembered myself.

"I apologise," I said, "My name is Minnow, and I've come to… see the Sea," I continued, inwardly cursing myself. What a stupid thing to say! And yet it was true. He looked down at me, impassively.

"This is Mithlond, or the Grey Havens, in your tongue. Welcome," he said. He told me I could stay in his abode for as long as I needed. They would wait for more Elves to arrive before he took his ship to Valinor. "For I am the Shipwright," he said. "And yes, I do have a beard."

He had a ring of power, too, I saw. But I didn't mention it. Elrond and Gil-galad had been perturbed that I had been able to see the high king's, and I didn't want any trouble. He bade me to follow him, and I passed the four Teleri who were on their knees in the harbour, praying I thought. He led me to a long hall, where I saw a few Elves waiting around, and showed me to a room.

It was only late afternoon, but it had been a month - more if you counted the week I spent locked in a room - since I had enjoyed a proper night's sleep. My eyes shut as soon as my head hit the pillow, and I sunk into sleep. I dreamt of many things, the sea, my grandmother, running around Tolfalas as a child, and Glorfindel kissing me. The last time we kissed. Before all the arguments.

I woke up just before dawn, thirsty and disorientated. When I stumbled back into the hall, I found I was not the only riser. Cirdan was sitting at a long bench, eating a pastry and reading a scroll. Without looking up, he lifted a plate of pastries from beside him and waggled it at me.

Hesitantly, I took a jam filled pastry - still warm. I really wanted to know why - how - he had a beard, but it was too personal a question. He didn't look up at me, so I took my leave. I too felt a call that I needed to answer.

It was the sea. I took a big breath of sea air, and ran to the beach, and took in the glittering waves on the shore. It was glorious, I thought. The sky met the dark murky green of the water. The sun, high in the sky. I sank onto my knees on the beach and closed my eyes.

The smell of the sea was like heaven. Surely even Valinor could not be so beautiful, I thought, wistfully.

Looking up and down the beach, I could see no one. In fact, I had seen only two other Elves apart from Cirdan and the four Teleri in the whole of Mithlond. It had the air of an abandoned village. Once prosperous, and now empty. Full of memories.

But it suited my purpose. I stripped naked quickly, and tentatively walked into the sea. The cold waves lapping at my feet made me pause for a second, but then I strode into the sea until it came up to my waist, and then I dove in. I swam for a little bit until I was out of the waves, and then I sank down, floating and holding my seashell necklace.

I'm here, I told the sea. If you still wish to speak with me.

I swam about to my heart's content for a while, before returning to the shore and donning my clothes. But I didn't put my boots back on, and walked in the waves for a while. I could see Mithlond's harbour to my left, but there was nothing but shoreline and open sea to my right.

I felt such ease in the sea, the sand between my toes, the waves washing up and down the shore. Something caught my eye; it was light, blinking, and moving very slowly towards me from the open sea.

It was a shimmering figure that was walking towards me from the sea. I stood, ankle deep in water, until it approached me.

"Well met," it said. "I am Ulmo."

My mouth fell open.

I had no idea how to greet one of the Valar. In front of me was an actual god - the god of the sea. Sailors in Tolfalas used to pray to him for calm waters. I should have curtseyed, or bowed or greeted him. But I couldn't move.

For a while I just stared at the figure, as it slowly started to take the form of a person. I blinked and looked away, overwhelmed and embarrassed for some reason. It was starting to look like a man.

"You've been talking to me, my lord," I said, as if to justify my reason for being here.

"We may walk along the shoreline, together, if you wish, and talk," Ulmo said.

The form he took was of a dark skinned man, handsome and bald. His eyes were the colour of a stormy sea. He had a gold hoop in his ear, and he looked a great deal like me, I thought. Even the freckles were similar.

"I'm afraid I don't remember everything you spoke of, but I was listening, my lord," I said.

"You have come from Arnor. You chose not to marry Anarion," he said, looking out ahead of us.

"No. Well, I'm already married - in my heart - to Glorfindel," I replied.

"Yes. I spoke with him not long ago on the shores of his lake in Lindon," said Ulmo. I remembered I had thought I had seen Glorfindel talking to someone by the lake. To think, it was one of the Valar!

"Have you seen him since?" I asked, breathlessly.

"Alas no. When I spoke last to him, he was urging me to reveal myself to you," he said, looking at me with a smile.

"But you didn't want to?"

"It wasn't time."

"But it's time now?"

"It is," he said.

There was a long pause. I didn't have the patience - or indeed the time - of the Elves, and was bursting full of questions

"What are you to me?" I asked, plaintively. Ulmo stopped and turned to face me.

"I am your father, Minnow," he said.

"But how can that be?" I asked, confused and uncertain. "You're Valar and I'm a mortal?"

It made no sense.

"You imagine that a daughter of a Vala would be Vala herself? Indeed, no. I am the Sea and I can take on a form, for a while, but I cannot hold it indefinitely. This is the last human form I took," he said.

As a midwife, this made no sense to me, but then why should it? It was clearly magic. I thought some of the Valar had children with each other or Maia but I'd never really thought of them as individual people. I always thought of Morgoth as Evil and Eru as Goodness, and Ulmo as… well, the Sea. And yet here he was, looking remarkably like a man except rather more shimmery.

"Do you have other children?" I asked.

"There have been twelve daughters of Ulmo. You are the thirteenth," he said.

This was a lot to take in, I thought, staring out at the horizon and then back at him. He was wearing a ruby red silk shirt now, and black silk trousers, and his feet were bare. Ulmo walked smoothly through the water, and it swirled around his feet.

"Thirteen," I muttered. "My mother, Deena…"

"She was full of life. I loved her, Minnow, and I still grieve for her," he said.

"My grandmother never really recovered. The midwife who lost her daughter in childbirth…" I said, thinking of my beloved grandmother.

"It was no fault of your grandmother's. It was not clear at first, but no mortal can survive giving birth to a god's child - even though the children themselves are mortal," explained Ulmo.

"You… you knew she would die?" I asked, horrified.

"I did have that burden, " he said.

"And… my half-sisters?" I asked.

He told me that his last daughter had died over five hundred years ago, and my mind started to whirl. I had siblings - even if they were long gone. I started to ask about their descendants - I knew from my studies in Minas Tirith that bloodlines were tracked, and if I had twelve half-siblings dotted about history, then there was the potential that I could be related to thousands of people. Even distantly, I could have so many family members. So many people in Middle Earth must be related to Ulmo!

"Oh no," said Ulmo. "I'm afraid that none of my children can procreate, even if they wanted to."

It took a few seconds for that to sink in.

"You mean, I am… infertile," I asked, my voice deceptively neutral.

"Barren as the Mordor desert," he said, cheerfully. I looked at him in horror. He was looking at me with interest - as if I was a fascinating new specimen.

And I just walked away. I bent down to grab my shoes from the beach and I didn't look back. When I found myself in a small meadow, I just lay down on the grassy ground and looked up at the sky.

I was too upset to cry, and so I just lay there for hours with only my emotions for company. I had probably asked too much. I had not prepared emotionally for my father being Valar, or being so callous. It was too much information. About myself. About my mother. But I had no more tears left to cry.

After a while, I realised I was hungry, and wandered back to Cirdan's halls. There were six Elves in total by the benches and plenty of plates of pastries.

"Will you go walking with Lord Ulmo again, Minnow?" asked Cirdan. I shrugged. He told me Ulmo had called on him, and I resisted the urge to make a derogatory remark. "He will wait for you in the morning, if you choose to see him."

"Maybe," I said, shredding a flaky pastry with my hands.

"Eat. You need your strength," he said. "I like pastries."

One of the Elves snorted. " You do not like anything other than pastries!" said an Elf in Sindarin.

It was a delicious pastry. Light, and buttery, and with an interesting filling of spinach and cheese.

"I make them every morning," said Cirdan, watching me impassively. "It is always the highlight of my day."

There was much to be said for the strangeness of Elves, I thought. But his pastries were great.

I didn't listen as the Elves took out instruments as the light fell, and the music, sad, wistful, nostalgic swept around me. I felt like a small boat being tossed about on an ocean. How could he have said those things to me - so callously? So matter-of-fact? That he knew that my mother would die in childbirth? That I couldn't have children? That all his daughters die - in obscurity without mothers or fathers?

I was boiling with rage. At first I had put him into the camp of Isildur and Anarion - people I never ever wanted to see again. But now, I wanted to see Ulmo - and take him to account. I wanted to shout at him. For robbing me of my mother - who had died so young and left her baby alone in the world. For my fate. And I had questions.

Ulmo was waiting for me when I stormed down to the beach. Dawn was breaking and it was beautiful; the harsh light burst over the sky the colour of egg yolk. But I couldn't appreciate it. All I could feel was the pain inside me.

"Did my mother know? Did she know that mortals can't survive labour to an immortal's baby?" I asked, forgoing greetings.

Ulmo started walking in the waves, and I matched his stride, although it was hard. He spoke after a few seconds.

"Deena knew the risk. But she thought, as a midwife herself, and with her mother's help, she could survive. She had such hope in her," he said, a bit sadly.

"Why have you had so many… lovers if you know they will die in childbirth? Why don't you just use your magical powers to stop pregnancy?" I asked.

"You don't like me much, do you, Minnow," said Ulmo, rather sadly.

"You're insensitive, cruel… callous! How can you have just… said those things to me!" I cried. "Don't you have a heart?" I snapped.

He stopped walking and looked at me. "I do have a heart. And I am not like the Eldar - I cannot control my fertility. Indeed, nothing can control it. And the answer to your other question is: because I fell in love."

I wanted to throttle him.

"Thirteen times?"

"Yes, thirteen times over thousands and thousands of years," he answered.

"Even though you knew it would kill them? How is that love? And you just abandon your daughters to the world - with no mother or father and no chance at having children of their own?" I asked.

"I admit, I do not always make the right choice. Just because I'm Vala, I am not infallible. And yet, haven't I looked after you?"

"Looked after me?" I asked, confused. "I've never even met you before."

"I've answered your every call. Every time you have asked the Valar for help, or called for us, I have answered."

"Wh-what?" I asked, truly dumbfounded.

"When the dam broke and you were washed by a wave of water - you survived, did you not? I have not abandoned you. I'm the one that named you Minnow."

"You named me?" I repeated.

"I was there for your birth. On Tolfalas. I was with Deena when she gave birth to you and also when her light started to fade. I named you Minnow - after the shining silver fish which dart around the sea with so much joy, and gave you the necklace that hangs around your neck," he said.

I hadn't realised that he had been there. The way my grandmother had told the story was very different. And yet my grandmother had said my birth was difficult "as it always was between"... she had known. She must have.

"Your grandmother could not have told you either. The will of the Valar is impossible to break," he said.

I started walking again, deep in thought.

"What was she like? My mother?" I asked. Ulmo smiled.

"She was lively. Energetic…" he said. He spoke of her at length, about how she loved to catch lobsters and dive from waterfalls, and was the strongest swimmer on the island. She had lots of friends, and loved dancing and singing. She sounded wonderful, lovely, ordinary and brilliant. They had met when she had swam so far out that she had met a whale Ulmo was talking to. They had been lovers for five years before I was born - many villagers had asked her to marry them, but she always said no. There was an independence in her that sounded familiar.

Ulmo told me that he would see me again, but he was being called by one who he could not refuse.

My heart jumped - could he mean Mandos himself? Or even Eru? I bid him goodbye, and he embraced me tightly, and looked into my face almost hungrily, before dissolving into water.

For a while, I stayed still, the waves splashing over my ankles, looking out into the sea, until I walked back to the beach.

Is it possible to miss someone you've never met, I thought as I tried to picture my mother, as I lay in the meadow and looked up at the trees hours later. I felt more melancholy than ever.

To my surprise, Cirdan sat down next to me. He had a plate of pastries with him. I turned so I was laying on my stomach and ate one of his jam pastries after he admonished me for not eating enough. It was true, I had lost my appetite of late.

"So you have met your father," he said, at length. "And yet, you are not happy."

"I have much to think about," I said, miserably. "About my mother. About my father's behaviour. About my own."

"Glorfindel has ever disapproved of Ulmo's liaisons with mortal women. The hurt that they have caused. The pain," said Cirdan. The death , I thought.

"Liaisons," I repeated, bitterly.

"So I was surprised when I learned he had formed an attachment of his own with a mortal," Cirdan carried on.

I could tell that he didn't know what to think of me. I wasn't a beautiful princess like Elwen. I had my talents, but I was quite ordinary in most respects.

"I'm just like him," I said, feeling sick. "My father. Selfish."

"I would not call Ulmo selfish. Nor would I deem you to be selfish. No Valar has done more for Arda than Ulmo. He has spent much of his time - and still does - helping the people of Middle Earth," said Cirdan, who I noted was slowly demolishing the plate of pastries himself.

"I meant in his relationships with mortal women. The inequality of it. They just… can't know what they're getting into."

"Did you know what you were getting into with my good friend Glorfindel?" asked Cirdan.

"No. Not really. It didn't end very well," I said, flatly.

"And do you regret it? Would you do things differently, if you had the chance?"

"I have many regrets, but I can't… I don't think I would have. And that is selfish of me. Because it's caused so much pain," I said.

"You're not what I expected," admitted Cirdan. I sighed.

"Ulmo is not what I expected," I replied.

"Ulmo is never what anyone expects," said the ancient Elf with a strange smile. "He has many different faces." I huffed, and stood up.

"He's selfish. He had all these lovers, and they died in childbirth and he just let… he left my sisters to their fate. My mother died. He knew she was going to die. He knew! And he still did it. Deena still died. It's just… so horrible."

"There are no words of comfort I can give you for the loss of your mother," said Cirdan, softly.

I sniffed.

"And that's not the worst of it! I'm just as selfish," I said, bitterly. "I'm just as thoughtless as him. I only thought of myself. I should never have… have started anything with Glorfindel. I acted like it was the same for him and me, and it's not. It's just not. We both sacrificed, but I'll die and he just has to… carry on."

It was such a mess, I thought.

"But there were two people making decisions, were there not?" said Cirdan, contemplatively.

"So?" I huffed.

Cirdan looked into the distance for so long without blinking that I wondered if he'd gone to sleep.

"I'm one of the first Elves. I was awoken, so many years ago that I have stopped counting. There is no companion for me. I have been alone forever," he said, in his slow, ponderous manner.

It felt too big for me to understand. I was out of my depth.

"Cirdan," I said, uncertainly.

"I do not feel loneliness. Often. But if I fell in love, I would take the consequences of it."

I felt surprised.

"Even if you felt the pain forever?" I asked.

"Gladly," he said. "Shall I teach you how to make custard tarts? I will be at sea for some months, and we must have supplies. Alas, there is no oven on a ship."

Cirdan and I spent the next few hours baking in his giant kitchen - it was big enough to cook for hundreds. He told me that what was now a trickle, had been a mass exodus of Elves. I put all my anger and energy into rolling dough, and found that by the end of it, I felt much better.

The next day, there were three more arrivals. Cirdan needed only ten Elves to help him sail his ship, and he now had them. They would leave the next day. I felt bereft. What was I supposed to do now?

But the new arrivals brought more than themselves; they also had news. News from both the human and Elvish kingdoms.

"Isildur is dead," he told me, watching me closely.

"Dead?" I repeated, shocked. I was horrified at how much relief the news gave me. I sat down at the table heavily.

"And Anarion has married. I confess I thought of you when the elleth told me his bride was from Tolfalas," said Cirdan.

Lind, I thought.

"Ai," I said. Had he chosen poorly or wisely, I wondered. Cirdan told me they were travelling back to Minas Tirith to rule from there.

"Do you know how he died?" I asked, with trepidation. I wasn't sure I wanted to know. Luckily, Cirdan didn't have the answer.

I prayed to the Valar that Elwen would stay in Arnor, and Lord Aradon would marry her. Perhaps he could be regent of Arnor, or Steward? Only two months had passed, I thought. And so much has happened since I left.

"There is more. Elrond had set up his homely house. He has called it Imladris. Rivendell in the common tongue," said Cirdan.

"He has left Lindon?" I asked, flabbergasted.

"I cannot imagine what has happened to make him leave Gil-galad," said Cirdan. He gave me a shrewd look, but I gazed helplessly at him. I couldn't imagine either.

Did I remember where it was? I thought I did. Although it was another long journey.

The next day, I help Cirdan pack a month's worth of jam pastries, cinnamon rolls, and custard tarts (and a few loaves of bread and some fruit) onto his ship. Shivo embraced me with tears in her eyes, and a few other of the Elves patted me on the shoulder.

I waved off Cirdan's beautiful ship. The Elves waved back and sailed into the horizon. I watched the boat until it became a dot and seemed to vanish. How strange to think they would go to Valinor where mortals cannot go - cannot even find! There is so much magic in the world, I thought, wondrous.

But I was headed for Imladris. I wanted to find my friend Elrond and find out why he had left Lindon. And perhaps I could drop in on Cardolan on the way.

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