Elrond knitted his brows in worry as he placed another cool cloth to Frodo’s brow. Not a day had passed after they set sail when the hobbit fell ill from seasickness, his stomach promptly emptying what little contents it held, and he had been bedriddened for the duration of the voyage.

And tomorrow would perhaps be the most difficult for him as it would be the anniversary of his wounding by the Witch-king on Amon Súl. Elrond had hopes that they were close enough to the influence of the Blessed Realm that it would ease Frodo’s annual illness, and perhaps it was so as thus far the hobbit had shown no signs of it.

A knock at the cabin’s door brought Elrond out of his ruminations, and he turned to that direction just as the door cracked open to reveal the Lady Galadriel. Her voice was quiet as she spoke, “The ship draws near.” Elrond nodded, rose from his chair, his long robes making the only sound as he passed Galadriel, knowing she’d watch over Frodo until his return.

He went up to the ship’s deck, and walked to the port side of the bow, gazing out over the darkened water to the sight he had not beheld in over six millennia. Before him, a piece of white rock jutted out of the sea, climbing nearly seventy feet into the starry skies. Even in the inkiness of night, his keen sight could make places in the rock where storms on the great sea had weathered it, chipping away at it until only jagged edges remained.

Though Elrond would have wished to have remained alone at he gazed at the lone rocks before him, he was soon startled by someone clearing their throat. “Pardon me, Master Elrond, but may I join you?”

The Elf Lord turned, nodding to the hobbit, noting that he was in a dressing robe, “Certainly, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo walked up to the railing beside him, inhaling the night sea air, “It is strange that I do not find the sea to be disagreeable with my stomach but I find I rather enjoy the movement of the ship. It’s quite soothing when you’re trying to fall asleep at night amidst Elven voices raised in song.”

“Our singing disturbs your rest?” Elrond asked.

“No more so than it did when I lived in Rivendell,” Bilbo replied, “Please do not misunderstand me, my friend, I count it a blessing to hear such voices raised in song.” Bilbo sighed, gazing at the rocks before saying, “How is Frodo?”

“He is resting comfortably at the moment,” Elrond answered, “The Lady Galadriel is keeping watch over him so that I may look upon this sight.” He pointed to the rocks that they were just beginning to pass.

“Humph, forgive me, but my eyes are not what they used to be. I see a form against the moon’s light but I can make out very little else,” Bilbo said, straining his eyes to make out more of the rocks’ details.

Elrond smiled, “I ask your pardon, Bilbo, for they are some distance aways from us, and it is a strain even to my eyes to see them.”

“Is there a special significance to the rocks?”

“Indeed there is,” Elrond said, his mind drifting back to memories that were two Ages old, “The formation you see before is all that remains of the greatest kingdom ever known to the race of Men, before you is Meneltarma, the Pillar of Heaven, that was once the very heart of Númenór.”

“Númenór?” Bilbo gasped, “Oh I never dreamed that even an inch of it survive the Fall!”

“It did indeed,” Elrond said, “Behold, the only momument permitted in the West to the fallen realm of Númenór, my brother’s realm!” At the moment he spoke these words, the light of Eärendil’s star seemed to meet the crown of the jagged rocks, causing both Elf and hobbit to gasp anew with awe.

FIN