14. Tol Eressëa

If I failed to describe the elves all those years ago in the Woody End, I can’t begin to even think of words for Aman. All I can say is it’s joyful and wondrous, and beyond anything I could've imagined. Valinor stretches from one side of the sea to the other, green as emeralds and peridots. It looks more alive than even growing things do. 

I figure that’s where we’re heading until the ship turns and heads for an isle in the bay. An elf with some Westron explains to me as Tol Eressëa, that which they call the Lonely Isle, is not the Blessed Realm proper but many Elves live there, having been brought there by Ulmo in the days before the Sun and Moon. Lady Arwen had told me that’s where Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo would’ve lived, the Blessed Realm itself being far too powerful for their mortal bodies to withstand long enough for proper healing of mind and spirit.

The isle looks small, but as we draw closer I see it’s quite large. The shores are sparkling white and the buildings, elegant Elven designs, are made of sandstone. They almost look like they were built out of the sand and turned brown by the sun overhead after Ages of the world had past.

Elvenhome. I’m here at last and after all these months - nay, years - of waiting, it seems like it came too fast. There’d not been enough time to prepare for this, not in my short lifetime, and probably not in the lifetimes of my shipmates either. 

Then I hear, or think I hear, a glorious song coming from the sea and air, lush and moving. I strain my ears to hear the music. There’re no words I can understand but somehow I know the song is saying, Welcome.