E

Evil ever and again emanated from the gates of Angband, the ebon fortress of Morgoth, the Black Enemy, emerging in the forms of orcs, wolves, vampire bats, and engines of destruction dragged by enormous beasts enslaved to Morgoth’s will.  Ever and again did the Enemy’s creatures and constructions seek to eliminate or enslave all who dwelt within Middle Earth, Elves, Men, and Dwarves. 

“Enough!” exclaimed Eärendil, enraged at the evil wrought on the world and its peoples.  “We who are the Eruhini are not equipped to fight a Vala on any sort of equal footing.  Nay. I shall sail west to enlist the Powers themselves to come to our aid, for only they could ensure any sort of victory.”

Earnest about his errand, he set sail westward; but ever he would emerge from fog or night to find the east before him once again.  And so it continued, as each time he would realize the error of his course and correct it, early on he would again find his ship sailed eastward once more.

He was lost amidst the Enchanted Isles when Elwing found him, bearing to him the Silmaril stolen earlier from Morgoth’s Iron Crown by Beren and Lúthien.  Enriched by its light, at last Eärendil, Elwing in his embrace, engaged upon the final leg of their embassy of hope, at last encountering the Blessed Realm where they entreated the aid we needed.  He then embarked upon a new voyage, his brow encircled by a diadem enclosing the Silmaril he’d returned, now to serve as the Star of Hope, the Gil-estel.