Elros

Círdan’s house is just beyond the dunes, and I can see the strand from the windows of my room. The voice of the Sea has been speaking to me since we arrived, and when I awoke in the middle of the night from a terrifying dream, the sighing of waves calmed me and sent me back to sleep. Yesterday evening I was too weary to go outside, but today, after midday meal that passes in awkward silence, I leave the house behind and go to the shore.

I cross the pale yellow stretch of sand and wade in the shallows, and then I am kneeling in coastal waters. I bury my hands in the wet sand. Waves wash against me slowly, and the cries of the seabirds overhead sound like the fairest music to my ears. There is salt in the air. And then there is salt on my face too, as tears flow down my cheeks unceasingly, the first tears since our departure from Himring. The sea breeze attempts to dry them and fails, but even so, it carries away my anger. At least some of it.

Still, so much remains. There is so much of my own rage that it frightens me, and I shudder, recalling how close I was to drawing my dagger and thrusting it in Maedhros’ chest. I cannot forgive him. He was the one I had always looked up to, the one I had always wanted to become, and now…

Now I do not even know anymore who I am. Even though I am welcomed and kindly accepted here for the sake of my parents whom I barely remember, I am a stranger to these people, and they are strangers to me. I had always thought of myself as one of the Noldor, but I severed those ties as I turned my back on Himring. I shall never be one of them again. But who am I then? Nothing and no one. I am like those clumps of the seaweed floating by, forlorn, adrift, dependent on the power of the waves. I am utterly alone. I have turned my back also on my brother, and this realization adds to my agony.

The Sea is the only consolation; the endless movement of water brings some resemblance of peace to my tormented mind, and my tears slowly dry. After a while I rise and walk along the coast for a long stretch and then back. Afterwards I sit in the sand and listen to the waves washing against the shore and the coarse grass rustling in the wind.

Long I remain there, my gaze bound to the skyline, now lost in low grey clouds, and I wonder what lies there, beyond the sight. Shall I ever find out? The wide expanse of water beckons to me, enticing, inviting. I could ask lord Círdan to take me on one of his ships. My breath catches at the thought briefly, but then my excitement fades. I am but a stranger, a useless burden to the people here. I doubt whether I shall find courage to ask the lord of the Havens anything. My self-confidence has faded along with everything else I have lost.

Evening draws nigh, and then suddenly the clouds on the horizon break and the Vessel of Arien appears, glowing red in a sky of rose and purple. Far away, a white sail gleams briefly in the fading light. Such beauty is nearly unbearable. Dwelling inland, I had forgotten what the sunsets by the Sea are like, and the reminder takes my breath away.

The Sun has disappeared beyond the edge of the World, and the glow on the water has faded when I rise at last and turn towards the dunes. And there, upon the sandy hill, stands my brother – a figure of solitude and sadness. He stands there still and silent, a grey shadow against the pale blue evening sky, and the only movement is that of his hair streaming in a sudden breeze.

Regret stabs my heart. I have not spoken to Elrond for weeks. I was so enraged with him for turning back, for his conversations with Aldanwë, and when he refused to join his voice to mine in condemning our uncles, I blamed him for weakness and treachery, even though he did not defend them. He merely refused to speak words of accusation. But even that threw me in rage.

Seeing me approach, he looks away and slowly turns to leave. And suddenly I know – I cannot let him go.

“Elrond!”

He halts. In a few swift steps I climb up the dune and reach him. He looks at me; his face is pale in the twilight, and I see that his grief is no lesser than mine. Yet there is no anger in his eyes. There is no reproach.

“I have not changed my mind, and I cannot find in my heart what is not there. I regret to have failed you, Elros.” His voice is quiet, but firm.

“You have not…”

Abruptly, I fall silent as my own words, said before, hit me. I called him a traitor. I said… I said I hated him. Eyes wide, I stare at him. If I do not find other words now, this very instant, I will lose my brother too. Or have I lost him already?

“Elrond, everything I said earlier about you… That was not true! I did not mean it, I truly did not! I was just angry, so very angry… but not with you – despite all I said… I was never angry with you! I do not know why I said all that! I do not hate you! I… Please, forgive me! Please!”

My frantic words trail away as I catch my breath ere speaking on, but I do not get a chance to say anything more for my brother pulls me in a tight embrace.

“Be silent.” His voice nearly fails him. “I forgive you. Be silent.”

Humbled by his generosity, I hide my face on his shoulder, and we stand long in the dunes beneath the slowly kindling summer stars, no longer forlorn, no longer adrift. Some peace settles in my heart at last, as I raise my face towards Elrond.

“We will weather any storm, brother. Together.” My voice is confident now. “I will never leave you.”

He smiles, raises his hand and brushes the last tears from my face.

“Yes. Yes, certainly.”

He sets his arm around my shoulders then, and we turn towards Círdan’s house. My heart is so lightened to have my brother back that I easily dismiss the sadness in his smile and the wistful tone of his last words.