Shore Beyond the Shadowy Sea by Quente

Epilogue: The Song of Ælfwine

Age lay lightly upon the king who stood by the dock. Hale he was, and scarred with many battles, but the light in his eye was ever the light of one who had journeyed west of west. And although his hair had turned to silver, his back was unbowed.

The other set of blueprints had proved handy, and the ship was made ready for him by the shipwrights of Dol Amroth. Although the timbers were not from trees of Nimbrethil, they were from the finest cedar of Lebennin, and Elfwine made sure the sails were woven of silver cloth. The prow, of course, was carved like a swan.

Across her hull was written Nimrodel, for Elfwine was eager to settle the sea-longing in the blood of his line, and return her home.

Legolas and Gimli were there to see him off, alongside Fréaláf son of Léofwine, whose face was pale and sorrowing. Elfwine had given him Naurmacil the night before and it was girded about his waist, and a delicate circlet of green gems in silver was set upon his nephew’s dark hair.

“Grieve not, Fréaláf King!” Elfwine said, clasping his nephew’s shoulders. “Long I have tarried when my heart would go westward. I gave the strength of my years to Rohan, would you deny me my choice for what I have left?”

“I would not, uncle,” Fréaláf said, wiping a tear with his sleeve. “Save out of love for you. For that, I would keep you near. But none shall gainsay that you have done your duty. The might of Naurmacil and the power of your songs will live long in the hearts of our people. And you would live in my heart without your sword or your song, simply for being the best of uncles.”

Elfwine embraced him then, thinking that partings beyond the world were strange indeed. And yet… “We are not parted forever, brother-son! I will see you next to me in the halls of our fathers. But do not hasten there!”

The tide was turning. The small crew of Elves of Mithlond were preparing the sail.

“I know not where your path may lead, uncle! But may Garsecgesfréa speed your way.”

“Fréaláf: keep your oaths, and love your horses and the people who ride them, and your rule shall be as great as your grandfather Éomer. And my love goes with you, always.”

With one last kiss to the forehead, Elfwine turned to depart.

“Elfwine, your feet are ever eager for the sea road! But we shall see you soon enough,” said Gimli. “I have it in my calendar, where and when.”

“The white gulls are crying, and your Nimrodel awaits!” Legolas said. “I will see you on the far shore, under a swift sunrise.”

Legolas and Gimli stood beside Fréaláf, watching until the silver sails were a gleam of sun on the horizon.

~

Nimrodel sailed ever west. And as she sailed, Elfwine gathered up the threads of song.

He sang of Middle-earth, and the many foes that fell to Naurmacil. He sang of the deeds of King Eldarion of Arnor, and Eldarion’s father the High King Aragorn. He sang of the horses of Éomer King and the wisdom of Lothiríel Queen; and the beauty of Queen Arwen, and the stout-heartedness of Master Holdwine, and the many great deeds done in the time of the High King.

But as the days of their journey passed, Elfwine began to sing of other things: a fair city that lay still beneath the waves, and her king who was in the Halls of Mandos awaiting rebirth. He sang of the bend in the sea road, and the star-bearer that sailed this path. He sang of the hope that lay in his heart to find Sindréam, and of the beauty of Tol Eresséa, and the one he longed to find there. He sang of Elladan son of Elrond, and the gift that he had passed on to Elfwine when he chose the path of Men.

And then, Elfwine sang to the Ese Garsecgesfréa, reminding him of their long history, and asking just one boon.

Upon a day of fair winds and following seas, Garsecgesfréa answered him: the path shifted before them, and the sea road climbed into the sky.

“Hurry,” Elfwine cried to the sailors. “Pengolodh is waiting!”

~

Many things there be in the West-regions unknown to Men, many wonders and many creatures: a land lovely to behold, the homeland of the Elves and the bliss of the Valar. Little doth any man understand what the yearning may be of one whom old age cutteth off from returning thither.
- Tolkien, The Song of Ælfwine

Chapter End Notes

• Tale of years: Elfwine’s ship is lost at sea in FO 27. He is transported to Beleriand of FO 160, which is 20 years after the death of Aragorn. Elfwine returns to Middle-earth FO 27 again, and becomes king at age 54 when Éomer dies. He does not marry, but rules for a number of years (fewer than his dad, let’s call it 30), and in his old age (this part is canonical in some versions) makes a boat and sets sail into the west — and (also canonically in some versions) spends a lot of time with Pengolodh.
• I invented a brother for Elfwine, Léofwine, because Elfwine had no wife or children before disappearing out to sea, and having just one mound for Éomer’s line would have been far too sad.
• Blessings upon Bunn for creating this lovely universe and providing encouragement for writing in it. Bunn’s questions about plot threads resulted in me saying in total exasperation: Pull a plot thread and get string theory.