A Deed Unforgiven by LadySternchen  

Flashback- Círdan

It almost looked as if Elu were crowned once more, crowned in flowers as he had been in the first days of his rule, an eternity ago, when they had felt drunk with the happiness of having him back among them, with Melian as his bride.

Now it was but a humble blooming branch, woven to grace the king’s brow, but still Círdan deemed it fitting. Melian had once coaxed this very tree into bloom amidst the icy darkness, so that it almost felt to Círdan as though he were granting the royal couple a final farewell.

In truth, of course, there was no farewell. In truth he stood alone by his cousin’s body, taking a few sacred moments of silence to say his own goodbye, to arrange Elu’s silver hair once more over his missing ear and make sure that his body was well shrouded safe for his unmaimed left. It was a little thing, unimportant, really, and yet it mattered to him, to have not his cousin’s beauty marred by his wounds even in death.

He could not take long, he knew that, not with the storm slowly ceasing. But if he knew, then why did it still hurt so terribly to do what he knew he must do?

They would set sail as soon as the sea permitted, and row their boats out beyond the point where the currents bore floating things back to shore, and there would lower the narrow raft that was Elu’s final bed to the waves so that they might carry it away westwards. It was a method of dealing with their dead that his people had started using when the orcs had first assailed them, and found it suited them well.

It felt so very wrong nonetheless. This was no royal funeral.

Círdan still set sail with his men, to carry out their gruesome task. A strong wind billowed the sails of their ships, driving them out to sea swiftly, more swiftly, in fact, than Círdan would have wished for. Yet the moment of farewell came whether he willed it or no, and he himself helped lower the raft to the grey waves, waves that rocked it as if it were the cradle of a sleeping child.

“Thus passes the lord of Beleriand.” Círdan called above the waves, doing his utmost to keep his voice steady.

He failed.

He felt the consoling pats on his back even as he bend down over the railing, weeping once again, to brush his cousin’s cheek swiftly one last time.

“Sleep soundly now in Ulmo’s keeping.” was all he managed to mutter.

Chapter End Notes

‘Though the waves leap, soft will ye sleep, oceans a royal bed…’

(Nooo, I didn’t happen to listen to the Skye Boat Song while writing this and promptly fit the lines into my story, noooo. I’d never do such a thing 😅)