Not All Who Wonder Or Wander Are Lost by LadySternchen  

Leaving

There is a chill to the air that creeps through his cloak, steals away the warmth of the still-glowing embers. His chest hurts, feels tight, and there is a dull pain in his head, too. Nerves. He knows this, but knowledge does not make it any more comfortable.

He has not slept for even a moment.

But now it is time to rise, anyway, the chill tells him that. It always comes when it is time to wake, wafting over the camps of the Quendi from the lake, rousing them.

How will they wake up once they are out of reach of the influence of the lake? Silly as it is, it almost feels like a parent to all the Quendi, and it is, somehow. It has nourished them, taught them, kept enemies at bay. He will so, so miss Cuiviénen.

Nonetheless he rises silently, and stretches, stifling a yawn, and shivering with cold. Elmo has sneaked under his mantle again during the night, and Elwë just cannot bring himself to wake him yet by taking the cloak away.

Olwë still sleeps, too, only a shock of his bright white hair visible under his cloak. A tender feeling spreads though Elwë as he watches his brother sleep. His little brother, even though the age-gap between them is ridiculously small. Later today, Olwë will be lord, and lead his own people. Will this be the last time they have slept side by side? Better not think about it too much. He does not need to start the first day of their journey with tears.

Activity now quickly picks up in the camp all around him. All has been packed and organised the day before already, but still fires are stoked one last time to make a last warm breakfast before their wandering starts, and Elwë knows he should do the same. Only he cannot, his stomach is already churning, only thinking of food makes him want to throw up.

What on earth has he got himself into here? What utter madness has befallen him to ever think he could lead all these people, even with Olwë's help? And why has he not insisted on leaving the day before, leaving with Finwë? They are supposed to be in this together, after all.

Lucky for him, Olwë is up now, and taking over the task of cooking breakfast.

"Thanks" Elwë mouthes at him, and Olwë grins back.

"Known you a day or two."

No arguing with that. It makes him feel a lot better, too, and a sliver of his old excitement returns to him.

Aman.

The Valar.

The Trees.

No more foul creatures.

No more deaths, no more grief.

He wants to go, really. And Olwë, loving, caring, steadfast Olwë, will always have his back, be it when it comes to leading their people or when it comes to making sure they do not starve when he feels unable to face food.

He crouches down, and gently shakes their baby-brother awake.

"Elmo, wake up! It is time. Olwë made you a nice warm porridge and I think he put all the rest of our pot of honey in it. Are you hungry?"

Nod.

"Good. Then I get my cloak back, you little thief."

Elmo sticks his tongue out to Elwë, but then giggles, and reaches up for a hug.

This is home. Wherever it wanders to.