Not All Who Wonder Or Wander Are Lost by LadySternchen  

Soon

“Finwë, wait, what are you… wait!”

Elwë crosses his arms before his chest, planting his feet firmly on the ground. It is not like he has not just wandered for days to see Finwë.

“You said you wanted to get away from all the duties for a moment, so that is what we are doing. And I wanted to show you ever since I first found… oh, come on!”

There is no getting around Finwë when he is like this, so Elwë sighs theatrically, hoping to at least make his point, and follows his friend deeper into the woods, away from the camp of the Noldor.

It is as though they are back at Cuiviénen, going on an adventure together, Finwë taking the lead as usual, Elwë always initially side-eying his friend’s enthusiasm. Does he himself still seem as boyish to his own people, he wonders, as Finwë does to him? Elflord though he is, his friend has lost nothing of his childhood-enthusiasm and somehow, that realisation makes Elwë breathe more freely than he has done in a long time.

They are still the same. They will be the same again, once this is all over.

Through the thicket of hollies, Elwë hears water murmuring, gay and joyful, not the rushing of a big stream, yet more than the bubbling of a brook. The sound inevitably makes him smile. It is the sound of adventure. The ground ever rises, so that they are soon climbing up a steep hill, clambering over rocks, ducking under branches. Moss soon replaces the forest floor, and when stepped on, oozes water. There must be underground springs, which is good, for Elwë is rather thirsty, and the promise of a refreshing sip of water deeply welcome.

By the time they emerge from the trees, both their arms are rather badly scratched, and one look at his tunic tells Elwë that he will spend the days after his return to his own camp mending what there is to mend.

Only a few steps separate them from the top of the hill, and once they reach it, Elwë hears himself gasp. This view is certainly worth a few scratches and a torn tunic. Before them, the hill falls steeply towards the river, bare rock replacing the mossy boulders. It is a formidable drop alright, but beautiful. In the absence of trees, the stars are visible overhead, and they seem to smile at them today, encouraging, promising.

Caught by a sudden feeling of whimsy, Elwë whirls around, dancing on the hilltop until Finwë catches him by the arm, unnerved.

“Careful!”

Ha, Elwë thinks, you don’t like it any better when I am the one taking risks for once.

He does not say it, though, for just thinking it gives him quite enough satisfaction. And besides, Finwë is not entirely wrong. Losing his footing here would mean certain death. So instead of dancing, he lets his gaze wander over the forest that stretches as far as the eye can see -which admittedly is not all too far due to the trees- on the other bank of the river. But it is lighter, softer, the thorny leaves of the holly-trees replaced by the sleek grey trunks of beeches.

“There is a furth further north, where the river is easier to pass.” Finwë says, which makes Elwë grin.

“Ai, you do know me well, my friend. How would I love to explore these woods. But that, sadly, is not to be. Not with my people so unwilling to move, and time running late.”

Finwë hums sympathetically as he lets himself drop to the ground, to sit cross-legged overlooking the river. Elwë joins him with a sigh.

“It is not their fault, of course. They are tired, and I really cannot blame them. But I cannot wait for this journey to end.”

He lies back, looking at the uncountable stars overhead.

“Can you promise me something, Finwë? When we are all safely in Aman, and everyone has settled in, promise me we will meet on the beach and lie on the pearls and pebbles and look up at the skies and laugh about all of this and then just sleep?”

“Of course.” Finwë replies, and Elwë can hear him smile.

He so misses his friend. And he will miss him still more, on this final leg of their journey, and maybe to most challenging one. But there is light on the horizon, quite literally speaking. And to that light, they are headed.

For a long while, they lie side by side, heads cocked in order to be even closer. They have done this as long as Elwë can remember, and the knowledge that they will do so again in their new home is immeasurably heartening.

Then suddenly, Finwë rises.

“Up. No time for falling asleep now, who knows what might eat us otherwise. And I have to show you something more.”

Bewildered, Elwë once again follows his friend, until he is suddenly… gone.

“Finwë?”

Try as he might to keep the rising panic out of his voice, he cannot. Where on earth has he got to?

The answer, quite literally, is nowhere. Because Finwë has gone under the earth.

“Down here!”

There is a narrow fissure in one of the rocks, one Elwë has not previously noticed, just wide enough for their slender forms to fit through, and Elwë does not tarry.

The fissure opens into a small cave, and Elwë can hear running water. So there are more underground springs in this hill.

“I discovered this place the first night we camped in this woods. I have not dared explore further on my own, but I think there must be a whole system of caves in this hill. Wait for it, you’ll soon know why.” Finwë whispers, delight radiating from him like heat.

A breeze rustles through the leaves outside.

And it makes the caves sing.