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The water didn’t feel cold any more – he was at the stage where the air felt cold, and the most comfortable position was crouching under the water so that it covered at least his shoulders. If the waves lapped up to his nose, that was fine.
His mother ran her hand through his wet hair, quickly forming it into spikes. ‘Tired? Want to go in?’ He shook his head, and she grinned. ‘Not bored of being beaten in races?’
‘The more we race, the faster I get. The more you beat me, the closer I am to beating you,’ said Aikanáro, smugly. How does it feel to have the comfort you gave me last week turned back against you, eh mother??
Apparently it felt fine, because she splashed him in the face with delight. ‘Then catch me if you can!’
And he nearly did. Nearly.
*****
Angaráto jerked awake as something soft landed on him. He blinked, as the blanket whispered, ‘oh, sorry!’
It was his mother – somehow she’d managed to sneak up on him. ‘Aghh…thank you, but I should be awake…I think…what time…?’
‘It’s Telperion’s second hour.’ She sat beside him. ‘You should rest now, anyway – while he’s quiet.’
His son hadn’t slept much the previous night. Therefore, neither had he. There had been about an hour, when the tiny boy had been content to sleep on his father’s chest. But that was it.
‘You were the same, if it helps,’ said Eärwen. ‘You were usually fine – better than Aikanáro – but some nights you just decided you weren’t having it.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Are you enjoying watching me on the other end?’
‘No!’ she protested. Then caught his eye. ‘Maybe a very tiny part of me is.’
He groaned. ‘How did you deal with me?’
She put a hand on his shoulder. ‘We did exactly as you two are doing now. You’re an excellent father, Angaráto.’
He smiled slightly. ‘Because you were – no, you are an excellent mother.’
‘I think I’m going to be an even better Grandmother,’ she told him. ‘Remember when you would all come home from my father’s – “Ammë, Grandfather Olwë let us have six piece of cake each!!! I never want to go to bed ever again!!!”’
Angaráto flinched.
*****
As soon as the door clicked shut, a voice called out – ‘Arafinwë?’
‘No, it’s me,’ said Findaráto. His mother appeared, holding a lantern. Despite calling for his father, she didn’t look disappointed to see him.
‘What’s happening, Ingalaurë?’
‘I think…we’re nearly ready to leave. If we don’t go now, we’ll never catch up to Fëanáro.’ Tirion was now nearly empty, as well as dark – most of the Noldor were gone.
In the lantern light, Eärwen’s silver hair shone blue. She looked worn and washed out. ‘I see,’ was all she said.
It wasn’t like her to look so lifeless. Findaráto walked over to her. The gnawing feeling that he ought to stay had returned. ‘Ammë, I’m sorry,’ he said. She looked up at him.
‘You regret deciding to go?’
‘I…’ Yes. No. Not when I imagine us escaping into the wide world from this place which isn’t home any more. Not when I remember our family – both those leaving for new lands, and those already there, struggling against the enemy.
But yes when he thought of his mother alone in the dark. She’d stayed in Tirion for them – but over the last year, with everything that had happened, she’d hardly seen them.
She took his hand, and squeezed it gently. ‘I understand.’ Although he hadn’t said anything out loud – he knew she did. ‘I don’t want an apology to be the last thing I hear from you,’ she said. ‘We’ll have a long time apart. Lets make it something better than that.’
If she’d cried over losing her family – and it was likely she had – she hadn’t let anyone see. Findaráto put his arms around her, wondering if he was going to be that strong.
‘Will you sing with me?’ she asked.
‘Of course,’ he told her.
In the dark, feeling the harp notes by touch rather than sight, they sang, voices rising and harmonizing in the silent city.