Chapter Text
The bow lantern swings gently in the early morning waves as Ulmo awakens beneath the sea. Pink-orange light streaks behind them while the deep purple of twilight soars ahead.
Glorfindel is sitting cross-legged on the forecastle, his riot of golden hair curling in the wind. A still-scabbarded Orcrist rests across his knees.
“We are almost there, Ecthelion. Can you feel it? The warmth, it is returning to my bones.”
No water spots the pristine deck, his shoulder does not darken with dampness.
“Ecthelion? Are you there?”
“Speaking to your ghost again?” Arelyar, the captain, chuckles. He had taken it all quite well when his two passengers explained the condition of their third companion. He’d merely made a gently teasing remark about the nature of ancient elflords but bowed to Orcrist all the same.
“Yes, though he does not seem inclined to answer.”
“Well, even ghosts must tire of other people sometimes.”
“Indeed…” He trails off, glancing down to the sword, “I hope it is only that.”
Arelyar’s face twists in confusion and Glorfindel is quick to wave a dismissive hand. “It is nothing. Just my own fear getting the better of me. Has Lord Elrond awoken yet this morn?”
“Aye, he was in the galley only a few minutes ago. If you are looking for him, he may still be there.”
“He will find me soon enough. I’ll let him enjoy his breakfast in peace.”
“A kindness he will surely appreciate. The younger members of my crew refuse to leave him alone, pestering him with questions. A few minutes silence over a bowl of honeyed oats must seem like pure bliss. Have you eaten yet, Lord Glorfindel?”
“I did, though long before dawn’s eyes opened. Perhaps I will do as Hobbits do and indulge in second breakfast.”
“Then I must recommend the spiced applesauce. Despite it being little bigger than a wardrobe, Braigil somehow makes magic in our galley.”
“Rhoben, the head of Imladris’ kitchens, was a ship’s cook in his younger days. Even still, he can work wonders with pack meals.”
“Rhoben? Of Menegroth?”
“The very same, though Elrond and I first met him in Lindon. Do you know him?”
“Not personally but maritime cooking must run in their blood. Braigil often speaks of her brother Rhoben.”
“Siblings?!” Glorfindel gasps, “Ai, we had no idea! Well now I simply must tell Elrond! He would be delighted to chat with her about her brother. He is most beloved among the elves of Rivendell.”
Arelyar pats his shoulder, “Best you go now, before the apples are all gone.”
---
The cookstove provides plenty of warmth to the small room and Glorfindel has no trouble finding his friend as close as one could get to it without being directly in the galley. Elrond is peeling an orange slowly, placing the rind into a basket to be dried for use in soap.
“Good morning, my friend.” Glorfindel greets as he sits with a bowl of the famed applesauce.
Elrond looks up sharply as though so consumed by his thoughts that he did not notice the other’s presence.
“Ah, good morning as well. Have you been out on deck? I heard you leave the berth many hours ago.”
“Thoughts kept me from slumber, but-” He holds a hand out to stop Elrond’s question, “it is nothing to be concerned with. Only my mind laying apprehension at my feet for no reason. We are so close to Aman now.”
Elrond’s gentle smile drops, “Soon we will pass onto the Straight Road… and never turn back for Middle Earth again.”
“You miss your children.” Glorfindel states.
“I grieve for my daughter.”
“Why grieve for something as wonderful as the life she has chosen for herself? A kind, caring husband; a kingdom that adores her, and brothers who would burn all of Ennor if she was scorned.”
“I grieve that she will never have her father there. Aragorn is a fine man and the twins are strong and steadfast. But… I am her father and her mother left long ago. It feels cruel to have left her behind. If the Valar ever blesses them with a child, she will not have her parents to guide her. Celebrían should have been there, I should have been there.”
“You served Middle Earth long and devotedly. You raised three - four - intelligent and caring children. You have earned your rest. It will be hard to know your children have lives you can never witness but think of all the wonderful things you can tell Celebrían about. Arwen’s marriage and Aragorn becoming king, Elladan’s admittance into the Loremasters’ Order, Elrohir’s work with Legolas in Ithilien.”
“You are right. I am simply morose this early in the day.”
“Perhaps some sunlight would do you well. By the way, did you know that the esteemed cook on this ship is the sister of none other than our very own Rhoben?”
“Truly?” Elrond’s brows rise.
“I heard it from the captain himself! She might enjoy hearing some tales about her brother should you find the time.”
“Gladly. Anything to keep the first mate from besieging me with questions about Ereinion.”
“You will have to tell him when you see him. I’m sure he will be thrilled to know he is still popular among elves.”
The healer pauses in quiet realisation, “He will be there, won’t he. I have not… I have not spoken to him in three millennia.”
“I am certain he will be just as you remember him. I do not think Gil-galad could ever be anything but proud of you.” A drop of applesauce slips free from his spoon and splatters on the table. As he wipes it up, he remembers his original order of business.
“Have you noticed Ecthelion around at all yet?”
Elrond shakes his head as he bites into an orange slice.
“None of the crew have mentioned a random puddle? Braigil has not noticed an extra pot of water on the stove?”
“Nay, though I have not been awake for long. The crew rises much earlier than I.”
Glorfindel hums and sets his spoon down.
“Is something the matter?”
“He was not out on deck with me this morning - or at least, I saw no sign that he was. You don’t think-” He trails off, daring not to speak the words aloud.
“Did you not once tell me that Ecthelion spent much of his time atop the city gates in Gondolin? Perhaps he has climbed the ratlines to the yardarms to watch the sunrise.”
“Well then I must wait for him to come down, you will not find me scaling the ropes to find him.”
“Afraid of heights, my friend? I thought you were afraid of nothing.”
“Nay, I am not afraid of anything. There are just certain tasks that I would rather avoid if I could.”
---
Desperate for something to do, Glorfindel finds himself back up on deck in the bright afternoon sun.
Near the quarterdeck, Elrond is seated on the floor watching intently as two crew members show him how to tie various sailors’ knots. Every so often, he attempts one himself only to laugh when it tangles in some impossible way.
It seems Elros must have inherited more of their father’s seafaring prowess.
Glorfindel overhears a snippet of their conversation as he strolls past.
“Lord Elrond, for such skilled healer’s hands, your knots are very… rustic.”
The healer laughs, “it is alright, my friend. You can say they are terrible, I will not be offended.”
“No, they aren’t bad, they’re just-” The sailor starts with a smile but it cracks and dissolves into laughter, “They are quite awful. Don’t become a mariner, my lord, it is not your calling.”
Arelyar is standing on the aftcastle, looking east. As Glorfindel watches, the elf drops a single pearl into the sea. The sun catches it as it falls, a star sinking into the dark water.
“An old mariner’s tradition,” the captain explains without preamble. “We sail between the two worlds, never staying at one or the other. Because of this, we thank Ulmo for granting us repeated passage to and from the Straight Road.”
From his pocket, he pulls another pearl but does not cast it below. It rolls between his fingers a few times before he places it in Glorfindel’s hand.
“A pearl is something only the sea can create. We take from the sea each time we sail; so in gratitude, we return something taken from it.”