Wanderer

19 - 'Ere Break of Day...

Earendil

I haven’t told Elwing yet, and it’s killing me.

I’ve shared my life with her for two years, and during those years, we’ve always told each other everything. If I tried in the past to hide something from Elwing because I didn’t want to burden her, then she would convince me in the end to tell her.

 I just can’t burden Elwing yet. The morning after I came home, she told me that she was pregnant. There is joy mixed with pain now. At the rate I’m going, I will never know my third child, and they will never know me. That’s a sad thought.

 I find it hard to sleep at night, so I usually get up and try my hand at designing my ship for the journey. My drawings are detailed and professional in the moonlight, but when morning comes, I find them little more than child’s scribbles.

 Late nights mean painful days. I am very much aware of how little time I have left. I stay by Elwing’s side, go for walks with her, and try and always be available for her. Elrond and Frond and I go sailing in sight of the shore, and the more I spend time with them, I am forced to realize my own failings as a father.

 And most of all, I stay off the ocean. Except for joy rides with my sons, I stay away from it. Winter sailing is highly advised against, but that didn’t use to stop me. It affects me drastically. My weekly sail used to be my life. I looked forward to it like nothing else.

 And so the winter passes. The snow melts in March, and the temperatures climb as the weeks pass. The grass grows back, and buds appear on the trees. Copious amounts of snow evolve into copious amounts of rain. I welcome the spring with all the elves.

I find myself unable to fully face Alaytar anymore. I can’t talk as if nothing is amiss, even if is the master of it. I am living a lie, aware of it, and Alaytar is the contradiction to it that awakens the guilt.

 Finally, I can’t put it off anymore. Alaytar, after bearing many ignored pleas to come over and visit, just appears at my door one Saturday in March. Jade, his shadow, stands with him.

I turn my attention from the dripping grass behind him, the field ablaze with morning sunlight, and just stand there, looking at Alaytar.

 For a long time, we just stand staring at, into, and through each other. It occurs to me that in the space of four months, Alaytar’s deep eyes have aged ten years. They are the only indication of his age, and in them, I see an elf aged by weariness.

“Are you going to let him in?” Elwing calls from inside.

I know Alaytar is seeing the kitchen table awash in papers, ink, and inkwells. I hope Círdan can design ships as well as build them. I cringe inwardly at the mess.

 Alaytar nods just once and I know he gets it: my lie, the house, everything in between. I understand, he says silently.

 “We can sit outside if you’d rather. My house is in the same state.” Alaytar says aloud.

We sit outside on the porch, warming slowly in the sunshine. Jade gets up after a minute of silence and soon after, I see her and Elrond walking down towards the water.

 “Have you told her?”

My answer is long in coming. “No.”

“Why not?”

 “You told me in that Valar-forsaken pub that the world isn’t big enough for all the cowards of the world. I have joined their ranks.”

“She needs to know at some point,” Alaytar cautions me.