Wanderer

39 - Haven's Magic

Earendil

It's a clear night. If I look up for a moment to try to remember and assure myself it's not a dream, then it becomes obvious that I'm far from home. There are twice as many stars as there were at home, and they're more vibrant, brighter, like they are closer to the world here on its edge.

So the Havens are, among other things, an astronomer's paradise.

The dusk fell an hour ago, but no one's making a move to head inside for the night. The exception, of course is Alaytar, who disappeared inside, rapt, with Kassandra.

In the meantime, we're feasting, Elven style. Huge tables are laden with luscious, colorful fruit on platters, soft white loaves of bread, and meat from every game bird and beast. The real highlight, though, is the potent, non-alcoholic liquid that fills every goblet. It leaves my head spinning, but it's not a drowsy feeling I get. Rather, I am more awake, more alive. The lights seem brighter, the candles like blazing bonfires atop the table. And then I can't...quite...remember anything past this morning. That's because now is so much more interesting.

Perhaps it's the draught, or maybe it's the crisp air, or the excitement of just being still at last. Whatever the reason, I feel my restlessness just draining away. I feel a deep peace and inner satisfaction. I smile, a real smile, and the elf next to me jogs me playfully with his elbow.

"Now you feel it! Nice teeth. What do you think?"

I am almost laughing. "I can feel it, alright. I love this place. I really don't know why you're not on the map."

That makes my slanted-browed companion chuckle. "Welcome, Earendil the Mariner, to the most well-kept secret of the Elven race. Not many Free People know of these shores."

"I know. Could you answer me something?"I intend to ask about the draught.

The elf stops in the motions of snagging a piece of white meat from one of the many plates and cocks his eyebrow at me, awaiting my question. The knowing yet questioning, slightly exasperated look in a face so young makes me smile. It could be Elrond, for all I know. 

Elrond. Frond.

A huge wave of pain and loss and homesickness washes over me. I remember him vividly, suddenly, and Frond's deep blue eyes, and then the physical pain hurts like a blow when I remember Elwing.

I close my eyes against the flood of memories that are breaking loose from where they've lain, dormant, inside my mind. I can remember now. It's not a proud moment. I've abandoned every one of my family members: Frond and Elrond to strangers. Elwing to certain death.

All for...what? To sit and eat in Paradise? To forget?

It becomes clear to me, through the sadness that blurs my thoughts together, that Elwing's death must count. I need to justify, in some small way, my shameless abandonment of my own sons.

But justification isn't here. Paradise isn't the end. The journey isn't over yet. 

I turn away from the elf who unwittingly caused this hurt - "Never mind." - and leave the table.

One more night, and I go on alone.