Day 4 - Sail Among The Stars

[grundyscribbling]

Summary: On his return from speaking to the Valar, Eärendil has to share the news of their decision with his crew.
Bingo Number: O72
Prompts (Cards): Roads? Where we're going we don't need roads. (Movie Quotes)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2015
Notes: This one completely and totally ran away from me. Also, this is totally not where I saw the prompt going when I made the card.

Eärendil wasn’t entirely sure what to tell his crew.

He had never expected this to be a one-way journey – at least, not once he’d realized they would be successful. His faithful followers were surely as eager to return to their families as he was.

Which made it all the harder to deliver the news he bore.

His wife was in Tirion, with his great-grandmother and Galadriel’s mother doing their best to nurse her through the shock of being told in one breath that her sons were in the care of the Kinslayers and in the next that she was barred from going to their aid. Eärwen had promised that as soon as she was well enough to make the trip, Elwing would be brought back to Alqualondë.

He didn’t doubt it. His wife might appreciate the care being shown to her, but he knew she would be more at ease among Olwë’s people than among his mother’s. He suspected Elwing had only gone along with the current arrangement because her own great-grandmother was fully occupied in arguing rather vociferously with the Valar.

Melian might not understand everything about relationships as the Children saw them, but she certainly got the part about taking care of family. She was backing her descendant to the hilt – or perhaps that should be descendants. She didn’t sound any more pleased about Elrond and Elros being raised by the destroyers of Menegroth than anyone else was. Nor was she pleased to find herself included in the ban.

His steps faltered as he reached the house near the quays that Olwë had kindly arranged for his crew in his absence. Apparently even the Teleri didn’t live on their boats full time.

How was he to tell them?

“There he is!”

Nillien had spotted him.

His childhood playmate was still scarce more than a youth by elven standards. She had been permitted to join his crew because her father was loathe to leave her behind. But she was not the only one whose ‘tender years’ had been considered a minor scandal by the Amanyar.  Aside from Galdor, his had been a ship crewed largely by the young. He had chosen his companions for their loyalty as much as for their skill. In many cases their parents – whether those that had begotten them or those that had raised them – had granted permission for them to join him largely because they felt that remaining in Beleriand was no safer than attempting to cross the Sea.

It had probably helped that until this voyage, he had always returned. Unlike other Noldor, he hadn’t disappeared, or had pieces of his ship wash up on the shore after a storm. But now that they had finally succeeded, he had no way to let their families know it. With no word, they would be believed dead like so many others.

He wondered what Rosalmiel and Egalmoth would say if he could tell them their son had reached the shores they had left.

He had to find some way to get word to Sirion – no, he reminded himself, to Balar. Sirion was as much part of the past as Gondolin now. But Nillien and Galdor were the exception, not the rule. Most of his crew had family who should know what had become of them.

“Eärendil! It is good to see you again! We weren’t sure what had happened!”

Nillien’s hug was born of sheer relief – they’ve been friends since he his cradle days, and both lost too many friends and kin to be at ease with the prospect of losing any more. He consoled himself that Galdor and Nillien at least might find it a relief to hear they would stay – Nillien’s mother and older brother were both in Mandos.

“But where’s Elwing?”

“She remained in Tirion, with…my grandmother.”

It still came out awkward. He wasn’t used to having grandparents as an adult. His father’s parents had died at the time of his father’s birth. His mother’s mother had fallen before she ever reached Beleriand.

His children were growing up without even one grandparent.

He hoped that they found mates whose parents were living. Assuming, of course, they survived that long.

“Where are the others? I have news, and I would rather share it with all of you at once.”

Nillien knew him well enough to hear the note of warning in his tone.

“Atto went in search of some of us ‘feckless youth’,” she said. “But I believe the others are inside.”

Even under the circumstances, that made him smile.

“Who this time?” he asked.

“Aerandir, Falathar and Erellont,” she replied, her answering smile betraying that she probably could have cut Galdor’s search short.

“Taverns or boats?” Eärendil asked.

“Boats,” she grinned. “They were bored. And as it didn’t look like the Valar were inclined to strike us down anytime soon…”

Eärendil couldn’t help the laugh. To be honest, he wanted to go for a sail too. A normal sail. Not…that thing he still needed to explain.

“So you’re saying it could be a while?”

“Lord Galdor will not find the three he seeks.”

Had his day not been complicated enough?

Eärendil, who is that?

Nillien had grabbed his hand to allow the osanwë. He wasn’t particularly good at hearing anyone but his mother, wife, and sons. Too mannish.

“That, Nillien, is Lord Eönwë, the herald of Manwë. And as he has yet to say anything I particularly wanted to hear, I imagine this means my day is getting worse.”

“I’m hurt, Ardamirë.”

Nillien’s jaw dropped.

“Whenever my mother gets back from Mandos, she and I are having a conversation about that name.”

“Your mother is not in Mandos, Itarilllion.”

 Eärendil blinked.

“All right, you’ve said one thing I want to hear. So I’ll listen to whatever else you’re here to say.”

“Your three friends went for a slightly longer sail than they intended.”

“What?” Nillien gasped. “What does that mean?”

“I imagine that means it’s going to be a while before we see them again,” Eärendil sighed. “My mother?”

“Will be arriving on these shores shortly.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to explain?”

“Given how well the last explanation was received, no.”

“Excellent. Goodbye.”

“Eärendil!”

“What? He’s gone.”

“You were just rude to the herald of the Valar!”

He decided it was pointless to argue that what she was calling ‘rude’ was really just speaking plainly.

“It’s fine, I’ve been ‘rude’ directly to them before. Honestly, I think they’d be slightly more thrown if I weren’t at this point.”

“Does this have to do with what you wanted to talk to us all about?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Is everyone else inside?”

“Everyone except Atto and Aerandir, Falathar, and Erellont, but I guess we’re not waiting on them.”

“We do have it on rather good authority that they’re going to be a while.”

“Fine, but you get to explain it to everyone else.”

“I’ll add it to the list.”

“There’s a list?”

---

When they were all gathered (except for poor Galdor, looking for three who were no longer there for him to find), Eärendil took a deep breath. The few among his crew who weren’t Ondolindrim were survivors of Nargothrond or Menegroth. They had experience with bad news. So it was probably best to just get it over with.

“I’ve spoken to the Valar.”

There was such a hubbub at those words that he had to wait for everyone to quiet down again.

“They’ve agreed to send aid to Beleriand.”

The cheers at that nearly shook the rafters. Any passing Teleri might have been forgiven for wondering just what was happening in here. He held up a hand, and his crew sobered instantly. They could tell from his expression that there must be a substantial catch.

“But we can’t go with them.”

“What? But we can’t just sit here doing nothing!”

Nillien’s strangled exclamation spoke for the group. There were shocked faces on all sides.

“The Valar have decreed that since we undertook this voyage for the sake of all the Children, we are not to be punished,” Eärendil explained. “But nor are we permitted to return. We came to the Blessed Land, so we’re to stay in the Blessed Land.”

There were gasps and stricken looks all around. Nearly all of them had kin, and if not kin, friends, who they were anxious about back home – especially since they all knew about the latest Kinslaying – and who would be equally anxious about them.

“Eönwë has just told us that Aerandir, Falathar, and Erellont have been dispatched to bear the news back to Beleriand.”

He ignored Nillien’s muttered, ‘that’s not exactly what he said’, since based on their interactions, he was confident that was what Manwë’s message runner meant.

“I trust that they’ll assure everyone’s families that we’re ok, that we made it here safely,” Eärendil continued. “I don’t know if they’ve been told what else the Valar plan to do. But Vingilotë will not just sit around in the harbor while the Valar prepare their war.”

An expectant hush fell.

“Where are you sailing?”

He wasn’t sure who had asked.

“The Valar have found a use for Elwing’s Silmaril. It’s to be a new star – and they want me to bear it aloft.”

“We’re going to… sail in the sky?” Nillien asked in awe.

He nodded.

“We’ll be a sign of hope for our kin. At least, I hope we will! And we’ll be able to see how they do, even if we can’t be much practical help to them. But you’re not bound to the ship, any of you – if you don’t want to take this on, you’re free to stay here in Alqualondë, or go to Tirion, or wherever I guess.”

“Another stirring speech!” one of the shipwrights laughed. “Good to see hobnobbing with the Powers hasn’t changed your powers, o great orator!”

“Oh, shush,” Eärendil grumped. “What do you expect me to say? I don’t know any more about Valinor than you do. If it wasn’t for my grandmother, I’d have gotten lost trying to find my way back from the Ring of Doom.”

There was a round of general merriment at that, along with a few mirthful assurances that it was ok to get lost on land as long as he knew where he was on the water.

“I’d like to see what sailing among the stars is like,” Nillien said. “We’ll be the first elves to do that.”

“True - let them call us dark elves after that!” muttered one of the fully Sindarin.

Eärendil shrugged.

“If all that counts is treelight, then I’m a dark elf, same as you,” he said. “But this crew of dark elves did what all the light elves couldn’t – we made it here, didn’t we?”

There was a half-hearted cheer at that.

“And now anyone who wants is welcome to join me in doing something else the light elves didn’t. They sing about the starlight. We’re going to be the starlight.”

That got quite a few approving murmurs.

“I’m part of your crew, come what may,” Nillien said firmly. “But we’re not going to be in the sky all the time, right? We’ll still get to come back to port between trips?”

He nodded, for he suspected she spoke for more than just herself.

“I think Elwing might like to build a house near Alqualondë. It doesn’t sound like the Valar mean us to sail in the next few weeks, so we have some time to plan and explore.”

“Does that mean we can go beyond the town?” asked his navigator urgently. “I’ve been curious, but we didn’t dare go beyond the gates, even if the roads looked so inviting…”

Eärendil laughed.

“Follow the road if you like. We’re elves of Valinor now.”

There was a hearty roar of approval, and a cry of three cheers for Vingilotë the starship before his crew dispersed to take advantage of their new freedom, Nillien smiling at him reassuringly as she went.

This hadn’t been what he had wanted, but if his crew were with him, it wasn’t a disaster.