The waves crept gently up onto the beach, their soft soothing sound carrying across the sand. The air was still and quiet, and from nearby the sweet sound of elvish music drifted over. But as he wandered down onto the sand, Elrohir paid it no heed. Perhaps he didn't even hear it. His mind wandered in memories of a midsummer celebration in a different time, a different place.
What a bittersweet day it had been, the happiest day of his sister's life. The joy in her eyes had been so profound, and so true, that it was as if the stars themselves shone through them, and he had almost been dazzled. But then he had turned to his father and seen the pain, the anguish, and he had felt dismayed.
Elrohir had never been particularly close to his father. It wasn't that there was any animosity or coldness between them, merely a lack of the strong connection that the Lord Elrond had with his other two children.
Elladan was the first-born son, and therefore the heir of Imladris. Elrond had ever had this on his mind during Elladan's upbringing, that there should be someone who could rule Imladris in his stead were there worst to happen to him.
Then there was Arwen, his beloved daughter. Of the three of them, she was most alike to her father in temperament, wise and calm when events shook others, someone people gathered to and trusted implicitly in a time of crisis. She had also inherited many of his skills as a healer, and they spent much time together, the father tutoring his daughter.
Maybe everything Elrond had ever wanted from his children was there in either Elladan or Arwen. In the rebellious years between childhood and adulthood Elrohir had taken to less conventional ways of getting his father's attention. They had been successful in a sense, but usually culminated in Elladan having to sneak food and tidings up to his brother who had been confined to his room for a week.
After a three such incidents in only two phases of the moon, an exasperated Elrond had almost begged his lady wife to take both twins with her on one of her regular trips to visit her parents in Lothlorien. Now aged about 200 years old, the journey itself was quite the adventure for the young brothers, shaping their future as the urge to roam was planted firmly in their hearts.
Wandering further along the sand, Elrohir looked out over the great blue-grey expanse towards the east. The sea had never called to him, but he had seen the effects it had on his brother in the years after their father had left. Elladan had become quieter and more withdrawn, less the formidable presence he had always been on Imladris' council despite now being at its head. Many times Elrohir had caught his twin staring blankly at the rivers and waterfalls of his home, mesmerised by the sight and sound of the water that was so enticing to him.
Elrohir could see that his brother had made his choice, or perhaps it had been made for him. Elladan was no more able to resist the call of the sea than Arwen would have been able to resist the call of her heart. But Elrohir was torn between his brother and sister. Between the land he loved and the adventure of travelling to another that was unknown to him.
In the end, the journey to the west had won. He remembered that look on his father's face at Arwen's wedding, could imagine it stricken across his mother's silver beauty. But above everything, he saw in his mind's eye Elladan stood on a great grey ship, leaving the havens, alone. And it just didn't look right. It wasn't right. Elladan as the other half of his soul, he couldn't imagine a day in Arda without him, the sparkle in his eyes that belied his stern countenance or the fire burning in his soul as they hunted servants of the dark.
So Elrohir had joined his brother and many others as they took the long voyage across the Sundering Seas to the land sung of in many songs, but never seen by any of their party. And when he had first seen Valinor he had been truly amazed, as even the creations of his father's finest minstrels had been unable to capture its beauty.
They sailed into the docks, and saw a small crowd of elves waiting as they alighted. Elrohir was full of joy as he was embraced by his mother. All his many prayers to Elbereth had been fulfilled as she stood there, no longer a shadow of her former self but even more beautiful and peaceful than she had ever been, even before that fateful journey across the Misty Mountains. His father then embraced him, and Elrohir saw much of the shadow had been lifted from his eyes and a great weight had gone from his shoulders. If possible, they straightened even more when his eyes fell on his precious boys, home to him at last.
"Home..." Elrohir thought, as he continued his aimless trip along the pale sands. "But are we truly? Is this really home to me now?"
He took a deep breath and tried to stop his thoughts wandering onto this, most traitorous of subjects.
"Just enjoy the sea and the stars," he told himself. "Be happy with this peace for a while, let it calm your heart and soothe your soul."
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.