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Olwë wrapped his arms about himself, weeping, his head bowed as he walked the edge of the surf. The salt water lapped about his feet, as if trying to draw him into the sea. Behind him lay the island which was to transport his brother's—no, now his people—to Aman. The stars above were masked by a low bank of clouds and it seemed to Olwë that the land itself mourned along with him.
He had to take them onwards; there was no choice. The Light of the Trees had shone in Elwë's eyes, but the Sea itself called Olwë, and he could no longer resist it.
Yet his heart was torn, for still Elwë was missing, and he dreaded stepping forth into the unknown without his brother, next to whom he'd grown at Cuivienen.
"Why weepest thou, child?"
He looked up to find the Lord of the Waters standing before him, sea green hair and beard streaming with water, the Ulumari suspended from a baldric slung across Ulmo's chest, and a gentle smile on his face.
The Teleri bowed his head in respect before stammering. "I—I miss my brother, lord."
An odd expression crossed the Valar's face for a moment and Olwë thought he heard the words As I miss mine, in his head. But Ulmo said nothing, and the Eruhin decided that he had imagined it. He hesitantly continued, "Until now, I could hope that Elwë would find his way back to us who love him. But," Olwë sat back on his heels and looked past Lord Ulmo towards the headland where the Teleri campfires flickered, "now we leave these lands forever, and he is not here." Fresh tears trickled down his face. "Will I ever see him again, lord? Will I ever embrace my brother again?"
Ulmo raised Olwë up and drew him into a comforting embrace, gazing down into tear-wet grey eyes. "That I cannot tell, child, for there are some calls that are even stronger than the call of the Sea. However, that does not mean that you should give up hope. Remember that all will be as Ilúvatar wills it." He bent his head and kissed Olwë on the brow.
Olwë's knees buckled and only Ulmo's arms kept him upright as a wave of love and reassurance poured through his fëa. When he came to himself, the tide had turned. As the foam-tipped waves soaked him to his knees and retreated once more, it seemed to carry away at least some of the pain of parting.
"Come, child," Ulmo said gently, "it is time to start your voyage."
* * * * *
A/N: Written for The Tolkien Tango Prompt #15: WOUNDS. I haven't found any fics that address Olwë's perspective on having to take over when Elwë went missing. The muse kindly decided to provide one! :)
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