Genres: Family, Hurt/Comfort

Rating: G

Reference: “…For I was one of those that he sent, being young in years among the Eldar. I was born here in Middle-earth in the land of Nevrast. My mother was of the Grey-elves of the Falas, and akin to Círdan himself - there was much mingling of the peoples in Nevrast in the first days of Turgon's kingship - and I have the sea-heart of my mother's people.…” (Voronwë’s speech to Tuor. The Silmarillion, Chapter 23: Of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin.)

Story Notes: This scene is between Nowë (Círdan) and his brother Ráwë (my OMC). The place is Ráwë’s abode in the Falas, and the timeline is the exodus of Turgon’s people from Nevrast to Gondolin.

Summary: It was yet another separation… But it did not feel the easier for that, or so Ráwë felt; and his brother knew.

Author’s Notes: Here is to celebrate the quarter mark of my completing the challenge… Kind of odd that the story is in a grim note; but I couldn’t help it, given the fickleness of my muse. And actually there is a background story for this, but it is not yet ready; so I am sorry if you are made confused by this, and I shall endeavour to explain things to you should you ask me via PM/E-mail/review.

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“You never drew.”

Nowë sits by me on the bench, waving a hand at the parchment and charcoal lying on my lap. I just toss a glance at the direction of my abode beyond the garden. And he knows. He gives me an understanding look, at any rate.

“They have departed to that secret place, then?” he asks, still. I nod jerkily. Yes, my daughter, her foreign husband, and their little son are gone; all despite my pleading and reasoning for them to stay. All that is left is only a picture upon plain parchment…

He smiles sadly. We know.