~Launching Rescue Operation~

 

To prepare to disembark, the maiar cast a shield upon everyone on board so they could walk unaffected upon the island. They did this to all, even those few who wouldn’t technically be stepping foot on the island, rather they would be transported right to the turret. Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir would be going to retrieve Idril and Tuor and as blood kin the maiar were hoping blood would call to blood and they felt they would be the only ones able to accomplish this.

 

Elwing changed to her seabird form and shot up into the air and Olórin took Círdan and Fëanor and followed her to the tower peak. Aiwendil then disembarked and began ruthlessly clearing out the olvar from around the tower. Those remaining on the ship were quite impressed with his power and they were reminded that these might be lesser than the Valar, but they were Beings of immense power, nonetheless.

 

Then Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir walked up to the tower and linking hands, began to sing and all around them stopped what they were doing - enchanted. It was a song of longing, hope and family. It was a song they’d made for their lost Arwen and the hope of reunion when the world was remade. Made before they'd gotten her back. None of those listening could understand the depths of grief of those whose family members had chosen to sunder their fates from those of their kin forever.

 

And then luckily - miraculously - two faces appeared at the lone window at the base of the tower. It was Tuor and Idril, of course. And looking at them Aiwendil exclaimed, “The man has been changed! He has the life of the eldar!” and then, as though to himself, he muttered, “But why put them to sleep?”

 

But the Eärendilionnath didn’t care and making their way to the window, Elrond asked, “Is there a door?”

 

And at the confused look on their faces, Fingolfin stepped up and repeated the question in archaic Quenya, knowing this is what his people spoke when they first arrived in Beleriand ten thousand years ago. Their response was negative. They didn’t see a door and the window looked to be the only egress, so Aiwendil went and brought them to the outside where they both became agitated and he knew the field around the island was affecting them.

 

“I need to get them aboard the ship as I can’t shield them alone.” he said.

 

“Then do so! Our work is done here and we’ll take the yawl back to the ship!” Fingolfin exclaimed.

 

~Pearl Tower Suite~

 

When Elwing returned she found her husband distraught with her long absence, fearing some ill had befallen her. And when Olórin appeared with Círdan and Fëanor he was shocked and fearful. While his fear could be ascribed to the presence of the maia, the fact that his presence terrified the peredhel so much angered both ellyn greatly and it could be said that Olórin, himself, was angered by his reaction. These people shouldn’t fear his kind so much! And he could feel the mortal terror radiating off the Mariner.

 

Holding his wife close, Eärendil said, “Please, forgive us! I pray thee spare thy wrath though I know not how we erred.”

 

And before Olórin could say a word, Círdan said, “Peace, friend. We are here to liberate you both. Even now your grandchildren are rescuing your parents.” 

 

“Prithee, I understand not.” Eärendil said.

 

“Beloved, they be here to deliver us from this accursed place.” Elwing said.

 

“Nay, they cannot. Our bondage was the price to be paid for the deliverance of our people from the black foe.” Eärendil dismissed.

 

“Forget all that!” Olórin scowled. He really did miss his old man form. It was much more effective in displaying his displeasure and he briefly wondered if there was a way to get it back. He’d actually tried, but as it was an affectation given him by the Valar it’d been stripped away from him when he’d returned - and he had tried! He could affect his appearance in just about any way he chose - except as an elderly atani male! “We are here to kit your ship out so that it will fly by itself.” and when the confused expression didn’t leave the Mariner’s face, added. “Without you! And when we are sure it will keep its course we will remove you.”

 

“I would prefer to remove them now - after the test run, of course. And I see no reason why Elwing can’t be removed to the ship right now.” Círdan said.

 

“That is a fine idea. In fact, your parents have already been removed there…..and they are awake! Oh! That is jolly news!” Olórin exclaimed happily having been alerted by a message sent via Aiwendil.

 

“Prithee, I beseech thee. Might I not behold them with mine own eyes?” Eärendil begged.

 

Fëanor then stated flatly, “No! Think of it as an incentive. If we can get your ship on the correct trajectory tonight then you can see them in the morning.” and then looking at the stunned faces, added, “I want this done and to be off this Eru forsaken rock as soon as possible. I’m glad your parents have been liberated and the sooner we get this done the sooner we can reunite everybody and leave!”

 

“Fine. I will take Elwing down right now and return to help in any way I can.” Olórin said and held out his hand to Elwing, who exchanged a last tear-filled, but hopeful, glance with her husband and then disappeared with the maia.

 

“Right! Let us begin our work, shall we?” Fëanor said, adding, “Please take us to your ship, if you please. I need to see it and I need to know of its trajectory every night, how you launch it, steer it - if at all - and then we must affix the silmaril to the ship itself. If all goes well we will make the test run tonight and just abide as observers.” 

 

And Círdan grinned and said, “If nothing else, I’m going to enjoy sailing in the Ilman.”

 

And at this statement, Eärendil grinned and said, “Aye! Tis a wonder, my friend. Twill be goodly to have others share this wonder that must be experienced and may not be described.”

 

And then in growing horror, it occurred to Fëanor that he should have asked his brother for more of that awful ginger. What if he got airsick? Ilmen sick?

 

~Reunion~

 

Tuor and Idril were rejoiced to see their daughter-in-honor, Elwing as she had been an orphan child in the Havens when they’d arrived. It was when they were twenty that Eärendil’s parents had sailed west ostensibly to beg for the aid of the Valar. They were never heard from again. 

 

Considering that Eärendil and Elwing were accepted as emissaries because they were both eldar and edain, it was odd that a married couple that were literally an eldar and an edain were deemed unacceptable. And there was little the couple could say about their experience other than they’d been driven ashore on this island that had some edible plants and water - at least enough for the two of them. And when they’d settled in to sleep aboard their ship they knew no more. Not until they heard the song calling to them.

 

“It seemeth to me but a short while ago when I beheld thee and knew thee to be held in the same prison as ourselves.” Elwing said tearfully.

 

“Be at peace, daughter. We knew it not. Twer but last eve ere we went to our rest and have just awoken.” Idril said gently.

 

“Though I’ll admit to a feeling of strangeness.” Tuor admitted and rubbing his face he noted his beard came away with each pass of his hand. And he was alarmed.

 

“That is because the life of the eldar is now granted to you. I’m afraid you are edain, no longer.” Fingolfin said, realizing this may not be the blessing to the man that most would think it was. For it meant a sundering from his kin. His people. And Fingolfin hoped having his wife, son and his son’s family with him would be enough to settle him in his new life.

 

“If I might be so bold, I’d like to make a suggestion.” Elrond began, “I’m afraid you’ve been gone for quite a while now and your speech is a bit….sundered from what is common today. If you will allow us, my sons and I can...fix that.”

 

“Prithee, lead the way.” Elwing smiled.

 

~Boarding Vingilótë~

 

When they followed Eärendil up through a hitherto hidden staircase and climbed aboard Vingilótë, Círdan had greeted it like an old friend, for it was he who had built the ship. It was the most beautiful ship he’d ever crafted and he’d felt inspired the moment he began designing of it. Constructed with white timbers of Birchwood, it had oars of gold, sails the color of silver and the most elegantly rendered swan-shaped prow ever carved.

 

Fëanor, on the other hand, got on board and held on as though they were out to sea and he had to steady himself. He really did hate ships. Oddly enough, he was fine on the skiffs that sailed on rivers and lakes. The river that had its source from the mountains of his realm was swift - wild - and yet he never suffered one uneasy moment. But there was something about the salty tang of the ocean that nauseated him. He didn’t understand how his brother, Ara, could stand it. 

 

And the couple times he’d been aboard ship with Fingolfin proved it was only he who suffered from this malady. But he couldn’t worry about that right now as Eärendil was directing what he wanted removed from the ship. Looking around, Fëanor decided a lot more could be removed than what the Mariner was directing them to. With a quick word to Olórin, he outlined his wishes to practically gut the ship. 

 

And much to his chagrin, Olórin grinned and said, “See now! This is why we came - just in case!” and with a low whistle Aiwendil appeared and the two conferred for a moment and then they both looked at Eärendil who suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “Don’t worry lad. Aiwendil was just explaining how your son and grandsons help to bring the speech of your wife and parents...up to date. And we’d like to do the same for you.” and the two converged on the panic-stricken Mariner and rewired him.

 

It only took a few moments while Fëanor and Círdan looked on appalled. And then the two went about their work and began just disappearing things. Helm, mast - they kept the sails, rope and booms - and pretty much gutted the ship leaving only the basic frame and bulkhead. 

 

Both Eärendil and Círdan looked heartbroken until the maiar explained that all the lumber and accoutrements were in the hold of Círdan’s ship and the two could rebuild their precious baby once they returned to Tol Kimbalaer. The maiar had also left some benches inside what was the hold of the ship and it was there that the maiar fastened the sails on each side using the booms as a frame, giving the white-timbered ship the appearance of having silver wings.

 

“There! These will act as sails to catch the solar winds that blow through the Ilmen.” Olórin said in satisfaction.

 

“How does wind blow through a place with no air?” Fëanor frowned, though he knew there was more to it than that. Obviously the Mariner could breathe as he sailed each evening.

 

“No, he’s right. Both Anar and Ithil are radiant lights and that produces energy and it’s that energy that fills the sails. I don’t pretend to know if that is what sets the ship on its course, for it launches and berths every night without any effort on my part.” the Mariner said and while he hadn’t noticed anything different, everybody else was relieved to hear him speaking in a modern dialect. But there was just one more thing that needed to be done.

 

“Lord Eärendil,” Fëanor began, and then thinking better of it, “Nephew - do you have the silmaril? It is time to affix it to the ship. It must be fastened in a way that it’ll never be separated from it again.” 

 

“Yes, uncle, I have it. Where do you wish it? Most of my ship is gone now.”

 

“Well, my brother and I thought it might look nice on the brow of the swan. What do you think?”

 

“Ha! I like that! Who came up with that idea?” Olórin asked with a grin.

 

“Ñolo did.” Fëanor smiled, “And I really like that idea. What do you think, nephew?”

 

Smiling for the first time since the whirlwind of their entrance into his world, Eärendil said, “It is a fine idea. And luckily, it’s about the only thing that’s been left untouched by your….activities.”

 

Then the time came that they'd been waiting for - the time the ship would launch. Well, almost all of them were looking forward to this moment. Fëanor was frankly terrified, fully expecting a miserable experience. 

 

As soon as Anar’s light breached the horizon and slowly disappeared, then the docking clamps that held the vessel released and the ship slowly began moving forward. Once it had cleared its docking, Eärendil warned everybody to hold on tightly and in a moment they were glad of the warning, for it shot into the aether with a blinding speed. Speed it needed to penetrate the Ilmen Wall and into that place where the stars were.

 

When they passed through the Wall they felt it ripple through every fiber of their being - Fëa and Hröar alike - and when the ship settled into its path it felt to those aboard as though they passed into another reality. Olórin and Aiwendil were delighted, for they could hear the Song of Creation clearly here. Indeed, they all could. A faint and hauntingly beautiful melody that wove around them, through them and embracing them as they, too, were part of the Song.

 

Fëanor and Círdan were enchanted and exchanged an astonished look and then met the knowing look of Eärendil who smiled gently in understanding. And Círdan looked pained for a moment and asked, “You’re going to miss this, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes. And no. Mostly no.” he smiled, “I’ve been doing this for a very long time and I miss living. I’ve been existing for a very long time and except for this, it’s been unbearable. Elwing and I have been near the edge of despair for what feels like forever and we weren’t even given the ability to fade and die. We’ve just been forced to...continue. And I’d really like to meet my son.”

 

“Don’t forget your parents and grandsons.” Círdan grinned, “I don’t know your parents very well. But I’ve known your son since he and Elros were just lads. And you’ll adore Elladan and Elrohir.”

 

“You may find yourself on a journey into the heart of Aman. Elwing’s parents are there and we have her brothers aboard ship and I’m sure your reunion will be a joyous one. If you can get them to stop talking to the birds, that is.” Fëanor said, and then, “Tell me. How is it that you cross the heavens and end up back at your tower when the star doesn’t return across the sky?” Fëanor was relaxed now, especially since no seasickness was afflicting him and a matter of curiosity just struck him.

 

“I don’t know. I just know I travel across the heavens and at the end of twelve hours the Tower is there to catch the ship in its docking clamps.” and shrugging, added, “I just figured it was by the machinations of the Valar. It’s the only thing that makes sense. For how else could such a thing occur?”

 

“If this goes as I hope it does, then at the end of the twelve hours nothing will happen and the ship will continue on its way. Then our just in case friends will take us to Círdan’s ship.” and turning to the maiar asked, “Have you been able to tell if the trajectory or position needs to be adjusted?”

 

“We have been discussing this very thing and it appears that your calculations were correct and the ship is happy with its new course.” Olórin said.

 

“And its Harmony has been added to the overall Music. Almost like the Music was waiting for just this moment. Can you not hear the difference in the Song?” Aiwendil smiled.

 

And indeed, the Harmony that swirled around them seemed to have added another dimension to its overall composition and this could only mean that the ship had been accepted into the Song and had always been meant to be placed here at this time and place to join its melody to the Great Music.

 

~Aboard the Kalaventë~

 

Those aboard the ship hadn’t expected to see their comrades until the next evening or even the morning after that for they knew they planned on completing the full circuit of the globe. But as it happened they all appeared around noon the next day and Eärendil was almost overcome by the joy of being upon the deck of a ship that bobbed upon the waves of the sea again. And he breathed deeply of the sea tang in the air which brought tears to his eyes. Fëanor, of course, was simply appalled! That anyone could love this foul air was quite beyond him and he frankly couldn’t wait until he was back in the cool, crisp, fresh air of his mountain realm!

Elwing ran to greet her husband with tear-filled eyes and the two held each other as though they hadn’t just shared ten thousand years of solitude together. They both felt reborn! And when Tuor and Idril went to embrace their son he clung to them and wept for joy, even more so when he beheld his now beardless father, the life of the eldar now within him. And he rejoiced in a parting he would now never have to face.

 

And then Elrond - a child when he’d left - was before him and he knew him. His son! And father and son embraced and Eärendil wept anew at this most heartfelt reunion and Elrond wept as well, swept away in bittersweet emotions. Partly in joy and partly in grief that his brother wasn’t here to share in this moment. There would be other introductions - Elwing's brothers and the sons of Elrond, but none were so sweet as this one moment between father and son.

 

Fëanor bore witness to to these reunion and was deeply touched. Especially witnessing a long lost son reuniting with his parents and a father with his son and he decided his queasy stomach was a paltry price to pay for this joy he had a part in facilitating - small though he counted that part. The maia, Olórin then stood beside him, being privy to his thoughts and said, “Humility becomes you, Son of Finwë. But know this - None of this could have been accomplished without you. We are all in your debt.”

 

“No! Please! Don’t say that!” Fëanor begged, “I know how important this is. I’m not blind and I can see how many people this sundering has affected and I’m truly happy to have played my part. But that’s all it was - a part! I couldn’t have done this alone. Truly, I wouldn’t even have known of this if Ñolo hadn’t shown up on my doorstep and practically dragged me out the door. If anyone deserves credit, it's my brother.”

 

Raising a brow, Olórin nodded his head, partially conceded the point, “You’re not wrong. Though I would argue that he knew who he had to drag along to get matters moving.” he smirked, adding, “Curious thing about your brother, don’t you think? Has he always displayed such uncanny perception?”

 

“Maybe? Probably? It would certainly explain why I felt so threatened by him when we were young. And lest we forget - he’s the only person in all of history who faced Morgoth alone - shaming him into meeting him alone in single combat.” then grinning added, “I would give anything to know what exactly he said to Old Bauglir to get him to slink out when he clearly didn’t want to!”

 

“Well, I can tell you it was quite…..creative!” the maia smirked, his eyes dancing. And then he offered his hand and Fëanor eagerly accepted. His eyes widened in astonishment at what he beheld and heard! Olórin only showed him what he asked for and the vision - and audio - ended as soon as Morgoth appeared. By the time the maia finished, Fëanor’s mouth was hanging open in shock. 

 

His shoulders shaking in silent laughter, the maia lifted his hand to gently close the ellon’s mouth. Fëanor’s shocked whisper of Sweet Eru! snapped him out of his own head at the sound of his voice and looked at the maia with wide eyes. “Thank you! That was….quite a surprise. Or it would have been had I witnessed and heard that back then. All Mandos showed me was pieces of the actual battle. Ñolo was quite impressive. I was frankly shocked at how many times he had the strength to block those blows when he wasn’t dodging them. Do you….how long did that battle actually take before...the end?”

 

“A little over three days. Seventy eight hours, to be precise.” the maia said. He wanted Fëanor to know how impressive Fingolfin's fight had been. Nobody had thought an ellon could last longer than a few moments and Olórin knew even certain members of the Valar had been quite impressed, as well. And not in a good way. Which also explained why Fingolfin hadn't been released until he forced the issue. Olórin was positive it was Mandos himself who had maneuvered events to have his own hand forced, so to speak.

 

“He kept that up for three days straight…..I find myself very glad he never decided to pound me into the ground. For I’m thinking it would have taken him but a few blows to undo me. He is a generous brother, indeed.”

 

“He has - and always will - love you.” Olórin said gently.

 

“I’m glad. I will have to find some way to make it up to him, for I find I love him too.” he said, and then, “That is not to say that I don’t find him a bit on the crazy side.”

 

“And yet, crazy seems to work well for him, does it not?” the former wizard grinned causing Fëanor to chuckle lightheartedly in response. “Indeed!”

 

Then Círdan and his Falathrim weighed anchor and set sail towards Tol Kimbalaer and when they were far enough away that the island and its tower while still plainly seen, they were now far enough away that they could all breathe a sigh of relief when they knew the field around the island no longer affected them. And it was then that a great CRACK was heard and the tower began to crumble in on itself and a great cloud of dust and debris arose to great heights. And as it came down the island also began to sink into the sea until it was no more and only a dissipating cloud of dust remained where it once stood. 

 

“Ha! I told you the Valar act only when their hands are forced.” Elurín grinned and swung an arm around Elrond.

 

“Yes, you did. You both did.” he said including Eluréd, who joined them. Then he sighed and said, “Really, though. Is it too much to ask that they do something without hand forcing?”

 

“Apparently.” the twins both chimed.

 

 

Several hours and two ginger roots later, the Finwion Brothers were bickering - again.

 

“You know I’m still angry that you broke your word to me. Not even about what it was about. But you broke your word, Ñolo.” Fëanor insisted, annoyed his brother didn’t think this a weighty matter.

 

“Oh get over it, Náro. And I call Rokkomuk. That was in a previous life. This is a new life and none of the old rules, promises or sins can follow us into this new life.” a thoroughly unrepentant Fingolfin said. And grinning, he added, “So I am unblemished.”

 

“You are irredeemably irrepressible, Ñolo.” Fëanor harrumphed.

 

“Náro! I think that is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Fingolfin said, truly touched and walked away whistling happily. And Fëanor was sure his brother was touched - in the head!

 

Tuor then joined him, saying speculatively, “You know, he is not at all as I pictured him. Nor how King Turgon spoke of him.” 

 

“I'd say he's going through a second childhood, except he was probably always like this and I just never knew him well enough to know this side of him.” Fëanor agreed with the unspoken statement of his brother’s quirkiness, “I’m afraid I denied him my love when we were children thinking to punish him for existing. But I think I only hurt myself. And now that we’ve been given a second chance, he does have my love and…..he treats me as a brother and I find it strange.”

 

“How so?” Tuor asked. As an only child and one who spent many years of his youth in slavery, he had no experience in brothers, sisters or family in general.

 

“Because of my pigheadedness, I isolated myself and I’m not used to having a brother. He on the other hand - is. He’s always had Ara and I’ve seen how my sons treat one another. I’m just not used to being treated as one, myself. But my hope is I become accustomed to it, for he is fun and lighthearted and I wish to know that feeling. If he is to teach me anything it’s my greatest hope that that’s what I’ll learn from him.”

 

“Well….in that case you seem to have chosen the perfect brother to learn from.” Tuor grinned and slapped him on the back and went back to rejoin his wife and kin. And Fëanor found he liked being treated with camaraderie - just like a normal person.

 

~Homecoming~

 

They were within sight of Tol Kimbalaer as evening fell and suddenly Elrohir pointed up and exclaimed, “Look! It’s there! Gil-Estel rises just as it always does!”

 

And those aboard cheered, slapping Eärendil, Círdan and Fëanor on their backs in congratulations, while Fëanor desperately tried to deflect credit to the maiar who hastened their work. The two shared a glance of amusement and Olórin spoke up, saying, “Accept their thanks, Finwion. You deserve it!” Aiwendil nodded vigorously in agreement and both smiled as the ellon relaxed and smilingly joined in the exultation that the Star of Hope was on the perfect trajectory and making its circuit across the heavens just as it had for the last ten thousand years.

And Fingolfin went to join the maiar and said, "Don't worry about him. I'll fix him." 

"I believe you will! And I also believe you'll find you now have a willing pupil." Olórin grinned.