Two more weeks pass until the first ships arrive. During this time Artanis clings to me, as if to redress the centuries of past separation and the sundering that lies ahead of us. We sit together or walk by the Sea; we remember the past and speak of the future. And each of these conversations strengthens my conviction – my daughter’s place is here.

Ingwil and Artanar watch me closely. Whenever I am alone, one or both of them linger nearby, casting intent, concerned glances at me when they think I am not looking. This both irritates and moves me, but I say nothing.

When white sails appear on the horizon at last, Eönwë speaks to me and Ingwil.

“The Valar shall now withdraw,” he says. “Other places in Middle-earth need our attention and aid too. Some of the Maiar will remain to guard you, and lord Ulmo will grant you safe passage home. Fare well. We shall meet in Valinórë again.” We bow. He looks at us thoughtfully. “You have lost much in this war. But maybe… maybe you have found something too.”

Then he is gone. The air shimmers briefly; the shimmer disappears, and we stand alone on the shore.

“Have we found anything?” I ask despondently watching the approaching ships. The inevitable parting with my daughter weighs heavily on my heart.

“I have,” Ingwil replies quietly after a while of silence. “I have found… myself. Someone much better than that Ingwil who left Valinórë more than forty years ago. And I have found a friend. A brother I never had.”

It is unfair to wallow in my grief. “You are right. I, too, have found a friend where I least hoped to find him. And I know my daughter is happy. We may be sundered, but I will always be certain she is loved.”

“She will be well.” Ingwil lays his hand on my shoulder and looks at me closely. “But – will you?”

“Yes.” I force myself to smile. “Yes, of course.”

The sails draw closer. It is but part of the fleet, a dozen vessels led by ‘The White Wave’. There is no mooring place in the newly made bay, so the ships stay on anchor some distance from the shore. ‘The White Wave’ lowers a boat.

“King Arafinwë, lord Ingwil, captain Falmar invites you on the deck,” says one of the sailors when the boat has reached the shallows. The Teleri observe our camp curiously. Their eyes widen at the sight of Failwen and a company of Noldor who have left their tents and are watching the ships and the boat uneasily from a distance.

Within minutes, we clasp hands with captain Falmar.

“I am glad to see you alive and well,” the captain says. Then he looks at us closely. “You have been through some tough ordeal,” he quietly adds.

Ingwil frowns. “We have, but these stories are not fit for a meeting of friends after a long time. Let us leave them for now. Rather, tell us of yourself.”

“Very well.” Falmar leads us into his cabin and offers refreshments.

“Was your abiding in Eglarest safe after we left?” my cousin asks.

“The coastlands were safe,” the captain replies. “Soon after your departure nearly all Moringotto’s beasts left north, to join the main host - so we learned from the Sindar and the Men. There were no attacks. But the waiting was long. We made repairs in the harbour and the city, to pass time. Sadly, it all lies on the bottom of the Sea now.” He sighs. “So much beauty lost. But… I understand. I trust it had to be done.”

“Did you see… how it happened?” I ask hesitantly. “We did not. We were beyond a mountain ridge.”

Falmar shakes his head. “We did not see it either. We were on the ships, far to the south. We only saw a great storm in the distance, dark clouds and lightnings. The seas were rough on our way here though. No great danger, but the rest of the ships lagged behind. They should be here in a day or two. You will want to depart from this place as soon as possible, I am sure.”

“Indeed.” I nod. A part of me desires to remain longer. To spend more time with my daughter. To meet my brother’s grandson Gil-galad, now the High King of the Noldor, to meet lord Círdan and Ëarendil’s sons. But that would only make departure more difficult. And I am weary of this place. As are the others. “We would leave as soon as may be. Our warriors are impatient to go home. And those we freed from the terrors of Moringotto’s dungeons need healing they can receive only in Aman.”

“Those you freed?” The captain tilts his head. “And who would they be?”

“Some of them are Sindar from Endórë. Most are Noldor, my brothers’ people. The Valar have granted them leave to return.”

“I see.” Falmar rises, goes to the chart table, takes up a map, studies it a while, sets it down again. He rearranges pencils and rulers on the table. Then he turns towards us, arms folded on his chest. “I cannot grant them passage.”

We spring to our feet.

“Surely, we misunderstand you, captain!” Ingwil’s eyes glint. “Your ships have enough room to accommodate everybody. Their number is less than the count of our men we lost in the war.”

“It may be so. But the ships of the Teleri will not carry traitors and kinslayers.”

“The Valar have forgiven them and lifted the ban!”

“I take orders from my king, lord Ingwil,” Falmar replies coldly. “And from him only. My duty was to ferry you to Endórë and back. Nothing more. I stand by that order. If they are permitted to return – so be it. But not in our ships. Let them build their own.”

Something snaps within me. I stride towards Falmar, seize him by the arm and drag him out on the deck, towards the side of the ship facing the coast. Utterly bewildered by my sudden violence, he merely gasps. Still gripping him tight, I point towards the shore.

“Look at them, captain! Look closely! What ships can they build, how do you think?”

Several dozen former captives have gathered by the waterline. Pale faces turn towards the ships, bony hands shade eyes from the Sun. While they have recovered some of their strength, it is still a dismal sight. The coast is close enough even for me to see clearly. For the far-sighted Telerin sailors it all must be even plainer – their fatigue and frailty. Their scars.

“Look closely, captain,” I repeat in a strangled voice. “And then say once again that you would deny them passage! Say it! If you dare!”

I release Falmar and take a step back. Several of his sailors, alarmed by our exchange, approach us, their hands on the daggers at their belts. Falmar raises his hand. They halt. The captain of ‘The White Wave’ long observes the coast in silence, his face unreadable, his hands gripping the railing.

“We will accept them on our ships.” When he speaks at last, he avoids meeting my eyes. “I will talk to the other captains. I… did not know.”

“Well, now you do!” Ingwil casts a glance full of blazing rage at Falmar, then pulls me towards the rope ladder that leads to the boat.

We return to the shore in silence. Ere I disembark, one of the sailors stops me.

“Lord, if you are worried any of our people would treat the Noldor with disdain or hatred – have no fear,” he says earnestly. “In the face of this suffering, we will find in our hearts the strength to forgive. I am certain of that.”

I nod and turn towards the shore. I must show a cheerful face to those anxiously awaiting tidings.