When the rest of the fleet arrives, the sight of white hulls in the bay fills my heart with mingled joy and sadness. Going home is so close now. But, in doing so, I will once again leave a part of my heart behind.

Three more days pass in preparations for the long voyage and repairs of minor damage some of the ships have sustained in the rough weather. Then, inevitably, comes the day of parting. The Sun has just risen, and, for the last time, I walk along the shore together with my daughter. Suddenly, Artanis halts.

“Braid my hair, Atto,” she whispers. “Like you once did. Would you?”

I nod in silence, for my voice would surely break, and for the next hour I sit on the sand plaiting Artanis’ golden tresses. When I have finished, she turns towards me with a tear-streaked face. She is less successful in hiding her grief than me.

“Do not grieve.” I wipe her cheeks dry. “All will be well. It is your fate to stay here and care for this land. You will be very happy, my daughter.”

“Do not grieve,” I repeat later when it is time to board the boat and we say our last farewells by the waterside.

“I will keep your daughter safe, lord. I promise.”

I smile faintly at Celeborn’s words. “I know that, my son. And she will keep you safe as well.”

Artanis, too, smiles amid tears.

Celebrimbor firmly clasps my hand. “Farewell. Please, take word to my mother and grandmother. Tell them… Tell them our destiny lies here. Tell that to the families of the others, too.”

About one fifth of the Elves we freed from Angamando remains with him.

“I will tell them. Be well, Celebrimbor. Find joy. Take care of your people. Build your city.”

“I will build it. And I will take care of anyone who needs it.”

Calm confidence rings in his voice. He looks at me with my brother’s eyes, smiles my brother’s smile. A shadow of sudden dread falls on my heart, and I draw him in embrace. “And be careful. There is still evil in Endórë, and it will strive to ensnare the unwary. Keep your eyes open.”

He returns the embrace. “I promise.”

Ingwil steps forward now. “Celebrimbor, you are to meet lord Círdan sooner or later. Among his people are the parents of a Falathrim Elf named Súlion.” He shifts in his stance and briefly looks away. “Their son… he perished in the second battle we fought here, in the battle for Eglarest. He was our guide. His death was my fault. My overconfidence led to a slaughter that could have easily been averted. Tell them I regret, have regretted for all these years. And… give them this.” He holds out a folded parchment, frayed and worn in long years of use. “It bears his writing and drawings, the last of them. What Súlion added to this map, aided us greatly.”

Celebrimbor takes the folded map. “I will find them.”

“Thank you.”

Ingwil embarks the boat. I linger for a few moments. Artanis embraces me for the last time.

“Go, father,” she whispers. “One day, we will meet again. All of us. I am certain of that. But now – go. This parting breaks my heart.”

She steps back from me and hides her face on Celeborn’s chest.

Minutes later, the sailors haul up the anchor and hoist the sails, and ‘The White Wave’ glides towards the open Sea. I remain at the stern, straining my eyes until the figures on the shore diminish to tiny specks and then disappear altogether in a shimmering mist. Only then I turn around, sink on the deck and bow my head to my knees.

When I look up again, it is past midday. The Sun is high overhead. The ship moves smoothly over the waves, seabirds circle around the tall masts. Ingwil and Artanar are sitting on the deck, on both sides of me.

“What are you doing here?” I frown.

“Keeping you company.”

I sigh. “You would not leave me alone if I told you to, would you?”

“We would not.”

A part of me would like to be alone. What do they think, that I need watching over? But they are my friends. Let them have it their way. I rest my head against the planks, and so we sit in silence, the sunlight warm upon our faces, the life of the ship busy around us. Artanis is safe and happy, I repeat to myself. She is where she wants to be. She will be well. They all will be well. They are now free to build themselves a future they want. In peace.

For the next days I closely watch captain Falmar and his sailors, but not once do I notice the Teleri treating the Noldor with disdain. And even in Falmar’s eyes I see unfeigned sympathy.

We have been on the Sea for less than a week when someone knocks on the door of my cabin one evening.

“Come in.”

Captain Falmar enters, and his visit surprises me. I have not spoken with him more than a few sentences since our exchange before the departure.

“Thank you.” He makes a step and remains standing in the middle of the small room. “How are you, lord Arafinwë?”

“I am well.” I shrug.

“I am glad to hear that.”

We stand in awkward silence. Suddenly the ship heaves to the side encountering a wave. We retain the balance, but the sketchbook I dropped on the table when rising to go to the door now falls to the floor landing open at Falmar’s feet.

The captain picks it up. He is about to return it to me, but then slowly draws back his hand and stares at the sketch of the Warg pit of Angamando. He pales.

When back on the ship, I started drawing everything that festers in my mind and memory. The battle scenes. The enemies. Moringotto’s dungeons and torture chambers. The prisoners. I did not intend to show these drawings to anyone; I take a step to wrench the sketchbook from Falmar’s hand. But then I halt and fold my arms on my chest. Let him see!  “You may look if you want to.”

Falmar nods, sits down on a chair and examines each page attentively. When he returns the sketchbook, his hand trembles.

“Is this… how it was?”

“No. It was worse.”

The captain averts his eyes and sits still, fidgeting with the hem of his coat.

“You must think me either an arrogant fool or incredibly cruel.“ At length he looks up at me. “Maybe no less cruel than those you fought in Hither Lands.”

The sadness in his voice moves me. “I know you are neither. You did not know. You had reasons to speak as you spoke in the beginning, and it was wrong of me to act as I did. So… I apologize for the violence against you, captain.”

“I deserved it,” he replies quietly. “But I… I truly did not know. I did not think it was so… terrible.”

“It was terrible.” I stare at the open page for a few moments, then close the notebook and drop it on my bed. “Now, captain, would you kindly tell me the reason of your visit? It was not to look at my sketches, I am sure.”

“No, of course not. Even though…” He bites his lip. “It is surprisingly close. I came to ask you to tell me of Endórë. Your cousin refused to speak with me. But I want to understand. Not only about the war. About them, too. The Noldor. What happened to them that they look… how they look now.” When I do not reply at once, he rises and sighs. “If you, too, will refuse, King Arafinwë, I will understand. Still… I would be grateful for the knowledge. I never thought I would want to understand them. After the events in Alqualondë when my son… He was not even fighting; a stray arrow pierced his heart. He was not yet of age. We lost our little boy, and I thought… I thought I would forever hate those who made it happen. But now, the hate is gone. And I do not know how to go on without it.”

He blinks a few times swiftly, then takes a step towards the door. I do not have the heart to send him away.

“Stay, captain. I will tell you everything you want to know.”