In the days of Beleriand, she and I fluttered around each other, most exuberantly in the spring. We made no admissions, or statements of intention, but our mutual fascination held us in constant anticipation of every next encounter. Our moments together were always too brief, even if they spanned days. We walked and talked about small things, took meals, danced, and sat in quiet contemplation of the mysteries of life and speculation of the future, but never once did we approach the subject of betrothal; being immortal means there is always time for such plans.
And then the world changed.
The lands of Beleriand were cast beneath the sea. Of the survivors, many lost much, and some, like her, lost everything; all others dear to her, including her entire family, her village, her mentors, and all her possessions except the clothes she wore. It was the sheerest of luck, perhaps the providence of Fate, that allowed me to find her adrift on the splintered wreckage of her ship.
Of course, she was injured and suffered exposure to the merciless sea, but her worse hurts were on her fëa. She was alone, and my company could not heal her. Her body recovered, but her sadness would not leave her, and in her eyes, I saw the bottomless grief that I was powerless to ease.
Mercifully, in the spring, she felt the call to sail to the west, and I escorted her to her ship. The closer we came to the docks, the more her pall lifted. As we stood at the foot of the gangplank, she took both my hands and looked into my eyes with hers filled with hope and, knowing as well as I that it was not my time to sail, promised she would wait for me on western shores.
One day, we shall see.
In the long centuries since, I have seen that grief in countless of our kinsmen that have made that pilgrimage with me as their escort. As with her, the closer we would come to the docks, the more diminished became their grief. Each time I’ve seen this, my heart vividly sees her again, and if it is spring I would relive once more our last moment together and the youthful anticipation of seeing her again. I wonder why I have not yet felt the Call to the West, but I suspect one day I will.
Will she be waiting?
