" For at the end of the third year mortal children began to outstrip the Elves, hastening on to a full stature while the Elves lingered in the first spring of childhood. Children of Men might reach their full height while Eldar of the same age were still in body like to mortals of no more than seven years."
       - Morgoth's Ring, 'The Laws and Customs Among the Eldar'

   'Fethurin! Fethurin!' Feveren's high clear voice carried above the roaring of the waves that washed against the lonely quay. Faethurin was standing in silent thought, watching the dancing crests upon the sea, and he turned to see his friend trotting across the pavement of the dock. The Green-elf boy's long hair streamed out behind him in the wind blowing from the Firth, and his bare feet slapped softly on the wet stone as he ran. Coming closer he halted and beckoned wildly.
   'I found one! I found one! Follow me!' In the bright morning sun the charms tied about his wrist glittered gaily as he waved, its gemstones sparkling in the light. Faethurin had oft called him "magpie" in jest, for Feveren had treasured his gathered "jewels" even as an elf-child; they held a tale, the Green-elf boy said. But the young Grey-elf well knew the virtue of protection for each of them that his friend had laid upon his trinkets.
   'Whither do we go?' Faethurin called back eagerly. Too well he knew the mind of his friend, and Feveren's glee bespoke a merry time to come.
   'Not far! 'Tis but three furlongs yonder along the shore,' came the reply. 'Alone and unguarded it lies, beached high upon the white sands.'
   Faethurin ran lightly up beside Feveren and looked at him with a wry smile. 'But is it un-owned, dear Faemheren?' he asked.
   The young Green-elf grinned as he shrugged his slender shoulders. 'Dearest Fethurin, is not Cirdan the Shipwright lord over all Lindon? Then it is his, I guess! But I say that the realm of Lindon is named for my people, the Lindi,¹ and as their last descendant I claim it as an heirloom of my folk!'

   Long had it been their friendly jest to name each other in the tongue of their own people: the Nandorin of the Laegrim, or the Sindarin of the Iathrim. But the two elf-boys saw themselves as neither Green nor Grey, but as merry Woodland Elves: clan mates and kinsmen in the greenwood, hence their jest that turned their proud tribal names about. Yet to their minds they were as brothers; for indeed, they had both of them been born but a single day apart in the midst of a golden autumn, the last elf-children begotten in Eryn Milbar² ere the clans of Harlindon at last take ship over the Western Sea.
   This twofold joy befell shortly ere the Middle Days in the 6997th year of Elven Reckoning,³ and since that day eighteen autumns had passed in the greenwood. In this year the days of the enderi numbered six, not three, for it was a twelfth year and thus the days of merrymaking were double.⁴ Therefore a great feast was made, and all the Elves of the Westlands were welcomed. The harvest in the fertile western foothills had been swiftly ended, and the elven-farmers had joined the wanderers on their journey northwards to the port of Harlond, whither they came to make merry with the "city-elves" and many other friends of old whom they but rarely met, for Elves were gathering from far and wide for the festival.

   The clan made its abode in the woods outside the haven, as was its wont, and there Faethurin and Feveren were delighted to discover that their camp lay nigh the shores of the sea, whence the hallowed grey ships of Mithlond might be seen, sailing into the setting sun as they followed the Straight Road upon their last journey into the Uttermost West.⁵ But not one ship had they espied all the days that they played there in the twilight, singing and dancing amidst the white foam to the music of the tides. For the ships would not take sail until after the festival was ended, and indeed, for many this was their chance to say farewell, perhaps forever.
   The crowded streets of the city-port had enthralled the boys at first, for Elves of many different clans and kinships had come to Harlond, as varied in aspect as they were splendid in their strange raiment. The chief festival was in Mithlond, but both Forlond and Harlond were great havens, and each welcomed a host of revellers. But after five days amidst the merry throng the boys were eager for new sport, and Faethurin had not the heart to hunt when he was with Feveren, for the Green-elven folk did not abide the murder of bird or beast or tree. And so they had sought some other fun they could make in solitude, and their thought had turned to the wide and empty sea.

   The two friends splashed through the shallow waves that lapped upon the white sands of the beach, chattering like magpies and laughing as they ran. Feveren pointed ahead excitedly, and Faethurin's keen eyes descried far-off the grey timber of a slender elf-wrought boat, which lay overturned upon the shingle where the green turf met the sand. He lengthened his stride and overtook his friend, for ever had he been the taller and swifter of the pair.
   'You are too slow, Firstborn!' he laughed. Feveren had been born on the eve of Faethurin's birth, and thus he deemed he was eldest between them despite his lesser size. He sped his footsteps but to no avail, and when he came up to his friend Faethurin was standing with his foot upon the boat's upturned keel, his arms akimbo.
   'Nay, not "Firstborn" but "Aftercomer"! Alas, short legs make for shorter strides!' he laughed and hugged Feveren to his side. 'So you have found our sport? Annon achin,⁶ my brother.'
   'Nay Fetherin, it was your idea to seek for a boat in the first place. I give thanks to you!'
   'If that is your will, then so be it,' Faethurin grinned.
   'Now what have we here?' Feveren reached down and stood up flourishing a pair of short-handled paddles, carven with fine woven vines along their length; the blades were broad and leaf-shaped. 'One for me, and one for thee,' he said, passing a paddle to his friend. 'Now lend a hand bringing this grey boat down to the shore.'
   'Ever has my heart desired to try a boat upon the sea and see if it is a match for river-boating, which I love,' said the young Grey-elf stripping off his garb and dropping it onto the sand (for the boys well knew that brine was unkind to cloth.) 'This is indeed a lucky chance to learn to ride the waves!'
   Feveren laughed and added his own tunic and breeches to the pile of clothing. 'If chance it was. Perhaps it is by the will of Ossë, so that he might sweep us away sooner to the Blessed Realm!'
   Faethurin feigned a frown. 'Make no such jest so near the waves,' he said in mock earnest, 'lest you summon water spirits.'
   'Then I shall remove into the green-shadowed wood and invoke the Queen of the Earth to summon an onod⁷ instead. To meet one of the Tree-folk would fill my heart with joy!'
   'And mine also, but this day is for water-lore not tree-ish fancies, though I have no doubt in my mind that you favour the shimmering green over the rippling blue!'
   'Your guess is near the mark, brother, but not on it. Aye, my heart is for the greenwood like any Laegel, but the blood of the Sea-elves yet flows in my veins.'
   Faethurin laughed and took Feveren's small hand in his. 'And in mine also, or do you so easily forget? Now let us away lest the fierce sun roasts me brown like a nut... or a Nandorin elf!'
   'But already she has made a rose-elf of you, for your pale Doriathren nose has turned a pretty pink!' He tapped it playfully with his tan finger.

   Laughing like yaffengales, they drew the slender elf-boat down to the water's edge and set it on the water. It was light-built, and bobbed up and down beneath their small hands. Faethurin cast his keen eye over it.
   'It is well made, but it is unlike the river-boats of our home. Still, it is enough for our need; but take care at first, for I deem it is crafty and will prove wayward if mishandled!'⁷
   Tucking a wayward strand of long damp hair behind his ear, Feveren nodded. He knew in his heart he could trust the wisdom of his friend in such matters, and Faethurin was oft the leader in their adventures amidst the greenwood. Dimaethor of Doriath, his father, was a cunning hunter and had passed on his skills and vigour to his son, and of the pair the Grey-elf boy was ever the taller and more robust; the young Green-elf had the stature of his people: somewhat less in height and slender as a sapling, shaped by their long abode in the forest deeps.
   Together they towed the grey boat deeper into the surf, then leapt aboard and plunged their paddles into the foaming waves. Faethurin sat in the stern as steersman and captain, while Feveren knelt in front with his eager young face to the spray. Licking his lips, he tasted bitter salt on his tongue: this was indeed unlike the river! His heart was moved with sudden joy, and he gave a loud whoop; behind him, Faethurin felt in his heart his friend's elated mood and he crowed lustily at the wide blue sky.

   The tide was high and the waters were deep, the waves rose tall and white-crested on the turning ebb, and spray plumed from their crowns in the rising wind. The elf-boat pitched and rose as they paddled to reach beyond the great foaming waves that broke upon the shore: Faethurin called shrilly above the roar of the sea and Feveren followed his commands, hearkening both with ears and mind.
    'The Nelyar were our kin of old, but Sea-elves⁹ we are now!' Faethurin cried in jest. Suddenly a huge green wave crested before them, drawing their boat forward and curling over them, ready to crash down upon their heads.
   'We must not face him head on! Turn! Turn! Angle our approach!' Faethurin shouted. Feveren felt his friend's alarm in his thought and he turned to call a reply, rising up onto his knees and lifting his paddle from the churning foam. The piping voice of the young Grey-elf was lost in the rushing roar of the surf. 'No! Stay low! Keep it in the water! Keep paddling! Do not lose control! Ai! Ai!'
   But it was too late. The prow of the boat swept up the steep curve of the giant wave and overturned, spilling the two wailing elf-boys into the churning foam. The great wall of water crashed down and rushed toward the shore, washing them into the shallows. Moments passed, then as one their small heads bobbed to the surface, coughing and laughing merrily.
  '"Sea-lords", say you?' spluttered Feveren, 'More like "sea-maidens"!'¹⁰ And he spat a mouthful of sea-water at his friend.

*      *      *

   Some time had passed, and beyond the breaking waves the elf-boys rested on the open sea, spent from their labours to overcome the outgoing tide. The wind had dropped to a gentle breeze and the boat drifted heedless on the current. Feveren and Faethurin sat silently gazing at the afternoon sunlight glimmering on the waves; the vast and empty expanse of the ocean lay before them.
   'It is so very wide,' Faetherin said at last. 'Now I not only feel very young, I also feel very, very small!'
   'Indeed!' replied his friend. 'The forest is hidden behind its trees, and the sky behind the tall mountains, therefore we cannot wholly descry their size; but here there is naught to hide behind... it's enormity is just there!' Feveren opened his arms wide as though to embrace the seascape. 'In your face!'
   'And this is but the Firth,' said Faethurin, 'the Great Sea is yet greater. How far, do you guess, is it to the Lonely Isle?'
   'I know not,' smiled his friend, 'But I do not think that our worldly measure would avail, for the Straight Road is not within the Circles of the World. Alas that we have not seen a grey ship vanish on the Road in the twilight! Yet if, as it is told, its vanishment can be descried from the shore, then I deem it sails no great distance in the mortal world ere it passes to its immortal doom.'
   '"Immortal doom", indeed,' sighed the young Grey-elf sadly. 'Alas, so too is our doom! But to my mind it seems unfair that we who are but lately begotten and have not loved the world for even a full score of years, should be summoned so soon! So very soon.'  He glanced at Feveren, and in his glistening grey eyes the Green-elf saw his disquiet. 'And here is the Sea, dear Faemheren. But alas, the sea-longing¹¹ yet slumbers in my heart, unlike my people in whom it is long awakened and who are eager to depart. Am I broken, do you think?'
   'O Fethurin!' exclaimed Feveren, alarmed by his friend's strange mood, and saddened by his brimming tears. He put his thin brown arm around Faethurin's slumped shoulders. 'Please, dear one, be not dismayed! There is naught amiss in you, nor are you alone. You are my sworn brother and have seen my secret thought, and you know that the whisper of sea-longing is also silent in my heart, though we have oft beheld the restless sea and hearkened to the echo of the Music¹² that yet lives within its waters.'
   He shrugged hopelessly. 'Yet in my mind I know the Summons is not needless, and it cannot be forsaken. One day we needs must pass beyond the circles of the world else fade into shadow, but secretly my heart is unwilling and yearns instead to dwell in mirth forever in fair Middle-earth. Even now I wish we were already full-grown and faring forth upon our great venture to behold the world beyond the mountains; but then the thought comes to my mind that in these days of bliss many summers will pass ere our folk forsake the world!'
   'Verily!' exclaimed Faethurin, wiping his eyes with the back of his pale hand. 'It comforts me to hear you speak thus, friend of my heart. Forgive my needless despair; I shall trust to hope. In your beloved company I would gladly wander forever in the world!'
   'Yet we must depart, some day.'
   'Aye, some day...'

*      *      *

1. "The Sindarin loremasters remembered the Nandor as Danwaith [...] This name they at first applied to the Nandor that came into Eastern Beleriand [Ossiriand]; but this people still called themselves by the old clan-name *Lindai, which had at that time taken the form Lindi in their tongue."
   - The War of the Jewels, "Quendi and Eldar: The Clan-names..."

2. Eryn Milbar = "Forest Home" or "Beloved Forest Dwelling"
      eryn - S. forest, wood of trees.
      milbar - S. dear home, beloved dwelling [place]

3. Yén 49, loa 85; the year 2966 of the Third Age

4."Between yávië and quellë were inserted three enderi or ‘middle-days’. This provided a year of 365 days which was supplemented by doubling the enderi (adding 3 days) in every twelfth year."
   - The Lord of the Rings, Appendix D: The Calendars
((By my "calculations" using a visualization of the calendars described in J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings Appendix D this was actually some years previously; which, alas, doesn't fit my narrative!))

5. "The 'immortals' who were permitted to leave Middle-earth and seek Aman – the undying lands of Valinor and Eressëa, an island assigned to the Eldar – set sail in ships specially made and hallowed for this voyage, and steered due West towards the ancient site of these lands. They only set out after sundown; but if any keen-eyed observer from that shore had watched one of these ships he might have seen that it never became hull-down but dwindled only by distance until it vanished in the twilight: it followed the straight road to the true West and not the bent road of the earth's surface. As it vanished it left the physical world. There was no return. The Elves who took this road and those few 'mortals' who by special grace went with them, had abandoned the 'History of the world' and could play no further part in it."
   - Letter 325

6. Annon allen! - 'I give thanks to you!'
   "You would say annon allen to strangers and your elders/superiors/etc., while you would say annon achin to friends and your youngers/etc"
   - Elaran on r/sindarin

7. "The most ancient people surviving in the Third Age were the Onodrim or Enyd. Ent was the form of their name in the language of Rohan. They were known to the Eldar in ancient days, and to the Eldar indeed the Ents ascribed not their own language but the desire for speech."
   - The Lord of the Rings, Appendix F: The Languages and Peoples of the Third Age

8. Shamelessly cribbed from The Fellowship of the Ring, Farewell to Lórien

9. Nelyar was the original name of the third Clan of the Elves, the Teleri, before the Great March
    Falmari means "wave-folk" in Sindarin; Sea-elves, Teleri of Valinor

10. Gwingil (Sindarin); vingil (Quenya) = "foam-maiden"; mermaid

11. "In the hearts of the Exiles the yearning for the Sea was an unquiet never to be stilled; in the hearts of the Grey-elves it slumbered, but once awakened it could not be appeased."
   - The Lord of the Rings, Appendix F: The Languages and Peoples of the Third Age, Of the Elves

12. "And it is said by the Eldar that in water there lives yet the echo of the Music of the Ainur more than in any substance else that is in this Earth; and many of the Children of Ilúvatar hearken still unsated to the voices of the Sea, and yet know not for what they listen."
   - The Silmarillion, Ainulindalë

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