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29 September 3021 Third Age, Evening

The Grey Havens
Evening of 29 September 3021 Third Age

Elrond, at the stern

As I gaze at my belovéd sons, standing shoulder-to-shoulder on the receding wharf in sombre witness to my departure, the chill sea-wind whips my hair, driving bitter tears in crooked paths across my face.

The rippling waters plash in the ship's wake, yet what my mind hears is a haunting lament — a parting gift? — an echo across the ages of a melodious voice, singing of loss and of wandering in endless sorrow along the strand.

Ah, Maglor! You would have held these twins as dear as you did us... and so let us go.

I raise my hand in farewell.


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