Part One: http://laurelinarchives.org/node/14915
Part Two
Fimbrethiel looked up from her perch in the wide-spreading oak tree. She had been watching her friends dance on the green lawn, but Miweth and Gennedril had stopped dancing to whisper and giggle about something. It was a fair summer morn, and both Eldar and Edain bustled through the wide avenues on errands, all of them abuzz with talk of the departure to take place at the turning of the tides.
She was about to suggest that they all go in search of something cool to drink when she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. He was striding along looking very determined, and he wore a sword belted at his waist. She jumped down and waved to him.
"Aiya, Túrhavel! Wait!" When he didn't seem to notice, she sprinted across the lawn to catch up and tugged at his sleeve. Spinning, he saw her and frowned.
"Not now, Laeglinien. I'm already going to be late for my lessons."
Fimbrethiel tsk'ed and rolled her eyes. Although she still looked the same as the day they had met, the boy had recently gained several inches on her. She craned her neck to look up at him with her most winsome smile.
"Surely they will not make you practice this morning? I thought we could go early and find a good place to watch." Seeing him scowl as he thought it over, she bit her tongue against any further pleading. He had drawn away from her in recent months, caught up in his growing responsibilities. Not for the first time, she marveled at the strangeness of Men and their short lives.
She saw the answer on his face and held up a hand to forestall him. "This is not about shirking your duties. Think of it! These are the things of which songs are made. Would you say that you spent the day swinging a sword at a wooden dummy?"
He studied the grass between his feet for a moment, then nodded with a sigh. "Alright, fine, you win. But I'm probably going to get it."
With a gleeful smile, she turned and waved farewell to her friends, who were giving her the oddest looks. She paid them no mind and grabbed Túrhavel's hand to lead him towards the waterfront.
They were forced to move single file through the crowd at the docks. After a good half hour of searching, they finally found a likely spot on another pier. Settling on the wood planks with their legs dangling over the water, Fimbrethiel gave herself over to admiration of the silver white ship.
"Atto is so proud that he helped to build it. In Gondolin, he never even saw a ship, but now he says that shaping the wood for them is what he was born to do."
Túrhavel nodded absently as he watched the crew making the ship ready. "I wish I was old enough to be a sailor. I mean, I don't know how, but I could learn."
She gave him a sidelong look. "What happened to being a warrior like Turin?"
He shrugged and dug a splinter out of the wood plank beside him. "I still want to be a great hero. Just...not like Turin."
Having heard the lay of the Children of Hurin that his father, Dírhavel, had finally finished, Fimbrethiel was relieved to hear him say so. Before she could respond, there was a rising murmur and the crowds parted respectfully for a group of finely dressed people. When they reached the far pier leading to the ship, Fimbrethiel gasped.
Walking beside Lord Eärendil, his wife Elwing shone with a radiance to rival the morning sun. On her breast lay the Silmaril, set amidst the jewels of the Nauglamír. In her 13 years of life, Fimbrethiel had never seen anything so beautiful; she could not imagine that anything else could ever compare. Entranced, she leaned forward to see better, but Túrhavel put a hand on her shoulder.
"If you're not careful, you're going to fall off. I don't really see what the big deal is, anyway."
Fimbrethiel tore her gaze away from the Silmaril and frowned at him in disbelief. "You cannot be serious! To think that it once lay upon the breast of Luthien herself!" She shivered, recalling all the romance and tragedy of the tale. Then she noticed the corners of his eyes crinkling, a sure sign he was trying not to laugh. She stuck her tongue out at him and turned back to the proceedings.
Lord Eärendil had laid each hand on the heads of two very small boys with dark hair. Then he embraced his wife for a long moment. It was hard to see their faces, but Fimbrethiel thought the Lady Elwing was trying not to weep. Overcome with the emotion of the scene, her own eyes welled with tears.
Finally, the two parted and Lord Eärendil boarded the white ship. As the lines were cast off, the tide began to carry the vessel out of the small harbor. Past the breakwater, the wind caught the silver sails and Vingilot seemed to take flight over the swells.
She and Túrhavel spoke quietly as everyone watched the ship dwindle until it was no more than a faint silver flame on the horizon. Lady Elwing and her household turned to go as one of the little boys started crying.
"He shouldn't have gone."
Fimbrethiel looked at him quizzically.
"He shouldn't just leave his family like that. It's not right. What if he never comes back, like Lord Tuor? His sons would never know their father. It's just not right."
She knew well the personal pain that lay beneath his words. "I am sure he does not wish to leave them behind. He only does what he must, in service to the calling of his heart."
He narrowed his eyes at her, knowing her well enough to sense the double meaning of her words. With a curt nod, he stood to leave.
Fimbrethiel was unwilling to let him escape now that she had reconnected with him. There was something in his companionship that she could not find among the Eldar, a perspective and temperament unique to the Edain. And of course, she did not wish to see him lapse back into the loneliness of his earlier years.
"We should go hunting for sea-lavender, out in the marshes. It is long since we brought some to your mother's grave." When he opened his mouth, she held up both hands before he could object. "Before you say it, I mean *after* your lessons."
Reluctantly, Túrhavel nodded. "Just so long as you understand, there's things I have to do now. I can't just play all day anymore."
Fimbrethiel tossed her dark braid back over her shoulder and put her hands on her hips with an offended air. As he gazed back with serious grey eyes, she gave up the pretense and smiled instead. "Alright, fine. You win."
With a grin and a wink, she took his arm and they strolled off through the town together.
Part Three: http://laurelinarchives.org/node/14917
