Chapter 427: Sailing West
Elríen smiled at her father's words. "Thank you, Ada."
Arwen said nothing, but her eyes were warm. She, too, chose to respect her daughter's decision, even if it cost her something to do so.
Elthir, as Elríen's twin, had felt her answer before it was spoken — there was a particular attunement between them that had always been there, the quiet shared awareness of two people who had come into the world together. He didn't make anything of it. He simply put his arms around her, and held her.
And so it was settled. Kael, Arwen, and Elthir would sail for Valinor. Elríen would stay — in Lothlórien, as Queen, guardian of the Silvan Elves who had made it their home.
With the decision made, Kael glanced at his left hand. Cemya sat on his finger as it always had, its yellow gemstone catching the light and reflecting a warm, golden radiance—that deep, living pulse of power that had not diminished in all the centuries he had worn it.
He slipped it off and placed it in Elríen's palm.
"We won't be here to watch over you any longer. Keep this. Let it watch over you in our place."
"Ada..." Elríen's voice caught. Her eyes were bright with tears she had not yet let fall, her lips pressed tightly together.
She understood what she was being given. With Cemya, almost nothing in Middle-earth could threaten her. She would wield a power comparable to Galadriel's—and, more importantly to her, Lothlórien and Rivendell would not fade. The forest, the Silvan Elves, the unicorns—all of it would remain as it was, sheltered and alive, for as long as she chose to preserve it.
She did not refuse. Under the gentle, steady gaze of her parents and brother, she slowly slipped the ring onto her finger.
Kael, still not satisfied that he had given enough, then passed to her the Circlet of Wisdom, the Invisibility Cloak, and the Hufflepuff's Cup. He entrusted Hogwarts Castle itself to her, along with the treasure vault beneath it, and transferred his bond with Smaug, Thorondor, the Basilisk, and the Kraken, making her their new mistress in his place.
When all of that was done, it was the summer solstice of the five hundredth year of the Fourth Age.
They made their way to the Grey Havens.
The harbour was almost entirely empty now. Only Círdan the Shipwright and a small crew of Telerin Elves remained, waiting to carry the last westward-bound passengers to Valinor. Human settlement had spread across most of Middle-earth, and the Grey Havens endured only because magical concealment kept it hidden from mortal eyes. But it was a faded place, growing quieter with every passing year.
One great, gleaming silver-white steam vessel lay at anchor in the harbour. No other ships. No Elven song drifting across the bay. When this ship departed, no one would be left, and the harbour would stand empty forever.
Círdan himself was waiting on the quay. He was one of the oldest Elves still in Middle-earth, robed in blue and white, and he greeted them with a smile that managed to be warm and gently reproachful at the same time.
"You're the last ones left. I had rather expected to be waiting another thousand years."
Kael laughed easily. "We were tempted to stay that long, I'll admit. It was only Arwen's fear that you'd come to Lothlórien personally to drag us out that finally convinced us to leave."
Arwen, robed in white with her hood drawn back, smiled and said nothing, offering Círdan a quiet nod.
Elthir and Elríen stood in silence behind their mother.
Kael turned to make the introductions. "Lord Círdan—my son, Elthir, and my daughter, Elríen."
Both inclined their heads.
Círdan studied them with unhurried appreciation. "Exceptional young people," he said at last. "Your son resembles you, Kael, but there's something of Lord Elrond in him as well, in the best possible way."
His gaze shifted to Elríen, and something in his expression softened.
"And your daughter—for a moment, she put me in mind of Lady Galadriel. Quite remarkably so."
He looked back at Kael.
"You have raised two fine young Elves. Their kind is not easily found any longer."
As a father, there is no compliment quite like hearing your children praised by someone whose opinion carries real weight. Kael's smile spread into one he couldn't have hidden if he'd tried.
Círdan was among the oldest living Elves. His power might not have reached Maiar level, but his wisdom and perception were a match for it. His gaze settled on Elthir and Elríen for a moment, thoughtful, and then he asked: "It looks as though you've both made your choice of fate. You'll be sailing with your parents, then?"
He knew, as an elder Elf deeply versed in the lore of Elrond's lineage, that the half-Elven members of that family had always held the right to choose their fate. He could see, looking at the two of them, that the once-indistinct thread of their destiny had clarified — both had accepted the fate of the Elves.
But the question, once it was out, seemed to draw a small weight over the gathering.
Arwen tightened her arm around Elríen, the reluctance in her unmistakable now.
Kael exhaled quietly. "They've both chosen the fate of Elves, yes. But Elríen has chosen to remain in Middle-earth, and not sail for Valinor. We respect her decision."
Círdan had not expected that. He looked at Elríen — tall, composed, striking in the way that Galadriel had been striking — and found the resemblance all the more apparent.
He had been about to express some concern. Elves who remained in Middle-earth as the Fourth Age progressed would find their vitality slowly eroding — time would wear at them, century by century, until they faded beyond mortal perception entirely. It was a slow ending, but it was an ending.
Then he noticed the ring on Elríen's finger. He recognised Cemya at once.
His concern dissolved.
With that ring, wherever Elríen chose to dwell would be held apart from the world's slow decay — unchanged, sustained, protected. She would not fade in the way unprotected Elves would fade. And for the Silvan Elves who remained in Middle-earth, that was not a small thing. It meant there would still be a home for them, a guardian, a queen who could hold the world at bay on their behalf.
Círdan's regard for Elríen rose considerably.
He placed the Grey Havens and all of Lindon in her keeping, making her the mistress of that coast as well. With that, Elríen's domain extended to Lothlórien, Rivendell, Hogwarts, Isengard, Hildórien, the Grey Havens, and Lindon together.
Then he went further still, and passed to her his knowledge of shipbuilding — the techniques, the designs, the full craft of it. Círdan was the finest shipwright in Middle-earth. Whoever held that knowledge could build a fleet capable of crossing any sea.
Elríen did not refuse. She was not the kind of person who would. She had no desire to rule the world, but she had no intention of simply watching history unfold from the edge of the forest either. There was a boldness in her that had always been there, patient and unhurried, waiting for the moment it would be needed.
Círdan's gift lifted the mood. The farewell did not feel quite so heavy anymore.
The company remained at the Grey Havens for some days while Círdan completed the handover of all its affairs to Elríen. When everything had been properly transferred, the ship set sail on the first of July.
Kael, Arwen, and Elthir stood at the prow as the harbour fell away behind them. At the quayside, growing smaller with every moment, Elríen stood and watched them go.
The sun was low in the west. Its light lay warm across the water, and the great ship moved through it steadily, out toward the open sea.