The Sea Calls Us Home

The elfmaid sat on a pile of discarded sailcloth facing inexorably towards the mouth of the gulf that led to the greater sea beyond.

A casual observer might have thought her a piece of Elven statuary, which was plentiful enough in the ancient and abandoned city. She was still and silent, her eyes closed to the fiery sunlight that was beginning to wash down the walls as the day came to a close. Her alabaster skin also took on a brief glow to show that she was more than mere stone.

“Mídhenaer, it is time to come in to dinner,” spoke the elderly Sandy Downholm who currently stood as Círdan’s steward. It had been a solemn honor to have been asked to serve the famed shipwright thus, and the old hobbit took his duties very seriously. That included clucking after Círdan’s strong-minded daughter.

“Yes, yes, Sandy,” she sighed without a trace of impatience in her voice, though she may have felt some. “I just wanted to keep watch ‘till the sun set completely.”

Feeling bolder than usual, Sandy asked, “Why do you not just go with him next time?”

Her graceful head swung around to meet his gaze fairly. “What would be the difference, my friend?” she replied sadly. “I would be just as eagerly looking for his return from the other shore.” The hobbit nodded, ceding her point, and Mídhenaer continued, “In any case, I have promised to stay with him until all those who have made the decision to sail into the West have done so.”

“I fear you have a long wait, my lady.”

Her smile was sweetly wistful, “I have the time, Sandy.”

“Well, come in to dinner now, my dear. The sun is well and truly set, and a message came for you a little while ago by way of my wife’s nephew.”

At word of the waiting message, Mídhenaer joined the hobbit eagerly to return to the castle.


Dinner was laid out in the airy dining room just off a wide veranda facing the Sea. Mídhenaer did not need for Mistress Downholm to cook for her as regular meals were of little importance to her. Yet, it pleased the couple for the elfmaid to eat with them and so she joined Sandy and his wife for the evening meals.

A roll of vellum was set next to her plate, and looked rather grimy and travel-worn. Mídhenaer smiled to herself, thinking of how Radagast must have sent forth the message to get it to her. It would wait until the niceties of dinner were through before she could read it. She imagined the note would be brief enough.

Brief enough it was. Sandy was perhaps even more eager than Mídhenaer to know what it contained, as she and Círdan had not filled the Downholms in on her plans. He urged her the moment they had finished eating to read the missive, and the elfmaid found she was a little reluctant to do so with them watching. They would be lonely without her, she knew, but there was no help for it.

“It says,” she read, “’Plans progressing. Begin your journey by and by…’”

“You’re going on a journey, my lady?” asked Beryl Downholm with shock. Mídhenaer had never left the castle environs as long as they had known her. “Are you leaving for the Undying Lands then?”

The elfmaid smiled affectionately at the hobbit woman, “No, Beryl. It is not yet my time. But I am going to help another make his journey. I’ll be sailing down the coast then up the river into Gondor and Ithilien. I’ll most likely be gone several months, but never fear… I’ll come back to you both.”

Ever practical, Sandy nodded at the note and asked, “Is that all it says there, my lady?”

Looking at it again, Mídhenaer noticed there was a postscript. “Well, this is odd…” she murmured when she read the mysterious phrase below Radagast’s mark. “He adds, ‘Make it big enough for two.’”

“Is that unexpected?” asked the hobbit.

“I was only expecting one to sail,” she replied. “Radagast must have found another elf who is ready to leave Middle-earth.”

Beryl bravely sniffed back the tears that threatened, “When will you leave, my lady?”

“Not for a few days, mistress.” She grinned, “Will that give you enough time to bake all that you think I need to take with me on the journey?”

Laughing heartily at the elfmaid’s teasing, the steward replied, “Not nearly enough, girl!”

She ignored her husband and lamented to Mídhenaer, “I still haven’t mastered your lembas recipe, my lady!” and then burst into tears at last.

Reaching across the table, Mídhenaer clasped the hobbit woman’s hand and told her gently, “Then we will make it together, my dear. Don’t fret. It may seem like a long time to be away, but I promise, I have no plans to desert you. I’ll return before you hardly realize I’ve been gone!”

“Small chance of that, my lady!” answered Beryl once she wiped her eyes with her husband’s proffered handkerchief. “We will make the best of it without you here, but you will be missed!”


A week later, Mídhenaer set sail in her small but sturdy craft for the southern climes of Middle-earth. Her good-byes were heartfelt but brief. And if Sandy and Beryl were stoic as she pushed off from the pier, the elfmaid knew they watched her for a long time with tears in their eyes.

She would miss them dearly, but she found that once she felt the wind take up her sail, her mind was already away on the sea. It had been too long since she had felt the roll of waves beneath her. It would be hard to come back to the castle, even with her friends waiting impatiently for her return.


-end of Chapter Seven-