Elwing looks up at the night sky, and sees the Star of Hope.
She is sitting on the beach in Alqualondë, the soft sand beneath her toes, her hair trailing behind her. She sighs, and lies down, and now her hair fans out like a beautiful shell, and she herself looks like a crab of swirling colours.
She blinks, taking her time, and then settles her attention on the Star once more. It twinkles down at her--only her, after all, it is meant for her--and she can imagine her husband aboard that ship, looking down at Arda with a fond smile on his face. As if he was no longer part of the world. As if he did not mind.
She smoothes out her flowing dress, and draws a star in the sand. She knows that he can see it, even if no one else can. But her hands keep moving, and there is not only one star, but people too. And houses, and weapons, and fire climbing up the ships, and furious Elves and sharp, bright spears. And two children. Her two beloved children who she had to leave behind.
Elwing stares at the picture she has drawn, then the tide comes in and takes it away. She closes her eyes to hide her tears, but she knows. She knows that he can see them, too.
Eärendil.
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It's strange, because I dislike Elwing.
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