The Last Ship

The ship was pulled tight to the dock with strong ropes, which were then tied and knotted in steel rings. The hum of the waiting crowd mixed with the cry of the seagulls and the shouted orders of the ship’s crew as they prepared to disembark. The deck bustled with activity, people on their way below to retrieve belongings or packed tightly against the railing, looking for a glimpse of loved ones and the unfamiliar shore. Sailors swore, not always under their breath, at the passengers in the way of their duties.

In the almost-chaos, Glorfindel followed the flow of people leaving the hold and looked for signs of his lover. They had been separated after land was sighted, Glorfindel called away by the captain while Erestor stayed to look at the land ahead. He’d checked their tiny cabin, but Erestor’s bag and personal effects were gone. He scooped up his own bag and hooked the strap over his head and shoulder. The rest of their belongings had been sent over in the previous ship, leaving them nothing to do but pack light.

He wasn’t at the railing where Glorfindel had left him, or by the front of the ship, where Elrohir and Elladan stood with the ship’s captain and Gildor. Glorfindel climbed the stairs to the quarter deck, taking the steps two at a time. He stopped abruptly when he saw Erestor sitting, back against the rear railing and his bag between his legs. His face was unusually pale, even with the extra sun from their journey having resulted in a small spray of freckles.

“There you are.” Glorfindel offered his hand to help him up but received a shake of the head in response.

“I’m fine here, thanks.”

Glorfindel looked down at him, withdrew his hand, then crouched down to Erestor’s level. “It’s time.”

“I know. No road back.” The reply was even, too even, a thin veil for the fear underneath.

“No. No road back. But Elrond’s here, waiting. You wanted to see his boys back to him, remember?” Sometimes he forgot things when he was overwhelmed and distressed, and Glorfindel tried to be patient and remind him. “Maybe even Bri. Family - and so many friends, long sailed now.”

Erestor’s hands twisted anxiously in his lap, and he raised his head to look at Glorfindel, dark eyes pleading for understanding. “But once I get off this ship, it’s for real. The journey is over.”

The voyage had been rough for them. Leaving home had been difficult to bear, and Glorfindel felt the strain of it closely, but not nearly as deep as Erestor. If Glorfindel hadn’t known better, he’d have said Erestor was seasick, the way he moved carefully and talked and ate sparingly throughout the days. The only people to make him smile had been the twins and Gildor. The nights…sleep had been scarce, as Erestor’s restlessness and worry kept them both from the deep sleep many of the other passengers had enjoyed.

“It’s closing a chapter and opening another.” Glorfindel sat by him with a sigh. He could stand to be on solid ground again and get an entire night’s sleep. He privately thought it would do wonders for Erestor’s perspective, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud.

“It’s my entire life, that’s one big bloody chapter, Glorfindel.”

He withstood the withering glare; he’d had centuries of practice by now. “Fine, end of book one, start of book two. You’re the library enthusiast, not me. Either way, it’s a new beginning and that’s how we need to look at it.”

“I don’t want platitudes or talk of a new beginning, all I want is home.” Erestor’s voice was almost drowned by the rising cries, cheers, and shouts as the gang plank was lowered and the first wave of people trickled off the ship.

Glorfindel wrapped his arm around Erestor, noting the thin sheen of sweat on his brow. “It was time, home has changed so much as well.” Imladris’s population had slowly dwindled, the halls becoming quiet and empty. Glorfindel had almost looked forward to sailing, then, unnerved by the ghost-like halls, missing the people he had loved most. “There’s people here, laughter and joy and hope. Listen to them.”

Erestor leaned against him but said nothing. At first Glorfindel wasn’t sure if he was listening or just exhausted by the lack of sleep and the tension threaded through him since he stepped foot on the ship – no, further back than that. Since the summons, since Dan’s letter from Gondor. But then Erestor relaxed, slowly, and Glorfindel stroked the dark, silky braid hanging over his shoulder. They were quiet for a few minutes, listening, and Glorfindel found himself wondering if his parents and brother were there, if they’d heard the news and arrived in time.

Erestor’s voice was muffled against his shirt when he finally spoke. “I got on this boat for you.”

“Ship. Don’t let Captain hear you insult her.” Glorfindel said automatically. Then, quietly, he added, “I know. But I wasn’t going to let you stay behind either. You don’t blame me, do you?”

His heart clenched in his chest at Erestor’s silence, but was relieved by the shake of Erestor’s head after he considered it.

“No. Like Elrond, if the twins were mine, I’d have done everything in my power to make sure they sailed. Or if our situations were reversed. I don’t blame you. But it doesn’t mean I’m happy with it either.”

Glorfindel nodded. “I understand. But it’s a new adventure, and I’m hoping this place can change your mind and make a good impression, even though it has more than a few centuries of resistance to melt.”

The corner of Erestor’s mouth lifted in a smile, rare these past weeks. “Well, maybe you could give it some advice, you’ve picked up a few techniques along the way.”

“You put up a good struggle, yes. Got you in the end though, didn’t I?” Glorfindel grinned.

“Or I just took pity on you, watching you try so hard.”

“Now that is purely revisionist history, Ery. You know better.”

His comment made Erestor laugh, and he felt ridiculously satisfied. Caught up in the moment, he tilted Erestor’s chin up and leaned in to kiss him. Erestor was still against him for a moment, but then answered the kiss, his hand resting on Glorfindel’s chest.

He sighed quietly when it was over, eyes still closed, before he opened them and looked around. “I suppose we should leave before the ship empties and the crew finishes up their work and head home themselves.”

“I know you hate to be a spectacle, and finding us still here would be one.” Glorfindel agreed, “and aren’t you sick of this damn boat already?”

“Ship,” Erestor corrected. “And gods, yes.” He got up, hand on Glorfindel’s shoulder for balance, a pressure there and then gone. Glorfindel watched him straighten his shoulders and push his braid back. He was very familiar with the stubborn tilt of Erestor’s chin, the way he carried himself when there was a difficult task to be done. The anxiousness was not gone, but it was manageable again.

Erestor offered him a hand up and Glorfindel took it, rising to stand beside him. From their vantage point, they could see the crowds of people, broken down into smaller reunions of family and friends. He felt Erestor’s hand tighten on his, and heard the quiet ‘Glor’ he uttered. Glorfindel looked at him first, then followed to where his hand was outstretched, finger pointing. A ways from the docks, Elladan and Elrohir stood in the white sand with their father, Elrond, his countenance lighter than Glorfindel had recalled in years. By his side, holding onto Elrohir, was a tall, fair-haired woman who made his breath catch in his throat. Celebrían.

Erestor leaned against him. “Arwen would have loved to be here.”

Glorfindel opened his mouth to reply, but his voice failed him. His mourning for Arwen had been quiet and deep. He said nothing, just let Erestor hug him and took comfort in the gesture. They stood, watching the reunion from afar.

He was distracted from Elrond and his family by Erestor’s sharp intake of breath. “What, what is it?”

“That’s them, isn’t it?

Glorfindel frowned, looking over the crowd for what Erestor saw.

“To the right. By the pavilion. Those are your parents, aren’t they?”

He saw his parents, along with his brother and a woman who had to be his wife. And there were others – his brother’s children perhaps? Extended family? He wasn’t sure. It had been a very long time. He both longed to see them and wondered what they’d think of him now.

“Should have known, you can see the blondness from a mile away. They’re going to hate me, aren’t they?” It was a familiar lament from Erestor, and a much more manageable one than trying to convince him he wasn’t going to hate an eternity in Valinor.

“No, they aren’t going to hate you. Though with that hair you’ll be the black sheep of the family.”

His laughter was cut short by the pointy bit of Erestor’s elbow connecting with his side. “Don’t laugh, I’ll hurt you. And you love my hair.”

“Yes, I do.” Glorfindel batted away Erestor’s arm, then gave his braid a tug. “They’re going to love you, because I love you, and when you’re not being a prickly bastard, you’re quite charming.”

“It’s a survival skill.” Erestor replied, dryly.

“And you have plenty of those. You’ll be fine.”

The last of the passengers disembarked, Gildor among them, and Glorfindel wondered what that family reunion would be like. Well, they’d hear about that one later, no doubt.

“We’re doing this, then?” Erestor asked, dark eyes finding his. He seemed calmer now, if a bit resigned.

Glorfindel took a breath. It wasn’t that he hadn’t his own nerves too. Eternity was a long time. But he knew the day would come, had known it for a long time, and he was prepared to make the best of what lay ahead.

“Yes, we are.” He was relieved that his voice held this time, firm and bright.

Erestor looked out over the unfamiliar land, threaded his fingers between Glorfindel’s, then nodded. “All right. Let’s go.”