His hair is still thick and it gleams in the light of the setting sun almost with the colour of youth, though that is illusion; it has faded to a pure white that somehow becomes him. His face is worn and lined by concern and sorrow and I wish I could wipe away those outward signs of care, although I would leave the deep lines around eyes and mouth. Those I love, for they are the legacy of the warm, humourous nature that has sustained me, our son and those who look to us for guidance through all we have been called upon to endure.

I first saw Tuor, my love, lord of my heart, as he entered the courtyard of my father’s palace in lost Gondolin. I saw the way he walked, certain of himself but without arrogance, and my soul knew it had found what it sought. That he was mortal meant less than nothing; a few short years sharing his love would be worth the long eternity of memories after his passing. Later as I stood beside my father and listened to his words I had already accepted that our fates would be bound for as long as the Powers permitted.

Nothing has ever given me cause to question or regret my choice.

Many years have passed since that day; Gondolin is no more, our son is fully grown. In appearance Eärendil is beautiful but more like to one of the Second-born than of my kind, and has bound himself to the daughter of the son of the daughter of Elu Thingol and the Maia. It is a choice my instinct tells me will be good and right, even though she is a strange, fey child, putting me often in mind of a startled deer. She fled from the swords of the Kinslayers while still so very young – I pray the marks this has left upon her soul do not stain her sons, for I will not be here in this almost-safe haven beside the sea to mitigate the possible damage.

My love stands as he does every eve around dusk, looking into the west and watching the sun sink from sight while he awaits my decision – will I sail with him, or will I remain here and watch over our family and offer what wisdom I posses to this growing community? As though there ever was or could be any choice. He is my heart, loved no less now that he is in the winter of his years as his kind reckon it than when he was at the height of his potency and beauty. After all, his appearance may have changed and his strength lessened, but his eyes still shine as ever they did with love and mirth, his laughter still kindles joy within me, and his touch still awakens sweet desire. If anything I love him more, for time has fitted us together like a hand within a glove.

I told him on the day when we bound that I would give him as much of forever as was permitted to us, that only the Gift of the One to his kind could part us. Therefore I will sail into the setting sun at his side. Will we reach the Undying Lands, that forgotten place from the mists of my childhood? Despite his hopes, somehow I doubt that the road will open to us. But whatever the end our final adventure in a life filled with adventure might hold, we will face it as previously we have faced betrayal, war and certain death. Together.

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