The small boat drifted on.
It was a very small boat, with barely enough room for its one passenger to sit comfortably, and it swayed and bobbed among the waves.
It passed lamp-lit quays, and those who stood there started and exclaimed at the sight of it, for rarely indeed did mortal boats find the straight way and so come in time to the haven at Alqualondë. Never before it had happened within their knowledge, and the watchers wondered what great doom was upon this man.
But the man in the boat did not look up, or perhaps he could not look up.
Water trickled down his face, and dripped slowly onto the boat's base.
And the little boat still bobbed on, and the man did not move, and the watchers wondered whether the only doom that was upon him was the doom of dying.
It seemed so.
But then he moved, and with what seemed to be a tremendous effort, raised his head and looked west. And there with failing sight, he saw the White Mountain, lofty Taniquetil, beautiful and terrible.
And then he fell back, and breathed no more, and lay in his boat in the last great stillness.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.