12. Chapter 12
The next morning came too soon for Súrelindë's taste. She had sat on the bed and listened to him move about the room, preparing for departure. She could sense his power and the young peredhel marveled that so magnificent a being chose to bind with her. Gildor and Círdan had joined the couple for breakfast and now they all stood in the courtyard biding the Vala good bye.
"I will see that a ship is ready soon, Hîr nín," Círdan said, clasping Námo's arm. "She will be in your arms again before you know it."
"Your kindness will not be forgotten, Master Shipwright." The Vala bowed to the ancient mariner. "Ulmo will know when she sails and will see the ship safely to the White Shores."
Círdan stepped aside to allow Gildor a moment with the Doomsman. "I trust her to you," the elf-lord whispered.
"You have no need for concern. I love your iell with my entire being. She will know happiness and want for nothing. I swear it."
Gildor smiled warmly. "I am still stunned that she is bound…and to a Vala. I will miss her but I know I will see her again. Namárië." With a final bow, the gypsy elf moved off to the side, speaking with Círdan. He wanted to give his iell some privacy with her new mate, but wanted to remain close…just in case.
Súrelindë moved into her husband's arms. "I will miss you."
"And I you, but it will not be long before we are reunited."
Gentle hands came up to caress and finger Námo's face. "I wish to have one last look at you," the minstrel said with a sly grin.
Námo bent down and captured her lips. The chaste goodbye quickly became more as the two pressed closer.
Námo hugged his little wife tight. "I love you," he whispered and pulled back. With a last kiss to her brow, the Vala of Death walked towards the gate. In a swirl of mist, his form vanished.
Gildor placed a reassuring hand on Súrelindë's shoulder. "He is gone, penneth," he said softly.
"I know," came the whispered reply.
"Are you alright?" Gildor asked his child.
She turned to him and smiled. "More than alright…I am in love." With that, she moved past her father and Círdan with measured steps. She had some things to get together before she left the shores of Arda forever. Making her way back to her room, she pulled a trunk over to her wardrobe and began to drop things into it. Uncertain of what would be needed, Súrelindë ran her fingers lightly over the handing garments. She smiled as her fingers brushed the silk of her binding gown. She blushed as she remembered the one night spent in passion with her husband…her husband! She giggled. She carefully removed the garment and folded it; it definitely goes. She then felt the heavy brocade of her Solstice dress. It had been a gift from her father. It was an Edain style and showed Súrelindë's curves nicely…yes, that one, too. As she felt through her wardrobe, the peredhel whished she had a few more 'proper' gowns; she did not want to embarrass Námo by showing up looking like a street urchin. She sighed. Perhaps she could acquire a new dress or two in Valinor. She wondered what it would be like, being a Vala's wife. Súrelindë hoped it entailed more than sitting around, stitching (she had a bit of trouble with that). Námo had implied that she would have a purpose; the thought made her happy. Of course, it would take some time to learn her new surroundings, count off steps, memorize furniture placement. Her heart fluttered. She could not wait to explore her new home. A few hours later found her clothes and personal belongings packed in two trunks. If it had no sentimental value, she decided to leave it. She would pack her harp later; there might be a need for it before she left. Anyways, she would carry with her, as it was too precious to her.
Within one week, Súrelindë found herself on the dock, saying her goodbyes. There were only about fifteen who would be traveling West with her; most of those had been injured beyond the healing ability of Arda, although the elleth who had come to get her ready for the feast was also present. She had volunteered to accompany the peredhel and serve her as she had done Gildor. Those awaiting sailing were overjoyed to have their beloved minstrel joining them, for those suffering most greatly would now have moments of peace…if she would play for them. Many of those remaining in Arda, however, were sorry to see her and her music pass into the West. Lady Mindoniel was especially sad to see Súrelindë leave. Her little one was quite fond of her playing. Often, it was the only way to quiet the little one. However, Mindoniel was happy for the youngling, she deserved happiness.
"Do you have everything?" Gildor asked for the tenth time.
"Is there anything you can think of that you might have forgotten?"
"How about your…"
Súrelindë reached out her hands to her father; Gildor took them in his own. "Relax, Ada. I have what I need and if not, I am sure I can acquire it in Valinor. The only thing I really need is to be with Námo."
"Aye, penneth, I am so happy for you. It saddens my heart that you will leave me, but we will meet again. Know that I love you beyond measure and I will think of you often. I am sorry I was not the father you should have had."
"Stop. You were the best Ada for which I could have hoped. I will miss you too and will await you on the White Shores." She hugged her father, then added, "And I had best *not* meet you in Námo's halls, do you hear me? You be careful!" she chided.
Gildor chuckled. "Yes, Mistress. Who am I to disobey the wife of Námo!"? He squeezed her tight and set her free. "Hurry, or you will miss the tide and be delayed."
Súrelindë made quick goodbyes to Círdan and a few friends who had come to see her off. She then took the arm of her companion. The elleth carefully guided her up the gangplank. She stood on the deck, near the bow. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the salt air and sighed. "I am coming, beloved," she whispered to the wind.
"I know," came the soft reply in her mind.
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.