Anor still brightened the world with her hot rays, burning in the darkening blue fields of the heavens above. She caused blinding spots of white light to dance on the ocean’s tumbling and ever-rolling waves, dazzling whoever beheld it. As always it caused his heart to swell inside his breast, the great Sea was such a large part of his soul that he could never imagine living without it. Simply being close to it on Ennor’s shores brought peace to his mind. Travelling across the waters on a slender ship made his spirit soar alongside the white seagulls. Its song ran through his veins alongside the blood, it was ingrained in his very bones. It was not for nothing that he was a Teler. His eyes mirrored it in colour now, darkblue flecked and streaked with silvery grey. He stood on a high cliff, close to the edge that plunged steeply and abruptly down towards the churning water filled with jagged rocks. The wind whipped the long silver hair behind him, the colour casting of the same dazzling reflections as the waves whenever the sun touched it. He cared little about it, he was alone for many miles, and he could take care of himself if danger came. His fingers stroked lightly over the pommel of the sword at his hip. He hoped he would not have to use it, though, he was loathe to have anything disturb the peace he felt.

But when it came it caught him completely off guard, causing him to jump. Suddenly the air was split by a loud and piercing cry, making his sensitive ears hurt, as well as his heart, for the voice was so incredibly full of wild grief. It was not an Elven voice, of that he was certain, nor did it belong to a Man. It never stopped, there was only ever an infinitesimal pause before the searing call came again. He moved slowly towards its source, resisting the urge to clamp his hands over his ears to block it out. The sight before him nearly caused his heart to break, and tears sprang up in his eyes. A large swan lay on the ground, the snowy white feathers and the lush grass beneath it coloured crimson with blood. An ugly black fletched arrow protruded from the bird’s chest, and there was a misty veil over the unblinking onyx eyes.

Beside the body there stood another brilliant white bird, even larger than the one lying dead on the grass. Its great wings were unfolded, and its magnificent head was raised to the sky as another sorrow laden sound burst from its beak. Then it took note of his arrival, and its stance changed at once. The head was lowered as it fixed its dark eyes on him, and a menacing hiss sounded in the sudden stillness. He held out his hands slowly, and with deliberately gentle and unhurried movements he sat down on the ground.

“I mean no harm to you or your mate, great winged one,” he said softly, still with tears in his eyes. “I heard your grief.” There had been a special bond between the Teleri and the birds of the Sea ever since they had first beheld the wide waters and Ossë brought them together when he taught the Elves the craft of ship-making, and this was especially true when it came to the great swans. They were a race apart from the others, alike to the Eagles of Manwë, for they were large and intelligent, and could to some extent understand the Elven speech.

At his words the swan relaxed, and it turned back to its dead mate. Tears sprang up in his eyes anew. The scene before him truly pained his heart. Swans mated for life, and if one died the other was left to be forever alone, to never be whole again. The bird’s arched neck bowed down, and in a loving caress it stroked its head and beak over that of the other one. It settled on the grass beside the body, and lay there for a long time with one wing spread out as if to shield the lifeless one from the world. He sat in silence and beheld the scene. Then the bird moved again, rising from the ground, and this time when it opened its beak an even sweeter sound came forth. There were no words in the song, but there was immense sorrow in it, and great love and longing and anger. It kept rolling in over his senses, for how long he did not know, but the sun had almost set when abruptly the swan went silent.

It looked at him for a long while, bowed its proud head, and then it swooped into the sky, amazingly gracefully for such a large creature, and the great wings beat the air with powerful strokes. He got up and ran after it, a sense of premonition gripping his heart. Out over the edge of the cliff the great bird flew, the sun just dipping below the horizon with a rim of molten gold still blazing. It seemed that the swan’s white plumage caught fire when the last rays fell on it, and with one last, final cry towards the heavens, it folded its wings in close and plummeted towards the sharp rocks below. A loud shout burst from his lips, and he stretched out his hands in a futile and desperate attempt to hinder the bird, but it was all in vain. Without a sound the white body was swallowed by the waves.

Tears streamed down his face as he cast one last look at the agonizingly beautiful scene before him, and then he slowly walked back. Beside the body of the dead swan he found a single white feather, unsullied by the blood, a gift to him from the great bird. He picked it up and carefully braided it into the silver strands of his hair, before he bent down and scooped up the dead creature lying there. With a heavy heart he walked to the edge of the cliff and let the waters claim another white body, so that at least in death they would be together again. Then he walked away, as Ithil began to make his way into the sky. This last flight would forever be a part of his life.