Homecoming

For a long moment, he kneels there upon the shore, digging his fingers into the sand of the land that will become his home.  The West.  The sea called him.  A different song than the music of the wind in the trees, than the clang and hiss and spark of the forge, of the shouts of battle and the laughter of the kin-home.  It had been long in coming.  There was work to be done.  Words flash through his mind, from long, long ago.  He closed his eyes and the face appears again before his mind’s eye.  Once, Thannor had said that love bid him stay as surely as it bid him go.  And he had stayed, for a time, doing what work he could, however small.  A word.  A shield.  Until his long vigil was over and he could lay his sword and shield down.  Until he could rest, sure that the land he had loved so was in good hands.

For a moment, all he can hear is the hiss of the tide and the call of sea-birds.  He is here.  He is here at last.  Now there will be no more sorrow, nor pain, but joy everlasting.  He will be with kin, with friends, with…  And yet, he does not rise.  Not yet.  Some part of him wonders, wonders if he is worthy.  Worthy to be here, to see….  One hand clutches the thin chain he still wears about his neck, a lifetime ago, and the still-bright silver rings forever intertwined.  And he remembers.  Remembers the songs he sang as he drew the wire, shaped the rings.  Songs of hope, of joy, of love everlasting as the rings. That was a lifetime ago.  Slowly, he takes a breath and lets his hand fall to his side.  He squares his shoulders.  He is here now.

His keen ears catch a faint sound.  Footsteps in the sand.  Just one person, a light step…. He glances up, blue eyes narrowed.  And all he can do is stare for a long, long moment. He longs to run to her, to call her name.  But he cannot speak.  He is trembling.  It is her.  It is a lifetime since he saw her face, since he heard her voice, but it is burned into his memory.  She is not as he saw her last—no, she is whole and hale and so fair that his heart aches.  The sunlight turns her hair to gold.  He can scarcely hear the waves over the pounding of his own heart.  She smiles, her face alight, and he swears it is as if he has given her his heart all over again.

A name he has not heard in a lifetime leaves her lips.  And the spell is broken.  They run across the sand—she flings her arms about his neck, he cups her cheek with one hand, pulls her close and holds her as if he will never let go.

(Hi, guys.  So, this came about because I really wanted to write Thannor again, and...Well, this is what I came up with it.  Hope y’all like it.)