Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the amazing J. R. R. Tolkien.

This is intended as a gap-filler, hopefully canonically aligned, though probably not. It tells of Elwing in her tower, and Elrond's coming to Valinor. Earendil, Celebrian, Elrond, and probably Frodo and Melian will make appearances.

Rated T for safety and angst.

A/N: For the purposes of this story, despite the world being round at this time, Earendil still gets to come home at sunrise. Just go with it, please, even if you don't think that's canonical.

Elwing was pacing back and forth. Back and forth. To and fro. What else was there for her to do? She had long ago tired of her sewing and knitting. Books no longer held any attraction for her. There was simply waiting for Earendil. Waiting, until the sunrise, when his ship sailed down to her, and she flew up to him, glimmering in the light both of Anor and the Silmaril.

Sometimes she hated the Silmaril. She hated it for its alluring qualities, that had made her unable to give it up to Maedhros. She hated it for taking her husband away during the night. But she also loved it. For its light, eternal beauty, and that it had paved the way to Valinor and released Middle-earth from the hold of Melkor.

The sun had set some time ago, and from her window she could see her husband, gleaming bright, sailing the sky. To and fro, to and fro. Elwing's gaze followed the Silmaril and lighted upon the horizon. The bare, empty horizon, where no land could be seen that broke the wall of sky meeting sea.

She wondered about her sons. The news of Elros' choice and death had come to her, many thousands of years ago. She had wanted to go to Numenor, to see him, but something in her had always held her back. Perhaps it was the Silmaril. Earendil, at any rate, had gone to see Elros, but Elros had been barely recognizable, he had said to her. Earendil did not wish for her to see her son, and be rejected, for choosing a Silmaril above her sons.

Elrond, on the other hand, had chosen immortality. She had thirstily lapped up all news of him, whether it be from Elves or from the birds of the sea. The birds had told her more, that he had built a home in the valley of Imladris, that he had taken part in many wars, and that he had two sons (twins!) and a daughter. His wife had come to Valinor some time ago, and Celebrian was one of the few friends Elwing had, including Melian. But now Celebrian was staying with her grandfather Finarfin, though she had accepted Elwing's offer of a home here in her tower. Melian was currently in Lorien's gardens, Earendil was sailing high above her, and so Elwing was alone.

It had been worse, before Melian had come to her. Elwing had been despairing, nothing to do any more. Then Melian had visited, and the two had become friends. Then Celebrian had come from Ennor, with a poisoned wound. As soon as she heard that Celebrian was healed Elwing had visited. It had not been too long until Elwing was unable to keep back the flood of questions about Elrond, and Celebrian had willingly obliged. Celebrian now had a little room, just under Elwing's and Earendil's.

Elwing stared out the window. It was now deepest night. Earendil's ship could be seen, traversing over the lands her son lived in. Elrond. What was he doing now? Was he thinking of her? Celebrian had assured Elwing that Elrond had forgiven her, and missed her. But Elwing found this hard to believe. She had abandoned Elrond and Elros, at the risk of death at the hands of the sons of Feanor. It had been a blessing of Eru that had inspired pity in Maedhros and Maglor. Perhaps it was also due to her twin brothers. Elured and Elurin. They had been abandoned by Celegorm's servants in Menegroth, during the deepest winter. Maedhros had searched frantically for them, but to no avail. The memory of Elured and Elurin must have stuck with Maedhros, to allow Maglor to keep her twin sons and care for them.

Elwing turned away from the window. The light of Earendil was so bright that she could see her shadow on the wall opposite the window. She walked over to her bed and lay down, attempting to catch some sleep. But within a half-hour she gave up. When Earendil came home, he usually slept the morning away, before waking and spending the afternoon with her. She would sleep then.

She stood up and stretched, no longer looking out the white window. She sat down in her rocking chair and thought.

She wished that she could have gone to Elros and explained. Explained everything, why she refused to give up the Silmaril, why she had abandoned her sons, why she had jumped off the cliff. Why she had not gone to see him in Numenor.

Elwing promised herself that if ever she got a chance, she would explain it all to Elrond. Everything, nothing omitted. That she owed to him and to Elros.

Had Elrond ever gone to Numenor? Had he stood on the western shore at sunrise, looking for a glimpse of her, "shining, rose-stained in the sunrise"*, as Celebrian had said Elves spoke of her?

The sorrow enveloped her again, and she bent down, her head to her knees. The chances she had missed, to speak to her sons and tell them she was sorry. There was no chance left for Elros, as Elwing firmly believed, despite Melian saying that she probably would have a chance at the End of Time. Was there a chance for Elrond, for her to tell him that she was sorry?

Elwing could not bear it. The nights were endless. No Earendil, and no Celebrian, as Elwing refused to wake up Celebrian on her sleepless nights. Melian could be a comfort, but Elwing would push away that comfort. What was wrong with her, that she refused all comfort and help?

She wished that she could throw herself off the tower. But would it work? Ulmo had saved her from the jump off the cliffs, he would probably do it again if she were to jump into the waves far below.

Elwing firmly pushed away the thought. Earendil - and Elrond - would never forgive her. And she could never explain it to Elrond, unless he were to be killed.

The thought brought her head up. Would Elrond, some day, indeed take a ship to Aman? Celebrian had positively asserted that yes, Elrond would someday. But Elwing, in her pessimism, refused this piece of comfort. She would not raise her hopes thus, only for them to be slowly lowered, day by day. Waiting at Sirion for Earendil to return had been enough.

Elwing stood up and looked around. The room was disordered, despite Celebrian's tidying the day before she left for Tirion. Elwing always picked up stuff, only to toss them back on the ground in despair. Celebrian would try to remedy it, but she was too humble to actually tell Elwing to stop it. Melian had given her a lecture, but Elwing was too despondent to answer. And Earendil never noticed.

There was one thing that made this waiting better. Elwing knew that at least Earendil would come home every morning at dawn. There was no endless waiting, like in Sirion. And the Silmaril no longer absorbed her. But her sons were gone, one forever lost.

Elwing reached down and picked up a book that lay discarded on the floor, its pages open. War Strategies of Beleriand. When had she been interested in war strategies? This must be a book of Celebrian's, although it seemed unlikely that gentle Celebrian would like such a book. Perhaps it was another attempt to distract Elwing from her pacing.

Elwing had never liked going to Tirion. The one time she did, to visit Finarfin at Celebrian's insistence, people had stared at her. She had heard the mutters. Finarfin had been kind, and his wife Earwen very nice, but Elwing did not like Tirion. How could she, when those who had helped destroy her life were raised in this city?

A voice called out in her mind. It was not the sons of Feanor who ruined Elwing's life; it was Melkor, the true evil. But they slew my parents! Abandoned my brothers! Killed my people! Held captive my sons! She did not take into account Maedhros' repentance and searching of Doriath or the fact that her sons had been well cared for while under Maglor's care.

Elwing tossed the book away, not caring where it landed, and resumed pacing. To and fro, to and fro. After some time she threw herself on her bed in weariness.

In the the small hours of the night she fell asleep at last. She was so tired that she forgot to fly up to Earendil at the sunrise, which was the highlight of her day. She did not notice Earendil enter, earlier than usual, and fall asleep next to her.

When she woke the sun was high, but it was not yet noon. Earendil lay next to her, still asleep. She noted with dry amusement that he had neglected to remove his shoes, which glittered still from the diamond sand of the streets of Tirion. Her long brown hair covered his face.

Elwing stood up and cast her gaze around the room. She felt a twinge of guilt for not cleaning up properly. She gathered up books and put them on the bookshelf, no order or method. Earendil did inspire in her some tidiness and a relief from the lethargy of the night.

She turned as Earendil stirred and woke. He gazed at her with blue, sleep-lined eyes, and pulled himself up into a sitting position.

"Where were you this morn?" Earendil asked, affection and amusement evident in his voice. Elwing did not see why, but she had forgotten that the return home was the highlight of Earendil's day, too.

"I…" Her voice trailed off.

"It's ok, dear. I don't blame you." Earendil pulled Elwing down next to him. They sat there for a while, listening to the cry of the seagulls and the roar of the waves.

After a while she spoke. "Did you see Elrond?" The words tumbled out of her mouth and she immediately wished that she could have been softer. But Earendil did not seem to mind.

"Nay, though I did see Imladris. But it seems to be fading."

A horror struck Elwing. "Do you think…"

"No, I do not think that Elrond has died. The war against Sauron in Ennor has been won. You know I saw that black cloud a while ago, and the eagles told me of his defeat."

"Yes." Elwing rested her head on Earendil's shoulder. "That is good."

"Elrond may come now, darling. Sauron has been defeated, he does not have much to wait for."

Elwing leaped up. "No. Please, Earendil, don't bring up hope."

Earendil looked sadly at her. "But, Elwing…"

"No." Earendil subsided and stood up. His golden curls gleamed in the sunlight streaming in through the window.

"Come on, let's eat," said Earendil.

They walked down two levels to the kitchen and ate lunch in silence. Elwing felt dejected, and Earendil's gaze flickered over her, concerned, worried.

Once they had finished eating Elwing made a half-hearted attempt to clean the kitchen. But Earendil did most of the work. They washed and dried the dishes in silence. Elwing thought that Earendil was the only one to actually and regularly inspire her to actually do something, which Celebrian and even Melian seldom achieved.

When the dishes had been finished they walked to the top of the tower, overlooking the sea. They stood there, still silent. Elwing watched the birds flying about in droves, while Earendil gazed at the rippling waves.

"Did anything happen on last night's voyage?" Elwing asked at last.

"No. Just the same. Sometimes I even get a little bored. You should come with me."

"No, thank you. I don't like boats."

"I wish you did, Elwing. You seem to be so lonely here, with Melian and Celebrian gone."

The tears rose to her eyes, and she fought to keep them from spilling out. Yes, she was lonely. Lonely for her sons. Why did she waste her time in Sirion, she questioned herself again, forgetting about a treasure she only had for a short time?

A sniff escaped her, and Earendil instantly turned and embraced her. She wept on his shoulder, no longer bothering to check the tears that now rolled freely down her cheeks. She cried and cried, the worries and sorrows of her escaping her.

At last she stopped. Earendil still held her close. The sun was now past midday. Elwing dried her eyes and looked out on the sea, blue in the bright light. Earendil's ship Vingelote swung on the western side, anchored by ropes to the tower's battlements. Great white and grey clouds hung in the East, looking like pillows. Overhead, Anor shone through wispy clouds, that looked like feathers.

"Elwing." Earendil's speaking of her name recalled her. "I am sorry."

She could not move. A part of her screamed out "NO!" Why accept the apology? But then she pulled herself together and smiled tremulously at Earendil.

"What have you to be sorry for, Earendil? It was the will of the Valar that you sail the skies for the hope of Ennor."

"Yes, but I, like the idiot I am, chose to sail the seas, abandoning my wife and two children. Seeking foolishly for something that was near impossible. I have wasted years. What little childhood our boys had is long gone, and I missed most of it. I should have been there to comfort you and support you. I am sorry, Elwing."

So Earendil had doubts too. He had worried and fretted over their twin sons, one of whom was lost forever. He was sorry for the abandoning, the neglecting of their sons. Elwing was not alone, truly.

"I forgive you." The words came out as a whisper. Earendil smiled and held Elwing close to him. They stood there, as the wind whistled by and the clouds sailed overhead. Suddenly she straightened.

"Although, will our sons forgive you?"

Earendil stiffened. "Well…" He seemed to pull himself together, and his face was grave. "Elwing, there is something I have not told you."

A dread seized Elwing at these words. What had he not told her?

"When I went to see Elros in Numenor, I didn't want you to see him for a reason." Elwing looked up at him intently. His blue eyes were totally lacking of mirth. Earendil had been very taciturn about the visit to Numenor, and Elwing had wondered why. Now it seemed like at last she would receive an answer. "I asked Elros to forgive me. And - and he refused."

The words did not come as a shock. Of course. Elwing should have known. Elros had every right to, to refuse to give his pardon, to a man of whom he remembered barely anything, save the fact that he was never-present.

"He said something else, too." Earendil's voice was breaking. "He was furious at me, and he said that - that Maglor was a better father."

Maglor. A Kinslayer. One whom had helped slay Elwing's family, and later her people. Who had taken captive her sons, and held them at ransom. Rage and grief enveloped her. Maglor, who should have been an abhorrent and hated person to Elros had instead been a father. And he was probably one to Elrond, as well.

She was recalled by sobbing. Earendil. He was sobbing. And Elwing again began to sob with him. They stood there on the top of the tower, crying in each other's arms, as Anor began to sink and the seagulls mewed.

To be continued...

* Quote from The Silmarillion, page 250, "Of the Voyage of Earendil". I changed the word "sunset" to "sunrise", as it makes more sense to me.

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