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Chapter Text

It had been 2 weeks since Jon and the others had come to Tol Morwen hoping to free Maglor from his self-imposed exile; Jon, Loras, and Robar had used all of Cirdan's teachings to build the ship that would carry the last son of Fëanor back to the blessed land of Aman.

The sailors who accompanied were accomplished shipbuilders and aided them as much as possible, whether gathering lumber or offering their insight into the arts of Numenorean seafaring; all of this was done with diligence and care, ensuring that no wood was wasted.

There was no doubt that the extraordinary reputation of the High Men of Númenor was well deserved.

Jon, Loras, Robar and even King Anárion worked day and night eager to see the task done, by that time, they were already carrying the foundations of the small ship, the ship would be a vessel of a modest size quite unlike the great swan ships of the Noldor and the mighty Carracks of Númenor it was to be crewed by Maglor alone. This filled Jon with some trepidation as the journey to the blessed kingdom was arduous even for the most skilled mariners, and now his friend must take brave the starlit seas alone. However, Eärendil had achieved this remarkable feat some thousand years ago, but he was aided by several skilled Mariners; Jon placed his faith in the Valar as he knew they wouldn't present him a task if they did not think him able or worthy.

"I must say I'm quite surprised by your skills in woodworking, my friends," Anárion said with sweat on his forehead as he drove the nails into aboard.

The words of his king's youngest son brought Jon out of his thoughts, and he smiled at the praise.

"Your words are kind, King Anárion; we spent four years under the tutelage of Lord Cirdan, the Lord of the Gray Havens, who paid special attention to teaching us the traditions of his people, the Falathrim," said Jon remembering the kindly Lord of Havens.

Anárion just nodded, clearly impressed.

"I cannot imagine a better teacher for the art of shipbuilding and navigation, except perhaps for the elves who live in far Valinor far to the West, although that does not change in that you are prodigies in this art," Anárion said admiringly.

Anárion's words intrigued Jon, Loras, and Robar, who stopped working and listened intrigued.

"Are we prodigies?" Loras asked, surprised.

"We were never told we were," Robar said.

Anárion only smiled at the Westerosi's doubts.

"It's rather amusing, these arts, navigation and shipbuilding normally take decades to learn even among my kindred who were the masters of the waves; however, you have accomplished these feats in a mere four years ... Even with the tutelage of a master shipbuilder, you should by all accounts be novices, yet that is not the case, "Anárion said in admiration.

"Hahaha ... Well, thanks for the words of praise, King Anárion , but I think it is better to continue ... This part should be ready in three days," Said Robar with satisfaction returning to his work after savouring the praise of Anárion for he did not wish to be delayed.

"It is true, my friend, we must continue with our work", Anárion replied with a smile.

"Even so, I must admit I have never seen men work so diligently; they work at their craft as if they are kindred to the proud lords of Khazad-dûm," Said Loras observing the sailors chopping wood.

"Yes, everyone who is here fought to have a place in this crew", Anárion said, continuing with his work.

"Truly?" Asked confused the "Knight of the Flowers".

"Yes, Loras ... if the last son of Fëanor sails to Aman in a ship built by the hands of men, it will give us great prestige as mariners and shipbuilders," Jon said, feeling that his muscles ached from work.

"Why's that?" Loras asked, continuing his work without noticing the expression of annoyance on the others' faces because of how slowly he captured things.

"Idiot," said Robar looking at his brother in arms with disappointment as he began to cut boards.

"Why is everyone acting so queer?" Loras asked in surprise.

"Loras ... You must understand ... that if this ship that we built succeeds in taking Maglor to the" Blessed Kingdom ", it will become the first ship built entirely by mortals to achieve such a feat ... and thus they shall be ever remembered with reverence, "Jon said as he continued his work.

While Loras, understanding his words, looked rather bashful understanding the enormity of the task.

"I'm truly dimwitted," Said the youngest of the Tyrell brothers as his face turned scarlet from the embarrassment.

"On that, we all agree", said Robar working with a smile while Jon and Anárion made gestures and sounds of approval.

Loras just grunted and continued his work while planning how to settle scores with his comrade in arms later.

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While the Westerosi and Westernesse continued their work, they were observed by Maglor, Írimë and Sansa, who watched the men work under the shade of an old, withered birch whose leaves of green and yellow swayed gently in the breeze.

Glorfindel and Arya, on the other hand, were training on the beach.

"They are skilled sailors and builders, there is no doubt", Maglor said with an excited smile.

"My cousin and his companions built a boat before ... It was bigger than this one", Sansa said shyly while she continued her weaving.

"Yes ... A big black Carrack ... rather queer-looking and a tad garish ... But a good ship, no doubt" Second Lady Írimë happily watching Jon work tirelessly to help Maglor.

While Maglor was observing in admiration the work of Jon and company, the truth is that both Sansa and Írimë focused their attention on something else or rather someone else ...

The sight of Jon's robust sweating body was an incredible sight for both of them; watching him move with the grace of a panther, whether chopping wood or hammering planks, his form was a delight for both maidens.

Sansa found herself watching her cousin working diligently and seeing how much Winterfell's eldest daughter had blossomed she could only watch with abject lust as Jon laboured tirelessly for his friend; Sansa felt so ashamed of her own lustful desires towards her cousin she was so embarrassed she tried hiding her scarlet face behind a fan, but the temptation to look was overwhelming.

... I'm a Lady ... No ... I'm not... A ... Shameless Whore! ... Sansa thought with much embarrassment.

For Írimë, the sight of her beloved hard at work was a lovely sight that filled her with joy; the Noldorian Princess felt a pooling heat from her core; she was also sure that her face was as red as the Stark Girls hair. And despite knowing what she should be more careful of her lust for Jon, she couldn't find the strength in herself to look away.

The sight of Jon working on that task was the most beautiful and exciting the noble and ancient elf had ever seen. She felt like a maiden again, and Írimë never wanted it to end.

Unknown to Írimë, Maglor, despite being in awe of the work of Jon and his companions, had not taken his eye off Írimë who was a pleasant shade of scarlet akin to a freshly plucked rose; he had no doubt that his beloved aunt was hoping to not arouse his suspicions... Though it seems his aunt was rather artless when it came to guarding her emotions.

At first, the aged bard paid no mind to the closeness between Írimë and Jon since he believed that it was just a warm and respectful companionship, then he thought hoped it was simply gratitude for freeing him from his exile.

But now…

Maglor had no doubt that his aunt had fallen into the same trap that befell Lúthien, Idril and poor Finduilas, the fate is once again cruel to the House of Finwë, now one of his father's sisters end up falling in love with a member of the younger race, someone who shall live a century at most whether by the sword or the bitterness of mortality Jon would die.

While his aunt Írimë would remain in Arda unto the ending of days.

One of Maglor's greatest regrets besides the remorse for the atrocities he committed was abandoning his wife, A maiden with a soul as pure as snow, who wept with bitterness and heartache when he swore that horrid Oath... Maglor has been tormented by it ever since he left Aman.

Oh, what horrors could he have spared himself if he had had the strength to deny the vengeance of his father and brothers ... He could have stayed in the arms of his beloved ruling verdant fields with the laughter of children to accompany his tunes ... And now thanks to Jon's kindness and loyalty soon she will be able to be in his arms again ... if she and the Valar wish it.

Though his happiness is clouded by worry for his beloved aunt ... Their love shall be fleeting and evergreen, alas all that is fair will fade, and she shall face the ages of the world alone there is no more bitter poison for the firstborn to swallow.

Maglor knew he must speak with her ... perhaps he could spare them this bitter pain ... Jon is a very dear friend to him ... And if there was a chance that Jon could change his destiny as did Tuor ... Maglor would be happy and honoured to call him "relative", but he knew that was highly unlikely.

Ilúvatar has never been known to intercede twice in the same way.

To begin with, no one except the Valar knew how Tuor's change of destiny had happened ... That was a miracle ... Something that exceeds the power and authority of the Valar, an act solely of Ilúvatar.

But for now ... He would let his aunt live out her little fantasy with ease after all ... She, too had suffered terribly in the wars against the Great Enemy, and after that, if the rumours I hear are true ... It is better for her to dream a little while longer.

These melancholy thoughts were wiped away when he saw the ship that would take him to Aman after four-thousand years.

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After a tiring afternoon at work, Westerosi and Westernesse washed up and had a delicious supper of roasted boar, apple tarts and an assortment of fresh jellies that were so sweet you could take one bite and feel full for a fortnight.

Glorfindel had to carry Arya in his arms because the little wolf was so exhausted that she could not walk after the rigorous training though she uttered no word complaint.

Finally, when everyone was in their tents, Írimë waited for Jon to leave his as he had frequented the stone of hapless every night; once she saw him depart, she made to follow him, being as silent and swift as shadows.

Her love will sing songs and poems about the beauty of Artanis every other night, something that she is no longer willing to tolerate ... She will ask Jon what his intentions are with her married niece.

Then ... Írimë will decide what to do based on Jon's answer.

In complete stealth, the ancient elf followed her love to the top of the hill and waited behind a huge oak tree in complete silence as Jon sang beautiful tunes on his harp about a beauty that rivalled the light of the two trees.

The songs were beautiful and worthy of the Valar; however, Írimë's heart sank with sadness despite the beauty of the songs.

After an hour, it seemed that Jon would return to his tent, Írimë decided to make her presence known and stepped from her hiding place behind an old willow.

"Who's there?" Jon asked, peering into the darkness and realized it was lady Írimë.

"Good evening, Jon," Finwë's daughter said politely.

"Lady Írimë? ... What brings you here at this late hour?" Jon asked, clearly surprised by her presence.

"I guess the same as you ... I heard a strange sound and got up when I saw that it was you. I thought of playing a little joke ... But you started singing such a beautiful tune I couldn't help but listen ... I have spent some weeks listening to your nightly serenades, "Írimë said, looking with satisfaction as Jon blushed when he discovered that the noble elf had listened to him sing for weeks and he had not noticed.

"Did you hear me sing?" Jon asked sheepishly.

"It was inevitable .. . You have an extraordinary gift for singing ... You are a worthy apprentice to my nephew," Írimë said with satisfaction at seeing the expression of shame on Jon's face.

"I didn't mean for anyone to hear me", Jon said, looking away.

"That's obvious. .. And I'm sorry I interrupted you ... It's just that I couldn't help listening to your songs ... They're beautiful," Írimë said with steel in her voice.

Jon, surprised by the cruel way in which Írimë spoke to him, recoiled slightly.

"Is something wrong ... Lalwen?" Jon asked, seeing the sour expression marring her beautiful face.

"No, pay it no mind, Jon, but tell me about the Lady for whom you wrote those songs," Írimë said, crossing her arms with a fake smile.

That's when Jon started to get nervous because he knew he had no escape; he would have to tell Lalwen about the vision of the mysterious elf who comforted him after his battle with Herenlókë.

Jon knew he had no escape and sighed.

"Truly ... I don't know who I'm dedicating them to ... I don't know who she is, nor what she looks like or even the sound of her voice ... I don't even know what her name is," Jon said with a sad smile.

Upon hearing those words and the truth behind them, Írimë widened her eyes from the shock; how was it possible that he did not know that the elf of his songs was her niece Artanis when he already knows her well enough to describe her with such clarity.

"I'm afraid Jon, I don't understand you", Írimë said honestly.

Jon just sighed.

"After I slew the Worm of the Great Enemy ", My body was broken, I could not stand up and lost consciousness ... Then ... I awoke surrounded by a light of great radiance and warmth. And suddenly, a silhouette began to form in the light. It was the silhouette of a woman as radiant as spring, I'm sure of it; she took me in her arms. And I think she began to comfort me. I can't be sure because I was so weary that I couldn't understand anything she was saying; her hair was shining like the sun. She laid me on her lap, and I lay there for what seemed a life age of the earth; her touch was soft and tender... And her scent like that of lilies .. Until… "Jon said ... his eyes shadowed as if he was entranced.

"Until?" Írimë said, trying to control her anger.

"I tried to see her face, but the light blinded me ... But I realized that she was an elf and at that moment she gave me a kiss on the cheek, and suddenly I felt like my insides were burning, but I felt no pain, and all weariness and pain left me then I woke ... I was alone in the cave with the corpse of the Worm, I felt as if I had awoken from a pleasant dream... But it was real. I feel it in my heart as if her embrace was dearer to me than my own mother... But I know she healed my soul, "Jon said, shedding tears of emotion as he finally told the story of that mysterious Lady.

Despite being furious with her niece, Írimë finally understood how it was possible that Jon did not fall into madness and misery after killing the "Worm of the Great Enemy", Artanis had cured his tired and sick spirit through her own, which was extraordinary since she had to have been many leagues from him at that moment.

But that was also a problem; no matter how powerful and wise Jon was becoming, he was still quite young, one that had not yet fully matured, his human spirit had made contact with the spirit of an immortal, powerful and ancient Noldorian princess. ... and mighty is the spirit of Galadriel; that is why he speaks with a fascination and admiration towards the memory of his mysterious saviour.

That was too much for such a young man ... Although, in time, that fascination that Jon has with Artanis will ultimately fade, of that Írimë is wholly sure... But that does not mean that what Artanis did shall have no consequences.

Sharing her spirit with another to help a mortal an intimate exchange, so sacred it was reserved for close friends, family, and lovers.

Írimë could not guess the mind of her niece nor her intentions, or perhaps she could. Still, the very idea terrified her, she would not have believed it possible that Jon could be aided by her kindred as she had no knowledge of Jon slaying the Worm, but somehow her dear niece had used her considerable magics to heal Jon when Írimë sees her again, she will ask her how she did it but what terrifies her at that time is the meaning of what Artanis did.

By using her spirit to heal Jon, her niece had shown that the young Westerosi was precious to her, but Artanis was not an adulteress, of that Írimë was entirely sure, but this whole affair was rather queer.

How did Artanis heal Jon if he was very far from him? And why? Heal him that way ...

Írimë will have a few words with her niece as soon as possible, but for now ... she must show this young man the truth of her heart.

Now that she knew why Jon composed songs and poems for her niece, Írimë couldn't be mad at him, Jon was enraptured by Artanis consumed by the power of her soul, so she couldn't be wroth with him, And so she approached Jon as he continued praising the beauty of his saviour.

Once she was in front of him ... Írimë tilted his chin up, allowing their eyes to meet.

"Perhaps it was real, and that woman wished to aid you ... Or perhaps it wasn't, and you were having a beautiful dream," Írimë said, gazing into Jon's eyes with pure love.

"A dream ..." Jon mentioned, enraptured by Írimë's beauty, which caused him to momentarily forget his fascination with his mysterious healer.

"But personally ... As beautiful as dreams are ... I prefer reality," Írimë said that she could no longer contain her affection for the young mortal who had stolen her heart.

"My Lady Lalwen .." Jon tried to say when he sensed her intentions, feeling as if his heart was going to leave his chest, but he couldn't because, at that moment, Írimë did something that she had longed to do for some time now.

She leaned closer until their lips met in a chaste kiss.

The kiss started tender, but passion consumed Jon, and soon he was assaulting her mouth with his tongue, eager to claim the daughter of Finwë.

The Princess of the Noldor did not know what to do since it was the first time she was kissed in such a way; not even her lover showed her such affection.

She had only planned a tender kiss on the lips to leave him burning with desire... Now Jon had completely taken over her ... And the worst thing was that she did not want it to end.

Alas, a lack of air caused them to part, and she met the flushed face of her wolf knight and arched one of her thin eyebrows.

"Is something wrong.. Jon?" Írimë said amusedly, adopting the most melodious but seductive voice she could while Jon swallowed hard.

"Why did you kiss me ... My Lady Lalwen?" Jon said, wanting to choose his words carefully.

... Truly, he is as dense as my father ... That's why the others are upset with him most of the time ... Írimë with annoyance.

"'You have the love of several maidens ... and yet you ask that?" Írimë asked with amusement, pressing one of Jon's cheeks hard.

The words of the daughter of Finwë made Jon's eyes widen in shock.

"Lalwen.. you?" Jon started to say, but Írimë interrupted him with another passionate kiss.

"So my reasons for kissing you are clearer?" Said the beautiful elf lady as she separated and began to caress Jon's dark curls.

"But you are a Princess of the Noldor ... I am just ... A bastard Prince from distant lands ... Why would you desire to be with me?" Jon asked in surprise.

Írimë only looked at the object of her affection with some annoyance but understood that that was an answer she should give and sighed before kissing him again, only now close to the lips.

"I don't know myself, Jon ... When I heard about you and your companions, I felt a great curiosity like all the elves of Middle Earth for the emissaries that the Valar called from" The Outer Lands "and even more so when I discovered their leader had entrusted with the sword of my beloved brother Fingolfin, "Írimë said without ceasing to caress Jon's face.

Jon wanted to speak, but Írimë placed a kiss on his lips and smiling, she indicated with her gaze to be silent, and the young Westerosi, unable to deny Írimë anything, simply nodded clearly enraptured.

"Later ... When I met you and the others in Harlond, I must admit I was intrigued by you when I saw the way the Valar bestowed their favour on you, especially Lord Manwë and Lord Ulmo, as none of the Second Born in the history of Arda had been honoured in such a way... Not even Tuor, and so I hoped to learn everything I could about you and your companions, hoping to see why the Valar found you worthy of their attention ... And thus I travelled to Mithlond to satisfy my curiosity "Írimë said lovingly as she continued to play with Jon's hair.

At that moment, despite trying to keep his composure, Jon's knees finally began to weaken, and a content Írimë settled them both on the soft grass; the young Westerosi felt utterly in the power of Lalwen as if she could do whatever she wanted with him ... And he would enjoy it.

"And then we come to the year that you and I grew to be friends, you told me all about yourself ... About the life, you led in Westeros.. the way others looked at you and treated you just because they thought you were a bastard, how you were betrayed by the woman you loved ... But the most incredible and extraordinary thing was that despite all this ... Your heart was pure and uncorrupted, your spirit possesses a nobility not seen since the days when Húrin Thalion walked these lands, my dear you're honourable, charming, brave, intelligent and humble despite the glory that you have gained among my people "Írimë said with a voice full of love, kissing Jon again this time with the two of them lying down on the grass.

At the end of the kiss, they realized that the moon has risen high into the sky, bathing the hillside in a silvery crown Írimë was akin to a goddess wreathed in cold light; even her eyes were as glittering stars.

"I am not so honourable Lalwen; the love I bear for so many hearts is proof of my wickedness," Jon said, staring into her eyes while Írimë laughed in joy and amusement.

"I know, but please let me finish my tale; as I came to know you, it was clear that you inspired loyalty and friendship in those you meet due to your humility, an increasingly rare trait among our peoples. Perhaps it was then that I began to see you in a different light ... more as a man than a companion... Jon, for my people understanding our feelings, is difficult ... It is a very long process ... At first, I thought I only admired you because you reminded me so much of those mighty heroes of the first age, such as Beren or Tuor; you are a wonderful and extraordinary young man when I am with you ... I am happy, far happier than I have been since I came with my brother and nephews to Middle Earth "Said Írimë again kissing Jon tenderly.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke until Jon smiled slightly and began to gently caress Írimë's right cheek, and the daughter of Finwë was filled with joy.

"I don't know ... How can I be so blessed ... That so many fair maidens profess their love for me ... The only thing I know ... is that I need their love, I need to see what they are happy to be happy myself. .. I need to see them smile to be able to find the light in my life ... And now ... You confess your love to me ... But I'm uncertain of my answer ... I don't want to lie to you, so I shall tell you the truth of my heart, "Jon said, removing his hand from Írimë's face speaking seriously.

Írimë just watched Jon nervously as her thoughts darkened at the thought that he might not reciprocate her love.

"I never thought that a being as beautiful as you would notice me, Lalwen ... From the first time I saw you ... I fell in love with you ... truly I think any man would fall under your spell," Jon said with a smile.

Írimë just laughed a little.

"But you are more than just a beautiful elf maiden, and thank you ... You are cunning, funny, somewhat intimidating and terrifying ... But you are loving and wise, your hair shines like the sun, and your smile glitters like the breaking dawn," Jon said before capturing her lips in another kiss, causing all her fears to fade away.

"When you decided to join us on our journey ... I was afraid for you that something would happen to you ... But at the same time, I was happy that you were not separated from me ... I am selfish, Lalwen, very selfish, and my honour is not as great as I presume because I need you to be in my life with the others, or my heart shall be ever hollow, and that leads me to this "Jon said smiling.

"What?" Írimë asked with some fear.

"You know that I love Rhaenys and the others, they are my companions, counsellors, protectors, my loved ones, they are as dear to me as my next breath, I cannot be parted from them ... so I shall ask you plainly ... Do you truly wish to join them? ... Because I know how important marriage is to the Eldar, "Said Jon staring at her with fear in his eyes as he kissed her hands.

"Oh Jon, you needn't ask such a foolish question ... Of course I accept those terms; otherwise, I would not have shared my true feelings... I have accepted that we shall share our love," Said Írimë in a joyful tone; it seemed her happiness had illuminated the Stone of the Hapless.

Jon reached over to kiss her, but Írimë suddenly pulled away and placed a finger on Jon's lips.

"What's going on?" Jon asked, thinking that he had offended his elf princess, but she just smiled.

"Jon ... As you already know for my people, marriage is something almost absolute so that our relationship will be ... Unique in the history of my people ... But ..." Írimë said with a malicious smile.

"But?" Jon asked, starting to get nervous.

"I am the daughter of Finwë the First King of the Noldor and Indis The Beauty of the Vanyar, through my veins runs the blood of two of the lineages of my people ... And I have my pride Jon Snow you never must forget that I shall join your harem and share you with those who care for you so dearly... But it is not my intention to become a mere concubine ... My pride does not allow me such a thing ... Therefore ... It is my intention to become ... your ... Wife, "Írimë said, whispering those last words in Jon's ear.

When he felt the sweetness of her breath on his ear, Jon's face turned a lovely shade of scarlet.

"'My.. my wife? .. Lalwen ... Do you know what you're saying?" Jon said, surprised at Írimë's proposal.

"I know Jon, I know very well what it would entail ... Marriages between our peoples are not common and usually occur for a divine purpose, not to mention that they often end in tragedy ... But I can't ignore my heart nor cast aside my pride as a member of the Royal House of Finwë "Írimë said, looking at Jon with determination in her emerald eyes.

"You left me speechless, Lalwen," Jon said with an amused smile, surprised by Írimë's intentions since he never thought that a woman would propose marriage to him and less so an elf of such high lineage.

"I know some of your companions will be furious, especially Rhaenys ... But ... Well, I enjoy a good challenge, and I shall fight for our love should the need arise" Írimë said with total confidence in her beauty and grace as Jon swallowed hard as he imagined the reaction of Rhaenys and the others when they discover Írimë's intentions.

... Or mayhaps they had known Írimë's heart since the beginning, and that is why they were hostile towards her at times ... And I am the only one who did not know her intentions ... Jon understood, at last, realizing the fierce fighting for his affections.

... That's why Loras and Robar hit me on the head every moment when they start fighting ... By Eru, I'm an idiot ... Jon thought, with some embarrassment.

"Rhaenys will not handle it well ... In fact, she will be enraged," Jon said, worried about his half sister's reaction and remembering the beating that she, Arianne and Daenerys gave him when he returned from Tol Morwen for the first time.

"It may be so ... But I do not fear Rhaenys, my love," Írimë said confidently as she recalled all she had lived through during the First Age from the journey across the Helcaraxë and the wars of wrath Írimë had grown wise and strong because of these woeful years... She was far mightier than those maidens in lineage and strength, for she was the daughter of High King Finwë.

"Dark tidings are coming," thought Jon with an equal sense of joy and dread.

Írimë just laughed, and after giving Jon one last kiss, she fell asleep with her head on his chest. Jon wasted no time in following her into blissful slumber, and they both fell asleep in the moonlight near the Stone of the Hapless.

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Jon was the first to wake when he felt the pleasant rays of the mid-day sun upon his face, and at first, he was disoriented since he did not remember where he was until one by one, all the memories of the previous night came back to him.

Feeling a weight on his chest, he turned his excited gaze, and there was Írimë sleeping peacefully; the sight of a fair elven maiden glittering in the mid-day sun was a wonderful sight for Jon her dress was fluttering in the breeze, and her hair was kissed by the sea winds fluttering about her face like a beautiful golden mane.

... And she gave me her love ... Like the others ... Jon thought with a smile.

Despite how much he wanted to stay like this, Jon knew that their absence would be noticed and his brothers would come looking for him, and he would have no excuse for the closeness between them, not to mention that he will have to give explanations to Glorfindel and Maglor,

The mere thought of it sent a chill down Jon's spine as he did not want to be confronted by his mentor nor Maglor, in addition to the sour reception he would receive from Sansa and Arya... while it pained him to wake his lady love, he knew they must return to camp.

Jon began to caress Írimë's face and whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

"Lalwen .. Wake up ... Lalwen," Jon said with all the tenderness possible.

Írimë began to smile and cuddled closer to Jon, content to spend the day in his embrace.

"Lalwen, wake up", Jon said louder now, and the beautiful elf finally opened her eyes.

At first, Írimë was a bit disoriented to find herself in the middle of a hillside, but when she saw Jon's face smiling at her, she returned the smile and began to kiss him.

"Hello," Jon said, stroking her golden locks gently.

"Hello, Nin mel .. Am I still dreaming?" Írimë said, placing her head on Jon's chest.

"Perhaps we are both dreaming," Jon said, with a loving smile.

"Then it is a beautiful dream", replied Írimë without moving away from her knight.

For a few minutes, neither of them uttered a word quite content to lay there listening to the sound of the sea breeze and wailing of the gulls, feeling the other's aroma and warmth, alas they couldn't stay like this forever, and with a mutual sigh of exasperation, Jon and Írimë separated and prepared to start their day.

"I can't believe last night it seems to be but a fair dream of days past ... you have given to me what is dearest to you," Jon said, still thinking that what happened last night was a dream.

"It wasn't Jon, it was real, very real ... Like this", Írimë said, kissing Jon again but now with great force and passion, causing Jon some embarrassment; it seemed his dear Lalwen was rather amorous.

"Lalwen, Lalwen ... I must breathe," He said, struggling to draw breath much to the amusement of the noble elf lady.

"Ah ... Poor thing," Írimë said, caressing Jon's dark curls.

Despite wanting to be carried away by his new lover's caresses, Jon knew it was only a matter of time before their companions realized they weren't in their tents and came looking for them.

"Lalwen please, my lips start to hurt from kissing so much ... Besides, we have to go back to the camp, I'm already hungry and also Robar and Loras will kill me if I delay building the ship ... And we must also return before they realize that we are not there, "said Jon fighting with all his willpower to not succumb to Írimë's caresses.

"It's too late for that," Said a deep voice from behind them, breaking their moment together, causing both of them to separate abruptly.

Jon frantically searched for the voice's owner, and a few meters from them, under the shade of a tree, was Maglor dressed in a red robe and with his harp on his arm.

The look in their eyes was a mixture of sadness and surprise; both Jon and Írimë quickly got up with an expression of shame and embarrassment, especially Fëanor's half-sister for being discovered in such a situation by one of her nephews.

"Maglor…" Írimë tried to say, but Maglor sighed and shook his head.

"Please, Jon ... Let me talk to my relative alone, the others are starting to wake, and soon they will notice your absence", Maglor said with a tired expression.

"Maglor I…" Jon tried uselessly to excuse himself.

"Do it, Jon", Írimë said, caressing the face of her lover.

Although Jon did not want to leave Írimë alone in such a situation and knowing that he was also responsible, he was about to protest until he noticed the steel gaze of his beloved elf so reluctantly, but resignedly he nodded and gave Maglor an apologetic look, but to her surprise, Maglor was smiling with joy.

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When Jon left, aunt and nephew were left alone and, sighing, Maglor went to his aunt's side and, gesturing, they both sat on the grass.

"Do you disapprove, nephew?" Írimë said, observing every part of Maglor's face.

"It's ... Complicated, I have enough appreciation for Jon to support your relationship, and after what he's done for me ... I'd be delighted to call him 'relative' ..." Maglor explained.

"But you don't approve ..." Írimë said sadly.

Maglor did not reply.

"I can't tell you what to do, aunt Írimë, I can only tell you that I care deeply for both of you, I don't want you both to suffer, you and I endured the First Age, we know of the pain and anguish caused by the unions of elves and men," Said Maglor with sadness.

"I know ..." Írimë said with sadness, and when he saw her melancholy expression, he felt pity for her, taking one of her hands gently.

"But the heart rarely obeys the mind; that is why you cannot be blamed for falling in love with a mortal, especially one so extraordinary, besides Jon is a wonderful and exceptional young man, the dream of any maiden," Said Maglor amused, causing his aunt to laugh in merriment.

"I know, believe me, I know," Írimë said with a joyous smile.

"I am nobody to judge what is right or wrong since I carry countless crimes on my conscience, horrid deeds I carried out in the name of honour and family that shall now haunt me till Arda is broken, And soon I shall be judged for my crimes, and I hope that what little good I have done in this world may count for something... But still, what I say is not for the sake of a judge but for a dear woman who wishes to find hope and love in the heart of an honourable man, "Maglor said with a smile.

"Your words are beautiful as always, my dear nephew ... But I am afraid that they have been spoken too late. I have already decided to give my heart to that young mortal who has become someone precious to both of us, and nothing will change my mind; I can no longer conceive my life without him, I know that Jon's life shall be brief and glorious, so we shall create memories of such beauty that they shall be immortalized in song and verse. And when the world does break, we shall be together again in the blessed realm where our love shall be evergreen ... That is my hope now, "Írimë said with a sad smile, shedding tears.

"Great are the hopes you have for your love, my dear aunt ... But no matter how much hope and happiness await you with him by your side, many eras of suffering and sadness will also await you ... Until Arda comes to an end. .. I see that your heart is set, my dear aunt and my words shall fall on deaf ears because I am afraid that now I can only give you my blessing and wish you all the happiness you can have in your short time together, "Maglor said, starting to shed tears too.

"Thank you, Maglor, for supporting me in this difficult decision because I myself do not have the necessary wisdom to decide what to do; the decisions I have made and the words I have spoken come from my heart, not from my mind," said Írimë.

"The matters of the heart, I am afraid that they are as befuddling as the web of a spider and far more difficult to handle, alas reasons gives way to love, and beauty for there is nothing fairer than the blossoming of a new love no matter how fleeting. It shall burn gloriously and ever fair until the ending of days, and then you shall be rewarded for your faithfulness, my dear aunt," Maglor said, starting to walk towards the camp with Írimë at his side.

"Your words are as sweet as the summers wind and pure as the sea, my dear nephew, and it is as you have said ... I shall enjoy the love we share in these happy days then I shall wait bitterly for our reunion upon the starlit sea ... This is the great hope I now keep in my heart, "Írimë said, placing a hand over her heart.

Maglor no longer answered because he understood that everything that could have been said was said and that his aunt had utterly fallen in love with his dear friend even though he belonged to a different lineage; thus, he will bless this happy union and pray to Eru that their days may be blessed.

"Aunt .. May I entertain you with a song while we walk to camp?" Maglor said with a sad smile.

Hearing such a request, Írimë now smiled with happiness because it had been thousands of years since she had listened to the beauty of Maglor's music.

"Nothing would please more", said Írimë smiling happily, and her nephew began to strum his harp and sing a lovely rendition of Beren and Lúthien rather fitting thought Írimë.

Upon hearing Maglor's songs again, Írimë was happy for, but a few moments until she remembered the actions of her niece while she was grateful to Galadriel for healing Jon of the dragon's sickness, she still bonded her spirit to Jon's, and this did not sit well with Írimë. Although for a moment she thought to tell Maglor, she decided not to as that would have ruined her nephew's scant good mood along with his lovely melody.

She just wanted to spend time with Maglor and enjoy this time with him before he leaves again for the Blessed Realm and the judgment of Mandos.

But Írimë would not forget the actions of Artanis, and when next they met, she would have words with Artanis concerning her actions.

-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- ------------

Everyone was surprised to see Jon return from the direction of the tomb of Túrin, they had assumed that he had gotten up early to venture along the southern shore, but Robar, Sansa and Anárion noticed that his hair was a mess and he was still wearing his nightshift suspiciously covered on grass and dirt.

When Lady Írimë and Maglor returned to the camp, they noticed that she too was covered in grass and her hair was a mess.

That was enough for the three of them to intuit that something had happened between Jon and Írimë the night before, but neither spoke on the subject, although Sansa and Arya were filled with jealousy and anger when they imagined Jon spending the night with the beautiful daughter of Finwë.

At that moment, everyone was calm, enjoying breakfast until Jon asked a question that he had wanted to ask Maglor since he told him of the mercy of Lord Manwë.

"Maglor…" Jon said, looking up to see his emaciated friend.

"Yes, Jon?" Asked the son of Fëanor with interest.

"I'd like to ask you something ... though I understand if you don't wish to discuss the subject," Jon said.

"What is it about?" Jon's mentor asked with interest.

"What will you do when you return to Aman? ... I know you will have to appear before Lord Manwë and Lord Namo, but where shall you go once the sentence is given?" Jon asked curiously.

Indeed it seems that everyone was curious of Maglor's intentions as he had rarely spoken about his return to the blessed isle; Maglor was silent, seemingly deep in thought and then, he sighed and smiled broadly.

"That is a good question, and your answer depends on the mercy of the Valar", replied the powerful singer with apprehension.

The reason was understood by most of those present, except for one person.

"What do you mean?" Arya asked curiously as she devoured some ballas.

The rest except Sansa looked at her in surprise and feared Maglor's reaction, but he only smiled at the innocence on Arya's face.

"Because ... My fair Lady... I still do not know if the Valar will allow me to see my family and my wife first ... Or if it is their wish that I appear before the Elder King and the Lord of Damnation in Máhanaxar as soon as I step on the Blessed Kingdom "Maglor said with a sad smile.

"But why? Yes, you did bad things, but. .. They are your family!" Said the little wolf remembering the fact that she may not be able to see Bran and Rickon, her last siblings, again because her father, mother and brother Robb were killed by those damn lions.

"Arya!" Sansa reprimanded her younger sister for her outburst, believing that it would annoy the "Lord of the Bards", but Maglor stopped her with an easy smile.

"I am afraid, my little wolf ... That ere the world was young I had taken a terrible oath alongside my brothers to retrieve our fathers most treasured creations, the Silmarils and to avenge the death of my grandfather the High King Finwë who was slain by the Great Enemy, in that wretched Oath we named Lord Manwë and Varda as witness. The hallowed mountain of Taniquetil, vowing to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World Vala, Demon, Elf or Man as yet unborn, or any creature, great or small, good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso should hold or take or keep a Silmaril from our possession. "Said Maglor with tears in eyes when remembering those dark times.

"We know the story. My Lord," Sansa said, giving Arya a sour look for reminding Lord Maglor of those dark days.

"Then you will understand that although the King of Arda allowed me to return to Valinor, and though it fills my heart with joy, it does mean I have been forgiven for my barbarity. That is why I may not be able to see my family and present myself directly to Lord Namo, "Maglor said with a slight apprehension in his voice.

"What will Namo be like?" Arya asked out loud, and surprisingly, Jon pinched her cheek hard.

"JON!" The little wolf cried out for the pain her cousin caused her.

"It is" Lord "Namo... Arya have more respect; he is one of the" Aratar ". He is the keeper of the Houses of the Dead, and the summoner of the spirits of the slain. He forgets nothing, and he knows all things that shall be, save only those that lie still in the freedom of Ilúvatar. He is the Doomsman of the Valar, but he pronounces his dooms and his Judgements only at the bidding of Manwë. Vairë the Weaver is his spouse, who weaves all things that have ever been in Time into her storied webs, and the halls of Mandos that ever widen as the ages pass are clothed with them. ..." said Jon, annoyed by his cousin's lack of respect.

The way Jon reprimanded Arya took everyone by surprise since they had never seen Jon get upset with her that only demonstrated the love and awe that the young dragon felt for the Valar, and it is rather foolish to forgo reverence of a god who shall judge you once your spirit leaves Arda.

"damned fool.." Arya said with tears in her eyes, complaining of the pain on her cheek.

Seeing her savage younger sister being reprimanded by Jon like that for her disrespect caused Sansa to chuckle.

"Have you never spoken to Lord Namo, Jon?" Sansa asked curiously, but Jon shook his head.

"No, Sansa, I have never spoken to Lord Namo, only to Lord Ulmo and Lord Manwë ... Although I heard him speak once ... His voice was like that of Lord Manwë and Lord Ulmo. Ancient, wise and powerful beyond the understanding of any mortal man ... But while the Elder King and the Lord of the Waters' voices had kindness in them, the voice of the "Lord of the Dead and Destiny" had no mirth nor cheer like bitter iron. He was hard, cold and without compassion ... It was a terrifying experience to hear him speak, "Said Jon remembering the pronouncement of the" Mandos´s Curse ".

The same was remembered by Loras and Robar, who turned pale at the mere mention of the Doomsman, Glorfindel, who did not wish to dwell on that dark moment in the history of the Noldor, decided to satisfy the curiosity of the Stark sisters.

"If you wish so much, I can tell you about the" Lord of the Dead ... "The noble elf said with a smile when he saw that both girls quickly nodded.

"Namo... Is Irmo and Nienna's older brother," Glorfindel said to Sansa's surprise.

"Is he Nienna's brother?" Sansa asked.

"That's right, Lady Nienna regularly visits her brother's home because Namo lives in his fortress .." The Halls of Command, "where he summons and guards the spirits of the elves and dead men and his sister Nienna goes there to give them wisdom and strength to the spirits that dwell there ... That is why Namo is also known as "Mandos" because of his place of residence ", said Glorfindel.

"Lord Namo sounds rather cruel," Arya said, listening with interest to the tale about the Valar of the dead and fate but remembering to show respect so that Jon wouldn't reprimand her.

"You have no idea... Little wolf," said Robar drinking from his beer.

"Robar is right .. Lord Mandos knows and remembers almost all the things that were and will be. Except for those that Ilúvatar does not wish to be known. As Jon has said, Mandos serves as the Judge of the Valar but only pronounces his judgments by order of Manwë. Lord Mandos and Lord Manwë have always been allies since they entered Eä, and together they understand Ilúvatar's vision more clearly than any of the other Valar, "Glorfindel continued.

"He is the most powerful Valar?" Arya asked with an excited smile which made everyone laugh a little.

"No, the Valar have a hierarchy among them, little sister, the most important thing is the authority they received from Erú, Lord Manwë was the one who received the greatest authority for that reason he is the King of the Valar and representative of Erú in this world.. . But that doesn't make him the most powerful, "Jon said.

"And who is?" I wonder now Sansa curious to learn more about the Valar.

"That would be Tulkas" Greatest in strength and deeds of prowess is Tulkas, who is surnamed Astaldo, the Valiant. He came last to Arda to aid the Valar in the first battles with Melkor. He delights in wrestling and in contests of strength, and he rides no steed, for he can outrun all things that go on feet, and he is tireless. His hair and beard are golden, and his flesh ruddy; his weapons are his hands. He has little heed for either the past or the future and is of no avail as a counsellor but is a hardy friend. His spouse is Nessa, the sister of Oromë, "Maglor said.

But going back to the 'Lord of the Dead' Mandos is said to be the darkest of the Valar. However, this in no way implies that Mandos is dark or evil. His severity is entirely part of his nature, hailing from that same recesses of Ilúvatar's mind that Namo emerged from. Namo is not willful or malevolent in declaring Arda's fate ... only that he is dispassionate and can be very harsh and relentless, "Glorfindel said.

Hearing the way Glorfindel described Namo, both Sansa and Arya shared a look of sadness as they both had the same idea ... If Namo watched over the spirits of the dead, wouldn't there be a possibility that her parents, as well as her brother Robb, would they have met him? and if so, would he have granted them mercy for their actions?

Seeing his cousins with such a sad expression, Jon did not take long to imagine what they were thinking about, their family who were slain before their time ... Jon felt compassion for them since those deaths still haunted them, thanks to the elves and the Valar, Jon has learned to let go of his pain ... But Sansa and Arya have not.

"Sansa, Arya... I'm sure that all whom we have loved and lost have come to the Halls of Mandos and faced judgement, but that does not mean that something evil has befallen them, Namo is not cruel, and although he guards the souls of the elves until the end of the world or that they reincarnate, the races of men do not share this fate" said Jon remembering the wisdom that the elves brought from the West.

"What do you speak of, Jon?" Loras asked, intrigued.

"Yes, what do you mean?" Arya asked.

"We the mortals possess the so-called 'Gift of Men" Jon replied solemnly to the confusion of the Stark sisters who had never heard that term, but Maglor, Írimë and Glorfindel were surprised that Jon knew about it.

"The Gift of Men?" Arya asked.

"Yes ... Although I don't have a great understanding of the subject", Jon acknowledged humbly while Glorfindel sighed.

"It is one with this gift of freedom that the children of Men dwell only a short space in the world alive and are not bound to it and depart soon whither the Elves know not. Whereas the Elves remain until the end of days... For the Elves did not till the world dies unless they are slain or waste in grief... But the sons of Men die indeed and leave the world; wherefore they are called the Guests, or the Strangers. Death is their fate, the gift of Ilúvatar, which as Time wears, even the Powers shall envy. But Melkor had cast his shadow upon it, and confounded it with darkness, and brought forth evil out of good, and fear out of hope. Yet of old the Valar declared to the Elves in Valinor that Men shall join in the Second Music of the Ainur; whereas Ilúvatar has hot revealed what he purposes for the Elves after the world's end.., "Glorfindel said to the stunned girls who had little knowledge of such complex lore.

"We didn't know that," Arya said with her mouth open in shock.

"No, not at all", Sansa said, shaking her head in a very comical way.

"For our people, going to the Ranches of Mandos is an option, but it is not the same with you ... Those of the race of Men go to Mandos whether you wish it or not", Írimë spoke for the first time in the conversation.

"But why? that's not fair," Arya said in an annoyed tone.

"That is the will of Erú little one, and the will of Erú cannot be contradicted," Glorfindel said sternly, causing Arya to swallow hard.

"When the men die Arya, it is said that we will go to the Halls of Mandos with the elves, but unlike them, we will be freed from Arda and the limits of this world, and we will go to a hidden place and there we shall rest free from our sorrows and sufferings, "said Jon speaking gravely.

"Truly? ... Does that mean that my family has ventured there, to that unknown place?" Sansa asked with tears in her eyes as she thought of her family waiting in the Halls of Mandos until the time came to depart this world and fate is indeed cruel; it seems they would be parted unto the breaking of Arda.

She couldn't apologize to her father for her stupidity, nor would she ever see her mother and Robb again.

Jon only nodded sadly when he saw Sansa's expression, understanding that no word of comfort would mitigate her grief.

"Then we will never see them again?" Winterfell's eldest daughter asked, her eyes flecked with dears as the grief of her trials finally overwhelmed her.

"Dear Sansa, we are all children of Eru, he fashioned the Quendi to be the fairest of all earthly creatures...; and they shall have the greater bliss in this world. But to the Atani or men, he bestowed an even greater gift.' he willed that the hearts of Men should seek beyond the world and should find no rest therein, but we should have a virtue to shape our lives..., beyond the Music of the Ainur, when we depart from this world we shall find Father, Robb and your mother waiting for us... We will see them again .. and I am quite certain that our reunion shall be a happy one, "Jon said, hoping to console Sansa.

Sansa smiled slightly at Jon's words and quickly ran and hugged him tightly while Jon, surprised by his cousin's reaction, returned the hug, hoping to bring her some peace.

But as Jon comforted Sansa, Arya remembered what Syrio and Jaqen H'ghar had taught her during their time together:

... The gift of death is part of the natural order of things and a merciful end to suffering ...

.... The only god is death ... And there is only one thing to say to death ... Not today …

Arya had always kept those words in mind since she escaped from King's Landing and watched the devastation of the war in Riverlands, but now her cousin's words made her realize that death was much more than the end of suffering.

 Arya understood now that death was not a god to worship at all. Although Syrio and Jaqen's words had no malice and did not seek to harm her. After learning about the Halls of Mandos and what her cousin called The Gift of Men, the little She-wolf began to think for some reason that the words of her former mentors were impious, blasphemies, as if there was a darkness in them that neither Jaqen nor Syrio knew about.

Arya just meditated on that as Jon continued to comfort Sansa.

"I apologize Maglor, it seems that since I came to Middle Earth, I have acquired the habit of telling stories," Jon said, separating from Sansa.

Maglor, on the other hand, smiled without worry.

"Do not apologize, Jon; your cousins must learn about the two lineages of the Children of Ilúvatar as well as the Valar; I also have to congratulate you, Jon, you are a really eloquent man, your voice rings with the same power as Fingolfin?" Maglor said with satisfaction to Jon's embarrassment.

"Yes, Jon has a beautiful voice and many other talents ... But I think it's time to get on with the work," said Robar getting up after finishing breakfast.

Jon sighed and nodded in agreement.

"Robar is right, although I enjoy telling stories... We have work to do," said Jon getting up from the ground.

"Very well, in that case, young Westerosi, little Arya and I will go to the beach to start training," Glorfindel said as Arya gulped.

"Well ... Loras, come on", Jon said as his brother in arms continued to eat breakfast indifferently around him.

"I'm eating," said the Knight of Flowers, annoyed at being interrupted.

"Alright, finish up and follow us... The deck of the ship should be finished no later than tomorrow," Jon grunted as Loras shrugged.

"Good," Loras said as he continued to devour his plate, much to the annoyance of his brothers.

"Go, Robar," Jon said as Robar nodded.

"I will join you shortly, my friends," Anárion said, finishing his boar.

"Don't worry, King Anárion," Jon said.

Írimë, who remained silent, just got up and went to Jon's side.

"Do not exhaust yourself, Jon, you have worked diligently, and I fear that you are taxing yourself; I would rather that you are here to see my nephew off", Írimë said, thinking that Jon was overexerting himself.

"Don't worry, my Lady Lalwen ... I'll take care of myself", Jon replied with a smile while Írimë returned the smile and leaning a little kiss on Jon on the forehead.

"Well, good luck," Said Maglor's aunt, smiling, who no longer cared about hiding her affection for Jon.

While Sansa and Arya were increasingly upset and jealous of the love and pampering that Jon received from the beautiful elf and the rest of his lovers.

The Stark sisters were going to great lengths to hide their jealousy and frustration whenever one of Jon's mistresses showered him with affection. Still, while Arya became irritated because she believed they were taking her time and attention away from her dear cousin, Sansa becomes furious and embarrassed as the feelings of sisterly love she once felt for Jon were transforming into something more, it burned through her soul like the blessed sun all-consuming and sinful.

It made her blush to see him work with his chest exposed; almost every night, she had dreams where Jon would sing to her or rescue her from foul monsters and wicked bandits.

But last night, Sansa had a very particular dream:

-----------------------------------

In that dream, they were in front of the heart tree in the forest of gods of Winterfell at a night party, but Sansa realized that she was wearing a satin cloak wolf of Stark embroidered upon the back while her father led her to the heart tree wearing his best doublet and cloak.

In that beautiful dream, Sansa could see her entire family, her mother Catelyn, her brothers Robb, Bran, and Rickon, as well as Arya, who wore a beautiful silken dress and several of her father's vassals there along with some servants of the castle such as Septa Mordane and her former companions like Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel.

Many of the elves that Sansa had met in Middle-Earth were present, such as Darana and her brother Nerven, King Gil-Galad with Lord Elrond and his wife, Lady Celebrian and Lady Galadriel and her husband Celeborn and some others.

And standing before the heart tree was the man who had captured her heart; though he was far older, he wore his hair long flowing down to his shoulders in a black mane, and he had grown a beard a wild, thick and fierce thing he looked as the ancient winter kings come again.

He was clad in a glittering raiment of silver and steel and upon his brow was a diadem of silver, and he wore the cloak of dragon-hide secured by a delicate silver broach, standing next to Jon was Lord Círdan beaming with pride.

Upon reaching the tree, Jon extended his arm, and Sansa took it gladly, but when the Lord of the Gray Havens was about to speak, her dream ended suddenly, and there was once she woke up because Arya accidentally kicked her awake.

A confused Sansa did not understand why she was furious with her sister for interrupting that dream.

... Lie, if you know ... Said the accusing voice of her conscience.

"It was my wedding ... I dreamed of my wedding, my wedding with Jon ... A wedding that I will never have", A sad Sansa murmured as she understood the nature of her dream, lamenting because she knew that for She would always be his younger sister and she was already married because of machinations of the freakish little shit Baelish and his master Tywin.

After calming down, Sansa laid down her thoughts drawn to Lord Tyrion ... her husband.

... I don't know if he's still alive, but if he somehow managed to save himself, I hope he is doing well, wherever he is ...

But those feelings of sadness and sorrow did not leave her knowing that Jon would never see her as a woman and that she did not know that Lord Tyrion was the only one in King's Landing who protected her from the mad lion's tantrums Sansa vowed if she ever saw him again, she would repay his kindness.

... But Lord Tyrion is probably already dead ... Sansa thought sadly of going back to sleep.

------------------------------------------------

Remembering the dream that she had last night filled Sansa with shame, frustration and sadness because even though she finally found a true knight worthy of fairytales, he already had the love of six beautiful maidens whom he adored above all else, and Jon would never reciprocate her feelings since he would never see her as anything more than a little sister.

Upon understanding this, a saddened Sansa decided to return to her weaving while waiting for Jon and the others to complete that ship.

"That's all I can do ..." Winterfell's eldest daughter muttered sadly.

-------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------

It took two months until the ship was finally completed, the work was backbreaking, but it was far less arduous than Jon had expected since there is no doubt that that the help of Anárion and Mariners that had accompanied them had made the task far more bearable.

The Westerosi, the Westernese, and the three elves gazed in wonder at the beautiful ship they had created with sweat and effort.

It was a small boat compared to the one they had come to, but it was much more beautiful and faster.

The prow was fashioned like an eagle, and golden were its oars and white its timbers, hewn in the oak of Tol Morwena and Birch of Annúminas, and its sails were like glittering silver and upon its face was the sigil of the house of Fëanor a silver star of many rays."

Its name was Nénar oira, "or star eternal in the common tongue.

"It's beautiful, Jon, everyone", Maglor said, shedding tears when he saw the ship that would take him back to his home. He stood next to Írimë, who was just as tearful when she knew that Maglor would finally leave the cursed island.

"Yes, indeed," said Jon, satisfied to see the work that he and the others achieved.

"Yes, it is the best ship that I have seen among my people; I would dare to say that since the days of Tar-Aldarion, a ship of this calibre has not been built", Said Anárion seeing with happiness the ship that he had helped to build and even the sailors who had come from Arnor were also satisfied with the result.

"Wow," Arya said when she saw the ship that her brother built.

"Remarkable", Sansa said, agreeing with her sister.

At that moment, Robar sighed and decided to say something that no one had dared to speak.

"Beautiful, yes... But tell me, how will Maglor sail it to Aman?"

Robar's words filled everyone with doubts because it was true, a single sailor could never handle a ship like that alone, and they were sure that the Valar would never allow a mortal to accompany one of the firstborn again, but the problem was that no elf would want to travel with Maglor, everyone was sure of that.

The thought was so daunting that for a few moments, everyone felt their effort were in vain.

Until something extraordinary happened ... As if the sea had heard their pleas and felt their hopelessness, the sky began to fill with clouds, and a strong wind was felt throughout the place, the wind seemed to come from the West.

"What is happening!?" Loras asked, alarmed by the sudden change of weather until the wind stopped, but the clouds did not clear; in fact, they were slowly changing their appearance until they assumed the shape of a great eagle in the sky, leaving everyone alarmed and nervous.

"I think the Valar sent us a message," Said Robar, fearful of having provoked the wrath of the "Powers of the World", something that everyone on the island feared too; for a few moments, Jon feared that the Elder king had changed his mind about revoking the exile of Maglor.

"Indeed that is one of Lord Manwë's warnings," Said Anárion, frightened, remembering when "The King's Men" were warned to stop cease their enmity of the Valar or perpetuate their hatred with the elves.

Did they do something wrong? Was the King of Arda warning them of something? Had they offended the Valar in any way?

But while everyone was debating any possible offence they had unintentionally committed, a light suddenly began to shine on the water below the ship and began to spread out, forming a straight path through the water, as if the stars will form a course for the ship.

"Jon, look!" An astonished Sansa yelled, pointing towards the ocean.

Jon watched where his cousin was pointing and marvelled at the path of light in the sea as it was so beautiful that none dared to speak for fear that it would disappear.

Arya didn't answer but went to her cousin and held his left arm tightly as if drawing strength from him.

"It seems to me, Jon, that is your answer," Glorfindel said, unable to hide his amazement and his joy at knowing that the Valar were not upset with them.

"Praised be the mercy of the Valar", Maglor said, shedding tears of joy.

"There is your course, dear nephew," Írimë said, kissing Maglor on the cheek.

"Indeed, I will finally return home after so many centuries, "The mighty singer cried when he saw the path that the Valar prepared for him.

"Well, you'll have to load the ship with supplies first," Jon said with a smile hugging his friend and mentor.

"Yes, oh my patience is running out; I long to see the beautiful City of Tirion on Tuna again, to see my mother and my beloved wife... Oh, I am terrified that I will not be able to stay here any longer, Jon," Said Maglor, excited.

"Then let us prepare the voyage, my friend," Said the young Targaryen with a smile.

Everyone who was able to load supplies and water to Maglor's magnificent little ship did so, and in just half an hour, the ship was ready to depart for the Blessed Kingdom.

Knowing that an entirely mortal creation would carry out such an endeavour filled everyone with pride and joy as they believed that they will be remembered by her as the heroes of the First Age, but Jon also felt sad because he knew that it was very likely that this was the last time he would see Maglor as a mortal, he could not really visit the Blessed Realm no matter how much great his need and desire.

When everything was ready and the loaded ship Maglor approached the ship. His beautiful harp in arms, barely containing his excitement, stopped in front of the gang-plank. "I still fear that this is a dream, and soon I shall wake," Said the noble elf, shedding tears.

"Nephew, tis no dream but blessed truth," Írimë said, also crying with happiness.

"Yes, you are right, for no dream could be as fair and joyous as this," Maglor said, now directing his gaze towards Westerosi and Westernesse bowing through tears.

"You have no idea what you did for me of great men of Arnor, since the end of the War of Wrath, I lost hope of ever returning home, and now, thanks to your kindness and mercy, I will finally see the blessed realm again and embrace my wife whom I have missed dearly ... Go now with the blessing eternal of my house and my gratitude, "Said the powerful singer before he took up his harp and began to play the last song he would compose upon the shores of Middle Earth one that Jon knew quite well as he had sung it some four years ago.

Day is ended, dim my eyes,

but journey long before me lies.

Farewell, friends! I hear the call.

The ship's beside the stony wall.

Foam is white, and waves are grey;

beyond the sunset leads my way.

Foam is salt, the wind is free;

I hear the rising of the Sea.

Farewell, friends! The sails are set,

the wind is east, the moorings fret.

Shadows long before me lie,

beneath the ever-bending sky,

but islands lie behind the Sun

that I shall raise ere all is done;

lands there are to west of West,

where night is quiet, and sleep is rest.

Guided by the Lonely Star,

beyond the utmost harbour-bar

I'll find the havens fair and free,

and beaches of the Starlit Sea.

Ship, my ship! I seek the West,

and fields and mountains ever blest.

Farewell to Middle-earth at last.

I see the Star above your mast!

It was such a beautiful song that magnificently combined joy and sorrow, reducing everyone to tears; when he finished, Maglor approached Jon.

"Thank you very much, Jon; you don't know how sorry I am that this is most likely the last time we see each other ..." Maglor said sadly as he separated from his dear friend and apprentice.

"Me too, Maglor," Jon said, crying in the same way.

"In that case, my friend... Take this," Maglor said, handing his golden harp to a stunned Jon.

"But I cannot…"

"It is a gift, Jon, so that when you touch it, you will always have me in your memory," Maglor said tearfully.

Jon took the harp in tears.

"I will never forget you, my friend ... Have a good trip," Jon said as final parting words to Maglor, who nodded and said goodbye to his aunt Írimë who, after saying goodbye to Maglor, went with Jon and took his hand.

"I wish you both all the happiness in the journey you decided to undertake ... May Erú bless your union ... And Jon, I entrust my beloved aunt and her happiness to you," Maglor said with a smile when he saw the expression of embarrassment upon Jon and Írimë's faces.

Then Maglor was thanking Loras, Robar, Anárion and the sailors who helped build his ship, in addition to wishing Sansa and Arya luck and happiness as well as taking care of Jon, all to end with Glorfindel, asking for forgiveness again for the betrayal that the House of Fëanor made the Houses of Fingolfin and Finarfin suffer by making them cross the path of the Helcaraxe.

But the Lord of the Golden Flowers told him that everything was forgiven and to leave in peace, and Maglor thanked him greatly.

Finally, with the goodbyes finished, Maglor boarded the Nénar oira and weighted the anchor, and suddenly a new wind now came from the East. Still, this wind was pleasant and sweet; it propelled the ship of Maglor, who embarked again to the Blessed Kingdom, giving him a last look at the island that was his home for centuries and the young mortals who helped him overcome his grief. And so upon the shores of Tol Morwen, the lords of Westeros and Westernesse bid farewell to the last son of Fëanor who now sailed upon the western winds to evergreen country under fair blue skies.