A week after Tiriel, Gildor, Finnel, and Cirdan left Eriador; they traveled through the beautiful forests to Mithlond.
“Father! It’s beautiful. You’ve built over the years since I was last here.”
“Of course I have! It’s not the same as Brithombar, but it’s home,” said Cirdan as he was laughing.
“You still have steps leading to the Sea,” Gildor said in disbelief.
“Why shouldn’t I,” Cirdan replied, sounding insulted.
Tiriel laughed. “Father, Gildor, please behave yourselves! This is not the time for jokes!”
“Yes, Lady Tiriel, it is a time for jokes. Apparently your Father and husband enjoy tormenting each other,” said Finnel who was trying to sound serious.
Everyone broke into hysterical laughter as they approached the main building of the city.
“Welcome to your humble abode,” Cirdan said with a flourish of his hands.
They dismounted and received a grand tour of the house. The house was home to many Elves, all of whom were able shipbuilders, fishermen, and hunters. Tiriel, Gildor, Finnel and Cirdan all had apartments on the same floor. Each floor was complete with a study and small kitchen. That evening Tiriel and Gildor went to the steps after dinner. They sat under the stars, on the steps, with Gildor’s arms around Tiriel.
“The stars are shining brightly tonight, Eärelen.”
“Why shouldn’t they, my love?”
Gildor laughed. “Do you think what your Father, Elrond and Gil-galad say is true?”
“In my heart I know it is. Morgoth is forever punished, but Sauron remains. He will prove to be a great nemesis that only the line of Earendil will be able to destroy with help from every race. Don’t ask me how I know that, but I do.”
“I’ve learned to trust your judgements, Eärelen. I do not doubt you; I never have and never will. And I promise you now that I will never leave you alone in Middle-earth.”
“I promise you the same, my love.”
They spent most of the night watching the stars. They spent many years in Mithlond, watching, training and waiting for it to begin again. They only had to wait until 1693.
A messenger arrived from Eriador with a package and letter for Cirdan. Tiriel escorted the messenger to her father on the pier.
“Lord Cirdan, I am Rávo. King Gil-galad sent me with this package and letter for you alone.”
“Thank you, Rávo. Would you like some refreshments before you return?”
“Yes, I would. Many thanks, Lord Cirdan.”
“Tiriel, would you kindly show Rávo to the kitchens.”
“Of course, Father. Come with me.”
Tiriel led Rávo to the kitchens, wondering what Gil-galad had sent her father. Meanwhile at the pier, Cirdan was just as curious what the letter said. He was shocked when he read the letter:
My old friend,
I am sorry for sending this to you so suddenly. You must keep this in hiding. Tell no one you have it, except for Tiriel and Gildor. This was made in Eregion under the guidance of someone we have long known was still here. The ring is pure, but the heart of its creator is not. It was created by Elves, but under his guidance. War is upon us now-he has been revealed and has returned to Mordor, but I fear for the Númenoreans. Keep watch my old friend and care for Narya, the ring of fire.
Farwell for now,
Later that evening when he showed the ring to Tiriel and Gildor…
“Father! This is dangerous, very dangerous.”
“As most wars and secrets are, Tiriel,” said Cirdan.
“Now we must build on what we started. How I hate to see war again,” Gildor said with a sad smile.
“Yes, as we all do,” said Cirdan.
Night was falling on Middle-earth again, but now men had a large role to play in the outcome of the night. Would night remain or give way to day?