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After a short moment, Lómwë also dismounted and followed after Tasarënì. As he stepped onto the harbor Malris’ words drifted out to meet him: “…I called her the Ghostbearer. I believe I bear ghosts of the mind and the memory within me now...do you feel it also? Well...at Himring we will lay them to rest. And then,” he finished with a wry chuckle, “then, I’ll...we’ll...confess that the Valar have defeated me. I do not know if it is healing or surrender. Or both.” Defeat? wondered Lómwë, not paying attention to the response. No… not defeat. Surrender? In a way. And ghosts? Certainly, though I speak of them not.
He strode into sight as Tasa was being greeted. Malris was there, of course, and also the brothers, Orëmir and Endamir, as he recalled, none of whom he had seen for a long length of time. He did not know that any could be called friends, per se, though they shared a history together, and that meant something.
“Mae govannen,” he greeted them. “It has been a long time.”
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