[piosenniel]

Endamir bit back the curt words that were forming just behind his tight pressed lips. They had been bickering back and forth for nearly a year now, each unwilling to accept the other’s decision. All the arguments had played and replayed; all the fine points they had mustered would not serve to sway their decisions. Nor would an injured tone, or worse yet a bitter one.

There had been a subtle change in Orëmir’s phrasings just now, he thought. His brother had left the possibility open that he and Endamir would take separate roads when this last task was done. And he’d voiced it in a gently offered way. Endamir softened at his twin’s words, and taking Oremir’s hand in his own, he cradled it against his cheek. ‘I will tell our mother and father that you kept your vow and were my defense against any who might keep me from returning home.’ He leaned forward, bringing his forehead in to rest against his brother’s. ‘And if at the last you still remain firm in your decision to stay here, in Middle-earth, when my ship leaves, then know I will keep watch for you and rejoice in the day when the white ship brings you home at last to me.’

They stayed locked in their communion for a space of time; the hard-edged barriers they had built between themselves, dissolving. Then, the voice of Tasa, raised in challenge, recalled them from their rediscovered affinity.

Of the two, Endamir was the first to turn his gaze to her. She had voiced her concerns and now demanded an explanation. Well said, Tasa! he thought, lending her his support. ‘What will he say, I wonder, in his defense,’ he said quietly to his brother, speaking loud enough though, that Lindir and Lómwë might pick up his words.