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‘What purpose is that, Lómwë?’ The question spilled from Endamir’s lips without thinking. He scuffed the toe of his right boot in the thin layer of dirt, tracing a faint spiral that coiled and recoiled upon itself. ‘For my part, I must say I’m beginning to lose what enthusiasm I had for this venture. I cannot think anymore the past will lay itself to rest when I’ve clapped eyes on old haunts of mine or set foot upon familiar places.’ With a certain deliberateness, he scuffed out the design he’d made. ‘And now I think further on it, the past will not suffer my tears, either. The burden of my former deeds will not diminish were I to weep as many drops as fills this unrelenting sea.’ He chewed the inner corner of his lip, looking up to cast his gaze out over the waters. ‘The journey, so far, has at least been good for this discovery.’ Endamir glanced back at Lómwë, his grey eyes narrowed as he peered toward the man in a thoughtful manner.
‘And now even my other pretexts for being here seem falsely reasoned.’ He nodded toward Malris as he sat talking to Tasa, the long gold of her hair mingling with his short dark locks as her head bent near his, sharing some thought. ‘He has no need of me. Nor I of him. Our bond has dissolved. Gone to ash. Even now the winds that stir here blow those frail ties away.’
Endamir bent down and picked up a pebble from the rocky ground. ‘And this old place . . .’ he went on, skipping the shard across a short, dusty area. His eyes flicked up dismissively to where the crumbling fortress stood in the distance. ‘Its glories fade more with each step my feet take. The memories of it retreat into ashes, too . . .’
He stepped back from the downward spiral his thoughts had taken. What had stirred them so deeply and in so ill a manner? ‘Your pardon, Lómwë,’ he said looking at his companion. ‘I had not meant to weigh you down with such burdensome maunderings. Who am I to question your purpose? You have your own needs to consider without taking on the onus of mine.’
In the distance, Endamir could hear the waters of the sea washing relentlessly up on the rocky strand below and the soft . . . whishhh . . . of the retreating foam as it drew back out again.
Brother! he called to Orëmir. You were right. I should have listened to your counsel . . . I . . .
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