Earendil was a young mariner. He spent all of his life on ships with his parents. He loved the sea, he would happily sail and sail until the end of the world.
His father said once that Earendil was born on the ship and probably will never really live on the land.
These words were probably the best description of him. His days were usually full of work and excitement. On ships there was always work to do: things to control, things to fix, things to notice and explore. He was a great swimmer and loved the underwater world.
There was never such as longing for the land in his soul… or it was like this. But a few weeks ago Earendil noticed something new under the water, on the bottom of the coral reef. It was a shiny rock, or so he thought, but then he tried to clean it by brushing a dirty thing on his suit’s material. Free from the dirt, white shine, as if he had a star in his hand, blinked him without warning. He tried to throw it and swim away so fast, to help himself, to return to the ship or whatever, but he hit the stone wall with his head and lost consciousness. He was lucky that he was under water with his uncle, Maeglin, who noticed the accident and pulled him up to the ship.
But it was too late.
In Earendil’s mind dreams, nightmares and illusions of a flying ship, war and two sweet, identical brothers looking at the sky, bloomed like a garden in spring.
He dreamed about twins playing at the beach and finding shells in the water. He dreamed about twins running around a woman in a gray dress. He dreamed and dreamed, and dreamed - and every next dream was more real than the ones before.
There was no such thing as peace for his soul and mind. Uncle Maeglin, looking at his tired eyes, ordered the return of their ship to the port. Uncle Maeglin was slim and small, he barely reached with his head to Earendil’s arm. But he doesn’t have any belief that he would be against his uncle. Uncle was smart. Earendil doesn’t want to return home tied under the deck.
***
It happened on the beach.
Earendil walked helplessly on the bright sand, gazing longingly at the sea. When his uncle told his parents about his ongoing nightmares and anxiety, his father decreed that Earendil must stay on land until he recovered.
Earendil would never recover on land! He existed for the sea, the waves, the ships. He existed to swim.... Otherwise he did not exist.
He was wading and listening to the sound of the waves when a warning, panicked cry rang out, and then a small boy ran straight into him. The child fell, and colorful seashells spilled out of his bucket.
"Excuse me!"
"It's... It's nothing... Nothing happened," Earendil looked down dully, and his heart hit painfully hard against his ribs.
The boy from his dream, a small dark-haired treasure with gray eyes, was crouching on the sand and collecting his seashells back into the bucket.
That was him.
Earendil had been having these dreams for so long, and they were all so bright and clear. It was him!
"Let me help you," he stiffly leaned over, placing the seashells in the bucket. "Are your caretakers not far away? I'll walk you out," he offered uncertainty.
Were there two of them?
Did he have a twin? In his dreams, there were always two of them.
"They're close," the boy assured, but agreed to let Earendil walk with him across the crowded beach.
In the shade of a large bridge entering the sea, on a spacious blanket resembling a pond with water lilies, sat a heavily built, light-skinned man with a thick, tumbled beard and such hair. He had deep blue eyes. If he had a trident, he might as well have been walking on the beach and taking pictures with people as Poseidon or some other divine creature. The man had a second boy on his lap, identical to the one next to Earendil. They were stacking shells from the second bucket, dividing them into types. They were both very focused. At the other end of the blanket sat a much slimmer man, with slightly sun-marked, golden skin and large, dark eyes. He had black hair braided and pinned up on top of his head in a sort of bun. A wooden harp lay abandoned beside him. He was unpacking sandwiches and drinks from the tourist refrigerator.
"Dad, Ulmo! I have many more seashells!" The boy left Earendil's side to run to the man with the braid.
It hurt.
Earendil shuddered, and the sweet twins from his dreams began happily showing each other the shells they had collected.
"Who is it, Elros?" The man with the braid looked at Earendil suspiciously.
"Ah! I bumped into him by accident and all my shells spilled out!" Explained the boy vigorously. "But he helped me clean them up and wanted to make sure I got back to my parents for sure."
"Well," the man with the braid rose and approached Earendil. "In that case, thank you for taking care of my son," he said somewhat stiffly. "Elros sometimes wanders too far on the beach."
"No problem," Earendil said hastily. He had a strange feeling as if the words of a boys' parent could cut him in half or strangle him. He had never heard such a... Vivid, intense voice. "It's just that there are a lot of people here today," he muttered awkwardly. "I preferred to make sure he got back safely.”
“Thank you,” said the man with a braid. “But I would be glad if you would go away now. Okay?”
“Ah, I mean, yes,” Earendil made a step back. “Good bye!”
He quickly escaped again to the beach. His heart was in pain. Happily twins about which he dreamed were a part of someone’s family and.. and it hurt.
Why does it hurt so much?
He looked at the sea, but the whispers of the waves didn’t help. If it is possible, they made him… sick?
What happened to him?
What he should do?
He wanted to return on his ship! He wanted to return on his ship and be free from this scary feeling of sickness and loss...
Why his children had other family?
