Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the entire thing, I swear. No money is made.

Imladris, the fourth age

"Mellon nin, the time has come."

"Aye," the reply was barely a whisper. "Indeed it has."

"The sea . . ." The dark haired one said quietly. His body was turned towards the west, and the wind was blowing. Raven locks whipped around his shoulders, devoid of their usual braids. "It is calling to us, can you hear it speak?"

"Its words are clear, I can hear them even from this distance," the taller elf stood up from his seat upon the bench and stood next to his friend. "They are in my heart, in my very soul, as it has always been."

"I wonder at what they say," the first elf mused. "Why the call is so powerful."

"They say that our time here is over. The ships are waiting. As for its strength . . . it is the strength of truth. Nothing can withstand it for long."

His lips twisted in a smile that was more of a grimace. "I almost wish that it was not so."

"As do many, but are you not weary?" the blond elf questioned gently.

"I am," the other admitted. "But we elves do not burn out as men do. We do not die when we are tired. We sail."

"An interesting difference, my friend," the second elf said. He paused, "Perhaps when the children of men die they go to a place similar to Valinor?"

"Perhaps. But their souls are not tied to this world like ours. Who knows what the gift of Iluvitar brings?"

"Not even the Valar have discovered that, my friend. It is not our place to know. All we know is the sea and the forest. The tides and the sun. The moon, and the stars. Arda is where we dwell. Until the ending of the world."

"Until the ending of the world," the other repeated, and smiled. "When I first saw you Glorfindel, I would not have guessed at the poet inside."

"No more then I would have guessed at the fiery warrior hidden under the mask of indifferent scholar, Master Erestor," the blond elf replied in turn, and bowed playfully.

"Many years have passed since then," Erestor sighed. "And now the sea calls us both . . . whether we wish it or not."

"I have not beheld the sea in many years. It will be good to smell the salt air again, to hear the cry of the gulls and the crashing of the waves."

"I will miss the roses that bloom in Imladris's gardens. I remember when they first bloomed . . . It was a sight to behold."

"Indeed it was." The pair stayed silent for a moment, as they watched the sun sink in the west. Their gazes ever turned toward the sea. The crashing of the Bruinen was soothing in the distance. Ulmo's words, filled with bubbles and murmurs, told them of the sea. It was time.

"'It is time for us to leave this place."

"Aye, the sea calling is not something I would ever have wished to hear. But hear it, we must."

"Will you sail with me, my dearest friend?" Erestor turned away from the sky, and faced the other, his dark eyes searching Glorfindel's face for reassurance.

"Of course," Glorfindel replied. "Life would not be the same without you. You are like a brother, gwador nin. Would you separate Elladan and Elrohir?"

"Nay . . ." he whispered. "I would not."

The setting sun cast its rays over the fading haven of Imladris, revealing the two elves that embraced. Tears dripping down their cheeks, each held tightly to each other, showing the loyalty, trust and devotion that only the deepest friendships can bring.

Far above in the sky, a lone gull called.

ELVISH TRANSLATIONS:

Mellon nin-- My friend

Gwador nin -- My brother (sworn brother)

A/N: It was late, I had a stomach ache, and I wanted to write something angsty with a bit of sappiness. How did I do?

A/N number two: I've just fixed various grammatical errors in this story. Maybe it's easier to read now.