The prince stood on the shores of Lindon, staring out into the ruins of Beleriand. His face was caked in blood and ash, his sword by his side nicked almost beyond use, the waves gently washed over the sunken northlands, as if to try and remove the taint and sorrow of war. But it would not wash away the stains in the hearts of the survivors. The prince was a great captain of men, high in the esteem of his people, the House of Beor. For they knew his father well, and the deeds that would not be forgotten in the ages to come. He looked back, now, on his people. Perhaps eighty men of fighting age, and three, four times as many women and children, the fore-most in honour and valour, the folk of Beren, the man who with his love Luthien achieved what all the hosts of the Elves could not, the folk that fought the hardest in that last terrible war... for this day of peace. And yet it was undone. The two Silmarils that were still withheld were now lost forever, the third was in the sky. All that the sacrifice and toil, it seemed, was for naught. The people looked to him, for their last chieftain had died when the Mouths of Sirion were sacked. Since then, they had been led by Elenhin, Unspoken Son of Turin.
As his people went back to the camp, Elenhin saw a figure standing still on the shore. Eonwe, great commander of the forces of the Valar, smiling sympathetically at the half-elven's plight.
"Pity me all you wish, Herald, the fact remains that you will soon depart this accursed mortal realm for Aman, and then we will be left to pick up the ruins of our lives and try to make them afresh."
"Middle Earth has no more place for your people, or any of the Houses of the Edain. You and your kin will not have to stay here for long, Son of Turin"
"There is... somewhere else?"
The Maiar smiled, and pointed out, far to the South and West.
"You have lost faith in the compassion of the Valar, but do not be so hasty, for the Light of Earendil will aid you yet, see it shine!"
He was right; up in the heavens, even in the evening twilight, shone a star far brighter than the Morning Star, out to the west...
"Hear me, Peredhil, for the home your people seek is of now still under the sea, but one score years it will be ready, until that day you must find all those of the Edain, for their suffering has been great too, and Elros, he is the greatest of all Men alive, and will be your King, you must serve and protect him always."
Elenhin looked out again, to where his home would be. At last, he was at peace