It was an early spring day at the coast of Forlindon. Seagulls soared through the air or floated on the shallow waves, crying and babbling excitedly about whatever it was that that seagulls found of most interest. The hard dune-grass waved gently in the early sun. A rabbit was busy digging a hole, unconcerned about being seen. This land was uninhabited, had been empty for Ages. None of the animals knew that it had once been different. But for those ears who could hear such things, the land itself could sometimes be heard to sigh, the long slow memory of earth and stone and roots reaching farther than any other thing.

The gentle west wind ruffled the shallow ridges in the sand, left behind by the springtide two days ago, played with the tips of the dune grass, and created a tiny sandstorm in the lee of one of the higher dunes. The waves broke low and calmly rolled to the shore, having reached the farthest point of high tide, but not yet in a hurry to retreat again.

Neither the gulls nor the rabbit nor the waves nor the wind, knew or cared that the second Age of Middle Earth had come to an end. Time as Elves and Men measured it held no meaning here, at the utmost West of Forlindon

Hooves could be heard in the distance, rhythmic thuds dulled by the sand. They moved in the cadence of a fast gallop, and indeed not long afterward the horse could be seen as it came around an outcrop of rocks. It was a light bay, mane, tail and legs darkening to black. A small white star shone from between its eyes, half-hidden by a dark forelock.

A rider leaned low over the horses' neck, intend on balancing so that it was not hindered by the weight of the rider. When they came closer, it could be seen that the rider was en Elf, clad in simple garments of black and grey, pale face stark in concentration, dark hair floating on the wind.
Her pale face was streaked with grime from a long journey, and she cradled her right arm as if she sustained some wound there.

As they approached the furthest point of the beach, the horse did not slow, but plunged on into the sea until the gentle waves reached its belly. The rider did not seem to notice that her feet became wet. Her eyes were intent on the horizon.

The horse snorted against an oncoming wave, sticking its nose into the water before concluding that it was undrinkable salty. The rider did not seem to notice this either. She turned her face into the wind, and sat still, as if waiting for something.

After some time the gulls resumed their activities, their surprise about this unknown being having passed. They floated on the waves not far from the rider and her horse, regarding this sudden manifestation with interest.

The rider sat and regarded the horizon in silent contemplation. Her grey eyes shone with tears, but it could not be said if these were caused by the salt wind or by grief.

Whatever the Elf strained to hear or see; she did not seem to find it there. After a time she spoke, and the nearby gulls flew up in surprise, only to land slightly further away again.

Have I not paid? the Elf said, voice pitched as if she spoke to the wind, or to someone only she could see. The horse twitched one ear back to listen to the voice of its mistress. The rabbit resumed its work on the hole.

Eyes fixed into the distance, the Elf waited. But if there was anyone besides the gulls and the sea and the wind, they answered her not.

Finally she dismounted, landing in hip-high water. She wobbled for a long moment as if her knees pained her, but paid it no head. Striding further into the surf, eyes ever Westward, she did not stop until the waves reached chest-high.

HAVE I NOT PAID? she raised her voice, anger and desperation mingling. The powerful sound carried far over the sea, startling the gulls into the air with shrill shrieks. A high wave soaked the tall Elf until the shoulders, wetting her uncombed hair, floating it out behind her like seaweed.

have I not? she asked forlornly, the anger gone from her tone as if the waves had taken it with them. A broad roller broke upon the shore with a roar that sounded loud in the silence. The wind stroked the face of the Elf, drawing a slow tear across her cheek.

She stood there longer still, unmoving as the tide began to go out, drawing at her. The gulls and the rabbit had long moved on with their own business when the Elf still remained there, alike a statue in the surf, her horse waiting patiently further up the shore.

Then at last, when the waves barely reached her knees and the sand began to be drawn away from under her feet, she moved. Her eyes followed one of the seagulls as it chased a fellow, playing on the currents of air above the sea surface. She let out a long breath, and her shoulders sagged noticeably for a moment.

Then she turned resolutely, and without looking back she walked up the beach. The horse followed her slowly, seeming to sense her mood. The Elf trudged up the sand dunes and stood still there for a moment, far-seeing eyes gazing into the East. Then, her back still turned toward the west, she mounted and rode away, not to be seen again by the Men or Elves of Middle Earth until many thousands of years later.

Her footsteps stood into the wet sand until the next high tide erased them, and the wind wiped out any trace of her over the course of the next few weeks. The gulls and the rabbits lived as they ever had, crying and babbling and burrowing without concern for Men of Elves or despair. And the waves lapped the shore as if they neither noticed nor cared.

The End

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(For those who care – yes, this fits in with The Long Run somewhere. I may someday finish the arc. Who knows)