Okay, this is my first LOTR fic. However, I am not asking you to be easy on me. I'm not yet sure what characters will be the most prominent, they all kinda have a part, if you know what I mean. But, please, enjoy!

Two figures walked along the beach, the water lapping at their bare feet

Two figures walked along the beach, the water lapping at their bare feet. The pair was made up of a grizzled old fisherman and a young lad of about sixteen. The old man was telling the boy tales of the beach, which the boy seemed to brush off, apparently not believing them.

"Old one," he was saying, "you oughtn't tell me of old wive's tales. They are for babes!"

"Lad," said the elder, suddenly stopping, "one as young as you shouldn't talk so to those who have seen many more years than you. What I say is true. Come, I will show you something."

The old man led the boy to a rockier beach that rose to become a cliff against the sea. Going only a few more yards inland, they arrived at a deep gorge in the earth.

The old man pointed. "Look down and tell me what you see."

Rolling his eyes, the younger complied. At first he saw nothing but darkness. Then something twinkled. He squinted. "The earth seems to have a star in its depths!"

"Aye. Some say it is the other side of Arda. Others say that it is a fallen star that never lost it's light. Still, more say, that it is a jewel made by one of the first born."

Dubious, the boy looked at the fisherman. "An Elf? I thought they were only myths."

The old man shrugged his response. "Maybe. Maybe not. I'm inclined to think that tale true."

"For what reason-" The lad stopped abruptly. "Do you hear that?"

This time, the old man frowned. "What? My ears aren't what they used to be."

"Well then, hush and listen!" the boy said impatiently. "I believe it is someone singing."

After a moment or two, the old man finally detected the sound. Yes, it was a song! A sad, but beautiful melody. It was a strong, male voice in a strange language.

With sudden swiftness, the old man grabbed the boy and started for the seaside village.

"You want to know the reason? That is why, young one! When I was but a few years older than you, I heard and saw the singer. He was and Elf. I hid among the rocks to watch. He stopped at the gorge and sang that song. It seemed as if he was singing to someone. When he was done, he looked up and saw me. Never in my life have I seen so much grief in one's eyes. Never!"

The old man was right. It was an Elf. Tall, with dark hair and dark, sorrowful eyes. The language he was singing in is known and learned among the Elves as the High Tongue, or, Quenya. The first language spoken in Arda. The Elf did know the common tongue, but rarely used it sine he did not much deal with others.

He halted his steps at the gorge and ended his song of mourning. He bowed his head and lifted his hand to his heart in remembrance of his brother. He also saw the 'star,' and hated it. It had only brought his family trouble, and grief that lasted him two ages now.

A noise made him turn swiftly toward the sea, hand on his hilt. He relaxed when he saw who it was.

"Greetings, Maglor," Ulmo said.

"Greetings, Ulmo, old friend. You shouldn't startle me so," Maglor replied.

Ulmo just smiled, "I'm sorry, but being a Vala does little to remind myself to announce my presence."

Maglor let out a weak laugh. Since Maedhros' death, the second son of Feanor roamed the seaside. Because of this, Ulmo had decided to befriend the lonesome Elf. Though Maglor was hesitant at first, the two became firm friends.

"Ulmo, why do I get the feeling that this is not just a friendly visit?" Maglor asked, sensing something different about this meeting.

Ulmo let out a short laugh, "You know me well, Elf, because it is not. I am to inform you that you are to be sent on a quest."

Maglor raised his eyebrows. "A quest? Whatever does Manwë want me to do? I did not think he would trust me for such a thing."

"It is not Manwë who sent me," Ulmo replied. "It is Ilúvatar."

Maglor stared at him in shock. "Ilúvatar? Why? Does he trust me? He surely knows what I have done! What my family has done! And he trusts me with a task of some sort? Whatever for?"

Ulmo shrugged. "I know not the reason. But that is not my concern."

Maglor was silent.

"Maglor, friend, Ilúvatar has forgiven you! You just need to accept that forgiveness!"

After a moment, the Elf spoke. "What is this task I am to undertake?"

"You are to go to Gondor."

"Gondor? I have only heard rumors of it and most certainly do not know where it is!"

"I know. Ilúvatar has supplied you with a mount, falcon, and provisions. A map is in the saddle bag."

"What mount?"

Ulmo pointed behind the Elf.

Maglor turned to see a black stallion with a falcon perched on the saddle horn. "I do not need the reigns and saddle."

"You are to avoid revealing yourself as an Elf unto the right time."

Maglor's brow furrowed. "What am I to do in Gondor?"

"You are to take this," Ulmo stretched out his hand to reveal the very Silmaril that Maglor had cast into the sea.

The Elf's eyes widened. "I can't! It has burned my hand before and will burn it again! I cannot carry that jewel!"

"Your hand is no longer scarred," Ulmo said calmly.

Maglor looked at his hand. He was shocked. Where once was marred, hideously healed flesh, was now smooth, new skin. He touched it with his other hand. Though it used to be tough, wrinkly, and a dark tan, it was now soft and white with a slight tan. "It's been healed…"

"Ilúvatar healed it."

The Elf looked at the stone again. It was brighter, more pure.

"The light…"

"It has been renewed. Ilúvatar has put some of his light into it. And he is allowing you to carry it."

"But…what will I do with it?"

"You will find out. Ilúvatar has not revealed what it is needed for. But he did tell me to remind you of this, the original light could renew the light to the trees."

"How is that supposed to help me?"

Ulmo just smiled.

Maglor bit his lip. "The other Elves will not accept me."

"I know of one who will. Now go! If ever you are in need of aid, sing by a river, I will come."

Maglor nodded, swiftly mounted the horse, and left the sea for the first time in two ages.

Quick note, I do allow Anonymous reviewers. -Jimmy Candlestick