Warnings: mild angst
Book/Source: Silm, LotR (because Himling is on the LOTR map).
Disclaimer: Maglor continues to be Tolkien’s and Himling Isle (formerly Himring Hill) is as well.
He did not know that the top of Himring Hill had re-emerged above the waves. When he did learn, much later, overhearing a conversation between fishermen, at first nothing could have induced him to visit it. But, as he became aware of the swift wearing of time in Middle-earth and he himself went on surviving, despite much foolish carelessness, it occurred to him that in time the island of Himling, too, might be lost again. He would regret not having gone then.
So he provisioned a boat and set out, looking to see tall cliffs looming against the western sky.
Noldorin pottery, Beleriandic period, Eastern style, type 2C
The island was lower than he expected and bare. Only sea birds could call this rock home now. He heard their voices on the wind, as if raised in mockery, and almost turned around without setting foot on shore but, coming closer, he found a bay and a safe place to land.
He wandered aimlessly about, squawked at by gulls, and finally plunged into the sea, a dangerous dive among tossing waters. When he came up again, he held a piece of pottery in his fingers, long broken, its edges washed round like a pebble. It was then he wept.
A/N: To be continued: The next drabble will hopefully feature another, more unexpected visitor to the island.