Disclaimer: Tolkien’s creations...
The sea-longing came swiftly. Removing soft leather boots, he relished the interplay of sea and sand underfoot. Looking back, no indent marked his passing.
Is this our fate? To feel, to know, but leave no trace behind us?
His woods had often sung a different song for him than for his kin. Now he recognised the rhythm and would ever feel it throb in his blood. He found a shell, blue-green, fruit of the sea; threading it on a mithril chain, it floated at his throat thereafter; an iridescent remembrance of the complementary melody formed ‘tween Belegaer and his fea.