Disclaimer: Tolkien's the genius, not me.
The stars glimmered overhead, dimmed by the half moon that hovered over Sirion, casting sharp shadows and making the sea waves dance silver.
Moonlight always made her remember Doriath, and her grandfather's stories. "I saw her dancing like a dream by the enchanted Esgalduin, and the flowers blossomed at her feet." Her grandmother always laughed when he waxed poetic.
Lúthien had followed Beren on his quest, and sung a tower to rubble and Morgoth to sleep. All Elwing could do was stand atop a parapet with a borrowed spyglass, scanning the empty horizon and praying for a glimpse of familiar sails.