On the seashore, with Ada--not real Ada but Maglor-Ada--standing close enough to the icy water that when the waves rolled over, they sprayed Elrond’s face with dewdrop-diamonds of water that melted into big droplets and dripped from his face. That is our fate--to join. And then leave.
His face was numb and he was glad. He would put his toes in it too, but Maglor-Ada was near.
Elros kicked at the seagulls, screaming at them, mocking their strident, offended cries. “Get gone! Get gone, filthy birds!”
For rumors seeped like lichen between the stones of Maedhros’ fortress-home: And from the cliff she leapt and turned into a white seabird. And she flew into the West.
“Get gone!” screamed Elros. The birds scattered before his small, bruising feet that now wore practical Noldorin boots. “And tell her that we hate her! She left us and we hate her!”
Another roll of the sea and another spray of icy droplets joined the hot tears that made Elrond’s numb face burn with sudden feeling. Angry foam-fingers crawled up the beach, seeking to soak his little toes in their practical boots.
But from behind, Ada swept him away, just in time.