Voyages of Lomion (Tolkien fan fiction)

A chance encounter with Kanafinwë:
When I was a young boy of the age of nineteen my grandsire, Prince Elensar, took me out of the safety of Rivendell and into the wild wastes of southern Eregion. He and I wandered far. Our journeys eventually brought us to the forests of Eryn Vorn. Uncouth men were living there but we avoided them. I remember we were resting for a few days where the Baranduin meets the sea. It was there that I had an encounter that I will never forget:
I was lying upon the shore enjoying the music of the sea when I heard another voice melding harmoniously with it; the song was mournful and powerful. I searched for the second voice and I saw that a weary, bent old man with a long grey beard was walking along the shore and singing to himself. As I noticed that he was coming my way I hid among some rocks and watched as the old man approached. It was then that I noticed something odd about him; his voice was quiet and was almost drowned by the sea, but it never increased in volume as he approached. He was singing quietly to himself and held his hand as if it pained him.
The old man stopped near the rocks where I was hiding and faced the sea. He dropped to a low hum and just stood there for several minutes. He turned around, looked directly at me and said kindly, “I see you child, there is no need to hide… and there is no need to reach for that knife either.” He smiled. His voice was powerful, I tried to resist its command, but I could not. It was then that I saw the old man’s eyes; they were full of an ancient sorrow. I realized that this was no mere man but an elf bent and aged by sorrow. I came out of hiding.
He sat down upon a rock and faced the sea, holding his hand in pain. “You can join me if you wish, and I will tell you a story.” I sat at his feet and listened to his story: He recounted the story of the First Age and the war of the Noldor against Morgoth. He recounted the tales of sorrow and kinslaying and the total defeat of the Noldor. After he finished he sat silent for a long while.
He spoke silently to me, “The oath of Feanor, in part, is still at work. The Doom of Mandos is still at work. We are still reaping the dark seeds that Morgoth has sown an age and a half after his downfall.” He looked at me and smiled sadly, “Do not fall to the traps that we fell. The line of Feanor is nearly spent. His sons are dead; the children of his children have fallen into obscurity; Celebrimbor has perished and his works are tainted. Annatar Thaura has deceived the Noldor just as his master before him. Love not overmuch thy work of thy hands. Love not overmuch thy realms and dominions. These have been our downfall in Middle-earth.”
He rose to his feet and caressed his hurt hand. The old elf continued down the beach humming a mournful, yet lovely tune. He stopped and spoke once more, “Remember compassion and temperance; we are not the Eldar so that we can rule and dominate over lesser kinds. We are the Eldar so that we can guide and prepare Men to take our place once we are gone… Love not overmuch thy works of thy hands…” He sighed and said at a whisper, “It is a lesser well learned…” while glancing at his hands. And then he continued down the beach and began the saddest song I have ever heard:
I remember the Holy Light,
and you were mine, my love.
I remember the dreadful night,
oaths were sworn and love forsaken
Though I’ve lived, I’ve been searching
Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar!
Nai elyë hiruva! Namárië!
Harnannin athan nestad bân
Telperion a Laurelin.
In edhil sí awarthar Dhûn
Farol i viriath corin
The thing made became the thing served;
Ai nae úamdir dâr.
Taeg hammad thín gâr viriath;
Norn e dad i hîr,
…
And his voice was lost to me…
After a while, I too rose. Elensar stepped from the shadows among the rocks. “It is time we returned to Rivendell and to your studies.”
“Who is that, Grandfather?”
“He is one who can never again return to Valinor. He is what the oath of Feanor became.”
We set out for Rivendell that evening.