what if the reason Elwing lives in this tower all by herself on the edge of Valinor is to cover the fact that she does not in fact spend all her time in said tower
because after she learns how to reliably turn herself into a bird, she goes often on long flights across Aman, and then across the sea, sleeping even on the water, maybe, until she comes at last to Numenor.
And then… it depends. See, either:
and she flies over it, circles, sees her son. but she is bound to never again walk in mortal lands. she returns again and again over the years; watches him live and grow and marry, the building of a kingdom, his children, safe. but she never lands until one day, five centuries later, when she sits on the chest of the child lying in state, separated from her forever
or, alternatively
Elwing is, in this, a rules lawyer. If the Valar had meant to ban her from ever seeing her children, they could very well have picked a better verb than that. She honours the spirit of it for a little while, but then… there is a tower, and there is Elros, and then there is Elwing, balanced on the edge, feet tucked under her, heart in her throat, and–he recognises her. (The bird thing is pretty unmistakable.)
(and then, every so often when she’s made her excuses very well and no one is expecting to see her for months, she heads east again, and finds the other one.)
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