Swanship

< Prev  Alqualondë     

November 11, 2009

by AelKennyr Rhiano

Olwë walked across the deck of his personal swanship, a seasoned sailor's gait. In his left hand a rolled up scroll was tightly grasped, knuckles white. Raising his gaze, he looked up and over the harbor of the peaceful elven citadel. Behind him Teleri sailors checked the rigging and readied the ship for seatravel. Turning he returned to his cabin and picked up a small, intricately woven jewelled box from his desk, along with a sealed scroll. Opening the door to his cabin, he caught the eye of one of his guard and gives a brief tilt of his chin to call him over. "Erdil," Olwë said, remembering the shortened form of the elf's name. "Take this to the court of Queen Comet, along with this scroll. Make sure both are delivered to her, along with my wishes that we may meet within the next few days. Convey to her my concern for the welfare of our Sylvan kin, and my hope we may talk, privately of deep matters." He opens the box, and fingers the large, perfect pearl, closes it again.

"Tell her..." his voice trails off, and his face takes on a troubled look. "Tell her I have had the dreams again. Tell her to be careful. The darkness again rises, and in my bones is a chill such as I have never known." 

Returning to his cabin, Olwë unrolls the crushed scroll thrown carelessly on the table. The message, from Alqualondë, was short and the writing, not the crisped precise hand of his seneschal, but the cramped anxious writing of his herald. "My lord, " the note began," the skies are beginning to lighten in Alqualondë. Lord Tilion, our Ainu guardian, has not been seen in over a sennight. Lord, we are anxious and beg your return. We fear it has begun."

> Next Alqualondë       

A Visitor with a Warning

RolePlay in Sylvahar Elen

transcribed by AelKennyr Rhiano

Wearily, Olwë of Alqualondë climbed the steps from the docks and emerged onto the Sylvamir Plaza in Sylvahar Elen. Looking about, he takes a deep breath and adjusts his cloak, pushes a strand of silver hair out of his eyes. A brief, small smile plays about his lips as he looks around, but it is replaced by a soft sigh and a straightening of his shoulders. Drawing in another breath, he stretches, hearing the soft protesting pop of vertebra, and slowly begins to make his way across the plaza.

Eonwe Nuvolari begins his evening tour of the Sylvan realm...noticing that the plaza is still marred by the shades of the dark spirits

A sign catches Olwë's eye. Coming closer, he reads it and murmurs, "Blood wine?" His brow furrows, and his lips purse into a tight line. Hearing the sound of footsteps, Olwë whirls around, his body taut, then relaxes as the figure comes closer...an elf. "Vedui, my lord, " he greets.

Eonwe Nuvolari nods in return. "Mae govannen." Eonwe Nuvolari looks to the sign the King has been perusing.

Olwë's face brightens...."Quenya, " he murmurs to himself. "Mae Govannen." "Forgive...but blood wine?"

"You are not familiar with the substance?"

Olwë shakes his head slowly. "This substance is unknown to my realm."

"Tis a long story, with much lore that is forgotten. Suffice to say that it leaves some races bereft of their senses and open to the ways of darkness. There has been much trafficking of it in many realms...and sadly, much chaos has followed"

Olwë's eyes widen a second and then grows still, face thoughtful. "So," he says, halfway to himself. "It has begun." "Has the source of this vile substance been uncovered, cousin?"

"Nay, the sources have remained hidden, at least to mine eyes. Though there are suspicions..."

"Can aught be done for those who fall victim to this tainted draught?"

"There is little that can be done, alas...though our mages work hard on this problem." Eonwe Nuvolari pauses...disconcerted by this weakness in the realm. "Hebo estel, Aran Olwë...we have hope that our clerics will be a match for this."

Olwë nods, his gaze downcast, looking at a crack in the stone at his feet. Finally he draws in a breath.

He glazes up and studies the elf's youthful face. He speaks gently. "Hope is a powerful medicine in and of itself."

Eonwe Nuvolari smiles uncertainly. "Your knowledge is deep, man Aran. When you say it begins 'again'...do you know of such evils?"

Olwë nods slowly. "I am afraid I do. Many times in our past, we have had to hold the light againt coming darkness."

"But we are lessened, are we not? I myself have the blood of the Edain in me. Do we still have the strength?"

Shifting his weight slightly from one foot to the other, he speaks softly. "I am Olwë, of Alqualondë, Lord of the Teleri Elves. A great darkness is coming, such as we have never before seen." Olwë clapses the younger elf's shoulder. "I see the fire and spirit of your ancestors burning brightly in you."

Eonwe Nuvolari looks off into the middle distance thoughtfully, unable to meet the brightness of the King's eyes

"Hantalë, Aran Olwë."

Olwë quietly regards his kinsman with a pained look.

"I thank you for your words, and will take strength from them to fight the coming battles."

Olwë bows his head. "Thank you, my friend."

"I seek no greatness in valour, but each must resist where he is able."

"Resistance to the darkness is greatness in itself. I see a greatness of spirit in you."

Eonwe Nuvolari bows to the King, and walks off solemnly, deep in thought at the King's words.

Olwë watches the elf lord depart, thoughtfully, then turns and makes his way back to his docked ship.

On board, he retires to his cabin, to take parchment and quill and write to the Wise Sylvan Queen.

> Next  Sylvhara