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Shawn Daysleeper
A restless Teleri sailor tidies up the stores of his swanship. Unable to sleep, Nole Eambar evaluates the cargo both on deck and below. Opening a crate, he sees weapons inside: Elven crafted bows and swords obtained as a parting gift from the elves of Sylvhara. He pauses a moment as his mind convulsed, fearing the horror to come.
Shaking his head, the sailor reflects, remembering peaceful times when his ship was laden with a far different cargo. Smiling he remembers the gleam of rare black pearls procured by the wild men of the mortal world. Nole remembers their bewildered faces when he hands them musical instruments handcrafted in Alqualonde. He also remembers loading quantities of wood and metals at port, and the smiling faces of the men and elves there as they passed their hands through the rich, silken, fabrics that the merchant traded them. He then remembers his family welcoming him into his home filled with light, he remembers enjoying Teleri Ale with his King in the Drunken Swan tavern.
He shoves those memories from his mind. Those times are gone, now his world is filled with emptiness and uncertainty. Mysterious dark elves, poisoned wine, and malevolent beings wreathed in flame fill his mind now. His remaining friends, while strong and true, are very few. “There is no strength in arms,” he mutters aloud. However, he closes the crate, secures the lid and ties the crate to the ship’s hull. He sits down, resting. The sailor’s work on board was finished but his heart begins to despair.
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Shaking his head, the sailor reflects, remembering peaceful times when his ship was laden with a far different cargo. Smiling he remembers the gleam of rare black pearls procured by the wild men of the mortal world. Nole remembers their bewildered faces when he hands them musical instruments handcrafted in Alqualonde. He also remembers loading quantities of wood and metals at port, and the smiling faces of the men and elves there as they passed their hands through the rich, silken, fabrics that the merchant traded them. He then remembers his family welcoming him into his home filled with light, he remembers enjoying Teleri Ale with his King in the Drunken Swan tavern.
He shoves those memories from his mind. Those times are gone, now his world is filled with emptiness and uncertainty. Mysterious dark elves, poisoned wine, and malevolent beings wreathed in flame fill his mind now. His remaining friends, while strong and true, are very few. “There is no strength in arms,” he mutters aloud. However, he closes the crate, secures the lid and ties the crate to the ship’s hull. He sits down, resting. The sailor’s work on board was finished but his heart begins to despair.
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