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Shawn DaysleeperNole Eambar suddenly wakes. Sweat covers his brow, his heart beating fast, his very skin trembeling. His dagger was drawn, fire in his eyes. He feels the soft bedsheets under his other hand. Looking around, he sees he is safe at home. “A dream,” he whispers to himself.
But he could not relax. The dream is all too clear. Fire rings his vision; a red ambient light was all around. He is in a forest, trees burning, the stars above veiled by floating ash. His king, beloved friend and ever handsome, lay on the ground, blood on his beautiful face. His friends, Feamahtar and Elenwe, are hurt but both stand steadfast before a dark malevolence. The enemy wields a feiry sword in one hand, a whip of living flame in the other. Nole charges forward, ecstacy in his mind, screaming the names of his friends whom he has come to love…
Nole wrenches his thoughts from the nightmare. He rises and goes outside. Nodding towards the castle with its dark windows, he senses the calmness within. Nole’s home is high on a cliff, amongst the firs and flowering trees. Here the sea breeze blows in, relaxing his body and mind. He decends the cliff towards the sea, seeking further meditation and solace.
Nole dips his hands into the sea, smiling finally. Memories both young and old flash through his mind. “Haha,” he laughs aloud as he remembers one particular long voyage in the Mortal World long ago, one where he indeed got lost.
Sailing for a long time along serpentine coastlines and the many islands, he looks up, seeing strange stars and confusing patterns. He felt lost, fearful, and anxious. He then remembers a kind voice guiding him, a voice coming from the water. A kind male voice, Nole wished he could have looked upon the face to whom the voice belonged. The voice told him that he had sailed far to the south, below the Girdle of Arda. “Here you will see new stars and patterns, ones that can not be seen from fair Alqualonde to the north.”
Nole seeks comfort in that voice, wishing he could hear it again sometime.
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