Harumi Oanomochi
The sound of gulls drew Echuir from her evening's reverie and meditations. She sniffed the salty air to find a tang of greenery. The creak of the rigging and flapping of sails sounded different as well. The wind had shifted and was blowing itself out. The rigging sagged, and the sails went flat and silent. She felt the small ship slowing dramatically until it came to a stop in a waveless sea. The Faen Tuilinn (White Sparrow) was becalmed. Now? When she was so close to land? She squinted into the west, sensing land because of the gulls, rather than seeing anything on the flat horizon.
Gathering her center and going to her knees in supplication, the elven queen bowed her head. “Le suilon Manwe, Le suilon Ulmo (I greet thee Manwe, I greet thee Ulmo)," she began solemnly, addressing the Valar she both loved and respected. “I call upon thee for help in my voyage, great Valar, powers of Arda and Earth, winds, and waters. Aid my quest to find my kinsman, Olwe, in his time of great need, by bringing me to land. A fair wind would bring this ship to shore, and I humbly ask thy assistance, if it be thy will, and I thank thee for listening.”
She stayed where she was, in silence, waiting for an answer, when the tiniest breeze blew past her, whipping strands of hair against her cheeks. She looked up and watched the sails begin to fill as the breeze grew to a wind and waves rolled gently across the face of the sea. Faen Tuilinn began to move, slowly at first, then quicker as the sails filled, the ropes creaked, and the waters began to splash against the hull.
“Alae (behold!)!” She cried out, standing to grab the tiller and guide the ship steadily. “Rim hennaid Manwe, Ulmo. (Many thanks, Manwe, Ulmo.) ” Her smile of gratitude enlivened her face as sea spray splashed her lightly. She welcomed it, and within a hundred heartbeats she saw land rising on the horizon toward which she sailed.
The wing-like mainsails and spinnaker flapped noisily as the wind increased, filling the sheets of linen canvas and moving the Faen Tuilinn along faster. Echuir watched in awe as the mithril-keeled ship sped toward land. The bow sliced through the waters neatly, plowing aside waves that were gentle and swelling on the great expanse of sea. The ropes creaked noisily, moving as the wind directed to allow the sails to do their work. To her astonishment, the elven queen realized her little ship was going faster than it ever had before. A silvery gull squawked and swooped down, playing with the carved wooden sparrow figurehead on the bow, as if inviting it to join it in flight.
The White Sparrow ate up the distance in a matter of hours, and Echuir found herself anchoring just meters from a white beach.
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Gathering her center and going to her knees in supplication, the elven queen bowed her head. “Le suilon Manwe, Le suilon Ulmo (I greet thee Manwe, I greet thee Ulmo)," she began solemnly, addressing the Valar she both loved and respected. “I call upon thee for help in my voyage, great Valar, powers of Arda and Earth, winds, and waters. Aid my quest to find my kinsman, Olwe, in his time of great need, by bringing me to land. A fair wind would bring this ship to shore, and I humbly ask thy assistance, if it be thy will, and I thank thee for listening.”
She stayed where she was, in silence, waiting for an answer, when the tiniest breeze blew past her, whipping strands of hair against her cheeks. She looked up and watched the sails begin to fill as the breeze grew to a wind and waves rolled gently across the face of the sea. Faen Tuilinn began to move, slowly at first, then quicker as the sails filled, the ropes creaked, and the waters began to splash against the hull.
“Alae (behold!)!” She cried out, standing to grab the tiller and guide the ship steadily. “Rim hennaid Manwe, Ulmo. (Many thanks, Manwe, Ulmo.) ” Her smile of gratitude enlivened her face as sea spray splashed her lightly. She welcomed it, and within a hundred heartbeats she saw land rising on the horizon toward which she sailed.
The wing-like mainsails and spinnaker flapped noisily as the wind increased, filling the sheets of linen canvas and moving the Faen Tuilinn along faster. Echuir watched in awe as the mithril-keeled ship sped toward land. The bow sliced through the waters neatly, plowing aside waves that were gentle and swelling on the great expanse of sea. The ropes creaked noisily, moving as the wind directed to allow the sails to do their work. To her astonishment, the elven queen realized her little ship was going faster than it ever had before. A silvery gull squawked and swooped down, playing with the carved wooden sparrow figurehead on the bow, as if inviting it to join it in flight.
The White Sparrow ate up the distance in a matter of hours, and Echuir found herself anchoring just meters from a white beach.
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