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Shawn Daysleeper and AelKennyr Rhiano
Like a boy, Olwe had leapt aboard Nole's swanship; long legs vaulting him across the short span of water between pier and ship, and his feet landed with a sturdy thud upon the wooden deck. He stood at the prow of the ship as the winds filled the sail, and the tide of the sea rushing back from delivering a lover's kiss to the dock helped to launch the ship. It slowly pulled out of the harbor, Olwe's hand clutching the side, white knuckled, as his eyes lifted beyond the figure of his niece Elwing, to the glittering jewel palace, to the rolling hills and blooming trees...
....to Alqualonde.
Nole sits in the captain's chair, and the ship turns about so that the prow now faces the blue sea. Olwe, too, relaxes his grip and turns to face the back of the ship. Pulled by the sight of the Swanhaven, fully realizing he may not see her again, that his trip was fraught with danger, he lifts his gaze and drinks in the sight of the ancient home of the Teleri elves. His gaze is soft, as that of a lover looking upon the face of his Beloved as the loved one sleeps unaware. His ears fill with the sound of birds, the gulls, the hawks, the eagles, the sparrow and wren...and the swans. The music fills him, draws him and he walks the length of the ship to stand beside Nole as the ship starts to turn port side and pick up a little speed. He licks his lips and raises a hand in farewell-- to Elwing, to memories, to Alqualonde.
Nole sits calmly as the open sea begins to surround them. The waves are around him, and he is happy to be at sea. Except for the occasional gagging of the Musician Estelin from below, all is well. With his expert skill, Nole steers the swanship to avoid a rocky crag barely poking the surface of the water at the edge of the harbour, marking the beginning of the open sea. He watches his king showing his farewell to Alqualonde and Elwing. While he loves his hope, he is happier at sea, and especially now his king is with him. The dolphins and swans follow the ship out and away from their island and into the wide open sea beyond.
Blue eyes remain locked upon the eternal home of his people, his eyes drinking in the sights, the sounds, the smells of blossoms, flowering fruits mingling with the tangy saltiness of the sea. The wind rises, and the ship begins to pick up speed. With a sigh, Olwe tears his gaze away as sounds from below deck rise, too. He looks over at Nole. "He's down below? Sick already?" Olwe drops his gaze to the deck as though he could see below to the disguised Vala. It does not bode well. They are not even truly out of sight of the Swanhaven, even.
"Yes he went below as we boarded. He might be sick on his cooking though, or some combination of food and sea motion." Nole tries to hold back a grin. The musician's cooking leaves a lot to be desired. "We're lucky this is a relatively short voyage. If we were going to the Ulond or Anfalas, we would have to endure weeks of his gagging. As it is, I hope we do not encounter storms." He hopes the singing of Elwing keeps ill weather at bay.
Olwe lifts his gaze to Nole's face, an eyebrow raised as he catches a glint of mirth on the sea merchant's face and in the words themselves. "Now, now, friend Nole. I think it is rather that you are grateful we shall not have Estelin's meals to enjoy on this short voyage." He himself tries not to smile, a little. Down below, Estelin is unmistakably retching. Crossing his arms and leaning against the back of a seat, he frowns a little and adds, "We best hope he has found a bucket, else once we reach Sylvhara, we shall be mucking out the cabins below." His nose wrinkles as he speaks.
Nole nods vigorously. "He better be using a bucket down there. If he spews I suspect we will be cleaning the cabin since he seems to have trouble with the most basic tasks." he looks at his chart and over the swells of open sea. "We should arrive in Sylvhara by the morning unless the currents change. I think our precooked salted venison would make a worthy meal this evening. So we will not have to suffer through any of his vegetables." Nole winces as he speaks of Estelin's cooking.
Olwe pushes himself off against the back of the seat and crosses the short distance to plop down on the edge of the captain's seat, sighing a little. "He does try, you know," he says and leans back a little, nudging his traveling companion. "I know you harbor doubts about him, but he does try. I have never seen anyone try so rigorously to cook." His eyes, too, lift to the expanse of blue water before them. "Maybe Lord Ulmo has relented," he says softly as he takes in the calmness of the water. "Perhaps his heart has softened, and he will allow us to land at Sylvhara."
Nole looks at his dear king as he speaks. "Lord Ulmo? Why would he stop us from landing at Sylvhara?" Nole asks. He hears voices at sea on his voyages coming from the water. He recalls two forms, one deep and lordly, commanding in a way. The other more gentle and guiding. He is aware of Ulmo and thinks the deep voice belongs to him, since he saw him when he saved their island from their attackers. He then looks around, not seeing or hearing anything alarming from the sea. The slow rhythm of the waves roll under their ship unceasingly.
Olwe drops his gaze a moment. Nole doesn't know, Olwe realizes, and the knowledge is like a blow to gut. He and Estelin had talked unceasingly about it, with the disguised Vala begging the King again and again to not cross the Will of the Lord of the Seas, but, belatedly, Olwe realizes that never was Nole a party to the conversation. He couldn't be. He couldn't know who Estelin is. And now, now how to tell the merchant? Olwe swallows and draws in a breath. Slowly, Olwe reveals to Nole the whole of the exchange between him and the Lord of the Waters, finishing with," But, Nole, as you say, the sky is clear, and the ocean tame. Perhaps he has heard my pain in my words and will allow us to put to port in Sylvhara." He closes his eyes a moment and beseeches the Vala. "Please, my Lord. Give me this kindness. Grant me leave to dock in Sylvhara. She is my cousin, my kin, my blood."
But instead of answer, there is only the lap of the water, the kiss of the wind...and a faint, faint taste of rain.
> Next
....to Alqualonde.
Nole sits in the captain's chair, and the ship turns about so that the prow now faces the blue sea. Olwe, too, relaxes his grip and turns to face the back of the ship. Pulled by the sight of the Swanhaven, fully realizing he may not see her again, that his trip was fraught with danger, he lifts his gaze and drinks in the sight of the ancient home of the Teleri elves. His gaze is soft, as that of a lover looking upon the face of his Beloved as the loved one sleeps unaware. His ears fill with the sound of birds, the gulls, the hawks, the eagles, the sparrow and wren...and the swans. The music fills him, draws him and he walks the length of the ship to stand beside Nole as the ship starts to turn port side and pick up a little speed. He licks his lips and raises a hand in farewell-- to Elwing, to memories, to Alqualonde.
Nole sits calmly as the open sea begins to surround them. The waves are around him, and he is happy to be at sea. Except for the occasional gagging of the Musician Estelin from below, all is well. With his expert skill, Nole steers the swanship to avoid a rocky crag barely poking the surface of the water at the edge of the harbour, marking the beginning of the open sea. He watches his king showing his farewell to Alqualonde and Elwing. While he loves his hope, he is happier at sea, and especially now his king is with him. The dolphins and swans follow the ship out and away from their island and into the wide open sea beyond.
Blue eyes remain locked upon the eternal home of his people, his eyes drinking in the sights, the sounds, the smells of blossoms, flowering fruits mingling with the tangy saltiness of the sea. The wind rises, and the ship begins to pick up speed. With a sigh, Olwe tears his gaze away as sounds from below deck rise, too. He looks over at Nole. "He's down below? Sick already?" Olwe drops his gaze to the deck as though he could see below to the disguised Vala. It does not bode well. They are not even truly out of sight of the Swanhaven, even. 
"Yes he went below as we boarded. He might be sick on his cooking though, or some combination of food and sea motion." Nole tries to hold back a grin. The musician's cooking leaves a lot to be desired. "We're lucky this is a relatively short voyage. If we were going to the Ulond or Anfalas, we would have to endure weeks of his gagging. As it is, I hope we do not encounter storms." He hopes the singing of Elwing keeps ill weather at bay.
Olwe lifts his gaze to Nole's face, an eyebrow raised as he catches a glint of mirth on the sea merchant's face and in the words themselves. "Now, now, friend Nole. I think it is rather that you are grateful we shall not have Estelin's meals to enjoy on this short voyage." He himself tries not to smile, a little. Down below, Estelin is unmistakably retching. Crossing his arms and leaning against the back of a seat, he frowns a little and adds, "We best hope he has found a bucket, else once we reach Sylvhara, we shall be mucking out the cabins below." His nose wrinkles as he speaks. 
Nole nods vigorously. "He better be using a bucket down there. If he spews I suspect we will be cleaning the cabin since he seems to have trouble with the most basic tasks." he looks at his chart and over the swells of open sea. "We should arrive in Sylvhara by the morning unless the currents change. I think our precooked salted venison would make a worthy meal this evening. So we will not have to suffer through any of his vegetables." Nole winces as he speaks of Estelin's cooking.Olwe pushes himself off against the back of the seat and crosses the short distance to plop down on the edge of the captain's seat, sighing a little. "He does try, you know," he says and leans back a little, nudging his traveling companion. "I know you harbor doubts about him, but he does try. I have never seen anyone try so rigorously to cook." His eyes, too, lift to the expanse of blue water before them. "Maybe Lord Ulmo has relented," he says softly as he takes in the calmness of the water. "Perhaps his heart has softened, and he will allow us to land at Sylvhara."
Nole looks at his dear king as he speaks. "Lord Ulmo? Why would he stop us from landing at Sylvhara?" Nole asks. He hears voices at sea on his voyages coming from the water. He recalls two forms, one deep and lordly, commanding in a way. The other more gentle and guiding. He is aware of Ulmo and thinks the deep voice belongs to him, since he saw him when he saved their island from their attackers. He then looks around, not seeing or hearing anything alarming from the sea. The slow rhythm of the waves roll under their ship unceasingly.
Olwe drops his gaze a moment. Nole doesn't know, Olwe realizes, and the knowledge is like a blow to gut. He and Estelin had talked unceasingly about it, with the disguised Vala begging the King again and again to not cross the Will of the Lord of the Seas, but, belatedly, Olwe realizes that never was Nole a party to the conversation. He couldn't be. He couldn't know who Estelin is. And now, now how to tell the merchant? Olwe swallows and draws in a breath. Slowly, Olwe reveals to Nole the whole of the exchange between him and the Lord of the Waters, finishing with," But, Nole, as you say, the sky is clear, and the ocean tame. Perhaps he has heard my pain in my words and will allow us to put to port in Sylvhara." He closes his eyes a moment and beseeches the Vala. "Please, my Lord. Give me this kindness. Grant me leave to dock in Sylvhara. She is my cousin, my kin, my blood."
But instead of answer, there is only the lap of the water, the kiss of the wind...and a faint, faint taste of rain.
> Next