Arrivals

Played by:
Jasper Dragonheart




The early morning breeze off the waters of the gulf ruffles the elf's long dark hair.  He shivers a little and pulls his dark grey cloak a little closer around him, glancing up at the sky as he does so.  It would be a while yet until the new day's sun was high enough to warm the air.  Here in Grey Havens, even though winter has passed, the ring of surrounding peaks keep the nights cool and early mornings are often brisk.  By noon Miro would normally be shirtless, hard at work in his shipyard, but always for his ritual morning visits to the harbour he makes sure he is warmly clothed.  


This morning though there was a light of excitement in his normally serene gaze.   Usually known for his quiet, reserved manner, today his eyes, the blue of the deepest of oceans, were alight with excitement.  Word had come to him last night of the arrival of a swanship in port that afternoon.  A swanship! It had been all he could do not to down tools there and then and rush to see, but he had stayed, working long into the night to finish the last touches on the merchant's ship that would be delivered today.   "Never, ever be late with delivery."  His father words had echoed through his mind.   Bowing his head to his task then, as he had done when first those words were spoken to him, Miro had worked.  When the task was finally done he knew there would be little to see in the dark of night and that the harbour guard would likely not appreciate anyone skulking around so late either, justifiably wary of midnight thievery, so he had sought his bed.  

...his eyes, the blue of the deepest of oceans..

Miro's respect for the harbour guard had been taught by his father too.  "Respect the authorities. They have a job to do too and they don't need young 'uns like you making it any harder."   A tall elf with a deceptively soft voice and strong arm, his father had been one of few words, but those words he did speak always had value.  As a gangling and awkward elf-child, full of hero-worship, Miro had drunk in all he had said.  For wasn't his father one of the now almost legendary sea-faring Teleri?  Hadn't he, with Miro's mother by his side, sailed those wide oceans beyond the gulf, feet firmly planted upon the deck of his swanship, hand guiding it steadily upon the wheel?  


Miro's shoulders slump a little at the thought.  Yes, he had been one of those fabled mariners, until his son's impending arrival had driven him to port and tied him to the land.  Blown up the Gulf of Luin by a particularly savage winter storm, their ship had barely limped into safe harbour, never to leave again.  For as much as he had loved the ocean, his father had loved his wife even more.  After that last dreadful storm, she could not bear the thought of losing her husband at sea while she and their child were tied to land, and he had acquiesced, for he could deny her nothing. 


Instead that experienced seaman had turned his knowledge to building ships for others.  Over time he had built a reputation for the quality of his work and the small family had prospered.  But never could he bring himself to repair his own ship for fear of the temptation it would bring to seek the ocean's lure again.  Instead, it had lain abandoned and rotting in the back of the shipyard, a haunt for young elf boys with dreams of legendary tales of fabled King Olwe and his Teleri filling their minds and fueling their play.  


It had also been a refuge for a grieving boy after his mother had been lost to Mandos, taking with her the twin girls she had struggled and failed to give birth to.  Miro feels the tightening in his chest that always accompanies thoughts of his mother. Tall and willowy, with waves of long silver hair and hips far too slim for the task they were given, she had been the gentle soul who had nurtured him, held him when he was tired and sung him to sleep with songs of the sea.  


Racked by grief father and son had thrown themselves into work.  One day when Miro was finally grown, he had approached his father about once more taking to the seas. "Do not ask me to leave her," had been his gruff reply, his grey eyes riven with pain.  Miro had not asked again.  


Yet still his heart and blood had yearned to the oceans beyond the calm waters of the gulf.  Like a siren they called to him, called to his Teleri blood.  One day, he had promised himself, one day.   Yet when he looked at his father, already so bowed by grief, he could not bring himself to leave him, to go and do what he knew the old elf yearned for, but could not bring himself to do.  His father was as firmly shackled to the land as ever he had been since Miro was born and with him, Miro too had been chained. 


Sighing now, he lifts a hand to scratch the back of his head.  "Well, that had been your excuse before, but what is it now, O' great explorer?"   Two winters past a rope slick with rain had slipped from cold wet fingers, the falling beam killing his father instantly.  Miro had been free to follow his dreams at last.  Yet still, here he was at Grey Havens, still building ships for others.  "You are a dreamer, Miro." he mutters to himself, stamping his feet to relieve the chill that had crept into the soles of his boots from the cold stone underfoot.  

"You are a dreamer, Miro."

He smiles ruefully to himself, "And a coward.  You stand here yabbering to yourself like one moon-struck rather than have the courage to go closer."  Inhaling deeply, he takes the first step, his heart hammering a little as his long legs carry him swiftly across the docks until he stands beside the swanship.  He knew this ship.  This was HIS ship.  He had seen this ship slip into harbour before, the tall silver-haired elf at the helm.  He had studied its lines and build, so similar to his father's, yet subtly different.  Never though, had he seen it in such a state. 

He knew this ship.

He slowly walks the length of it, his eyes taking in the raw broken timbers, the sundered mast, the makeshift but efficient repairs.   Folding his arms, he nods to himself, his professional mind taking over from the dreamer.  Yes, the captain knew what he was doing when he made these repairs, but what sort of storm had sundered the ship so?  Never in his life had Miro experienced a storm such as the one who had driven his parents to this harbour in that winter so long ago.  Yet clearly the silver-haired mariner had encountered something equally as bad.  

...what sort of storm had sundered the ship so?

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he looks at the ship design.  Yes! He nods to himself as he notes the shallow draft of the ship.  It needs more depth to the hull, to accommodate a stronger mast.  "I bet he couldn't furl the sails in time either," he murmurs to himself as his eyes take in the raw gashes in the timber where the ringbolts that had held the ropes had been torn from their seatings.  He runs his fingers over the splintered wood at the edge of the hull and nods again and smiles to himself.  "I think I have fixed that little problem at least," he murmurs while rubbing absently at the callouses on his palms.  


Movement out on the waters of the gulf catches his eye and he looks up to stare towards the ebbing dawn, lifting a hand to shade his eyes from the early morning sun.  There, silhouetted against the still rosy early morning skyline is a ship to take the breath away.  Tall and majestic, sails taut and elegant, is the royal ship of the Queen of Sylvhara.  Miro would know it anywhere, for his father had waxed lyrical about that ship as the pinnacle of achievement for any shipwright.  

There...is a sip to take the breath away.

As he stands watching, the ship glides gracefully into harbour, the lighthouse beam highlighting the heraldic golden lion of Sylvhara upon the deep red sails as it docks. Miro nods silent approval at the skill of the ship's captain for the flawless arrival of his craft.  The crew hurry to secure the vessel to its moorings and lower the gangplank, working together seemlessly, clearly well-trained and well-disciplined.  As he watches Miro muses to himself, "Now what would bring her majesty of Sylvhara to Grey Havens?"  He glances down again at the damaged swanship and murmurs, "And what brings you here in such a state too, my handsome silver-haired mariner?"  Strange arrivals indeed. 

..the ship glides gracefully into harbour..