Forgiveness and Ancient Kings

Played By:
AelKennyr Rhiano
Jasper Dragonheart
Shawn Daysleeper


Whether Middle Earth or Aman, fires stoked up as well as the one in the cookfire stove of the Green Leaf Inn, burn with a merry and bright fire, the pop and crackle of flames dancing along the burning wood a comforting sound to any ear.  Olwe of Alqualonde, Lord of the Swanhaven tilts the little book he purchased in the marketplace earlier this day and turns a page with a long, tapering finger. A slight frown on his face, he concentrates on the paragraph, reading it again for the fourth time.

"Called Naugrim, Khazâd, and Gonnhirrim, these stunted little people are called 'dwarves,' among my race.  Short they are in statute, with little in the way of physical attractiveness. Indeed, in my travels, I have come across reliable accounts which confirm that their young are hatched, much like chicken. Huge eggs, bulbous and smelling of sulfur....."

Olwe groans and closes the book.  No, this human writer has obviously never been amongst the Khazad. Eggs, indeed. He cradles the book in his hands, and stares into the fire. He has not seen Nole since this morning, and here, alone, he finds he misses the reassuring presence of his friend more than he can express.

Olwe groans and closes the book

Nole enters the tavern common room. He sees Olwe sitting quietly alone, staring into the fire. He feels a slight tinge of anxiety about the damaged ship as he sees him. But then he knows his own burden of the mission. He feels a longing to be at his side. He crosses over to him and stands before him. "My king," he says quietly so others around cannot hear. "May I join you?"

"May I join you?"

Olwe looks up with a start. A slow smile curves his lips at hearing the words, "my king." He pats the bench beside him as he turns to set the book down upon the table. "I got that in the market, at that Atani bookseller.  I think the closest the writer got to dwarves, though, was probably in the stories of others." He looks over shyly at Nole. "How are you, friend Nole?"

"I am well." He nods back shyly and takes a seat beside Olwe. "The dwarves are misunderstood by many," he says, unsure how to proceed with telling Olwe about the shipwright Miro coming for dinner. Yet he would have to do so very soon: he will likely arrive any time. He looks at Olwe, wondering if he has further things to discuss.

"The dwarves are misunderstood by many."

Olwe gives an absent nod, his blue eyes peering intently as the sea merchant sits down beside him.  Softly he speaks, telling Nole about Comet's visit and his discussion with her.  Then as he finishes, he looks back at the fire and then again at Nole.  "I'm sorry about the ship. Your ship. I remember when she was built. I remember how you have always been in love with the swanships and the sea." He takes a breath.  "Nole, I...I can't explain how it came about that I didn't tell you all before we left. But, I swear to you I was not trying to deceive you.  I value you more than that."

"...I value you more than that."

Nole listens to Olwe as he speaks. His words of kindness and caring are different from those words of that stormy night. Whatever happens he knows Olwe is loving and is very protective of him. He smiles and nods. "While you do not need to apologize to me, I am glad you are the same Olwe I know and love."

Nole listens to Olwe as he speaks.

Olwe turns more to face Nole, the firelight playing across his features, highlighting the little creases around his eyes. "No, Nole, I do need to apologize. A king is responsible for his actions, always. I was self-serving, selfish, and drowning in my own frustrations. Your ship paid the price. I am lucky that Ulmo was merciful, for had I lost you because of my perfidy, I should moan it the rest of my days and beyond."

"..I do need to apologize."

Nole listens quietly, unsure of what to say to his king. The words mean a lot, but in his shyness he is unsure how to respond. "My king, I do not know what to say. You touch me."

Olwe reaches out and gently rests a hand on one of Nole's arms. "Say to me, if you can, if your heart has found it so, that you can forgive an errant king. For when it is all said and done, Nole, we are both children of Eru, and Teleri.  We are each other's nearest kin in these dark days. But most of all, the heart has made us brothers of love, brothers in the spirit." He pauses and says quickly, "For it is how I see all our people, Nole. One heart, One spirit. One kinship."

"I forgive you, brother of love and spirit" he says as he takes Olwe's arm. "We are one heart, one spirit, one kinship."

Olwe gives the younger elf a long and searching look, his gaze thoughtful, warm, kind.  Then he softly clears his throat and changes the subject, lest both elves grow ill at ease with the emotions surfacing.  "So, friend Nole, tell me of your day?  How did you fare with securing a means to repair the ship?" He pauses, and adds, "Which I will pay for, please."

"..tell me of your day?"

"I think I have found some interesting information about the repairs. In the early morning I went to check on my ship to assess what has to be done to repair it. When i got there I found an elf by my ship this morning. I had an interesting conversation with him and... well," he blushes slightly as he thought about Miro's appearance, "he seems to know what he is talking about."

"He seems to know what he is talking about."

Miro stands in an arch of the harbor, gazing out over the moonlit expanse of the Gulf of Luin, his blue eyes thoughtful below his low, straight brows.   The silence of the now deserted harbor is at odds with the clamor of his thoughts. He has been too busy all day to think much on his agreement to meet Nole tonight, but once he stops work, closes the ledgers, checks the progress on current work and finally had makes his way back to his home, the enormity of it dawns on him.  Who is he to think he knows better than the Master of a Swanship?

"You're a Master Shipwright, lad.  And a right fine one at that!" His father's voice echoes through his head, and his lips curl into a small smile.  And the old elf was right.  While not vain, at least about his work, Miro is honest enough to see the proof of the old elf's words in how their shipyard has thrived.  Even so, his father had refused to even look at his plans for the Swanship, let alone agree to build it.  This will be the first time he has shown them to anyone.  "He's just another sailor, Miro," he admonishes himself. "No one special."  He shakes his head, his freshly-washed dark hair lifting in the light breeze from the harbor. "And just who are you fooling with that?" he mutters to himself as he turns and makes his way across the plaza to the Inn.

Olwe tilts his head a little, his gaze shifting to the blush upon the sea merchant's face.   An eyebrow lifts at this uncharacteristic response to such a simple conversation between them.  "Oh," he responds, his voice even, with only a hint of his curiosity in its inflection.  "Who was he, Nole?  What did he say to give you a favorable impression of his knowledge?" He pauses and leans back against the edge of the table, relaxed, now that again things were less tense between them both.  "Does he know about swanships? I  know there are a fair number of sailors with swanship designs, but I think me none quite like ours?"

"This elf I met... he said he is a shipwright and builds ships here in Grey Havens. He has a facility here near the lighthouse. He believes there are some design flaws with my swanship. I have asked him to come share what flaws he observes and he also said he has some ideas as solutions. By your leave, I think that you might be interested to meet him and listen too."

Miro tugs at the bottom of his jerkin to make sure it is straight and pats the rolled up parchment under his arm nervously as he hesitates before the door of the Inn.  Taking a deep breath, he places his palm against the door and waits as it disappears before him.  A gust of warm air wafts past him, redolent of ale, woodsmoke and the smell of cooking meats.

...he hesitates before the door of the Inn.

Miro steps through the door and pauses in the doorway to survey the room.   He blushes at how his pulse leaps as he sees Nole already sitting at a table with another elf.  As his long legs carry him with easy strides across the room his eyes dart over the strange elf.  Rich fabric forms his attire and long silvery hair hangs well past his shoulder.  A merchant perhaps?  Possibly a would-be passenger bargaining for passage upon Nole's ship?

Miro gives a small mental shake of his head. No, not that, he thinks, now he is closer and can see his features. There is an easy familiarity in how the two are speaking together that belies the thought they are strangers.  A relative? Brother perhaps? No, although both silver-haired there was no familial resemblance in their features that he could see. Too soon he is across the room and the conundrum remains unsolved, as he pauses next to the seated pair and nods a greeting. "Good eve to you both."

"Good eve to you both."

Olwe starts to respond to the sea merchant, but the soft tinkling captures his attention, a sign that the door of the inn is allowing someone to enter the room. A strong and steady sound of boots striking the well-polished and worn wooden floor causes the Teleri king to turn slightly. Blue eyes look up at the elf who stops before them both.  Dark hair tumbles in waves upon waves, and in the face, Olwe can see the high cheekbones and steady gaze that gives him a start.  Tall is this elf, nearly as tall as Olwe himself. He gives the stranger a small smile and turns an even more curious gaze back to Nole.

He gives the stranger a small smile...

Nole looks up at the elf before him and smiles. "Miro, I am so glad you have come." He blushes slightly and tries to hide it. "Miro, this is my brother, Olwe." He gives Olwe a shy smile. "Olwe, this is Miro. I invited him here to have dinner with us and to discuss the swanship."

Miro nods his head respectfully as he is introduced. So he is a brother? Then one must take after one parent and one the other.  His lips curl into a small smile of amusement as he greets Olwe and murmurs, "I see your parents must have enjoyed the tales of the ancient Teleri and their legendary King to name you after him."  He finally turns his eyes to Nole, and his smile changes from one of amusement to one of warmth, "It is a pleasure to meet again."

Olwe flushes with pleasure as Nole introduces him to the tall, dark and handsome elf standing in their midst.  Brother, yes, Nole has heard his words, and taken them to heart.  But then, as Nole flushes during the introduction, Olwe looks slowly from one elf to the other, and his smile widens.  Never has Nole blushed so, meeting someone, much less in introductions so shy.

Olwe turns his attention to the tall elf before him, and answers, his blue eyes twinkling. "What know you of the ancient Teleri, friend, and of their king? How came he to be, as you say, legendary?" He pauses and sweeps a hand in the direction of the table. "Sit, please, join my ...brother and I."

Nole smiles and is quite happy Miro held to his promise. He is also happy about his brotherly relationship with Olwe. He notices the rolled up parchments under his arm. "Are those the designs you spoke of? That show the flaws of the swanship?" he asks, trying to keep the conversation on track and hide his feelings. After all, Miro is a resident here and will likely not be coming with them after this repair on the ship. There is no point in developing feelings for Miro. "Maybe we can discuss the plans?"

Miro's eyes never leave Nole even as he replies to Olwe's questions. "All the young elven boys in a seaport such as this have heard of that ancient King and his deeds and his legendary swanships." He tears his eyes away from Nole at last and looks at his brother. "It would seem though that even legends are not perfect as I was mentioning to Nole this morning.  The swanships are flawed."  He smiles as he hears the interest in his plans in Nole's voice.  "Please, let me show you."  Rather than take a seat, he steps around to the end of the table and takes the roll of parchments from under his arm, giving a shy smile to Nole as he does so.

Olwe gives the other elf a wide smile, his blue eyes twinkling with merriment.  Ancient, is he?  He bites his bottom lip and swivels around to face the table as Miro unrolls his bundle and spreads out sketches upon sketches, notations, drawings.  Intent now, Olwe slides one over and scans it, his expression thoughtful.  He takes his finger and points to a point along the sketched prow of the ship design.  "This is much different than how our ships are traditionally constructed. Why the design change?" He lifts his gaze to rest upon Miro as he waits for his answer.

Nole was going to interrupt Miro during his introduction as he shares his understanding of the Ancient King Olwe but decides to let it go. He looks at Olwe and sees he is looking at the plans. He takes it all in, and waits for Miro's explanation.

Miro fumbles a little as he lays his plans out on the table.  He runs his eyes over them briefly as he gathers his thoughts, at first sliding the plan away that has captured Olwe's initial interest. He begins to explain. "Before we look at the new design, you need to see the flaws in the old design.  My parents had a Swanship when they arrived here in Grey Havens.  They were beaten into port by a storm of a ferocity rarely seen, and barely made it into safe harbor, their ship greatly damaged.  It has lain in the state in which it arrived at the back of our shipyards all my life.  I would play in it as a child, with other elf children, pretending we were Olwe and his Teleri."

Miro grins. "See, the old Elf king was a favorite of ours." He looks down at the designs again, "As I learned my trade, I looked at the Swanship anew and I believe I have found some flaws that leave it vulnerable to such storms."

He takes a breath and points to a parchment, with the original swanship design on it. "I believe the hull is too shallow.  It does not give sufficient footing for a strong enough mast, which is why yours snapped, as did that of my parents' ship.  The problem is the ships were designed for minimal crew, so their size is limited to what one or two elves can handle. I think I have a solution to that, but we'll get to the solutions in a moment.  First, more flaws."

Miro points to another drawing on the parchment next to it. "And here, see how the cleats were ripped from the side of your ship?  There are two problems causing that.  One is the strength of the timber used for the hull construction.  The other is how much time it takes to lower a sail during a storm." He glances up to see if they are following what he is saying and nods approvingly as he sees the understanding that springs from knowledge written upon their faces. "Again, I believe I have solutions to this.  I have also designed a system that allows the ship to be swifter and far more maneuverable than the current design.”

He glances up.. and nods approvingly

Olwe carefully listens, nodding here and there, his blue eyes dropping down to the sketches as he follows along. "Yes," he says softly, as he contemplates the younger elf's words. "When we came to the West, we had gentle seas upon which to sail, and we stopped often." His eyes grow soft, a faraway look in them for a few moments. "And the Maia Osse gave us the knowledge to design the swanships, which we have little changed these passing of the years." He gives Nole a sideways look, his expression still thoughtful.

Olwe carefully listens

"I see why you brought him to me, Nole," he says to the sea merchant. "His sharp eyes spot what ours have been blind to.  As ever your keen instincts are true." He pauses and nods as he rises gracefully to his feet. "I shall leave it to you, my brother Teleri, to strike what arrangements we need to build a ship by his design."

He turns his attention to the other elf, his carriage and manner now that of a king, used to commands. "We would obtain your services, young Miro, to construct for us this ship of yours.  You have impressed me, young shipwright, and, it seems, more importantly, you have impressed my best mariner. Whatever the arrangements Nole makes with you, I shall honor upon the morrow, drawing a line of credit here for your use."

He includes both in his gaze, his eyes once more playful. "Now, if you will both excuse me, this 'ancient king' will take his leave of you both, and allow more youthful minds to hammer out the details. "  With a soft chuckle, he gives Nole a wink and moves toward the stairs leading up to the sleeping quarters.

Nole blushes a little as his king departs. He is not sure if it is from being with Miro alone, or if it is from Olwe's revelation of his kingship to Miro. He offers Miro a seat next to him. "So, dear friend, shall we start planning?"

"So... shall we start planning?"