"How stands your ship.."

Played By:
AelKennyr Rhiano
Jasper Dragonheart
Rhun Darkmoon
Shawn Daysleeper


Below him, in the main room of the tavern in Grey Havens, the voices of the faithful sea merchant Nole, and the dark-haired shipwright are still talking.  Above, the Lord of Alqualonde stretches out on a bed made for elves and humans of shorter stature.  Heaving a sigh and willing his body to relax, a smile curves the lips of Olwe.  Remembering again how Nole looked at the handsome shipwright, Olwe closes his eyes. That look, that look used to be on Nole's face...a long time ago, Olwe cups his hand over his mouth as he gives in to a yawn.  That shipwright's eyes, the way they gleamed as he spoke of his trade. How they softened when he looked at the sea merchant.  A young elf, to be sure, but taken with Nole. Olwe feels his eyes droop and close.  Slipping into sleep, his mind casts back to another moment, another time, to one of many farewells, and one of the few so very painful ones.

********

Felsa feels the breeze from the nearby harbor lift and rifle through his long dark hair as he stands on the palace balcony next to Nole.  All eyes are on the harbor as they await the arrival of the Noldor ship, but Felsa's gaze is torn between the ocean beyond the harbor and the tall fair elf who stands at his side.  He tries not to let his gaze wander to the even taller and fairer elf standing beyond Nole, for it is King Olwe who stands there with his champion.  King Olwe! Discreetly Felsa rubs nervous palms against the side of his pants.  A humble shipwright such as he had never dreamed he might one day stand on the balcony of Olwe's palace with the very King himself.

Felsa rubs nervous palms...

Nole stands beside Felsa and looks out over the sea, his wide eyes taking in all. The sea, the gem encrusted beaches of Aman, and the shadowy ocean beyond. Beside him, his king stands, awaiting the ship. Nole looks toward Felsa. He could see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes as he looks over the sea. His longing for it seems apparent to him. Nole feels most at ease beside his benevolent king.

Quildohtar stands, as always, by the side of his Lord and King under the twilight skies of Aman, his grey eyes moving between watching the excited crowds gathering on the docks, and the face of his beloved Lord.  There is great rejoicing in the Swanhaven this day, yet after long years as Champion to his King, he knows there are other emotions tugging upon his heart this day.  The thoughtful shadows that dim the normally bright and clear blue eyes, the firm line of his mouth - all tell Quildohtar that some things at least are weighing upon his King's mind.  Not wishing for his concern to be too evident, he turns his gaze to roam again across the crowds at the harbor.  He did not expect trouble this day, yet as Champion it was always his duty to be on the watch for it.

Quildohtar...turns his gaze to..the harbour.

Eyes the color of the sea he searches, Olwe, Lord of Alqualonde and Tol Eressea, King of the Teleri lifts his head, peering with an intense gaze at the horizon.  The wind lifts off the gentle waves and carries, mingled with the smell of cherry blossom and flowers, the tang of the sea, the salt promising of faraway journeys.  His nostrils flared, and he breathed in, his hands brushing over the long flowing skirt of the tunic he wore, newly made for this occasion.  He turns his head just a little, back to the palace, as his thoughts turned too, to the one Teleri who, this day, shall depart these shores, whose home will be no more Alqualonde, but Tirion upon Tuna.  To the one face he knows better than his own, the one person he has cared for and loved more than his own life and being.

For today Earwen Silverhaired, the pearl of Alqualonde, the core of Olwe's heart, leaves the shore of her birthplace.  Today, she sails over the horizon, and as he turns his head slowly, again, to the sea, his throat bobs as he feels his heart squeeze.  From chasing waves to riding them, she is a woman grown.  His jaw tightens.  She is a woman grown, a princess, and soon, a bride.

Felsa feels his breath catch as he sees the Noldor ship round the point and begin to glide gracefully towards the harbor; sails and rigging taut and straining to carry the craft to the shore. As a shipwright, his heart leaps always to see a ship upon the sea, even one with the slightly clumsy lines of the Noldor craft.  He glances towards Nole and leans towards him to nod with his chin at the approaching ship and whisper, "It moves swiftly enough, but your Swanship be far more elegant and graceful, methinks."

"Your swanship be far more elegant..."

Nole sighs a little as the ship approaches. He has known Earwen a long while: they grew up together. And now, she is leaving. Tirion on Tuna, away to the West, away from the sea and Tol Eresea. How long would it be until they saw each other again? He then sees Felsa's look and hears his whisper. He could not hold back a blush at that remark. The swanships of the Teleri were certainly more graceful than those of the Noldor, at least so he thought.

He has known Earwen a long while...

Quildohtar watches the colorful gathering on the dock as a surge of excitement run through it. Elves dressed in their best to honor their Princess and her Groom flutter colorfully together as they spot the awaited ship turn the point, and he could hear the hum of exited voices.  He thinks of the maiden in her apartments within the palace, preparing for her departure, and wonders what her thoughts might be this day.  He turns his gaze from the throng below and looks upon the face of his Lord and murmurs quietly, "We give them our finest treasure this day."

He takes a step forward, as he spies a speck on the horizon.  Narrowing his sea blue eyes, Olwe stares until he spies the sail. Rubbing sweat palms upon the white satin, he gives a glance behind him to the ever present and comforting presence of his Champion.  He opens his mouth and then closes it, managing to nod at the other's words. Turning instead to the young sailor Nole and his beloved shipwright, blue eyes rest  upon the bright eager face of the young sailor, and despite the heaviness in his heart, Olwe feels a smile come to his lips.  "So, young Nole, I wonder what sort of ship shall come from our Noldor kin, for sailors they are not. " He nods to Felsa and includes the earnest  shipwright in the conversation.  "How stands your ship, yours and Nole's?  She has not sailed yet, I am told, but she is ready and seaworthy, and the best of our swanships yet."  He claps a hand on Nole's shoulder. "For I would have her embark this day and prove herself, and your vision."

Felsa ducks his head respectfully as the King addresses him directly, his cheeks flushing with pleasure and nerves and then lifts his chin boldly as he replies. "I have worked with the finest shipwright in Aman to build her." He smiles at Nole so there can be no doubt whom he refers to. "I believe our ship up to any task you may assign her."  Despite his calm assured words, his heart is hammering inside his chest.  Embark?  Was he really sending them on a task? Shipwright he may be, but Felsa's Teleri blood burns strong with the lure of the sea.

Nole looks at his king as he speaks. He is ready for any task assigned to him. "Yes, of course, she is ready for you to embark. The ship is strong and prepared for the sea." He smiles back to Felsa and notices his cheeks change color. "Yes, together we can carry out our king's wishes." He is quite excited to be going on a voyage all together if that will be the task ahead.

Quildohtar stands quietly by Olwe's side

Quildohtar stands quietly by Olwe's side as he listens to the conversation. It is not his place, unless invited, to discuss plans but he is content with that. Today is not his day to shine or be in the public eye. Standing now upon the wide balcony of the palace, Quildohtar is content to be at hand if needed, and by his presence lend his support to a King who is also a father who must bid his daughter farewell this day.

Olwe turns to the young pair: Nole and his shipwright, the two so well matched.  Blue eyes brighten as he watches their faces, sees how they turn, each to the other, the respect and love there in equal measure.  Would that Earwen find such love for her in the heart in Finarfin.  His eyes flicker briefly up in the direction of Olwe's tower, and his thoughts wing to the chamber of his daughter, the highest point of his tower.  In his mind, he sees her peering out her window, her thoughts already aboard the ship that steadily plows the sea to harbor.  Reaching out, he rests a hand upon the balcony railing, steadying his aching heart as he speaks lightly. "I would you pilot your ship among the three others already picked.  I would your ship this day be the flagship of the honor guard that would see the Noldor ship of Prince Finarfin and Princess Earwen  on their way back to Tirion."

He turns his head and watches as the ship looms ever closer. Moments, only moments remain now, before Earwen boards the ship that will take her from his side forever. He leans a little on the hand, and for a moment, his mouth tightens as he spies clearly the ship's design. "No much has changed in their ships, "He murmurs, remembering  another ship, another Noldor, another departure.  His eyes grow cold a moment, and his voice drops lower still.  "And the day was much like today, and yet all the world different."

He...watches as the ship looms ever closer

All days in the twilight of the Blessed Lands were alike in the peace, alike in the tranquility, alike in the harmony that rested upon the Swanhaven like a blanket against a cold night in Middle Earth.  The singing of the fisherelves rose from the harbor as they worked in concert as somewhere in the palace a baby cried, and here, here where he stood, she stood, too, cold, cold and beautiful, A familiar stranger who gave him the miracle of a child and then the heartbreak of betrayal.  He leans, now, as he leaned then, heavy in heart, heavy in soul, as memories swell up like an angry waves, and again her words of farewell fall upon his memory as they fell upon his ears.  "Long ago," he whispers, and wills the memory back into the corner of his heart, the empty place, the void.

Felsa reaches fro nole's hand...

Felsa reaches for Nole's hand and clasps it in excitement.  An honour guard? The very flagship?  All the way to Tirion? To sea at last!  Not just for brief sea trials of vessels made and sold, but to sea! Unable to speak he shifts from foot to foot as he waits for Nole to reply to the King.

Nole nods and bows before his king. "We are ready and will carry out your request. My ship will be displayed at the forefront of the guard. The honor of the Teleri will not be diminished before that of the Noldor." He then turns to Felsa. "This ship, that you made," he says quietly. "Let us ready her to sail." Nole says louder to Felsa with a solemn smile.

Quildohtar shrewdly watches the play of emotions across his Lord's face.  This day would be hard on any parents, but when a parent must face it alone, it is harder still.  His jaw tightens as he thinks back to the events of so long ago that left his Lord so stricken and a babe, now maiden about to be married, to be raised motherless.  His hand tightens reflexively upon his sword as he remembers his shame that not even he, the King's Champion, had been aware of the Queen's plans to flee the Swan Haven.  He remembers the frantic searching throughout all of Aman, but no trace of her had been found.  He remembers...  But no, today is not the day to remember such times.  He briefly places a hand upon Olwe's shoulder and squeezes it as he whispers, "Aye, it was long ago and another time, my Lord.  Now," he nods toward the harbor where the Noldor ship was settling in to dock, "now we must celebrate and be happy for the one who goes to meet her heart's mate."

Olwe reaches up and places a long and graceful hand atop the hand of his Champion, his friend and nods softly.  Nole and Felsa could not remember: they were born upon these shores, babes much as Earwen had been. But Quildohtar remembered. Quildohtar, King's Champion, who searched the entire of the city for his Queen, for Earwen's mother, and found her not.  Just as Olwe knew he would not find her. Just as Olwe had no heart to tell him it would be so.  Rare  did they speak of it, king and champion, and now is occasion to speak no more of it.  Standing up straight and tall, nearly as tall as his brother Elwe, Olwe nods again. "I see the time comes, and soon Earwen will join us." He turns to the young sailor and shipwright. "Your moment is here, too, young friends.  Shall we gather a nervous young princess and go to greet her betrothed?"

Felsa lifts the hand he holds and presses his lips to the back of it, his deep blue eyes smiling into Nole's as he murmurs, "There is no ship that I made, but there is one that WE made, for together, side by side we labored upon it." He lowers the hand but does not release it as he turns to Olwe and bows his head respectfully at his words. "As always, my Lord, your wish is our will."  He then grins impishly before adding, "And this time, our pleasure also.  Let us go find the maiden."