A Ship and a Sail

Played by:

AelKennyr Rhiano
Jasper Dragonheart
Shawn Daysleeper

Olwe, Lord of Alqualonde and Tol Eressea, and King of the Teleri, turns his head, blue eyes following the motion of the wings.  He gives a soft gasp as the young shipwright turns the wheel, and the wings respond readily, dipping gracefully.  His eyes follow the graceful wings and lift briefly to watch a seagull fly across the sky.  Here, before him in a royal majesty, this young elf has taken the craft taught the Teleri by the Maia Osse and risen it to the highest of art and form.  Slowly he turns his attention back to Miro, tilting his head a little as he considers the ship upon whose deck he now stands.  "Your father," he asks, his voice calm and tranquil as a pond, deep and rich in its tone.  "Your father, lad, must have been a fine shipwright, but I warrant that he is surpassed by his son. You did say he was a shipwright as well?"

Slowly he turns his attention back to Miro..

Nole feels excited at the innovations Miro is showing him on the new swanship. For a moment it reminds him of when he and Felsa worked together to build the ship that now lies so damaged in the harbor. That is a sad memory. Felsa is gone, as will  be the old swanship. It is time to move on. He has rising excitement as he looks about this new design, and he is eager to feel how she handles upon the open ocean. He looks around more and asks, "When do you think she will be ready to sail?"

"When do you think she will be ready to sail?"

Miro releases the ship's wheel, centering it and the wings to their standard position as he does so. He steps back from the helm, his long slender fingers trailing along the curving sweep of the crescent moons in a caress that speaks more eloquently than words of his great love for this ship, and turns to face King of the Teleri and his brother.  He nods a little absently as he answer's Olwe's question. "Aye, he was a fine shipwright, with a keen mind and sharp eyes for line and beauty."  He lets his eyes sweep the length of the ship a moment before they rise up to the sail bearing its crest, billowing so bright and new against the clear blue sky, "But he had no time for dreams, he always said.  Dreams are dangerous things, for fools, and this ship was my dream so it was never built in his lifetime."

Miro turns to Nole and smiles a little wistfully as he answers him. "I have asked myself that question I think a thousand times over the years.  When would my swanship finally sail the mighty expanses of Ulmo's domain? Now I believe I have an answer." He glances again at the unfinished equipment at his feet, and his mind and demeanour are again those of a Master Shipwright as he quickly assesses the work yet to be done.  She will take a se'nnight at least, two if she is to be properly sea trialled.  But no more than that."  He turns his gaze back to Olwe. "But you need a ship fit to sail well before that, I believe?"

Olwe nods at the answer to his question, and his eyes scan about them to locate the wrecked swanship that gave fuel to the creative flames deep within the passionate heart of the shipwright, long ago, when he was but a child.  Narrowing his eyes, he stares hard at the wreckage. In the long years of abandonment, trees have grown up, and brush and thickets. But as the Teleri king stares, he makes out the all-too-familiar curve of the bow, the hull shallow compared to this ship, and so much more like the ship upon which they left the Swanheaven.  Teleri, he thinks, for though the turning of ages has seen swanships in Middle Earth, yet, their designs were different from the swanships of Tol Eressea and of Alqualonde as...he takes a breath, the conversation between Nole and Miro barely registering.... this was different than any other he has ever seen.  He turns his gaze back to the shipwright, studying carefully his features.  Why does this elf look so familiar?

Why does this elf look so familiar?

He clears his throat and answers the question he thought he heard. "No, no, I hope it would take less than that to repair our ship, friend. We needs be ready to sail in a day or two." He turns to Nole. "I worry how we will accommodate the dwarves in our craft.  I am not sure how the Khazad will fare with wide expanses of water. Aztryd seemed to be quite displaced with the idea of sailing, if I remember from the way she recounted how she arrived in Alqualonde."

Nole falls quiet as he listens to Olwe and Miro make plans. He looks over the ship again and takes in her beauty. He then finds himself admiring the elven shipwright who built her. He sees his deep blue eyes. Nole has a new admiration and respect for his abilities as a shipwright. Upon recognizing Olwe's question, he nods absentmindedly and murmurs, "Yes, she was."

Miro looks from one to the other and shakes his head a little. "I have encountered some of the Khazad from time to time, as they have come to the city to trade.  I have yet to see one venture past the harbor arches, so wary are they of the ocean's depths, let alone board a ship.  They seem to place great store on size and sturdiness, and I believe your small group is taking all their remaining worldly possessions with them when they go with you.  I fear it will be a cramped journey and an overloaded ship they would be trusting their fate to, if they were to return with you on your craft, even if she be repaired."

Miro ducks his head a little at his boldness of speaking so to royalty, let alone one whom he has admired and respected as a personage of legend from the time he was a small child. His long dark curls swirl about his shoulders with the movement as he beckons them to follow him as he moves to the rail of the ship so they may overlook the plainer craft moored on the far side of the dock.

Miro nods towards the ship with his chin as he speaks. "She be plain, but sturdy and well-tried.  I use her for when I trade along the coast, although she is more than strong enough for the open ocean."  He turns his gaze from the ship, his deep ocean blue eyes meeting the clear sky blue gaze of Olwe's. "Majesty, I would not risk so many passengers on so small a craft as your swanship, even if she were repaired.  These waters..." he turns and looks towards the open ocean in the distance beyond the entrance to the Gulf. "These waters are not as gentle as those of the Blessed Lands when the swanships carried so many of your people to Aman.  Nor do I wish to rush the build of this ship, upon which we stand.  But, I believe I have a solution to offer, if I may be so bold?"

"She be plain, but sturdy and well-tried..."

".. I believe I have a solution to offer.."

The smell of fish, salt, and pitch mingles and tickles at Olwe's nose, as he watches the wind lift the tangled locks of the shipwright.  The eyes, so blue and so intense, draws Olwe's attention.  Felsa's eyes were blue, he remembers, and he casts a side-wise glance at the sea merchant, Nole, who, in turn, is silently watching them both.  He watches as Miro crosses the deck and turns his back to them to indicate a second, plainer ship.  Crossing the deck to come up beside the shirtless shipwright, Olwe scans the line of the second ship.  "We did not know their condition, nor how many we should find," answers Olwe, his eyes scanning the other ship.  "I had not known what we should find, only that we should give aid. We are not used to rescuing the Maker's children and restoring them to our Swanhaven." 

He looks over at the younger elf, and tilts his head. "What do you propose, young Miro?"

"What do you propose, young Miro?"

Miro's blue eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles a little ruefully, "Aye, sadly our race has had little experience in rescuing theirs, so it would be impossible to know what to prepare for." He turns his gaze again to the other ship, "I could help you, if you would permit. While my workmen finish the work on this ship, I could take you and your passengers to Alqualonde on my trading vessel, if you would show me the way. She is sturdy enough to perhaps reassure your anxious passengers, and big enough to accommodate all without danger of overloading. It would take less than a day to provision her, if you give me numbers of how many would be travelling " He stops and smiles as a thought occurs to him, "Although methinks I would double the usual supplies based on what I have heard of hearty Khazad appetites."

Miro stops a moment as another thought occurs to him and he runs fingers that tremble a little along the smooth surface of the ship's rail, "I have never sailed beyond the coastal waters. I have never sailed the open ocean, let alone taken the Straight Road to the West. I.. I don't think I would even know how to find it."  Sighing he looks back up at the Teleri King, "But what I have is here for your service, if it might aid you, as am I."

"But what I have is here for your service..."

Olwe's eyes are drawn to the ship anchored close by, studying the sturdy ship as he mulls over the younger elf's words.  Certainly the artisan touch and craftmanship of the shipwright is as plainly stamped upon the features of the vessel just beyond them as it was upon the swanship upon whose deck he now stands.  There and here were traces of the handiwork of the master shipwright.  "A cargo vessel?" he guesses softly.  "What does she usually haul?" he asks curious as he steps closer to the younger elf, inspecting the ship closely.  "Yes," he says, not giving Miro a chance to answer immediately.  "Yes, somehow I cannot see Eilif faring very well upon our smaller swanship's deck.  Nor," he admits with a rueful smile, "nor, I admit, would I relish the idea of a return voyage with our seasick musician upon our smaller, more delicate craft."

He turns and looks over Miro's shoulder, carefully studying the expression on Nole's face before looking back over at the young shipwright.  "The Straight Road will not be needed, my friend. The correct course Nole can easily guide you  to and through, if it be you who will captain the ship. I should be glad, indeed, if that were so." He gives a small smile, glancing back at Nole.  The wind sweeps up off the water, and peppers Olwe's hair with droplets that catch the sun and reflect its beam like little jewels.  "You are most generous, my young friend. It is commendable."

Nole stands a little aside and behind his king and Miro. He listens to them discussing the plans and feels pleased that Miro may be travelling with them. He is glad that Miro will not be leaving him so soon. With that worry aside, he looks at the ship some more while they talk. He grins a little at the mention of the seasick musician. After their discussion he nods. "Yes, I can guide us to Alqualonde across the mortal waters."

"...I can guide us.. across the mortal waters."

Miro blinks as he looks from one elf to the other, for a moment thinking that the shrieking of the seabirds overhead has caused him to mis-hear, but no, Nole had confirmed what Olwe's had implied. "Across the mortal waters?" He blurts out. 'What.. what do you mean? Alqualonde is in Aman, is it not?"

Eyes the blue of the sky meets Miro's puzzled gaze. As the wind whips his hair about his face, Olwe raises a hand and pulls errant strands from around his mouth. "Alqualonde has been a part of the mortal realm of the Children of Eru for three passing of the seasons. Three summers, three autumns and three winters has the Swanhaven been part of the whole of Middle Earth and beyond.  It is the time of a great Darkness, the time of great shift and change across the world Blessed Illuvatar gave will to be sung into being. I have,"He pauses and draws breath, beginning again, his heart tightening as he says the words. Three turns of the seasons has not lessened the ache as he speaks. "I come to find  my people, my Teleri, who, in a flash of light was taken from the Swanhaven as it sat, in peace and blessed beauty in the lands of the Valar. I come, driven by the dreams sent me by Irmo, Lord of Visions. I come, commissioned by Lord Manwe, to be the Hope of Valar and unite our kindred clan."

He swallows, the wind about him, suddenly cold despite the heat of the day. "I come because if we do not rise as one, elves and men and dwarves, and other beings who have come into being in all these passing ages, we shall be swept away  as though a great hand has swatted us aside as if we were but gnats."

He looks back at Nole and then turns slowly to Miro. "Three ages has creation seen since first the Ainur sung the great song.  It is the Dawning, now, of the Fourth Age, and everything we know is about to change."

"...everything we know is about to change."

Nole listens thoughtfully to his king's words and remembers their purpose here in the Grey Havens must be finished before they can continue their mission. They must finish the task of the dwarves before seeking out and uniting the other races. "Perhaps, my king," he says, "you should let the dwarves know they need to prepare to depart. If I may, I would like to remain behind with Miro and familiarize myself with the Swanship, if you do not mind?"

".. I would like to remain behind with Miro..."

Miro turns and smiles at Nole, his heart thudding a little in excitement.  "He really likes it," he thinks to himself as he listens to Nole's request to remain behind and study the ship. "By Ulmo's foaming beard, he really likes it!" Nor does the thudding abate as he contemplates further time spent in the handsome mariner's company.  "Duck your head in a bucket of water, Miro and make sure you are not dreaming," he says to himself silently, for surely none of this could be real.  But no, there he is, the handsome sea-captain he has long admired, not only sea-captain but brother to the legendary Olwe himself.  Realizing he has been staring, he ducks his head bashfully and then turns again to Olwe to await his reply.

... surely none of this could be real.. 

Three ages have passed, and now a fourth one dawns, but here upon this swanship, none of that carries import in this one moment. In this moment, a young talented shipwright, with features that continue to haunt Olwe's memories, turns and gives a shy smile. Not to Olwe, but to a shy and stalwart companion over the passage of these three years.  As Olwe watches, a smile of his own curves his lips.  Is it his imagination, Olwe thinks, or in Nole's words is there a desire to be more often in the company of the handsome Miro.  Bowing his head, Olwe knits his brow and purses his lips, as if considering Nole's words.  Finally he gives a nod. "Yes, yes, I think you have the right of it, Nole. The sooner we have the dwarves prepared, the better it will be. And they should know by now their wishes in this matter. Yes, I believe your place should be here, with this talented young elf.  I shall return and speak with their elder Adelsteinn." 

He looks back up and over at the shipwright. "I thank you for your generosity, and I would be a foolish elf, indeed, not to take what is so freely and kindly offered. I trust, then, Nole and you to handle the practicalities of the voyage.  I, in the meantime, shall attend to practicalities of a different stature."  

"I thank you for your generosity..."

He gives Miro another long, lingering stare, softening it with a smile of warmth.  That face, those eyes, Olwe thinks to himself. How can it be they are pricking my mind when I have seen not this elf before. Then, biding both elves farewell, he descends from the great swanship, and with resolve to put aside the cobwebs of  unease, makes his way back to the inn.