Sails of the Past

Played by:
AelKennyr Rhano



With long legs, long strides are made, and as the graceful Lord of the Teleri, Olwe, makes his way down the gangplank of the not yet completed swanship, the breeze off the waters bringing the smell of the sea, the promise of home mingled in the smell of fish and salt, ruffling his hair and raising it in silver strands about his face and eyes.  In a careless gesture, the high king of the Teleri lifts an elegant, finely tapered hand up to tuck long strands behind his ear and pull others away from his sea-blue eyes.  

Behind him, the voices of the sea merchant Nole and the shipwright  as they continued to talk of the the passage home became a soft, lyric buzz, the words clear but unnoticed by Olwe. His mind is on  the tavern, and the refugees from the Blue Mountains.  Surely the larger vessel will give the Khazad a greater sense of comfort and security, ease their mind about the sea voyage to the Swanhaven.  

The worn serviceable boots make a ringing slap against the stones as Olwe crosses the forge and then the wide expanse of the work area of the shipyard.  Idly glancing about the area, his blue eyes light upon the wreckage of the swanship which brought Miro's parents to the elven seaport.  The mast, splintered, still peered out above twisted brush and saplings off a corner of the shipyard.  Coming to a stop, his blue eyes narrow, staring at the mast.  Then, with a nod, he turns away from his intended path and heads instead to the brush and brambles and the wreckage of the swanship.  

Carefully, he picks his way among the weeds, thistle and brambles,  reaching out as he reaches the broken ship to pull the vines and grasses, the saplings that had sprung up from the ground below the hull, curving their trunks to lovingly caress the ship, wood touching wood.  Olwe pulls the last of the vines from the hull, and stretching out his hand, he runs his fingers across the wooden, ruined hull.  Leaning in, he pauses and rests his palm against it.  Malinornë wood.  He blinks and draws in a breath.  

Originally  the Malinornë were found only in Valinor, but the Valar, overjoyed at the final arrival of the last and largest Eldar clan, the Teleri, to the Shining Lands that Blessed Yavanna herself encouraged the spread of the mighty trees to the Lonely Isle after Lord Ulmo anchored it in its final resting place.  Malinornë trees were brought to the Atani of Númenor by elves , where they thrived and grew on the shores around the Bay of Eldanna.  Even when the sacred white tree, Nimloth the Fair, whose fate was said to be tied to the line of kings, was chopped down and burned as a sacrifice to Melkor, still the mighty  Malinornë trees survived, only being lost, finally, as the entire of Númenor sunk to the sea.

There are no Malinornë trees in Middle Earth, not to Olwe's knowledge. This wood came from only  one place.

Slowly he walks the length of the hull, pauses at gaping hole and peers into the shallow hold of the ship, running a thumb across the jagged edge of the hole.  His blue eyes focus on the splintered wood, paint curled and peeling a little.  He stands back up and quickens his steps, moving around to where the deck pressed into the earth, sinking, being swallowed by the wild green.  There, the railing and the paneling of the cabin is Taniquelassë wood from the fragrant evergreen tree, and now as he looks, other wood known and found in...

Tol Eressea. All the wood, it came from Tol Eressea. Just like the design of the swanship itself.  This is a ship made in Tol Eressea...or in Alqualonde with wood from the lonely isle, which means...

It is a Teleri ship.  

Slowly Olwe completes his circuit of the ship and looks off in the direction of  the swanship locked upon the barrel frame, the creation of a young elf who must be Teleri. It was the only logical conclusion. His blue eyes narrow as his gaze rests across the expanse of the shipyard. The shipwright is of Teleri descent.  So, Olwe asks himself..who..who is he?

And who were his parents?

Time to Leave

Played by: 
AelKennyr Rhiano
Belenos Stormchaser (BelenosStormchaser Magic)
Shawn Daysleeper

Eilif 's scalp prickles uncomfortably as she stands beside the Elder on the ancient stone pier.  It is more than the warmth of the day that irks her. Still uneasy about showing her scarred face in public, she has stubbornly clung to her habit of wearing a deep hood and cape whenever she ventures out. On this bright day, even the breeze that lightly ruffles the waters of the Gulf of Luin does little to ease the heat. But it is not the heat alone that makes her uncomfortable.

It is more than the warmth of the day that irks her.

Eilif 's brow furrows in concern as her dark eyes roam the length and somewhat slight breadth of the battered swanship that lies moored before them.  What she sees does nothing to ease her discomfort.  The broken mast, the torn timbers all speak of the fragility of the craft when pitted against a storm.  Warily she peers over the edge of the dock, trying to gage the depth of the ship's hull.  "It is so small," she murmurs. "How are we all to fit within it, with our belongings too?"

 Eilif sighs heavily as her eyes are again drawn to the broken mast.  The knot of dread that has recently lodged in the pit of her stomach twists tighter.  Overhead the seabirds swoop and dip, crying raucously to each other as they reel against the achingly blue sky or squabble over scraps stolen from the nearby market.  Turning a little Eilif lets her gaze wander across the docks and the surrounding township. Elven mariners busily ready a nearby craft for departure.  The last load of stores sits waiting on the wharf ready to be loaded .  Nearby she can hear the calls of merchants in the market, as they try to tempt customers to sample their wares, the words upon their tongue still strange to her ears.

Eilif turns her gaze even more as a loud burst of drunken dwarven laughter carries across to her from the Green Leaf Inn.  "They are in the mead again," she mutters. "But who can blame them?"  Shaking her head worriedly, she turns her attention back to the craft before them.  Who could blame them for seeking solace in mead.  They had lost their homes and kin. They were in a foreign city, with an unknown future before them.  And that future depends on this frail ship.   Who could cry foul if they chose to spend their days deep in their cups telling tales of happier times?

Adelsteinn nods in agreement about Eilif's remarks. He is concerned about the craft. It is very small and obviously still in need of repair. He has already sold their old cart, the one travel aid they once possessed from their former mountain home. They also bartered away much of the wealth he brought from the storehouse simply trying to survive here in the elf city. "We will not all fit aboard this craft," he says solemnly, "and not with all our belongings." He shakes his head at the sounds coming from the Inn. "Additionally our gold is running out, I am worried about how much longer we have to remain here in Mithlond."

"We will not all fit aboard this craft."

Olwe steps down upon the stone pier and pauses to look at the wreckage of Nole's Swanship.  Made not of  Malinornë wood, yet it was made from strip planking of the sturdy elm transported from Tol Eressea to Alqualonde.  As his blue eyes travel across the length and breadth of the ship this very warm day, lingering upon the missing masthead and the spintered mast, he sees what the dwarves are seeing: a fragile ship that cannot possibly bear the precious cargo he must  see back safely to the Swanhaven.  As he comes closer, he hears the last of Adelsteinn's spoken concern.  Turning back to where the two stand, eyes locked upon the ship, he dips his head in greeting. "I do not blame you for your concern, friend Adelsteinn. But I believe I have news that will lighten the burden upon you and make this journey seem a far safe prospect."

"...I have news..."

Eilif starts a little in surprise as she hears the melodious tones of the Elf King's voice.  So absorbed had she been in her contemplation of the Swanship she had not noticed his approach.  She turns to him and nods her head in greeting. "Good day to you, Majesty."  Her gaze flickers to Adelsteinn as she waits for his response to Olwe,

Adelsteinn turns to the king at his words. He sees the same elf as before and notices Olwe retains the same appearance of not looking like a king. Nodding to him, he asks, "You bring news? What news do you bring that would deliver us from here to your safe haven?"

Olwe kneels down into a crouching position so that his eyes are level with those of the two dwarves.  The wind picks up off the water and lifts strand of the silver hair of the Teleri king, forming a silken nimbus around his head as he cocks it to one side, regarding the two before carefully responding.  Lacing his fingers together and resting his elbows on the upper part of his legs, he makes them a measured answer. "I have been, this morn, to the shipyard of Miro. He came and spoke with me last night and showed me designs for a swanship that shall forever hence change the way our elven ships are constructed. It is a better design, constructed for the rough and uncertain seas of the world and storms. "He draws in a breath, passing over the cause of the storm that had beseiged Nole's ship. "I want to assure you that such storms as we saw coming here are rare, for Lord Ulmo is most kind and patient with the Children of Eru." Here he looks down and back up again, continuing. "But times are changing, as well you both know, and against the darkness to come, our delicate ships cannot stand proof. So my friends, first let me assure you that we shall not attempt the voyage home upon this poor vessel."

"But times are changing..."

Caution worn away by such an extended period of anxiety and worry, Eilif does not wait for the Elder's response as would be customary. Her eyes narrow as she hears Olwe's news. The reassurance that was his intent falls flat as her mind fixes on one word in his reply. Unthinking she takes a step forward as she blurts out, "Design? This Miro has a design? And how long would it take the wondrous design to take shape? We cannot languish here forever. We do not have the wealth of Kings to squander at your leisure. We need a ship NOW." Her face flushes as she realizes her impertinence and ducks her head, but she will not back down. He must understand! Yet her voice is lower and more respectful as she insists, "We cannot wait much longer. We need a ship, now."

".. We need a ship NOW."

Adelsteinn listens carefully to Olwe's words. He has heard tales of Lord Ulmo from folk that had visited the mountains over his servitude as Elder. He had simply dismissed them, for the sea was far away and of little concern to the underground dwelling dwarves. But now here they are, beside the sea, looking at ships. He is upset a little as he looks at the wrecked swanship, thinking Lord Ulmo did this. So there is some credence to those tales after all. At Eilif's outburst he holds up his hand. "Eilif, such is the way of silver-tongued elves. Let him further explain before we outburst. Getting angry will not solve anything." He turns to Olwe. "Miro," he asks, looking at the elf before him, "has plans for a superior ship? This sounds grand, but have these plans been implemented? How long will it be before the ship is built and ready?"

He has heard tales of Lord Ulmo

Blue eyes the color of the sea, look from the arm still swarthed in bandages into the dark cowl that hides Eilif's face from the rest of the world. He gives her a frank measuring stare, eyes locking eyes, the puckered scar giving her face a beauty in his eyes, underlining the strength in her voice and the desperation in its tone.  He nods, slowly, and there is neither anger nor haste in his answer.  He must proceed slowly, carefully, for the Khazad tribe here is a broken people, spent and tired...and frightened.  "Eilif, "Olwe says, his blue eyes looking directly into hers. He reaches out and gently, palm up, takes her left hand, in his own, cupping his hand under hers.  "Now comes the time when your feet must leave the solidness of stone and earth, and rest upon a vessel of the sea.  For the truth is there beneath and between your words and that of yond Elder." He pauses and briefly glances at Adelsteinn. "Yes, Miro has been commissioned to finish the fitting out of a swanship he has been constructing long before your arrival, or ours. But we are not bound to wait until she is seaworthy. " He turns his gaze back to Eilif. "You have no reason to trust me, I know. But you DO have a king's wealth at your disposal, Eilif. I do not give my promises lightly," he chides her gently, his finger gently closing over hers. "And here now, is my hand on it.  I promised I would do all I can to bring relief to your people. Think you, my lady, I would stand by and allow you to know hunger, thirst, and destitution? No, I would not. I have it in mind to next speak to the tavern keeper to arrange for your lodging and meals until we sail." 

"You have no reason to trust me, I know.."

 Releasing Eilif's hand, he turns to the master brewer. "Prepare yourself and your people, for in two day's time, upon Miro's well provisioned and seaworthy, freighter we shall return to the Haven of Swans. He has put his ship at our disposal so that your people shall not languish here, waiting for the completion of the new swanship."  He bows his head a moment, and then lifts his gaze to meet the Elder. "That is, if you still intend to take my offer.  But if it be beyond the kenning of your people to take this bold step, that the inn shall draw upon my credit until you come to some other decision for your future, and whatever you need to that end, that I can provide, it shall be given."  

Eilif gasps at first at the forwardness of Olwe's gesture of taking her hand, but the sincerity she sees in those sky blue eyes stays her from pulling back. Her natural Khazad reticence at accepting what could be seen as charity from a stranger, wars with her realistic disposition. Everything has changed. How can she cling to tradition when they must make their way out in the world now, their ancient ways destroyed by the destruction of their ancient home? Gruffly she nods to Olwe, grudgingly accepting his explanation and protestations of support.

How can she cling to tradition?

Adelsteinn watches Eilif as they seem to understand and accept each other. He is quite relieved there is already a ship of the advanced design nearly ready to sail. "This ship is large enough for all of us? If it is, then we will prepare to journey with you. We will go to Alqualonde in two day's time."

Olwe slowly turns his gaze from Eilif, giving her a slow, shy smile before turning his attention to the master brewer. Giving the Elder a brilliant, open smile, he nods. "The ship, my friend is large enough to hold you, your group, my companion Nole and myself," he pauses and with a glint of mirth he adds," And enough food and drink that the way shall be smooth and full of good cheer.  And when you gaze upon the Swanhaven, you shall scarcely credit how short the journey seemed."  

Slowly, he stands.  "In two days time, then, my friends, begins your new life...in Alqualonde."