The Straight Road

The sound of the water slapping against the wooden hull of the ship sounds strangely muted  here, on the Straight Road. The wind pushes against the sails in with a wisp of a disembodied whisper, and gazing upon a sky that bears no blanket of stars, they have only Nole's sure hand on the wheel to guide them through this veil between the West and Middle Earth.

It is the Straight Road, following the old trail across Belegaer, kept open to the Firstborn by the grace of the Valar.  Long ago the world was flat and the way was open. That was before  Númenor's downfall.   Now, only the elves and only a few others, like the hobbits Bilbo and Frodo, like the dwarf Gimli, are allowed to navigate these waters and find their way to Aman. 

Only they were heading East, to Middle Earth.  To Middle Earth where Alqualonde lay like a jewel in the crown of the world's seas.  To Middle Earth where Olwe's quest takes them to shores forgotten, shores unknown, and shores best left forgotten.   

The blue eyes of the Lord of Alqualonde and Tol Eressea, the king of the Teleri elves stares out over the waters, a muddle of blue and gray, and heaves a sigh.  Turning he lifts his gaze and sees his friend and sole companion, Nole, the sea merchant, now confidante of the king and co-adventurer on the voyage.  With sure strides, Olwe climbs the steps and crosses over to Nole's side.  He nods at the younger elf, his gaze resting on the horizon ahead. "How much longer before we are through and in Middle Earth?" he asks softly.



"How much longer...?"



Nole smiles a little as his king approaches. The passage of time has little meaning on the Straight Road, and Nole does not recall just how long it takes to sail from the Blessed Lands to the mortal world.

 

"Hmmm," he says thoughtfully, "perhaps by sunrise we will reach the mortal seas of Belegaer. After that we will need to decide which coastal region to approach."

 

It has been a while since he has sailed the Straight Road. In the times before the disappearance of the Teleri he sailed this routinely. But that seems many ages ago. Alqualonde now lays in the mortal waters of Middle earth. It took him awhile to get used to the new homeward routes from the mainland coasts of Middle earth, but now, it feels to him the Straight Road, that was once so familiar, is now the strange uneasy route.

 

The wind tugs at the silver hair of both elves, and Olwe reaches up absently to push his hair back out of his sea blue eyes. Nodding at Nole's words, he peers, squinting a little, but even the keen and far sight of his race avails him little here, in the misty grey path between worlds.  Belegaer, the Sundering Seas, west of Middle Earth, east of  Tol Eressea.  He breathes in the air, but the familiar salt of the sea lies not upon the breeze.  He turns back and regards the younger elf.  "Tell me, friend Nole, of these suggestions the sailors made to you."

 

Steering the ship is not difficult on this path, for it was linear and smooth. Nole often wondered what lay beyond the gray mists on either side on previous trips on the Straight Road, but never had the nerve to steer into the deep mists.

 

 "They spoke of some marginal coastal areas that are either difficult to approach or have not heard from the inhabitants for a while. One lays quite near to the Grey Havens, to the south of the mouths of the Brandywine. This is a rugged coastal area of rocky shores and thick forests that reach down almost into the sea. This is the Moire Taure, or the Blackwood as it is known to some. Little is known about it except that it is a remnant of the primeval woods that covered ancient Middle earth. It seemed a likely area where our kin may be hidden from the mortal races. Another area they spoke of lay far to the south, in the Mumakeem Jungles south of Harad. That is a far and long journey even in our... Miro's ship" he finishes, with a tone of longing as he remembers the attractive shipwright.

 

The slight pause and the tone of Nole's voice catches the Teleri king's attention. He studies the sea merchant's face a moment as he turns his back to the horizon and sits upon the sturdy, polished railing.  Resting his hands upon his legs, he looks over at the younger elf and says softly, "You miss him." 

"You miss him."

 

 

"Yes," Nole says without thinking, but then regrets it. He tries not to let his feelings intrude on the matter at hand. "We will, one day go back there to the Grey Havens," he says and looks at his king. "Perhaps we should investigate the Moire Taure first?" he says fairly quickly, hoping to get back to what needed to be done. "We could always continue south if we do not find anything of interest there."

"Yes," Nole says, without thinking.

 

 

Olwe's gaze upon him is steady, his blue eyes intense, though for a few moments, the king is silent.  Then, not far from the ship, he hears a splash and turns in time to see a dolphin leap out of the water, spin and dive back in. "It looks like we are entering the mortal waters of Belegaer," he says, his voice gentle.  He rests each hand on either side of him on the railing and pushes off to stand again.  Nodding as much to himself as to his companion, he says, " Moire Taure, the Black Woods. I know not much of it."  He steps upon the raised disc and rests a hand on one of the crescent moons of the ship's wheel. "I think you are right, Nole, about that being a starting place. Whether our kin be there or no, it is a reasonable stopping place." He gives the other elf a soft smile and removes his hand, turning away to look again toward the seas, and the lightening skies. "It's not wrong to miss him, " Olwe says. "It's not wrong at all. Our hearts have their own will, Nole. Sometimes they are foolish in their whims. " He stops a moment, and then adds, "But sometimes...sometimes they are very wise, indeed."  Then he takes a step away from the younger Telerin. And when he speaks next, his voice is that of a king. "Let us make for Moire Taure, and see what the Black Woods hold."