The Voyage of Môrcelebren - A Yestarë Cruise RP

[Eriol]

"After the 'breaking of the North' in the Great Battle, the shape of the North-west
of Middle-Earth was changed. Nearly all Beleriand was drowned in the sea.
Taur na Fuin became an island. The mountains of Eredwethion &c. became small isles (so also Himling)."
- Tolkien, from The Histories of Middle-earth VII: The Treason of Isengard

"The seas invaded the lands,and shores foundered,
and new isles were uplifted;
and hills crumbled and rivers were
turned into strange courses."
- Tolkien, from The Silmarillion: Akallabêth

"Those that sailed far came only to the new lands,
and found them like to the old lands."
- Tolkien, from The Silmarillion: Akallabeth

"In Middle-earth the Eldar observed a short period of solar year, called a coranar or sun'round' when considered
more or less astronomically, but usually called loa 'growth' (especially in the north-western lands) when the seasonal changes in vegetation were pirmarily considered, as
was usual with Elves generally. / The loa was broken up into periods that might be regarded either as long months or short seasons. / In that calendar there were six of these 'seasons', of which the Quenya names were tuilë, lairë, yávië, quellë, hrívë, coirë, which may be translated 'spring, summer, autumn, fading, winter, stirring.' The Sindarin names
were ethuil, laer, iavas, firith, rhíw, echuir. / The loa began with yestare, the day immediately before tuile...'
- Tolkien, from The Lord of the Rings: Appendix D: The Calendars

A plucky Telerin mariner named Girion Coruben and his Nelya relief Captain, Davos, are hosting a Grand Tour honoring the Elven New Year. It is sponsored by the Lindonese Historical Society, a guild established to preserve ancient sites in Lindon and oversea. Elves, Gondorians, and travellers from afar are welcome aboard the cruise ship Môrcelebren. It is a passenger vessel of the prominent Uiloselen White Star liners of Forlond. The ship is built of lebethron and mallorn, esteemed for its timely landings and narrow escapes from the rage of Ossë. For a modest fee of five hundred gold pieces for each guest...Girion and Davos will lead voyagers on a wonderful sightseeing journey. The Society has spared no expense for your pleasure.

Isle of Balar - The Isle of Balar, far southwest of Lindon. It was the eastern tip of Tol Eressëa which broke off when Ulmo brought the Eldar to Aman. It served as a refugee camp of the Eldar and Edain of Beleriand; from here the Elves came to the west coast of Middle-earth with Cirdan and Gil-galad, Celeborn and Galadriel, Celebrimbor and Elrond. This is a majestic place, replete with fragrant flowers and exquisite fountains. In the shallow waters you will find many beautiful pearls varying in size and marvelous colours. This will be our first port to visit! Voyagers may hike in the great rugged hills and seek out the fair abandoned settlements of the Elves and Mortals; the Lindonese Historical Society have maintained the beauty of these ancient edifices. The fellowship of loremasters have preserved many trails of old and the Lindon Trekking Guild has forged hiking routes anew.

Tol Taras - Our next port will be the island of Mount Taras, six hundred leagues northwest of the Isle of Balar. The eponymous tall mountain stands at the western end of a line of hills, ancient outliers of Ered Wethrin, where Rog's smiths once mined. Taras soars over a green cape jutting into the sea, dark and clouded. It stands between lofty mountains marching northeast and idyllic grasslands beneath snow-crowned peaks which faced the Falas in bygone days. Below the slopes are the pillared halls of Vinaymar and windy courts of its city where Gondolindrim dwelled before their exodus to Tumladen. The ruined quays of Tol Taras have been rebuilt for visiting ships, the delight of fishers, and the enjoyment of whale watchers.

Mel Lóna: Our next port will be the island of Mel Lona, two hundred leagues east by northeast of Mount Taras. Here are the lower lands of Dor-lomin, its southern mountains, and the valleys which Chieftain Magor colonized in antiquity. In these southern vales and the pine-lands over the ridge dwell descendants of the Edain whom Emeldir led from Taur-nu-Fuin, scions of the refugees Nathaniel Galerida brought out of Himring, and some Elven survivors of the First Age. Here we will rest at another resort, the inn of Valion Mordagnir and his wife Meril Duvain. We should be safe... a sleepless watch captained by Rivalchon Isilherven, eldest son of Tharmáras, maintains the peace of Mel Lona to guard against Corsair attacks in recent years.

Eregferen: We will then sail beyond Tol Noldarë, Mole Island, and Tol Fuin to reach Tol Eregferen. The Island of Beech and Holly is three hundred leagues southeast of Mel Lona. Many of the native trees were destroyed by winged dragons and Orcs in the War of Wrath but Elves of Lindon, with the aid of Wizard Radagast (Position is vacant, at least until Annúnfalas returns; let me know in the Imladris Activities OOC if anyone would like to write him when the ship comes to Eregferen), have regrown many beeches here; during the time of Eregion, elven foresters brought holly in memory of once neighboring Region which sank in the Drowning of Beleriand. There is a Lindon Guard naval base which has been established in recent years to succour Rivalchon, catching Sarabeth Gameela's elusive pirate ships whenever possible. This is a popular hunting locale for visitors and draws animal lovers with its Dolphin Bay! Our resort will be a gabled inn atop Ornithron , the Wizard's Tree. This immense beech, the largest one of the island and built of three massive trunks, was raised by Radagast in the image of Hirilorn. The smooth bark is silvery-grey. Its foilage is purple and pink, the color turning more purple by mid-summer then golden-bronze in the fall. Voyagers of Lindon and Rivendell, Lórien and Gondor as well as Elves sailing home to Aman flock to this island to behold the beauty of the Wizard's Tree.

Himling: Six hundred leagues northeast from Tol Eregferen is Himling. This huge treeless island was once the grandest hill of the Himring range, the kingdom of Maedhros in the Elder Days. The name has changed over millennia and its lesser heights have vanished below the verge. The Lindonese Historical Society permits visitors to enter the castle for a tour...and a game. The a small number of Eldarin treasures of the king are released every few years by the fellowship for guests to locate in a scavenger hunt in the citadel.

The Icebay of Forochel: Three hundred leagues east of Himling is the Icebay of Forochel, the last destination of our cruise. One of your trustworthy captains will steer you safely beyond the menacing icebergs to reach the broad tundra of Middle-earth's frigid frontier. Here, we will find shelter in huts of snow; these belong to a friendly tribe of Lossoth who have established peaceful contact with the mariners of Círdan since after the days of King Arvedui. We will skate and sled and be awed by the glimmering beauty of the Northern Lights. There will also be a wreath-laying ceremony, hosted by Galdor of the Havens and Sirdis of Lond Col, to commemorate the passing of the King and the Elves who tried to rescue them.

Menu: Courtesy of @Annúnfalas and Tharmáras and Moriel

The White Wines

Laichsîr, Sweet Stream - a rose-colored wine with a touch of white strawberries, redcurrant, and summer raspberries.
Dúven Amrûn, Western Sunrise - a golden wine containing hints of tropical peach and mango collected from the Western Isles; with a flavoring of vanilla spice.
Cewin-en-Calendor, Taste of the Green Land - an herbal wine with the juice of sour green apples, fresh pears, and tart gooseberries.
I-Glîr-Sîr, The River Song - a syrupy, full-bodied wine blended with ripe figs and assorted berries.
Ethuil Meleth, Spring Love - an aromatic wine with a splash of rose water, extract of lychees imported from Dorwinion, and a dash of berry allspice.
Peredhel - A dry white of Bree's Flutterbye Vineyards with flavors of peaches and honeysuckle named for a frequent half-elven Ranger.

The Red Wines:

Dorwinion Red Wine – Fine imported red, the same variety that the Elvenking favors for his table. Quite strong!
Greenwood Burgundy – A dark red wine from Mirkwood, rich and bold.
Blackberry Wine – Created by Alagon himself, this wine made from plump blackberries is extremely strong and sold only in very small glasses, as it is deceptively sweet and fruity.
Queen Ann - A red wine of Flutterbye Vineyards which is soft and sweet as its namesake, a queen of old Cardolan. Layers of cherry and blackberry.
Airalaita, Blessed & Ruddy - Deep plum flavor with a sweet kiss of mulberry, black cherry jam, and licorice.
Green Hills Shiraz - A Gondorian dry red with aromas of raspberry, cherry and Pinnath Gelin tobacco

Liquors and Meads

Honeymeade - Miss Lisbeth's straight bourbon whiskey of Bree, a deliciously smooth liqueur infused with real golden honey.
Imladris Brandy - Made from apricots, cherries, plums, or berries from Linymaril of House Mordagnir in Rivendell

Chetwood Acerglyn: A sweet Bree mead made with maple syrup.

Anfalas Black Mead: A Gondorian melomel mead made with black currants.

Pelennor Pyment: A Gondorian mead made with grapes.

Tea - Thingol Grey, Ossiriand green, herbal, white Harlindon jasmine
Fruit Juice of Belfalas and Harlindon
Nimrodel Water
Bruinen Water
Lune Water

Appetizers:


Crustacean’s Melody - a zesty dip made of crab meat, hot peppers, and cream; served in a bread bowl and with an assortment of crackers.
Oysters On Deck - a platter of meaty oysters seasoned with refined sea salt and garnished with herbs; served with lemon wedges and a cup of Girion’s homemade hot sauce.
Shrimp Boats - cucumber rounds topped with marinated shrimp in a pool of lime juice.
Tuna Delight - golden crescent bread squares coated in dried tomato paste and topped with grilled and peppered tuna meat.
My Captain’s Favorite - threaded shrimp, grape tomatoes, green peppers, and sliced mushrooms cooked in wine and pierced with wooden skewers; drizzled with cocktail sauce.

Dinner Courses:

Shipwreck Stew - a flavorful stew of clams and mussels, with chopped celery, squash, and carrots in a broth seasoned with black peppercorns and smoked paprika; strewn with parsley and served with a loaf of buttered sourdough bread.
Palt-en-Magolhâl, Blade of the Swordfish - a pan-roasted swordfish steak marinated in ginger garlic butter, served with a spinach-potato garden salad.
Lobster’s Paradise - a generous serving of split lobster tails steamed in ale and coated in a mixture of white wine and honey garlic sauce; served alongside a roasted vegetable medley.
Easterling Mackerel - a whole flame-grilled mackerel on a bed of lemon rounds and seasoned with basil, served with a side of wild rice harvested from the paddy fields of Rhûn.
Flounder On Sand - strips of flounder meat, coated in seasoned breadcrumbs and baked to perfection; served with a side of tartar sauce and a bowl of fluffy quinoa.

GM note: Only @Annúnfalas may play Cirdan the Shipright, Galdor of the Havens, and Radagast the Brown in this activity. If anyone is up for playing a Lossoth Chieftain, let me know in the Imladris OOC thread where all out of character comments/planning/questions/answers may be posted
https://lotrfanaticsplaza.com/forum/vie ... ?f=10&t=34 .

This Cruise RP takes place in the springtime. Tharmáras RPs Ossë and Uinen in this thread.

You may RP your arrival at the gangplank of the ship's stone quay in Forlond!

[The Good Hunter]

Finnbarr Galedeep

Finnbarr awoke, haggard and unkempt. He’d been sleeping off the events of last week, his homecoming back from nearly six months at sea wherein he’d drank far, far too much, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. The night had been one to remember, even if there were parts the alcohol had made sure he didn’t remember at the moment. His returns to port usually ended in such ways. Davos surely had some sort of illicit substance that made the night even more interesting, then likely pilfered Finnbarr's own stash of special edibles. For several days after though, the short, burly Falmari had nursed a hangover the size of the gulf of Lune. His normal cure, a dip in the icy waters of the bay, had only served to dull the ache. Still, he reflected as he rose and dressed, washing his face and grooming his thick almost dwarf like beard, it had been worth it. It was at that get together he’d learned of his next activity. To be more accurate he was pressganged into the adventure but the insistence of a few friends who would be making the journey as well. A sailor and naturalist by default, Finnbarr found the proposition of sailing and sightseeing too good to pass up. This was around the time that many of the whale species he’d documented would be back on their annual trek across the globe. There were several individuals that he longed to see again, old friends that understood a part of him that no other elf, not Davos, Girion, or Tavari could ever hope to comprehend. He dressed in clothing similar to, but not nearly as decadent as, the clothing he’d worn upon his arrival to the party, one of his nicer lace up shirts woven of white silk and embroidered with his signature sea otter on the sleeves with soft leather breeches and boots to match, a gift from an old lover of his long gone back over the sea. However, before he dressed, he needed to perform his morning ritual, the greeting of his only consistent lover and companion

The morning sky was light grey, and the winds were high and boisterous. Finnbarr exited his modest abode on the shoreline and waded out into the sea until he was knee deep. The waters were frigid. He inhaled the sweet salt air and closed his eyes. The void, the great dark sea where no light or sound could penetrate was immediately his. He floated in that inky oblivion, the world of his own creation where he drifted along in primordial waters. His focus was sharpened and honed there, his ability to free dive further and longer than any living being was born of practice within that void. When he opened his eyes again, he was met the crashing of the waves, the rowdy energies of Ossë. They crashed over him; his heavily tattooed arms outstretched in welcome. The sea covered and overwhelmed his senses. For a heartbeat, he was lost within the wild blues and seafoam greens. The waves receded and Finnbarr Galedeep laughed long and deep. He dove into the water and began to swim into the icy cold bay. With each stroke, he could feel his vibrancy returning to him. He could feel the life roar within him, eager and ready. He swam perhaps three hundred meters before turning back. Once home again, he dressed, combed his hair, and oiled his beard. He was ready to face the day. He packed a suitcase, a light one with only the barest essentials, and made his way down to the gangplank.

It seemed, as usual, he was one of the first to arrive. Content to wait, Finnbarr unshouldered his belongings and sat. He unlaced the boots and a let his toes dip in the water. Surely someone would be along shortly and he could board the vessel without the sense of lonely awkwardness one experiences when arriving far too early for events. There had better be some good wine, he thought absently. If it was true and the Historical Society was funding this little jaunt, he was going to need to be good and drunk to deal with the would be patricians.

[Moriel]

“I’s the b’ye that builds the boat
And I’s the b’ye that sails her
I’s the b’ye that catches the fish
And brings ‘em home to Liza!”

The booming, raucous voice sang out without restraint among the yards of Môrcelebren as Davos Seaworth worked at the sails and preparations for launch. The ancient Nelya mariner was stripped to the waist as he toiled aloft, clad only in a pair of ratty and salt-edged breeks, their ragged ends flapping just below his knees, held up about his hips with a wide belt. It was impossible to tell what color they might originally have been, so weathered and stained were they, but their dilapidated state bothered Davos not in the slightest- he often said it took a few hundred years to really break in a pair and get them perfectly comfortable. By which time, or course, they were thoroughly disreputable, much like their owner. His broad shoulders and hard-muscled torso rippled and twisted and he hauled on a rope and lashed it into place, bare feet as steady on the yard upon which he stood as if it were the deck of the ship, adjusting to every minute movement of the ship as it rocked gently at anchor. There was no place as much home to Seaworth as a ship, and the oceans he sailed. Tossing back his scarred, unfinished-looking face to survey his work, the Nelya’s song continued.

“Hip yer partner, Sally Tibbo
Hip yer partner, Sally Brown
Fogo, Twillingate, Moreton’s Harbor
All around the circle!”

Davos had been born to starlight and song on the shores of Cuiviénen, and uncounted songs lived in his memory, many of his own devising. This one, however, was a rollicking tune he had learned from friendly mortal sailors with whom he had spent many happy days in Dol Amroth. And of course, there had been that lovely barmaid- he grinned and rubbed his stubbled chin at the thought of her. She had been a fine girl, Brandy, far too fine for a rake such as he. Davos had gifted her with a braided silver chain before he left Dol Amroth, and bade her sell it or keep it as she saw fit. No doubt she had long since made a good marriage, but when the fancy took him, Seaworth hoped that as he did, she remembered their acquaintance fondly. Satisfied with the work he had done, the Nelya ran his fingers through his silver hair until their met the the rough braid which bound back the top of his hair, bound with twine and dangling with sharks’ teeth. Here and there among the wild mane that just reached below his shoulders were other smaller braids, dotted here and there with beads or silver charms. All in all, he presented a thoroughly barbaric sight, which nevertheless seemed to captivate ladies of all stripes.

“Susan White, she's out of sight
Her petticoat wants a border
Well Old Sam Oliver in the dark
He kissed her in the corner!

I’s the b’ye that builds the boat
And I’s the b’ye that sails her
I’s the b’ye that catches the fish
And brings ‘em home to Liza!”

As he sang the final two lines, Davos sprinted along the topgallant yard and, upon reaching its end, launched himself into space. His calloused hands with perfect confidence found purchase upon a taught rope and one ankle swung into place to hook around it as well, and the Nelya went whizzing down the rope at breakneck speed until with a whoop he landed on the deck. This was to be the first extended voyage Davos was takin in quite some time, and all the better for being unexpected! He had known of course that Girion was to captain the grand tour for the Historical Society and the itinerary the ship was to take, but it had only been at practically the last moment that his friend had asked him to come aboard as relief captain! Which, as Davos interpreted it, meant that he got to have all the fun of captaining the ship, and none of the paperwork. Naturally, he had signed on at once. And, just as naturally, he had set about exploiting this position- this was quite the expensive cruise, and although he knew she was not lacking funds, Davos knew of a certain nís whose birthday coincided with the holiday for which they sailed, and had immediately issued her with an invitation, all expenses courtesy of the line.

Tavari had never been on a pleasure cruise, and found herself unexpectedly looking forward to this one with great enthusiasm. She had received the invitation from Davos by swiftest bird, and her cry of delight on opening the letter had caused Aigronding to practically fall out of his chair. How Davos had found out she was born on Yestarë Tavari did not know, but found out he had, and was gifting her with passage aboard the Lindon Historical Society’s grand tour to mark the occasion. That being Yestarë, not her birth, but as Davos wrote, wasn’t it as good as the same thing? Her brother had immediately granted her leave from her guard duties to attend, waving her a cheerful farewell, and Tavari had hastened north to Mithlond. Millenia of solitary travel on foot had taught her to pack light, and only a rucksack hung from her shoulders as she strode down the docks to the berth where she had been directed for the Môrcelebren. As was her wont, a single plait pulled Tavari’s wheaten hair up and back from her face, weaving from her forehead to the nape of her neck, where today it was bound with a black cord and then allowed to form a long loose tail the length of her back. She was garbed in her usual sturdy calf boots, but the dark trews she wore today were softer than when she roved out to fight or hunt, and her mossy tunic was appended only by a simple ring belt that pulled it in at the waist, and carried Glamor in its frog on her left hip.

The dirk was the only weapon she had brought on this journey, and as she walked her fingers idly reached up to stroke the crystal of its pommel. Tavari had celebrated precious few Yestarë nights since Arasoron had perished and Telperil had passed into her hands; it was his day too, and though her twin had never been the most ebullient about it, it was never the same without him. Still, with Glamor at her side, in some way he was with her. But as she approached the ship in question, these slightly melancholy thoughts fled the nís’s mind as she caught sight of another old companion, sitting on the edge of the dock, dangling his feet into the water. Perhaps it was that being reunited with him reminded her of her youth and their days of frolic in Thargelion, or perhaps she had spent too much time with Gellam, or perhaps she was simply feeling light and fancy free and without inhibition due to the nature of the adventure before them, but there was no question of what she would to in Tavari’s mind and her legs were carrying her towards him at a dead run in a trice, her fingers loosing the knot of her belt and her shoulders shrugging to release the rucksack even as she shouted,

“Finnbarr!”

The belt, dirk, and pack hit the ground even as the nís made her leap. Her hands landed on top of Finnbarr’s shoulders from behind even as he started to rise, and she vaulted over his head leapfrog fashion to catapult herself into the water. At the last second she tucked her arms and legs into a tight ball, and hit the surface with a tremendous splash- and by the sound of another similar sound behind her, her friend had taken a tumble as well. Tavari surfaced quickly and blew a stream of water from her mouth, and in Finnbarr’s general direction as she turned over onto her back and began to scull languidly.

“Sorry Galedeep, it’s my party and I’ll dunk if I want to!”

[Pele Alarion]

Some news seemed to easily travel long distances, and most were rather unimportant as the news of this cruise had seemed initially. Fancy Elves having a fancy cruise... nothing that would affect her daily living, and yet. A cruise. Unlooked for, a thought had begun to form in the woman's mind that she deserved a sort of leave, a bit of relaxation away from her usual hunting grounds and business, perhaps where no one would recognise her and she could enjoy herself to her heart's content.

However, five hundred pieces of gold! For such a price the ship itself must be made of gold, and food and drink should be served in golden cups and platters. It was not generally known that the Elves were greedy, but apparently they were. If she were to go on that cruise, it would make quite a dent in her stash of gold, not that she was actually lacking or would be if she spent that amount. Though she would have to also consider the costs and time required to get there in addition to the hefty fee asked for boarding the ship.

Regardless of all the cons Shamara could think of, the idea of joining that cruise stuck with her, and she had made careful preparations to make sure she would get there in time: after all it was not a short jaunt to the next village. And here she was, and nothing about her testified that she had already travelled far to get here.

Her dark hair was gathered up and secured with a silver pin decorated with pearls. The long, sleeveless gown she wore was made of two layers. The bottom skirt was of deep red solid colour, the top was of dark blue, almost midnight blue colour, with flowery embroideries along the neckline and the bottom rim. The outer layer of the gown had a long slit running all the way down from the waistline, allowing for the colourful play of dark blue and red. While the skirt of the dress was flowing to allow for easy movement, the garment as such complemented Shamara's well-shaped form. A light shawl of matching red covered her shoulders against the fresh sea breeze.

Placing the bag with her other belongings at her feet, Shamara glanced at the people splashing about in the water with a certain measure of confusion. She had understood this to be a rather formal thing, so she had made sure to present herself accordingly, and yet this was the sight she was met with. Well, she had with her something less formal to wear and could easily change if necessary.

Now, the sight of the ship itself was a whole different matter. Its grandeur and beauty took her breath away, as she gazed at it in wonder. Yes, the size of the ship in itself, but then there was the whole intricacy of design, the ship being more of a piece of art rather than a simple means of transportation. If ships could be compared to shoes... This one would certainly be a shoe of a high-born princess, and Umbarian ships in comparison would be like old wooden clogs.

At any rate, Shamara allowed herself to get accustomed to the environment that presented her with an unexpected set of various impressions, as she tried to decide on her next step and the level of required formality in dealing with other participants of the cruise. But perhaps the decision should be made once she met anyone else besides those swimmers...

[The Good Hunter]

Finnbarr closed his eyes and smiled. His muscles relaxed and the tension he’d been holding, that tension all elves seem to hold onto without realizing, began to melt away. With his feet in the water, he felt the cool, almost cold, lap of wave after wave gently rock him. The gentle splish-splash was lulling him to sleep. He could hear song birds off in the distance, how far away he couldn’t say, his mind was rapidly shifting to another time and place. The bearded elf inhaled deeply and smiled. He had not been this relaxed in a very long time, since the world itself and changed. He heard a few people (or one person, he couldn’t be sure) walk passed him and, as they didn’t bother greeting or acknowledging him, he returned the courtesy. It was much more pleasant to stay quiet and listen to the sounds of the air and water anyway. It seemed like a good time to get in some singing:

Haul on the bo’lin,
The fore and maintop bo'lin
Haul on the bo'lin,
The bo'lin' haul!

Haul on the bo'lin,
The packet is a-rollin',
Haul on the bo'lin,
The bo'lin' haul!

Haul on the bo'lin,
The skipper he's a-growlin'
Haul on the bo'lin,
The bo'lin' haul!

Haul on the bo'lin,
To Lindon we are goin',
Haul on the bo'lin,
The bo'lin' haul!

Haul on the bo'lin,
The main-topgallant bo'lin',
Haul on the bo'lin,
The bo'lin' haul!

Haul on the bo'lin,
The old man is a howling,
Haul on the bo'lin,
The bo'lin' haul!

aul on the bo'lin,
The bloody ship's a rolling,
Haul on the bo'lin,
The bo'lin' haul!

As soon as he finished the last refrain in a deep baritone, he felt something heavy on his shoulders and before he had a chance to react, was tossed bodily into the water. The moment lasted a long time though, and Finnbarr was able to turn at the last second before his head was dunked under the water and caught the sight of blonde hair. His mouth was open as he went under and Finnbarr received a harsh, cold mouthful of seawater for the trouble. Once he was under the water, and in his natural element, Finnbarr was able to turn fully and catch sight of his assailant. However, they were still close to the shore and the silt had been stirred up, obscuring any hope he had of catching his assailant unawares in the watery depths. He shot up, breaching not unlike a shark, all force and no grace. He shook his long hair and beard free of the salt water, sending water as high as the bow of the ship.

“You!”

All pretenses at anger vanished as he saw his old friend. “Tavari! You old rascal you! I see the Fool is rubbing off you!” He laughed heartily and splashed a huge wave at the elleth. “Your party eh? You got them to throw you a cruise for your birthday this year?” He dodged the squirt of water, grinned like an orca and pounced on her as she tried to float away. “Oh no you don’t!” He landed on top of her, using his weight to pull her down and repay her for the dunking she had given him.

[Farewell]

_________________________________________________________________



"A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you."
~ Elbert Hubbard
_________________________________________________________________




Annúnfalas the Valiant and Eärmana of the Nelyar
arriving at the gangplank and boarding the ship

“I feel ridiculous,” grumbled Eärmana, as the carriage rocked to a sudden stop. “Only an hour longer muin mellon, my dear friend, I promise,” Annúnfalas reassured her, wrapping a sheer, crimson sash around her bare shoulders. “We are here,” announced the noble and youthful voice of Marvidrio the sentinel, who had driven the ladies from the shipyard in Forlindon to the port of Forlond. Annúnfalas curled her red-tinted lips into a small smile, as the blinding outside light entered from the opening door of the coach. “Ready when you are milady,” said Losmeril the Snowflower tenderly, offering the chief of commerce and housing in Lindon a small delicate hand. Annúnfalas extended her own, stepping out into the daylight.

She wore a sleeveless, floor-length dress that fit as snugly her cardinal cloth gloves. It matched her lips and sash in vibrant garnet color; its hem trailing slightly along the stone-paved ground. Precious rubies draped from the collarbone of its high neck, set on the glistening golden strings of her necklace. Two such blood-colored gemstones also dangled freely from each of her leaf-shaped ears, carved in the likeness of cherries with golden stems and green-painted leaves. Annúnfalas clutched a small, gilded coin purse in her hands and motioned politely for Losmeril to help a blindfolded Eärmana down the steps of the coach.

A black piece of fabric had been tied around her head to cover her gaze. Its knot lost in her mop of unbrushed silver hair. Eärmana wore a finned shoulder shirt-dress the color of earth with straight-cut pants that had long lost their dark jet color. Her thick boots stomped along the pier with frustration, as she groped the open air. “Here, with me,” said Annúnfalas softly, taking her childhood governess by her large, calloused hands and guiding her carefully to the gangplank and up to the main deck of the Môrcelebren. “So where is this novice whaler you said was in desperate need of my guidance?” demanded Eärmana.

“He should be here soon ancient one,” said Annúnfalas falsely, her smooth hands beginning to sweat nervously in her embroidered gloves. She led Eärmana carefully down the stairs to the lowest deck of the cruise ship, urging her to sit on a wooden crate in a cornered storeroom. “Then why must I hide like some blockheaded stowaway?” she growled. “Because,” explained Annúnfalas shaking now, fortunately, she had rehearsed for this exact question days before, “he must not know that I have brought you until he is ready to set sail. If he finds out you, the most fearsome whaler among the Elves has boarded his humble vessel, he will be far too intimidated to bear being in your famous company.”

The large, pink lips of Eärmana twitched, and for a brief particle of a second, it seemed the imposing elleth actually smiled. “Fine,” she said dryly, resting her hands on her thighs, “I will wait here as you have asked.” Annúnfalas gave an inward sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she whispered, giving the Maia of the Inner Seas thanks in silent prayer, “I will return for you quicker than an angler can cast his line into the Lhûn. I promise.” Annúnfalas closed and locked the door of the storeroom behind her, running up the stairs and onto the deck as fast as her high heels could let her.

“I will be paying for three tickets,” she told Losmeril, as she descended the gangplank to meet her, “There are fifteen-hundred gold coins in this purse Snowflower, please see that they are purchased. Has Marvidrio begun to unload the luggage?” Losmeril secured the coin purse of her mistress in her hands with a reaffirming nod. “I believe he is bringing the cases of both you and the Master Shipwright as we speak,” she said, looking at Annúnfalas warily, “Pardon me, Chief of Commerce, but is kidnapping the Bane of the Sword-master truly wise?” Annúnfalas bit her bottom lip in uncertainty. “I could not persuade my dearest and oldest friend to come to the masquerade, I would not have her miss this voyage for anything in Endor. If I must pay with my life for Eärmana to find a little joy in the time we will be gone, then so be it.”

Losmeril returned her well-meaning declaration with an unconvinced sigh. “If you are sure then, I will pay for your tickets now,” she said, bidding the courtier a heartfelt farewell and a pleasant vacation. Annúnfalas hugged her assistant warmly and looked out to the others crowded around the base of the gangplank, searching for a face. She wondered if he had received her letter and if he would come.

______________________________________________________

“In my heart, I am still married.”
~ Mátholdrên to an unknown confidant, 2509 T.A.
______________________________________________________



Mátholdrên Naurhûn
hesitantly arriving to the gangplank of the ship

It had sat on a table unopened for a week. Then it had been abandoned with its wax seal broken for three days. Finally, on the twentieth day of receiving the letter, Mátholdrên had folded back the parchment flaps and read the elegantly-written message it contained. I have much to thank you for Naurhûn, please do not let my gratitude be left wanting, the note had said in fragrant silver ink. Annúnfalas had begged him to visit her in Lindon for years now or to allow her to see him in the Valley of Imladris, but Mátholdrên simply had no wish for company. Old or new. He remembered the words of his relatives and those of the Lady whose loss had left him without a wise advisor and close friend -

“No one should be forced to live alone.”

Her persistent offers of friendship had won the hermit Noldo in the end, but now, dismounting his brown-hued destrier on the quay, he was not sure if he wanted to board the Môrcelebren after all. His orders for blades and custom armor had increased as of late, and leaving his private forge and secretly located home in Rivendell for a voyage of several months, did not sit well with the industrious Mátholdrên. He loved and lived for his work. These days, striking a hammer against an anvil and drowning a glowing piece of iron into a bath of water, was the only purpose he felt was worth living for. Hélenda and little Eshía had taken all the joy of existence with them when they died. Mátholdrên fidgeted a rose-beige hand on the strap of his satchel, considering these things carefully. Then, as he turned to toss his belongings on the saddle again, a jubilant voice called out to him.

Mátholdrên groaned to himself. It would be too late to turn back now.

[Farewell]

Cónduil II, Chéruiel, and Laerina
Band members of the Valima Olosnandë
arriving at the gangplank of the Môrcelebren

Striding hurriedly along the stone wharf, two Elves of similar face and height rushed to where the would-be passengers of the impressive Lindon ship waited to board. Cónduil II wore a lined leather jerkin made from darkened cowhide that had been tailored to his athletic physique for a close fit. He wore this over an open cotton shirt with long sleeves, tucked unevenly into a pair of leather pants. His cropped copper-red bedhead had little tufts of hair flying every which way as he attempted to maintain his hold on several cases of luggage.

“By Tulkas, Chéruiel, did you have to pack so much?” he yawned, teetering with a skid of his boots and laughing. “It is not that much Cody,” replied Chéruiel defensively, stifling a soft chuckle, “You Elf-men could never understand.” She gracefully donned a knee-length grape-colored dress, with cap straps and a pleated bodice. Its cascading ruffles caught in the salty harbor breeze as she raced with her twin to the gangplank.

They jogged to the outskirts of the crowd gathered on the pier, catching their breath before speaking again. “At last, we made it,” said Chéruiel, exhaling contently and pressing her hands against her knees, “I almost thought we wouldn’t after waking up so late at the inn.”

“Yes, Cherry,” said Cónduil with a playful grin, “but we still have more of our family to arrive.” Chéruiel creased her brow line. “What do you mean ‘more’?”

Before the merry ellon could answer, a wagon rolled up to where the siblings stood, pulled by a beautiful white stallion. A fair, golden-haired elleth with a velvet rose-colored hood over her head, sat in the driver’s seat with the reins in her pale hands. “Alima arin, Cody. Good morning, Cherry,” she sang out to them, waving a hand. “Oh, how wonderful!” clapped Chéruiel, delighted at the sight of her best friend, “We did not see you at the inn last night, when did you arrive to Forlond?”

Laerina pulled back the hood of her cloak and clasped Chéruiel by her forearms. “Why just this morning,” she said with a wide smile, “I would have arrived sooner, but Cónduil asked me to bring his pets for him.” Chéruiel blanched as the world ceased to move in her mind. “All of them?” she mumbled. “Of course,” replied Laeriena in gladness, pulling back the cover of the wagon’s bed to reveal a number of cages and cases.

“C-Cody?!” cried Chéruiel in dismay, “I said you could bring only one animal with you!” Cónduil sat at the end of the wagon, removing Sir-Nibbles-Much from one of the cases and petting him. “One? But I couldn’t possibly pick just one!” he smiled, feeding the white hamster an almond nut from his pocket, “For you see my sweet sister, I love them all the same.” Gwain the Green, the Rhûn iguana, slipped from between the bars of his cage, climbed up the ellon's back, and rested across his owner's shoulders; Cónduil gave the reptile an affectionate scratch on the head.

“What am I going to do?” sighed Chéruiel before Laerina patted down the hem of her pink floral dress and wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “Do not worry, dear Cherry,” she said, “we will watch over your brother and his collection of crafty animals together.” Chéruiel returned a heartfelt smile. “Oh, Laerina, you truly are a precious soul!” she declared, embracing her bestie.

“Look,” said Laerina, tossing back a side of her cloak to reveal the cup-sized kitten riding in her purse. “Aww, you brought Tiphin!” squealed Chéruiel, blowing kisses to the infant feline. Cónduil wedged himself between the Elf-maids. “Let us not forget our true purpose for going on this voyage,” he stated matter-of-factly, “Valima Olosnandë is on tour and the islands await our grand debut!” Chéruiel and Laerina exchanged excited looks. They had been writing songs and rehearsing tirelessly throughout the entire winter season.

“We must not let ourselves become distracted and -” Cónduil continued, before the sight of a tall Elf with crimson-red hair caught his eye. “Why if it isn’t the Hermit of Rivendell,” he said, pushing past his sister and Laerina and calling out to Mátholdrên Naurhûn. “And they said you never left your forge!” guffawed Cónduil, running up to the Elven smith and giving him what the Mortals called ‘a bear hug’.

He squeezed the reclusive Noldo tightly, lifted his feet off of the ground, and turned him. “Now all of my friends will be on the Môrcelebren!” shouted Cónduil, unaware of the verbal barrage which he exuberantly inflicted on poor Mátholdrên, “We will share a cabin you and I, we will exchange tales from our perilous Halcyon missions, disclose our most embarrassing secrets to one another, share snacks, look out of our windows for whales, have supper, play music…”

[Ercassie]

Sirdis Azrubêl, and her son, Emeredir

Come all the way from Lond Côl, Belfalas, with their little entourage
and already aboard the Môrcelebren

The small boy was her anchor, and the wind which urged her onward, both. It seemed contradictory, but he embodied the reason that they were come all this way, and the reason also that she wished they had not. Sirdis had debated her decision all the long way to get even this far, and if she had stood alone, she might have fled to the futility of her own indecisions. But she would have to escape their company first. The steadfast guard, Hebinthorn, who had accompanied her from distant Lond Côl. His nephew also, and her handmaiden, Halgwain and Effie, already below someplace, unpacking their belongings, checking out their connected cabins. She would have to tell them all she’d changed her mind, that she had brought them all this far and for no good cause, if she now bade them all return home. It was her reluctance to accomplish this assertion which served the greatest reason of all that she still here stood.

The idea, .. she did not quite know at times what she had been thinking at all. Her husband so quite recently lost in the waters of this locale, that it might have been folly to have ventured thus. Particularly with their impressionable son in tow. Did she honestly expect to find Edhelmir somewhere out here, somehow ? They had no body for confirmation. That word, ‘lost’, horrifically implying that he might still be ‘found’, against all odds. The Elvish sailors who had brought her the dread news, had reported a wreck, described with no doubt as their ruined ‘Serendipity’, and no observed survivors. And so daring her life and that of her son’s seemed somewhat reckless in that regard.

But this was the second husband Sirdis had lost to the great sea. Coming here, now, was as much a declaration to shout, proudly, that she was not feared. Certainly not of dying. She might have slipped over the side with stones set deep in pockets to see her to the depths, if not for the small, steady grip upon her hand. Her second son, the heir of a vast nautical dynasty, destined to one day be a swan knight and sailor; he could certainly not afford to be afraid of the sea. She squeezed back at his hand and held on a little longer. Each moment she held on, she felt she could hold on at least for a moment longer. It had been many moments now. And still she looked for the moment where she would lack the strength, as much as she sought for that very same .. strength.

His tiny face was as pale as his hair was dark, testament to too much time spent safe indoors. So like his father. So so like his dear father. They had taken one ship just to reach this dock, for the taking of another. It was not the one that they had expected. Emeredir had so longed to visit the star observatory isle, and they’d told him, ‘next time’. Always next time. Always never. His father had been en route to the Star observatory isle when he disappeared.

The astronomy guild, Sirdis had been reliably informed by Turaegon’s nephew, was under reconstruction, whatever that meant. They ought not head there though, not now; it was ‘unsafe’. Sirdis had felt the disappointment punch her in the very same moment she had felt the weight leave. They could go home. This was a sign .. But still, to have come all this way only to be informed they could go no more further. Going home seemed such an anticlimax, and particularly given her son’s crestfallen little face. The departure of a pleasure cruise, on some vacation all about the Wethrin Isles, was a timely alternative and she was very grateful to Girion for making the suggestion. Might be Emeredir would find his smile during the diversion, so that she could bring home a happier, more travelled boy, even if she could not bring his father home with them.

“There are so many Elves,” the child noticed aloud, as small groups and solitary others began to amass and approach the grand ship. Without the rudeness of pointing, Emeredir continued to stare. His mother reached out hands in fret as his feet moved from her side, but managed to withdraw her instincts, which seemed a little overprotective. Oblivious to her inner turmoil, Emeredir drank eagerly of the scene as though it were fresh water in a desert. Curious, intrigued, he threw an occasional wide-eyed glance back to check if his parent had seen all that excited him. And in that moment Sirdis knew, it had already been worth it.

[Moriel]

Tavari might enjoy a dip now and then, but Finnbarr was a child of the water and she was no match for him in his element. Even as she saw him preparing his retaliation she knew it would be no use to try and evade him, and instead sucked in a deep lungful of air as he launched himself at her. He struck the water with a mighty splash and dragged her down in a swirl of bubbles. Rather than fight it, Tavari allowed herself to sink, relaxing so that her body formed against his- and then, at the bottommost point of their plunge, just before they would start to rise, sprang into action. Her long limps wrapped around Finnbarr and she slithered and clawed her way around his body until she had gained his back. She managed to hook one leg over his shoulder and even as they broke the surface slung over the other, so that she perched upon his shoulders, her feet hooking under his armpits and behind his back. Tavari spewed a mouthful of water and whipped the sodden length of her hair out of her eyes, laughing uproariously.

“Take that, Galedeep! Or should I say, Seahorse!”

Back up on the deck of the ship, Davos had been prowling about to make sure everything was ship-shape as the passengers were boarding. He largely left the greeting and welcoming to other members of the crew, having been (half-heartedly) admonished by Girion to at least try and be presentable when mingling with the guests. Seaworth supposed that probably meant putting on a shirt and some less disreputable trousers, but he saw no reason to trouble himself about it yet- he’d be captaining the first stretch while his friend joined Círadan in welcoming the great and the good aboard and serving as tour guides, and anyone who happened to make their way to where Davos would be stationed at the wheel would either know him and what to expect, or deserve what they got. He might even charge extra, for showing them what a sailor really looked like! Catching sight of Eärmana and the ever-patient Annúnfalas, he ducked behind a mast- his friend looked to be in a particularly foul mood, even with -or perhaps because of- the blindfold covering half her face. Davos would catch up with her later, perhaps when the sea breeze had softened her temper. For the moment, the ancient mariner became distracted by a commotion below, and darted to the rail to lean over and see what was going on. He gave a great shout of laughter, seeing Tavari leap over Finnbarr and knock him into the water, and his son’s retaliation. Not one to ever let it be said that he was too old for a good water fight, Seaworth vaulted onto the rail and leapt out into space, jackknifing into a taught dive as he bellowed,

“Look out belooooooow!!”

[The Good Hunter]

Despite being in the water, his element, Finnbarr knew that he would still be on the back foot against someone as skilled and agile as Tavari in a battle, and this was a battle! Even if the stakes were as low as they could be and there was no deadly intent. Finnbarr hated to lose though, even if there was nothing for him to win. She had had the advantage of surprise, then he’d been able to counter with strength, now she was using her dexterity against him. She was like an eel in the water, moving with a feral sort of grace. Before he could stop her, she coiled around his back and latched on.

“Seahorse, eh?” he chuckled, tossing his hair and sending a wide spray of water into the air and at Tavari. “That’s a new one. I met a sea horse a few days ago. Nervous little fellow, very worried about his children, and he had nigh on a hundred of them. Good dads, sea horses, attentive and caring. Better than most elven fathers by a wide margin. Tell me though, wet Lioness, can you see our destination from up there? Because I can see a good one from down here.”

Finnbarr took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool, salty air. A savage, hungry smile creased his face. He could feel the potential energy swirling about his limbs. His hands felt heavy almost. He was about to lock her legs in place with his arms across his broad chest and sink to the bottom before she could eel her way off him when a shout from the deck caught his attention. His head shot up. He wasn’t going to be here was he? A familiar familial face appeared. “You ruddy old…”

Finnbarr didn’t have a chance to finish greeting atar when the ancient elf leapt over the side of the boat. The dive was majestic and flashy in equal measures, matching Davos’ personality. Finnbarr had to dive out of the way, Tavari still attached like a barnacle, to avoid getting hit with the brunt of the wave his father created when he hit the surface of the water.

“Oh? Is that it? Two against one? I like those odds, much more fair for the both of you.”

Without warning, Finnbarr released his grip on Tavari’s legs, reached behind him to grab her shoulders, then launched her forward with as much strength as he could whilst propelling himself backward with the coiled force of his legs.

He hit the water just as he rounding out his backflip, exhaled sharply, then dove. Using techniques he’d seen from a hundred different sharks, he sped to the bottom of the bay, right to the point where the light was having difficulty reaching. He let out a small breath, releasing a tint group of bubbles before pointing himself back up toward the surface. His hands moved in and out as he kept himself from rising. He could see the silhouettes of both Tavari and Davos from down here. The only question was which one to strike first.

[Ercassie]

Nariel Eregwen, with Caramirie and Anarondo
In the same carriage arriving as Tharmáras and Girithniel
@Tharmáras @Pele Alarion

The journey from their home to the dock had taken far less a time than had gathering their group to leave. Nariel felt almost exhausted even as they set out on what had been sold as a ‘relaxing excursion’. Still, unwilling to surrender, she kept one hand on the windowframe, as though she might yet throw a glance back at the carriage which chased theirs, and had done, ever since they had left the estate.

Her other hand sat calm upon the cushioned seat that served the She-Elf and her husband. His nearest hand had followed suit, so that the two finger nests lounged purposely close together. Not entwined, not since all of the exaggerated face-pulling and ‘Euwwww !’s that had inspired from their children. But still close enough to know that he was there, that he was sat close beside her. And when the carriage sprang over a bump, for just a moment, his hand nudged against hers. And she smiled, knowing that he likely, wordless, did as well.

As the gentle sway and pull of their ride lulled her toward peace, Nariel allowed her head to rest sidelong upon the broad shoulder of Tharmáras. Not seeking for slumber, but for shelter. His great form was strong enough to pick her up and twirl her, as though she were no more than one of the twins .. she felt safe with him beside her.


The timing of their little expedition could not have come at a better time. For a one, the changing of the seasons, and the recent masquerade had resurrected memories, .. the festival of the Gates of Summer, .. a time which ought to have made all Elves glad, yet for those who had dwelt within Gondolin towards it’s end .. led to rather more sombre associations. Nariel had been thoughtful and quieter than usual for the last few days, and the surprise, that Tharmáras was taking them all on a holiday, .. his wife had not known how quite she might thank him, though she had tried all ways that they had time to attempt.

The children were of course ecstatic, Giri somewhat less so, since it involved an extended sailing cruise. But they had all endured the presence of a quite unwanted houseguest for what seemed like far longer than the time it had actually been. The notion of getting away from Hatholdir’s company, much less having good cause to kick him out of their home, had relieved much of Nariel’s recent cares. The Mole King’s face, when they had exited (and locked) their gates behind them, leaving him out in the street … had been very satisfying. Almost as satisfying as when his own wife, Meluiwen declared that she was taking their carriage and planning to enjoy the cruise as well. Without him. Brief concerns about the renegade squatting in (or else despoiling) Cardof Calina out of spite while they were away, had been swept away by Aphedriel’s stern promise. And even though Mauya had insisted on coming with them too, she was at least in the second carriage. There had simply not been room in theirs, what with the children and Giri as well.


Their devoted attendant between them, Caramirie and Anarondo had been discouraged from squabbling thus far, although excitement had come close to either twin leaning too far out of their respective window. Nariel had started to note what seemed like a squeak or strange sound, possibly a carriage wheel ?, when her daughter broke into a song.

“Do me so do ! Do so me do !
Every truly cultured music student knows
you must learn your scales and your arpeggios.
Bring the music ringing from your chest
and not your nose !
while you sing your scales and your arpeggios !”

Whether rising to the challenge or else in a rather endearing support of his sibling, Rondo sat up then to lend voice with a second verse of the song.

“If you’re faithful to your daily practicing
you will find your progress in encouraging.
Do me so me, do me so me fa la so it goes !
When you do you scales and your arpeggios !”

The melody which might have proved sweet to soothe it’s audience, grew however, ever more loud and discordant. As though the two were in competition for their voice to be heard over the other ..

“DO ME SO DO ! DO SO ME DO !
DO ME SO DO ! DO SO ME DO !”.


Their mother winced, though bared a grin as must all parents in support of their ‘talented’ offspring. The best thing she might do to lead things back into some state of order, was to raise her own voice, loud as either ones of theirs, and rather more in tune, until the entire carriage was rocked by the raucous choir.

“Though at first it seems as though it doesn’t show
Like a tree, ability will bloom and grow.
If you’re smart you’ll learn by heart what
every artist knows !
You must sing your scales and your arpeg----gios !” ***


Laughter from all corners concluded the rather spirited performance, and at least had deafened all those present enough to miss any further ‘squeaks’ or strange noises emanating from the carriage itself. Cara and Rondo exchanged a sly grin over Giri’s lap and settled back in their seats. For at least a whole minute. Thankfully that was all the time it took for them to reach their destination, and an escape occurred as though they’d never seen the sea before. Rondo made a dash for the water, where clearly it was allowed to leap in and splash, for he could see very many adults doing just that. Cara on the other hand waved at someone already aboard the ship who clearly did not see her, for the small girl pumped her little legs toward the gangplank.

Their parents sprang into action, Tharmáras giving chase to his son, while Nariel picked up her skirts and made off after her daughter. Leaving poor Giri to take deep breaths and work up the courage to leave the carriage. Besides the fact of her once having been nearly drowned at sea, there were some truly strange noises coming from the luggage piled high on the carriage roof rack.


***(Lyrics taken from the song are credited to ‘Scales and Arpeggios’, from Disneys ‘The Aristocats’)***

[Pele Alarion]

Shamara

Shamara felt her consternation grow along with the small crowd splashing around in the water. Had her judgements on what Elves were like gone so amiss? She aimed to blend in as seamlessly as possible so as not to attract too much attention, but now it might as well be that she'd stick out as a sore thumb among these folk. Not that she would pretend to be an Elf, but not being overly different would have helped, yet now it was not clear whether anything was to be helped in the matter. With a sigh, she picked up her bag and moved to board the ship.

When she was somewhere near the middle of the gangplank, the Umbarian heard the sound of rushing steps behind her, and glanced back over her shoulder. There was a child coming straight for her and apparently without any intentions to stop.

"Oy, careful there!" she called out, dropped her luggage and swiftly turned around intending to catch the girl up in her arms and prevent them both from toppling over and into the water below, that is, if the running feet did not come to a timely stop, or if the mother (or so she assumed) would not managed to catch up and save the day.

@Ercassie

[Eriol]

*re-posting but other characters forthcoming*

Do not throw yourself at every beautiful woman," Earenolwë gently lectured his small boy, Númenfalas. The brown-haired child was sweet-natured much like his namesake, Annúnfalas, whom he was undoubtedly looking for on the crowded pier. She was the prettiest woman Númenfalas had ever seen, dazzled by her sun-kissed complexion and silver hair pale as sea-foam. She was the Elf-boy's favorite adult friend of his father's. She sang and swam and sailed with him and he loved her like a second mother. "Always ask a lady if she'd welcome your affection. It's respectful. Do you understand?"

Númenfalas nodded nonchalantly though his father's instruction went through one pointed ear and out the other. As Earenolwë instructed retainers to carry his belongings and the child's luggage to their pre-purchased quarters aboard the cruiseship, Númenfalas spotted Annúnfalas examining the vast array of passengers as if hoping to catch sight of one in particular. Númenfalas decided he was the person she was urgently hoping to find. The patrons made way for the bolting youth. With the exuberance of a squirrel and the piercing cry of a Great Eagle, Númenfalas leapt on Annúnfalas. Clinging, he assailed her face with kisses.


"I think this boy needs a leash," Earenolwë, chuckling, remarked, when he appeared by her side. When Númenfalas refused to remove himself, Earenolwë sighed and literally had to pry him off Annúnfalas. "You are a child, not a starfish, my son," Earenolwë lightly scolded Annúnfalas and told the lad to behave himself as he righted the gold pearl circlet Annúnfalas had made on the boy's unruly hair.

"My wife has travelled to Dale to collect seedlings and birds for Lord Círdan's garden," Earenolwë told Annúnfalas, making conversastion as they waited for more of their loved ones to come. "With Emlissel away, I have taken a brief respite from my duties to enjoy this oversea journey with my son. Ielya, my trusted regent, maintains the sleepless watch on Lindon's boundary lands south of the Far Downs and west of the Baranduin." Evil Dwarves and Umbarian Corsairs had been troubling the people of Círdan and Queen Dís for quite some time; their threat had not been extinguished following the retreat of Sarabeth Gameela and Matsu Halsad from the Bay of Lhûn years ago. They had Harad allies the pirate queen had warned him before her departure, provoking Earenolwë and Telkelion and Tharmáras to strengthen the fortifications on the coast and the forest patrols. With the ever decreasing number of Elves leaving the shores of Middle-earth for Tol Eressëa and Aman, the Lindon Guard needed the assistance of Dol Amroth to secure the realm's safety; they were fortunate to have the help of several noble families, including House Montagna of Belfalas.

"Do you have Eärmana hidden somewhere?" he joked, laughing again, but groaned a moment later given her guilty expression. "Either she is going to be mad as a hornet when you let her go or she'll burst from whichever place you entrapped." Earenolwë grinned, shaking his head ruefully. "You are fortunate that I am here or she'd throw you overboard. Not a pleasant experience, believe me..." Earenolwë and Eärmana shared a warm closeness since the Elder Days. Earenolwë's friendship with Annúnfalas was equally strong, having rescued her from torture in the war with Angmar when the Bar-en-Raen joined Lord Círdan's rescue team at Fornost; it was the last adventure of Earenolwë's wandering band for he had accepted a noble title from Lord Círdan and settled in the mountains of Lindon where he afterwards married Emlissel.

Númenfalas listened to his father with reluctant obedience. He struggled with his stillness, being a very energetic Elf-boy, the longer his father spoke with Annúnfalas. Unnoticed, he ventured toward Cónduil's exotic menagerie to entertain himself; his father wanted him to be quiet but he said nothing about leaving his company. The Elf-boy's blue eyes widened when he saw some kind of small lizard slip out of its cage. Númenfalas gasped when the animal climbed Cónduil's back, and draped itself across his shoulders. Númenfalas gazed at Cónduil with an awestruck countenance when the cheerful Elf scratched the head of the scaly beast.


"Can I pet your tamed dragon?" Númenfalas begged Cónduil. "Where is its wings?" he wondered, tugging Cónduil's sleeve. "Did you cut them off so it wouldn't fly away? Can it breathe fire or is it a cold-drake? Did you steal a dragonegg from the Withered Heath?" Numenfalas normally wanted a thousand questions answered. Perhaps he had been spending too much time around his friends Anarondo and Caramírië, the children of Tharmáras and Nariel. He heard their voices in the near distance .... "Are you releading any of these beasts? if they wish to leave?" Númenfalas asked Cónduil, wrapping his arms about the leg of the joyful Elf. "I can ask my father if he would permit me to keep one of your baby dragons for my friend, Rondo, and I'll take a lynx kitten for his sister Cara, too. She likes cats."

Waiting for him to speak, the Elf-boy's gaze wandered over the main deck of the vessel. He was delighted to hear Girion assuring customers the ship would embark soon. Númenfalas became more excited when he saw one of the Mordagnirs, an Elf younger than Aigronding whose features he prominently resembled, approaching a lonely woman seated on a chair...and he held a large tankard. He decided to greet him next, insisting tales of Mordagnir family adventures even though Aigronding's son(?) seemed engaged in a discussion with the elleth, but Númenfalas turned around when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

[The Good Hunter]

How long had Finnbarr been treading water? His arms were getting heavy and his shoulders were burning from the effort. It was not the longest the sea elf had been in the water, not by far, but somehow the circumstances made him feel as though he’d been here for years. Years of doing nothing but staying afloat, waiting for something to happen. The very waters themselves seemed suspended, sluggish. What sort of devilry had caused this? His mind, too, moved slow, as one coming out of a dream without realizing one had been asleep in the first place. He remembered bits and snatches of the dream, fleeting lights, and colors. It had not been a bad dream; he thought, momentarily, that he could remember hearing the voice of his mother. It was sweet and melodic, low, like the rumble of the waves heard beneath the surface of the water. It was like honey mixed with herbal tea. Her voice was a balm. How many thousands of years had it been since he heard the real thing? How long had he relied upon facsimile and memory? His heart began to ache with the rest of his muscles. This whole event was turning into a farce. Finnbarr’s mood suddenly soured. In tandem with the deterioration of his physical state, his mental state was rapidly dissolving. How bloody long had he been in this water? Who had put him to sleep? Who had done something to the waters? Where was everyone?

This last question troubled him. Weren’t Tavari and Davos nearby? Where had they gone? Was this a practical joke on their part? It was highly probable at any rate. He glanced around. From his low vantage point in the water, he couldn’t see them, he couldn’t see anything. He shivered. The waters were getting cold. It took very cold waters to make Finnbarr Galedeep shiver, but he had been in here for an untold amount of time now, anything was possible.

He was in no hurry to get out of the bay, despite the circumstances, the sea was still more a home to him than anything land had to offer.

“Hello?” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth into a makeshift horn. He was greeted with silence.

“Hello!” he shouted, his temper growing quickly. What the hell was going on? Weren’t there other people around? Wasn’t this supposed to be some sort of cruise? What in the Trench’s name was going on? Ossë? Was this all his idea of a practical joke? He’d done things just like it in the past.

“Ossë! You scale-clad bastard! What are you –”

Wait a moment.

This was supposed to be a cruise. The people might be gone but…

A grin slowly formed over the old sea otter’s face. How many centuries had passed since he’d stolen one of Cirdan’s precious ships? Too long. And wasn’t this one laden with food and drink? Enough to feed dozens of people? Enough to make a company of dwarfs pass out drunk? Yes. Yes. Yes! He laughed, barking like a sealion.

He was going to steal, no he was commandeer the ship.

Slippery as an eel, Finnbarr dived below the vessel and came around to the other side, climbing with deft ease. There really was no one here. Well, none that he could see at any rate. Anyone caught below decks was just going to have to come along for the ride. It would make for better dinner conversation that whatever was going to be planned beforehand. Elves were stuffy like that.

He was on deck in no time, dripping from head to toe. It took a moment for him to get his legs beneath him. How long had he been under that spell? He would think about that later. Now was the time to steal, no commandeer, commandeer, this royal tub. He’d sailed on his own in ships this size before. They were not fun to maintain all on one’s own, but he could do it without too much trouble. The wind was picking up too. His little game was blessed by the gods. The sails unfurled and captured the wind, billowing and flapping.


Music to the sea elf’s ears. Just pull the anchor up and he would be underway.

It was time for a little chaos.