Author's note: This went through many revisions and this ended up being the final one and I still don't know how satisfied I am with this piece. I think I sort of got the gist of what I wanted to say, but I'm not entirely sure. Therefore, reviews of what you think would be definitely appreciated. He's a hard character to get at, Círdan is. On a side note, this also broke my writer's block of almost four months. So maybe we'll be getting a new (and final) chapter of "The Lord and the Lady" soon…here's hoping!
Grey Ships and Blue Seas
By
Stargazer Nataku
The soft yet insistent east wind pressed gently against Galdor's back, compelling him to hurry on his errand, pushing him forward and upwards towards where he knew his lord was watching and waiting. It was just past midday, and the sun that shone brightly upon his golden hair was just beginning her graceful descent towards the western horizon. Only one ship remained at rest in the blueness of the harbor, its prow facing the exit from the gulf and the wide seas beyond. Solid and grey, its white sails were furled as it waited for all to board, still firmly anchored to the shores of Middle Earth. In the breeze, however, the boat shifted and tugged at the ropes holding it in place as if the ship itself were eager to depart and to take the Western Road across the Sundering Seas from which there was no returning.
Galdor was ready to depart, and all the remaining Elves of the Havens were there, already aboard, accompanied by the last of the Ringbearers. They merely awaited one final passenger. Galdor knew instinctively where to find him and, true to his thoughts, Círdan the Shipwright was standing where Galdor had known he would be, on a small balcony from which one could see the entire gulf and the empty city, spreading open below.
The younger elf paused in the entryway, not knowing whether his presence would be welcomed by the ancient elf before him. Círdan himself was silent, his white hair blowing in the persistent wind, his face impassive as he looked out over his city towards the sea beyond. "My lord?" Galdor finally asked, breaking the silence.
"All is ready?" Círdan asked without turning to face his emissary.
"Yes, my lord," Galdor answered. "We merely await you." Silence again met Galdor's words, and the younger elf was, for the first time, unsure. He had never seen the Shipwright in a mood such as this, and he allowed the silence to lie heavily upon them.
"It is finally time," Círdan said then, his eyes falling closed as he concentrated on the sound of the sea and the cry of the gulls above them. "For years uncounted I have waited for this day to come, watching my kindred from afar, desiring to see those I lost so long ago." There was silence and Galdor saw that which he had missed at first, a shining black sphere grasped in the ancient elf's still strong hands.
"Is that…?" he asked.
"The palantír of Elendil? Yes, it is." Círdan looked down to it. "For many years I have used it to see our kindred from afar." For a moment, the bearded elf turned to face Galdor, and his eyes showed all the weight of ten thousand years and endless days of loss and change. Yet underneath it all, there was strength, a tenacity that Galdor had seen many times. It was that strength, Galdor reflected, that had allowed him to pass many years more in the lands he had dwelt in since the beginning, though his entire being yearned for the Uttermost West. "Come, Galdor," Círdan said, and a hint of a smile crossed his face, "You have never glimpsed the sight of the sun on the towers of Avallonë, nor seen the beauty of the land of the Valar. Then again, you do not yearn for the sight of it as I do," Círdan commented, "But then again, you are very young. Tell me Galdor, if it were not your last chance to depart, would you choose to take the ship that awaits you in the harbor?"
The younger elf stared at his lord for a long moment, and the only movement was their hair moving in the wind. Círdan's piercing eyes were on his face, and there was knowledge in them that Galdor wanted to deny. Nevertheless, he knew he could not. "I do not know, my Lord," he said finally, "But I suspect that I would not."
"Yet there is no reason to remain. Come here, Galdor, and look. Perhaps the glimpse of what I have seen from afar shall ease your regrets."
Galdor stepped forward and took the palantír when it was offered. "Close your eyes," the shipwright told him, and Galdor did as he was told. For a moment, there was nothing but darkness, but then it was suddenly punctuated by the cry of a gull and before his eyes a vision began to appear. It was if he were on the deck of a ship, seeing from afar a glint of white appearing amidst the endless blue of the sea and sky. It grew steadily larger until the city beneath it appeared, and Galdor saw such beauty that it made his heart ache as it pounded in his chest.
It only felt like a moment, viewing the delightful scene before him, and then it faded, replaced by darkness. He opened his eyes, and they met the Shipwright's, and he felt like he truly understood the other Elf for the first time. He saw and recognized the longing for what it was, a dream denied for so long, all for obedience to the Valar. It was all there…centuries and millennia of doing what was required of him, all while every part of his being yearned for something he could only see from afar. "It has been enough that I have glimpsed it during my long years of exile," Círdan said, almost as if he read Galdor was thinking. "It is that gift that has allowed me to do what I must."
He turned back the sea and the havens, and it was almost as if he were listening intently for a voice in the wind and the waves. Together, they were caught in an endless moment that stretched out towards eternity while neither elf moved or spoke as they were caught suspended between the past and the future. Galdor held his breath, knowing that the next action was not his. After that long moment, Círdan took a deep breath and turned away from his balcony for the last time. "Come," he said to Galdor, "The time has finally come." He took the palantír back, wrapping it carefully and cradling it in his hands as gently as he would have held a child. "There is no longer anything for us on these shores." Galdor nodded in response and followed the ancient elf back through the pathways of the city to the quay where the last ship was waiting impatiently. Another elf was standing there and he bowed as Círdan and Galdor came to him. "Is everyone aboard?" Círdan asked.
"Yes, My Lord. All is ready."
"Very well." He motioned towards the ramp and the elf boarded the ship, Galdor following. He paused once he placed his feet on the deck and turned to look for his Lord.
Círdan was standing still on the quay, looking back to the city, his white hair and beard touched gently by the wind as he look back to the city he had dwelt in for two ages of the world, empty now as the wind sighed through the empty halls and streets. What was he feeling, Galdor wondered, knowing that he was leaving forever the lands where he had dwelt since his awakening? For long ages of the world these were the only lands he had known, save for glimpses of another world from afar.
It was then Galdor heard a deep, whispering voice, nearly hidden within the crash of the waves on the shore. "Long have you kept your word to me, though your heart has yearned for other things. Come, old friend, receive the gift long withheld and at last given. After all you have done, this is not simply an ending, but also a beginning…"
Círdan nodded, and he turned away and boarded the ship. "We sail," he said simply, his ancient eyes meeting Galdor's. For a moment, the younger elf was amazed for, shining in those eyes that had been so patient in waiting now had joy shining just below their surface. "Come," he said to Galdor, and went to stand at the prow as the ship slowly began to pull away from her moorings. Behind them, the city was silent and empty, with only her hallowed halls and streets witness to the quiet departure as the last ship sought the uttermost west, never to return.
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Yes, yes other hearts were broken,
And I know other dreams ran dry,
But our Golden Ones sail on and on
To another land beneath another sky…
-James Taylor, "Never Die Young"
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