Author's Note:
Disclaimer: Just a scribbler scribbling away...
You may have missed two updates before this.
Círdan
The sails were down. Wind caught into the crisp white sails bearing the light blue and silver emblems of the Grey Havens. Círdan stood at the helm, laughing in exhilaration as the cold wind caught his hair and struck his face. He was dressed warmly, much like the rest of his companions. The ship rocked underneath him but he kept his balance after years of practice.
"We are nearly there!" One of the sailors shouted. Círdan looked up, the looming white structures they were reaching. As much as he loved the spray of cold water against his face, and the fresh scent in the air, he was not keen on frostbite. He pulled the cloth around his neck upwards until it covered the lower half of his face. His hands were already gloved and his great cloak circled him in cosy warmth.
The white structures towered them by several feet until it seemed as if they were capable of touching the sky. Círdan looked up at them in awe. One living on land with no taste of the freedom the Sea brings would never know about these structures.
They were called glaciers, pure white in colour, with the upper surface lightly tinted blue from the colour of the sky. The water that melted from them was clean, pure, and clear until one could see the bed of soil and plants below. Few fish and sea creatures dwelled this close to the towering glaciers.
"Watch out!"
The warning shout made Círdan instinctively steer the ship away from potential danger. He heard a soft tinkling sound, almost like a melody and he turned his head left. Some feet away, cracks began to appear in a glacier. The chunks that fell almost seemed like cloudy powder until finally, a large chunk several feet height and several feet wide fell into the water with a loud crash. Water rose up and the ship bobbed up and down with the new waves before settling.
As they moved further inland, the sails were folded again and the ship bobbed peacefully along the waves.
There was no purpose for this expedition. Círdan merely put this voyage for entertainment. He was joined with companions he had sailed with for many millennia and formed a brotherhood with them. They, too, had his love for these beautiful, otherworldly designs purely made from clean water frozen in place.
Once close to the shore, and the anchor in place, Círdan with some of his oldest friends disembarked with a boat. The weather was bitter cold, and the wind was harsh but fortunately not fast. They brought ropes with them, along with pickaxes.
"Pray do not tell me you intend to climb that." One of the Elves said in disbelief, gesturing at the glacier larger than any city they have ever seen.
"You are welcome to watch." Círdan jested, knowing full well his friends enjoyed the same things he did.
The glacier they wished to scale was not the smallest but was certainly not the biggest. Even so, it took them over an hour to reach the top. Círdan was thankful for their fit forms that allowed them the stamina to accomplish such a feet. He reached the top first and helped hoist his friends until they joined him. One of them looked beyond, his eyes shining in awe.
"Ai, Elbereth," he breathed, his voice muffled by the cloth he tied over his nose and mouth similar to Círdan.
At first they only trekked in enjoyment, each pointing out something they found remarkable. The sun provided them with no heat, and they remained in a tight cluster together. The many layers of tightly woven cloth, made tirelessly by their women, kept them warm.
Half an hour of wandering led them to one place they did not expect to see. Círdan first caught the sound of water running, which sounded unlikely on the solid ice. They walked some more feet, until at last they came upon a deep crevice. Looking below, they found a flooring of ice, with a single hole in it.
It was a like a fountain made of ice with water sprouting from a single hole and disappearing into a vast black void below. Círdan look down with some trepidation. If the rope cut off, or he lost his hold, he could easily fall into it. As far as he could gather, the void was some form of channel, presumably joining the sea through the glacier itself. He was not sure how deep the channel went, but he would probably be either dead or encased in his broken body at the end of it.
"We are pulling you up!" He heard the shout above him.
"Nay! Lower me a little more!"
"I am not taking your dead body to your wife!"
Círdan laughed but the rope gave him some purchase to steadily lower himself until he hit the smooth ice. He was grateful for his boots with its studded metal sheets to prevent him from slipping. He slowly made his way towards the sprouting water. Its roar sounded sweet to his ears, making it one of the many reasons he gave his love to the Sea and dedicated his life to finding the secrets it held.
Once he reached the large gaping hole that hungrily drank the water cascading into it, he knelt and looked inside. He pulled down his mask and breathed in deeply. The air was cold, but fresh. Pulling one hand free from its glove he dipped his hand into the water and gasped at the sharp cold as it stung his hand. He pulled back his hand, the palm forming a cup and drank. It trickled down his throat and Círdan smiled. This was unlike any water he ever tasted. It held no flavour, was neither sweet nor sour. And yet one could drink his fill and thirst for more. Its fragrance was only cold and fresh.
He ran his hand once along the ice, marvelling the way it felt smooth. His hand began to turn blue and he shook himself out of his stupor and gloved it again. He pulled up the cloth over his face and tugged on the rope thrice to signal he wished to return.
A few more of his companions took turns of going down and taking a sip like he did. At that time he kept himself planted firmly on the ice, his sure grip making sure he never left their rope. At the same time he marvelled the outline of the glaciers. They came in all shapes and sizes. Some had sharp outlines, reminding him of cut and polished gems by Dwarves. Others had smooth curves and ripples, like the Elven smiths when they made a decorative vase.
They tarried for a little while before finally turning towards the ship with regret. If they did not return in the allotted time, the sailors would become anxious and dread a worst fate. They reached the ship, picking up uncommonly coloured and shaped seashells along the way to please their mothers, wives, daughters and sisters as trinkets.
They stayed for two more days, and visited a nearby lake where the water was so clear they could see the stones below. They caught the fish dwelling there and ate their meals before leaving. The ship set sail with the night tide. Círdan took the helm in the first hour, abandoning his cloak and some garments to enjoy the chilly sea wind. One of his friends joined him. The stars above them shone brilliantly, its light catching upon the waves.
Neither of them spoke, but simply enjoyed the stillness of the Sea, and the peacefulness of their ship, as if they lived a separate life from the rest of Arda.
Author's Note:
-This is slightly old by a month, but it is inspired by numerous glacier documents.
-I always felt as if Cirdan would be the kind to enjoy the beauty of water bodies around his journeys. He must have also loved the Sea in its own form; raging in the storms to being calm on a lazy day.
-There is so little known about Cirdan except for some very dry facts. Yet, for one to love the Sea, one has to have some traits of the Sea; hence I fashioned him in my head as one with wisdom because of his age, and yet strong-willed, slightly untamed, taking rational risks, and confident to pursue things he loved the most.
-Forgive the absence of names other than that of Cirdan. Since these Scribblings mean to explore canonic characters, I was not willing to introduce any OCs. I might change this thought later.
-Please leave a review. ;)
