Chapter Two
Cirdan the Shipwright was master of the Grey Havens and one of the most powerful elves that yet lived. It was believed by most that he had awoken with the elves in the beginning of the first age, but he would never confirm such a rumor. Needless to say, this being was ancient. Floating nearby was his most beautiful work, the white ship for the ring-bearer.
This day was beautiful, with the sun setting into the west as always. Lighting a path in the water to that place of final peace promised to all elves who made the final journey to its shores.
It was during this beautiful sunset that a form appeared around the corner of his shop. Currently in front of him was a carving he was working on for the front decorations of one of his beautiful creations and he did not take his eye from it to see who it was. Many would stop by to see the master craftsman at work.
The elf came forward with a silence only possible from one of their kind. She looked over his form as he worked and knew the agony he had long suffered from a mistake made long ago.
"Cirdan." She spoke.
His head raised immediately, recognizing that voice. All of that long lifespan left plenty to contemplate over, past mistakes and victories were relived in his mind. Though there was one mistake that haunted him more than any other. Over and over it would repeat in his mind until he would think himself going mad. Then as quickly as it had come, the images would flee with the spring breezes. Her voice sparked those images more brightly than they had been for an age.
"You are sailing west?" He asked.
She nodded but spoke nothing more. Dust from traveling was on her robes, she had just arrived and went to see him first thing.
"Perhaps all of this can finally come to an end."
The woman smiled and shook her head. "It is far from over, Cirdan."
Confusion spread over his face.
"Cirdan," she came closer to him to whisper the words to him, "the child is alive."
He thought about it, then the full meaning washed over him like the tides over worn rocks.
"How do you know this? Where is the child?" he asked with the utmost urgency.
She turned to leave only glancing over her shoulder before departing, "Perhaps it is time for you to see an old friend."
With that, she was gone and Cirdan was alone.
'Could it be?' he thought, 'Could I have a chance to fix the most damning thing I have ever done?'
~flashback~
There are many points in history where even those most innocent must pay the highest price. Doubt ever gnawed at him, but he suppressed it and would not let it get the better of him.
Sitting on a stone bench in Lindon, Cirdan watched the other present there from a distance. There was no way anyone could know the dangerous secret Cirdan kept hidden. No one would question him for he was the new Lord of the Elves west of the Blue Mountains. Elrond was leaving tomorrow to form a new realm plus he did not suspect a thing, none did.
He had done something unforgivable and in his own mind he knew that if he were to be found out, he would be punished in the worst ways of the firstborn. The only clue to his foul deeds was drawing in the sand of the gardens. A child, all of his misery and paranoia was focused around a child who had no idea of the circumstances that surrounded him.
Slowly, Cirdan rose and crossed the paths to see what it was that had captured the young one's attention.
It was letters.
He was just to the point of seeing his first picture books, but was completely uninterested in the pictures themselves but the flowing script underneath the animal and bird images. This young one was fascinated by written words, and without any formal training, he had drawn quite a few of them in the dirt, all very precise with perfect inflection and detail. No doubt there was something special about this child, but that much Cirdan already knew.
"What are you doing, child?"
"Writing!" he replied with enthusiasm only found in the very young.
"Yes, I see that." Cirdan began to feel better about having this child in his watch care. Perhaps evil could be undone by good deeds.
It was the next thing the child did that doomed him instantly in his elder's eyes.
He peered up at him from his place on the ground.
'Those eyes!' Screamed Cirdan in his mind, 'He has his eyes!'
Cirdan cleared his throat and knew what had to be done.
"Erestor. I've noticed some errors in your letters."
The child looked up at him with a questioning look. "I don't understand." He asked innocently.
"Come with me."
It was in the evening that Cirdan rode into the woods with the child. That was the night he placed Erestor into the woods and told him never to return until he could write properly for elves were perfect in every way.
In the dark of the woods, Cirdan cried, for the first time in centuries. He could not force himself to look back but could imagine the fear in the child's heart as the hoof beats got softer and softer and his benefactor rode off leaving him alone in the dark.
~end flashback~
Cirdan shivered from the memory. He remembered the events afterwards as well. Remembered two days later when the guilt finally overcame everything else in all his being and he rode out into the woods to bring the child back, to tell him he had made a mistake and that he was an elf worthy to be raised in his halls.
~flashback~
The black horse raced out into the woods. Even the horse knew this was very important and took the path they had taken without guidance. Finally, he could see the area where he had veered off the path on that terrible night.
His journey did not take him very far when he saw a group of elves in the area. Riding over, he thought they might have seen something.
"My Lord." A guard exclaimed, "I was not expecting you to be here."
"I was out riding and surveying my lands when I observed you off the trial." He lied.
The guard bowed, "Of course, Lord Cirdan."
"What has happened?"
"A terrible thing, My Lord," the elf replied with a hallow look in his eye. "A child has wondered out here from a village nearby and was killed by wolves. It is terrible for one so young to be taken."
Cirdan felt as if Mandos himself had squeezed the life out of him, he did not mean for this to happen. It was a rash decision! He would have made it up to the child!
What had he done!
Stumbling, Cirdan returned to his horse and blindly rode away, not answering to the guard's calls. What would his dear friend say to him if he knew?
The Lord didn't stay long enough in the camp to see the distraught parents of the child appear. Didn't stay long enough to know it was not his protectorate that had been killed so brutally.
~end flashback~
The ships would have to wait. Cirdan the Shipwright was leaving to find the one he had betrayed in so many ways so very long ago.