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Chapter Six: Day Fourteen: The Straight Path

"Have you ever made this journey?"

Frodo sat on a little box next to the helmsman looking over the mostly empty top deck. The ship was outfitted with graceful wooden oars tucked into the side rails, as well as the shimmering silver sails now employed at holding a northeasterly wind. The oars were seldom used, as Cirdan and the other officers were able to use the changeable breezes to keep the ship true to its Western course. A pair of sleek blue and light grey dolphins played in the frothy wake off the ship's bow. They seemed to be dancing for joy, tumbling back and then racing ahead of the wake.

Lord Cirdan himself was taking a turn at the helm, and Frodo had come to him for understanding, if it could be found.

"No, I have not," the tall Elf-Lord replied. Cirdan was different from the other Elves on the great grey swan ship. It was more than the fact that his long, straight hair was completely silver, as opposed to the more normal brunette of Elrond's people or the golden hair of the Galadhrim. He was older somehow. More like unto Lord Elrond or Galadriel herself; or the Lord Celeborn, Galadriel's husband who had elected to remain behind in Middle Earth to continue to eradicate orcs and other fell creatures before making the voyage West. That was it! Cirdan reminded Frodo of Celeborn.

His eyes never left the faint light-blue horizon as he talked to the hobbit. "I am as much a novice on this journey as you."

Frodo's brows knitted in concentration. "But my Lord, Gandalf told me you are of the First Age."

"That is true," he replied. "I was born in the First Age of this world. But I am a Sindarin Elf. I was born in Middle Earth as you were. I am not of the Noldor, though I witnessed their coming to Middle Earth and the greatness, knowledge and tragedy they brought. I never made the great crossing to Aman. I remained with my people in Eriador, first near Annuminas and then eventually building the White Towers for the Sons of Numenor and founding Mithlond in the Gulf of Lhun."

Frodo thought this over. "Were you in the Last Alliance during the Second Age?"

The Elf-lord glanced down and smiled. "Yes I was. The elves of the Haven joined Rivendell's forces under Gil-Galad the Great. My father and I served along side Lord Elrond at the Black Gates and in the final battle before Mount Doom."

"My stars," Frodo exclaimed. "You witnessed Isildur cut the Ring from Sauron?"

"Indeed," Cirdan quietly replied. "Lord Elrond and I were at the front of our forces supporting Gil-Galad. When King Esildur and Gil-Galad were slain, Elrond and I took over command of the Elvish Alliance forces, along with Isildur who commanded the combined forces of Men from Numenor, Gondor and their allies. I have walked the same terrible path you and Samwise trod. I have been inside Samat Naur and have seen the great fire within."

"I thought only Lord Elrond and Isildur the King went inside the mountain," Frodo said.

"I was with them inside that ghastly place," Cirdan said. "We could not convince the King to cast the Ring into the fire and unmake it. He swore a mighty oath to bind his blood to the Ring as a wergild for the death of his father. Isildur thought he could master the Ring. The Kings of the West were great and powerful in those days. Sauron himself was a hostage to a King of Numenor at one time. But none of us guessed at the malevolence and power contained within that simple band of gold. We thought that with a King holding the One Ring, the three Elvish Rings of Power would finally be freed from their concealment, and we might safely use them for the enrichment of Middle Earth." He sighed. "How utterly wrong we all were."

The two remained in silence for a little while. Then Frodo began his questioning again. "You must have had many opportunities since then to take a ship into the West."

"I have built and outfitted countless ships for the voyages to the Uttermost West, but I never took such a journey myself."

"Why not?" Frodo asked. The cool early morning breeze ruffled his hair and made the sails strain against the ropes. The ship creaked and groaned as now-familiar background noises. The gay dolphins chattered and sung as they crossed over and under each other. Frodo wished he could understand their language. Maybe the Elves had taught them speech like they did with the Ents.

The Elf smiled and looked down at the hobbit. 'So young. So forthright. So innocent,' he briefly thought. 'No wonder Olorin delights in them.' Then his thoughts turned to the individual, and not the collective race of hobbits.

This individual was not innocent, despite his youthful looks and inquisitive manners. This individual carried the One Ring: the bane of Cirdan's existence for two entire ages of Middle Earth. Cirdan knew Sauron when he came to Middle Earth even in his fair and shining form, created the Rings of Power, and then claimed Middle Earth as his own realm. Cirdan had been a Ringbearer himself, carrying Narya the Great, the Elf Ring of Fire, against Sauron through the Second Age, relinquishing it to Gandalf when the Wizard's need was greatest. Cirdan had sacrificed the safekeeping of the Havens when he yielded Narya to the Wizard, trusting to the remoteness and isolation of the Havens to protect the great Elf shipyards from the Dark Lord until the End was come.

'I owe the protection of the Havens to the Halflings,' he suddenly remembered. Olorin had hinted at this possibility back at the beginning of the Third Age.

"I am sending you allies, my friend, so that the empty lands of Arnor will be repopulated," the Wizard told the Elf-Lord so long ago. "Settled by mortals, but not by Men. I have started a migration of a race of halflings. Soon they will cross the Misty Mountains and, I hope, settle west of the Baranduin. They are well suited for this type of land. They might prove useful. At least they will be a minimal buffer for you, should the Dark Lord attempt to reestablish his stronghold in the North."

'So long ago,' Cirdan mused. 'Olorin was right. The halflings came. But they were small. I discounted them. Overlooked them.'

"Er…pardon me, my Lord. I shall leave if you would rather not discuss that subject."

Cirdan was abruptly brought into the present by Frodo's voice.

"Oh, a thousand pardons, Ringbearer," the Elf said. "I was lost in the past for a moment. Please forgive me. Please retake your seat."

Frodo looked a bit uncomfortable, as if he might have overstepped some unspoken boundary. Cirdan smiled, shook his head and concentrated on remaining in the present.

"I have not taken the journey into the West because it is a one-way passage," he said. "No one who has ever taken such a journey has returned, save the Noldor, and they are gone."

Frodo frowned in concentration. "I do beg your pardon, but I thought the Lady Galadriel was Noldorian?"

"I stand corrected," he said. "She is of the Noldor. However, the Lady Galadriel was born in Valinor itself, and has only traveled eastward to Middle Earth. There are now none left who made the Great Journey from Middle Earth to Aman and back."

Frodo pondered what he had heard. After a little silence he slowly continued. "If… if the Lady Galadriel made the journey Eastward in the First Age, and Elves can recall the past almost as easily as the present, then couldn't she lay out a return course Westward?"

"You have a quick mind, Frodo Baggins," Cirdan replied. "But your logic is flawed. Her knowledge is useless in this Age, since the very shape of the seas and lands are now bent. I have talked with the Lady about this very subject. She no longer recognizes the path her ship traveled. The world is changed too greatly."

"Then… we are lost upon the face of the deep," Frodo whispered. "How will we come to the Undying Lands if we do not know the way?"

Cirdan smiled. "We trust in the Valar. We are told that our path is the Sacred Straight Path into the West, and so we set course thusly. Straight west. We trust to Manwe's gentle airs and Ulmo's mighty ocean currents to guide the ship."

"What will happen if we miss the path?" Frodo quietly asked. "Will we fall off the edge of the Seas?"

"No," Cirdan confidently replied. "The world is bent. That means the world is round and we cannot fall off its edge." He looked at the worried hobbit. "Do not be overly concerned. There are signs along the way which indicate we are on the correct path."

"What sort of signs?" Frodo asked. "We are on the Sea. It is featureless."

"Perhaps to you, but not to mariners," the Elf replied. "We may not know how wide or deep the Western Sea is, but we do know there are signposts along the way. Some currents are known. The dolphins are messengers from Osse, sent to encourage the traveler. And at some point the dolphins will leave and we will experience mists. Enchanted mists. These surround the Enchanted Isles, which are close by Tol Eressea. Before the mists we must look for Manwe's path."

"What is that?" Frodo questioned.

"You call it the rainbow. It is actually a path placed in the sky that allows spirits to travel from Middle Earth to the Halls of Mandos. It used to be straight, but when the world was changed it also was bent. It now appears in the sky as a bow."

"Will we die when find it, or it finds us?"

"I do not believe so. But if we do, so be it. In any case we will pass through the rainbow. I do not know for certain what will happen when we do, but we will pass through it together."

Frodo stood and bowed gravely. "Thank you, my Lord, for taking the time to talk with me."

Cirdan returned the bow. "Thank you, Ringbearer, for all that you have done. You are named Elf-friend by many, and now confirmed by myself. We have a blessing aboard ship with your presence, and the presence of your kin."

Frodo's piercing blue eyes suddenly connected with the dark brown of the Elf's. "You are the Blessed; not I. It is undying Elfhome you seek, not the Gift of Mortals. I, on the other hand, am mortal. I am supposed to die. I do not know what awaits my kindred and me should we arrive at the Undying Lands. But I do not look forward to it."

Cirdan watched in surprise as the hobbit quietly slipped below decks. He had much to ask Gandalf.