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The Sea

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Their journey began at dusk on the night of a new moon. They stopped at the lake for a few moments to gaze at the mountains and stars glistening like silver on its peaceful surface in the early evening light, for in all hearts they seemed to know they would never see it again. Mírian remembered the stories her foster folk would tell of when they lived in ease along its shores during the long years of the great siege, when the Elven king and his faithful friends among the Edain lived not far away.

At last they turned away from their beloved lake, and followed along the path the elves picked out through the woods of the lowland plains. Now that it was late summer the canopy of the trees and woodland underbrush was lush and full, and gave the party good cover though which to pass in the night. The young mortal took cheer in the warm breezes of the evening air, watching the last of the lantern beetles adorn the bushes with their flashing glow before they retired for the season. If there were any enemies in the region, it seemed they were far from here, and for a while it felt they were not fleeing for their safety but merely enjoying a country walk in the fine weather.

But this had come as the result of preparations by their people. They went out, unbeknownst to either of them, to try and ensure the first part of the path at least was clear of enemies ahead of the journey. For this group though small was the more vulnerable, consisting mostly of maids who had walked the world since the times of the awakening long ago and had dwelt near the lake since the earliest days, and a few newer wives with younger children. And so while they took care to walk long hours silently in the dark through the woods, and keep a watch set during their rest by day, they managed to cross the lowlands of Hithlum unmolested. Finally after many days they reached the Echo Mountains.

Here they made their way through the forlorn rocky cliffs along the eastern foothills. Reaching the end of the gently rising slopes of gravel and stone they paused and waited till dawn, for their way now required passing to the source of the underground stream. Mírian realized they had now reached the hidden Gate of the Noldor she had been told about. Passing through she came to the hewn cave passage, beyond which the elders now led them with the soft yellow lamps they used in their caves. They pushed through a full day's march along the underground river until came to the tunnel's exit. Here they rested, and perceiving the protection of the Lord of Waters returned to walking by day, traversing the ravine at their ease. All delighted in the spray of the mists and the song of the water spilling over the rocks, and the many small wild flowers that sprung from gravel or crevices here and there which were a marvel in the late afternoon when the spray of the firth cast rainbows over their crowns of white and pink and gold.

As the summer was now waning the water was calm where the river met the inlet of the sea, and they continued onward to the beaches of Drengrist. Mírian could not yet see the ocean even if her companions could, but the unceasing westerly wind heavy with salt and vapor kissed their cheeks and tossed their hair, and the gulls crying soared above their heads. Then after some days she came within the wondrous sight of the Great Sea.

Mírian was enthralled to behold the endless expanse of watery hills receding into the horizon in the distance, glittering in the colors of the rising and setting sun, which even the elves had no hope of seeing beyond to the land that lay on its farther side. Treading along the dark beaches of the inlet they slowed their pace, loth to press on with their journey, now also delighting in the song of the sighing waves. Here Mírian began to have strange dreams when they rested, in which she could hear the sound of a woman singing mingled with the soft song of the winds and the waves. "A delightful voice it was," Mírian reported to her foster mother, "though I could discern no words, if any were sung."

"Alas, child!" said Gilduriel. "The Lady of the Seas calls to you go! It is said among us that the Houses of Hador and Bëor have the favor of the gods. Annael believes they intend a lofty purpose for your brother Tuor. Perhaps they come now with a task for you as well."

"But no message did she hear, mother," said Lothaelin. "Read not too much into it, foster daughter. Perhaps she sings only to cheer you in your grief."

Mírian was in wonder that there seemed to be no question or doubt among them that the Maia, but a magical story of distant legend in her mind, was indeed communicating with her. Greatly curious she would grow anxious to stop for rest again, that she might hear or learn more. At last they reached where the beach curved toward the south.

"Will we continue southward along the sight of the sea, lady?" Mírian asked.

"Nay, my child," answered Lothaelin. "For the cliffs soon grow too close to the shore, and that way will become too dangerous to pass through. Also our path does not lie that way, for we must turn back and follow the eastward thrust of the Echo Mountains along its southern side, and then pass into greater Beleriand."

The girl furrowed her brow in confusion. "If the wide plains of Beleriand were our aim," she asked, "why did we come so far out of the way and not take a more direct route, and pass through the mountains behind our home?"

"The safety of those passes is less certain," said Cúdolin. "They let out too far north along the Sirion Pass which is still controlled by the enemy. This less direct route should not be watched, for no elves have dwelt in this region for many years, and where the Echo Mountains meet the Shadowy the hills are lower for easier passage. From there we may enter Beleriand by the source of the River Narog, which remains under the protection of the Lord of Waters."

but looking back at the sea Mírian sighed. "Pray, let us tarry here for a while! It is safe here. For is it not our safety that worries you?"

Some of the younger elves now spoke up in support of this idea. For as kindred of the Teleri who came to the sea long ago, the sight and sound of it now held their hearts.

"Yes, it is safe here," said Lothaelin, "but the wider world beyond the mountain fences may not remain so for long. If we would seek refuge in the south we must not tarry overlong."

"But as the afternoon is now waning, I see no harm in staying here for the night," said Cúdolin.

And so climbing an old set of stone stairs to a cliff top overlooking the sea, they found a cluster of boulders behind which to set their camp. Then Mírian with some of the younger elves descended back down to the beach and took pleasure in the waves, slipping off their light shoes to wade into water. As they kicked and splashed they peered in wonder at the creatures on the great rocks poking through the surf, on which they found the most curious shellfish and starfish and anemones in all manner of colors.

Now the sun was waning, and their elders began calling to them, for the tide was rising and the rocky beach was growing precarious. So the youths ascended back up the stairs to their camp and settled in for the night. But the travelers were not yet tired, and they ate and drank and made merry as elves do, singing songs of the sea and its gods and the mariners among their long sundered kindred who dwelt in the south.

Mírian woke the next day as the sky began to gray and the gulls began their calls. Her foster mother was awake, gazing with her mother out over the cliffs, when the young mortal approached them to behold the sea at sunrise.

"You were mumbling in your sleep," said Lothaelin. "But I could not make out the words. Do you remember what they were?"

Mírian looked over at her. She thought for a moment, trying to recall any dreams.

"I heard some of what was said," said Gilduriel. "You spoke of warriors and falling kingdoms. Hearken closer to your dreams now, child, that you might discover what the Valar would tell you."

The sky grew lighter. Looking down at the beach Mírian saw now that the tide was low. She descended back down the stairs, alone this time while the others were preparing to leave, for one last feel of the waters. The waves were calm now at low tide, almost as light as the little waves of Lake Mithrim back home. There she sat for a while, every so often pulling a colored shell or smoothed pale stone from the water to inspect it. "Anufiniel!" she heard her foster mother calling, for so those folk had nicknamed her, saying that while her brother's hair was bright and pale as early day, hers was a deep gold that brought to mind the broad river Gelion shining under the early evening sun. Mírian resolved to sit just a few moments longer.

Now the sun had climbed well above the mountains into the morning sky. Mírian let her gaze soften as she stared at the water washing back and forth between her feet, and then noticed a glistening of light flash beneath the surface. She reached for it, pulling something firm and cold from beneath the lazy morning waves. Opening her hand she saw to her amazement a large flower about half the size of her palm, wrought of gold with many finely cut little diamonds and sapphires and a brilliant gem of pale yellow set in the middle. At the back was a little pin.

'A brooch?' she thought to herself. A wondrous thing that may have once adorned the garments of some lady of high status. But who? And from where? Who could say? Mírian stood up and looked out at the horizon of the sea, wondering how such a valuable token came to be here on the shores of the sea, right at her feet, where few had tread in so many years.

At last her foster-mother wearied of calling and descended down to the beach, and the young mortal showed what she had found. Lothaelin looked at it amazed, and likewise looked out at the sea in wonder over the puzzle of such a treasure. They returned to the cliff top, where Gilduriel was certain the token was a gift from Uinen to help Mírian in the task she would receive. "And now," said Gilduriel, "you must discern what that is. If you hear more whispers in your dreams, child, please tell us of it, for it may guide our decisions the rest of the way."

Lothaelin then strung through the back a thin but sturdy twine cord. She hung it about the girl's neck, and tucked it under her layers. "Keep this safe," she said, "for I believe my mother is right, and it is meant to aid you in your tasks."

Now they turned back eastward along the southern side of the Echo Mountains. For the next several days they made their way inland, but for long they remained within earshot of the crying gulls as the firth was not far as a bird flies. To the south of them lay the meres of Nevrast, above which they could spy all manner of birds fluttering about their business: ducks and geese, finches and pipers, herons and pelicans and storks, with hawks and falcons circling above them on the hunt. But they kept well up on the hillsides, for the terrain of the lowlands was marshy wetland with few ways to pick out a footpath.

During this time Mírian now had more dreams of different kinds. The first one she again only heard but did not see. But instead of the ocean she heard the trickling and splashing of a stream journeying over rock and boulder. Then she heard a woman's voice speak. "May this find you when you return, my son, one day when the world is changed," it said "Until then I give thy beloved gift into the keeping of the waters."

The following night was a dream in which she seemed to be peering out from under the surface of the water. She saw a waterfall, sighing gaily as its water rushed over the short cliffs set in the descent of an opening valley, and overhead was a little bridge of white with delicate leaves and flowers and birds intricately carved into its rail posts. Behind it high on a hill lanterns and lighted windows were glittering from a fair white city in the distance, from which there rose a very high tower with a great lamp gleaming at the top. On the bridge and around it on the banks of the little river were many people, holding the fair white flowers of Galathilion and its offspring. They sang long in lamentation, and called out for their lord, brother of their king who was once the high king of their people. Beyond them were climbing hills adorned with more of these beautiful trees in flower, and many others besides, which were followed by snow capped mountains reaching far into the sky. The little valley would have been in the deep shadow of these mountains but for the silvery blue light of the lamp which at that hour of dusk mingled with the light of the setting sun and rising moon to create the likeness of that glow once given by the Great Trees together. At the center of the bridge she could see a maid standing in silence, her fair face lovely but very sad, and in her hand was something that shone white and gold and blue against her face. Suddenly she parted her hands, and into the water she let it fall.

Mírian woke up startled that morning. Her foster family had been puzzling much over her dreams of late, but for this one she had no doubt: she had seen the lady who had claim to the brooch, and watched her cast it into the water.

Lothaelin was now in wonder and awe at these dreams. "That flower," she said, "then must have once belonged to a lady who held dear the high king of the Noldor in Middle-earth: Fingolfin who fell in single combat with the great foe of Arda."

"You have caught a glimpse of the Elvenhome!" Gilduriel added. "Even we have not beheld the fair sight of its splendor and majesty."

"But why?" asked Mírian. "I thought such things were barred to mortals."

"So it is said among our people," said Lothaelin.

"But it is also said," said Cúdolin, "that tasks from the Valar are at times given to both Elves and Men."

"Well if I am to be given a task, then I hope my dreams may speak it plainer, lest I run out of time to do it!" said Mírian.

Cúdolin laughed. "Take heart! Whether your dreams give you plainer instructions or no, I believe your fate will become clear to you, when the time is right."

Mírian had no further dreams for the next few days as the Shadowy Mountains came into closer view. She could now see far ahead where the lower hills lay, the spot through which they would pass. Autumn had started, and they sought to press on and pass over the hills before the chill of the waning year settled in.

At last they began their ascent where the Echo mountains ended and the Shadowy began. The skies were clear when they started their descent on the eastern side, and in the bright morning light from the east they could all see for many leagues beyond: the Narog as it ribboned gently over the open plains stretching away southward, and in the distance to the east the great forest loomed like the edge of the sea, lined by the tributaries of the Sirion. Thus did Mírian and her foster folk leave the solace of Nevrast and come into greater Beleriand.