He looked at the small gray ship, rocking softly in the water, waves breaking at the wooden planks and wasn't sure when he had been this impressed before. The ship shouldn't have been able to sail that far or find its way to this land, but it had. It shouldn't have been able to bring a dwarf to the blessed shores, but it had. It shouldn't have been able to bring the elven prince here alive, but it had. Círdan felt deeply thankful for everything this ship had done.
He stepped into the water and waded the short distance until he reached it and could examine it further. Truth to be told it was more a boat than a ship, only big enough to carry those two friends it had. The planks were rough and Círdan could see the blood the splinting surface had drawn. That was miserable craftsmanship and he would have sent every elf away, who would have shown him something like that boat as the result of his work. But they weren't his people and one of them had been too sick to create a masterpiece, only barely holding on to fulfill a promise and the other a master with stone but not wood; and probably too worried and terrified about his friends condition and what awaits him on the end of their journey, to do any better.
He begun to walk around the boat and could see crooked and broken nails everywhere. This ship should never have been able to reach its destiny, but it had.
The whole construction was so simple he would have been terrified to sail with it and he had sailed in a lot of strange constructions throughout his long life, one more ridiculous than the other. But he would never have dared to set a foot into this one, even without knowing its destination.
But those two friends hadn't had another option, it was their one and only hope. Which still didn't explain why it had worked out. The small boat was empty, most likely Elrond had ordered his staff to bring everything to its rightful owners in hope, that they would need their small bearings at a later time. Círdan himself hoped so, he hoped that the much too young elf would survive; he was in the most capable hands, but the situation was dire. Even Elrond, never one to doubt his own abilities, wasn't sure about how much he could do. But his newest guest had survived the first night and so he could live through the day as well. One step after the other, no use in thinking forward too much.
The both of them had arrived shortly after midnight, but not at the haven itself as all incoming ships usually did, but on this small and lonely beach instead. It was the shortest way possible from the shore to Elronds house and so Círdan didn't quite believed it to be a coincidence.
Yavanna was in great love with all elves of the woodland realm and even if she wasn't allowed to do something like that, she probably had decided to save one of her creatures. One of the elves that had fought his whole life to save her forest and later all people in Middle Earth and who had helped a darkened forest to bloom again.
Elrond, still gifted -or cursed- with his visions of foresight had this shore guarded every night since his arrival with two of his former warriors, not explaining himself, but only few had questioned him and even they should be silenced after the events of last night. Círdan was sure that this beach wouldn't be watched any longer. He moved again and completed his circle around the small boat, stepped over the anchor line and wondered why nobody had landed it. It couldn't be heavy and there were no storms strong enough to raise the water high enough so it would be taken back to the sea and got lost unexpected. That neither the dwarf nor the prince had been in any state to do so was for sure, but the ones who had taken the few items they brought?
He sighted; it would take some time to find a place were the boat could stay until the two friends decided what to do with it. Most of the elves had no need for a boat when they came here, so they would use the wood for different things and it would be suicidal to go onto the sea with this one again. Only a few ships were still intact and ready to set sail at any moment, for example the ones of prominent elves or those of real beauty. He had been a little bit proud to see that nearly all of them were created by him, but he couldn't image this boat next to them. Even if his occupants were from great importance in the third age. But he would find a place for this one, somewhere on the shore until their decision. He needed a little bit more strength than expected to lift the anchor out of the water and feared for a moment that it would simply break through the wood and sink again; after raising it over the planks and had let go of it, but it didn't. He breathed out in relief and grabbed the railing in an attempt to pull it to the shore himself, but stopped immediately after his hands had touched the rough planks, eyes wide.
This couldn't be. He trembled slightly and took his fingers off of it with much more effort than such a simple task should need. He breathed in deeply before he touched it again, this time more gentle, to feel and not to move. But there it was again, the boat seemed to be alive. Not like elves, humans or animals, but as if it was caring a soul. He could feel anything that made this baot a ship and knew what had it made to last the journey. It was a promise between friends feeling deeper for another than any family bond could have done. It was the promise to care, even if nobody else did. To be there, when nobody else was. To protect when the chances of surviving were at their lowest. To understand the soul, even if you couldn't understand the words spoken. He could feel Gimlis sorrow of leaving his known home and make the journey to a land he didn't know and he probably wouldn't be welcome at all. But he had sworn to bring Legolas if he wouldn't be able to do so on his own. And he didn't break this promise, even if it meant not to know if he needed to sail back or be arrested after his arriving.
Círdan could feel his hopelessness and could practically see where tears had fallen on the floor. He saw through Gimlis eyes how Legolas had sat motionless for days without eating and barely breathing. How he had feared to get lost on those deep waters at those times, but the little boat had stayed on the right path, never abandoning it, never wavering. Gimli had never spoken his fears when Legolas was truly with him, because he trusted his friend to hold on until they reached their destination, because he had promised it to him and he trusted the elf with his whole heart. It was the promise of hope that Gimli awakened in their little boat. He could feel Legolas bone deep exhaustion, the losses of his many immortal and mortal friends had hit him hard. Most of all Aragorns death not such a long time ago. It had shattered his already broken heart and fragile soul. He had tried to convince Gimli to stay in Middle Earth where he belonged and had a family and friends, even if everything within him screamed for the dwarf to come with him, because he needed him; because he was the only one who could give him hope next to his father. Who wasn't able to come right now. Legolas had sworn to himself that he would beg Aule personally to let Gimli stay if nobody else would listen to him.
Círdan felt how the prince of the late Eryn Galen had fought to survive, not to succumb to his grief and the many losses, because he couldn't leave Gimli, who had never left him. Who had given up everything for him. And the dwarf had told him everyday that it was worth to stay, worth to fight and become whole again. Legolas didn't know why anymore, but he believed his friend. It was the promise of trust Legolas had awakened in their little boat. Círdan smiled and pulled the boat to shore. Elronds people had felt the magic but weren't able to read it and so they hadn't dared to touch it more than necessary. He would care personally for its safe arriving in the harbor. This boat had earned to be a ship and get a special place there, not because it brought the last two members of the Fellowship of the Ring, not because it brought a dwarf and an elven prince, but because it was the symbol of a friendship deeper than the ocean they had crossed. It wasn't important how things looked from the outside, it was much more important to see through that and feel what lay behind the facade.