"Turn your head towards the sun, shining so bright upon that sapphire blue sky, with nary a cloud in sight. Close your eyes and feel the divine warmth upon your skin. Beneath your bare feet lies the soft, green grass, still damp from the morning dew. A gull cries in the distance, calling for its mate. Feel the wind come in from far beyond the sea, and let it embrace you closely with a loving, carefree grip. Can you hear it?
Listen to the wind, my son. Let it come and softly caress your ears, as well as your mind. Listen to the wind, but hear the calling from beyond it. Can you hear it? There is a voice hidden deep inside the wind; a voice so faint, so sweet and so fragile that no mortal ears will ever know it. There is a voice calling for you; singing about you, your life, your family. It sings of everything you hold dear, of everything close to your heart, and of all that has ever been, and all that will ever be. Listen to the voice, and hear all that it wants to tell you. Can you hear it calling for you? Is it time to let go?"
Of this my father spoke, so many years ago. He spoke of the voice within the wind from beyond the sea, the voice that whispers, the voice that calls for you, and for you alone. All I heard that time was the wind itself. I heard the cold, cruel wind howling from beyond the sea, filling the ships' sails and tearing leaves from the mourning trees of autumn. Merely a few years after he had spoken those words, the wind had filled the sails of his own ship, the one we had built together over many years, and my father and mother were then bound towards the western shores, never to return. They had let go of all the sorrows of this world to find their eternal happiness on the other side of the sea.
Many, many years later, after a life of laughter and joy and pleasure, as well as mourning and melancholy, of regret and guilt, and every other conceivable feeling known to society, I had taken to solitude not far from dear Mithlond. From my place of dwelling, a small hunting cottage that belonged to my family and for many long years nearly abandoned, save for the occasional visit by myself or Lothiavien in later years, I would watch the roaring sea from beyond the hills from dawn to dusk. I had witnessed the summer pass like a leaf on the wind, and with a snap of history's fingers so passed autumn too, until winter finally caught up and laid her frosty fingers on the wonders of nature. And now spring is swiftly on the march, a circle fulfilled yet again.
In this place of silent contemplation and wonder, I woke up one morning to a strange voice ringing in my ears, the like of which I had never known before. It was like an ethereal whispering that soothed all my aching joints and calmed down this beating heart. Accompanied by the sound of birds and a grieving wind, there it was: the great voice that father had spoken of. Instantly I knew why it called out to me. I listened to every word it had to say, and then I knew what I had to do. The time had come, and it was time to let go of everything else. My weary hands ached and longed with the desire to pick up my tools again, the very tools I had laid behind me an age ago.
As I closed my eyes, I envisioned the ship in all its grandeur, an image that had in my mind grown and changed for many a year until it became this marvel of craftsmanship. There was a tall, silvery-white mast that seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky, and long streaks of strong ropes - with golden strands woven into it - draped around the mast and connected to the hull for managing the sail. The sail itself was large and wide, and there was the embroidered image of two swans facing each other beneath a large golden sun, just like I envisioned in a dream not long ago. The fabric sparkled like a million gemstones when exposed to the sunlight, and it lit up like a soft silver lantern when the moon shone down upon it at night.
The deck itself was made of perfectly aligned and flawless wooden planks, sanded smooth as silk, and each nail that bound the wood together was a work of art in itself, for upon each of their tiny heads were stamped a letter, so each nail would be telling one little part of a song or story that no-one but I would know. And not yet do I know which story would be written in secret on-board my ship, though I expect it to come to me eventually. The hull was painted in a clear, bright white coating towards the bow, which faded into a darker shade of blue towards the stern, to mimic the passing of day to night. There were images of gulls in flight at the front sides, and the bow was - like most other of the Falathrim ships - carved in the likeness of a great swan's head with massive wings that stretched out behind it, and its eyes were inlaid with black pearls, as dark and deep as the ocean itself. And along the back sides of the ship was the glitter of a myriad of sapphire stars, each one perfectly aligned to recreate parts of the firmament above, as a tribute to our beloved Elbereth so that she may bless the journey.
So I envisioned my great vessel, and every evening I would draw up new designs for adornment of my once and future ship, and many long hours I spent obsessing over every minor detail, to the point of carefully planning the very number of stitches required for the sail, or counting the amount of nails that had to be forged. It would not just be a ship; it would be a work of art, and it would be a home upon the sea for myself and for my loved ones that wished to follow.
Every day I sat down at the hill and gazed out across the sea, where seagulls cried and played, and where ships came and left the harbor, and I smiled at the thought that someday my own would do the same. My thoughts wandered to my dear Lothoniel, who remain in charge of the mithdirith, and how I longed for the moment when it would be just the two of us together upon the shore again, and how we would one day take our ship out for a ride upon the ocean waves to see how well it behaves. It would take many days, months and years before I would be pleased enough with the greatest creation I had ever attempted to make. A long, long time indeed, and yet it felt so near. All I had to do now was to finally let go of the past and focus on the future, and the road to get there. I'd have all the time in the world to build, polish and making my ship into the great creation I have envisioned, until both I and those who'd follow are ready to leave the eastern shores in search for the distant land that we all crave and long for. The Undying Lands on the other side of the sea is waiting patiently, for me and my loved ones alike, and so it was time to start building; to let go of whatever darkness there ever was in the past, and to look ahead towards the brightest of futures.
And ever is there work to do in the shipyards, for not only is it the ship that I will build with my own two hands and allow few else to come near, there are also the ships of Loth-i-Lonnath to tend to; rebuilding that was lost for a brighter future for us all, and I will give my aid where-ever it is needed for them, as is my duty as a shipbuilder. Wood will be felled and treated, metal will be forged, sails will be sewn, masts shall be raised... there is so much to do, and so much time to do it. A new age is dawning and all the shadows of the past are dissipating. The waves break against the white shores, the wind fills the sails and the seagulls are calling... this is what I'm destined to do, though there's still one piece missing - a precious flower to truly kindle my heart. We shall be together again, one day.
