Thoughts of the Sea

Cold winds whipped past him tugging at his robes, pulling his hair back from his face. The taste of the sea was in his mouth, and he could feel the salt upon his skin. The stone cliff beneath his feet fell several hundred feet away below him, yet the white foam of the waves crashing into the rock  still had the power to throw spray high enough to soak his robes. The day was growing late, the heat of Vása spent for the day. He shivered slightly; the wet robes clung to him, pulling the warmth from his flesh. He pulled his cloak tighter about himself, knowing it was a foolish gesture even as he did it.

Grey storm clouds were approaching the shore slowly, bringing heavy rain. The air felt charged, likely lightning would accompany the deluge. He watched the ship racing towards the safety of the harbour, wondering idly if it would reach port before the fury of Ossë caught it. He hoped it would.