Forlond bay, a few centuries ago
"Atya, atya look! Look! It flies!" the elfling exclaimed excitedly at the sight of a ship leaving the harbour, gradually gaining speed as it entered open sea. Aicasicil chuckled and patted his daughter's head. "It floats, not flies. Ships float"
"Ships fly! Vingilot flies, you told me the story yesterday!"
"Vingilot is a special, one of a kind vessel, the only one that can fly, Earcalie. Other ships float on water"
"If it can fly than other ships can fly too" she answered stubbornly, crossing her arms and pouting. Aicasicil refrained from sighing, knowing it was impossible to make her reason when she had that pout on her face. Instead, he directed her attention on another ship that was mooring at the bay that very moment
"See that? It is a mercantile vessel, probably back from the southern coasts of Harlindon"
"I want to see the south coasts too! Let us go on the ship atya please?"
"Once you'll be grown up enough, yes, but not now". The elfling huffed loudly. She couldn't sail on the big ships, she couldn't see far away places, she couldn't have a flying vessel like Vingilot, she couldn't do anything! Sensing her mounting malcontent, Aicasicil lifted her on his shoulders. "Come now, none of that grumpy face! I promise we'll go on a sailing venture very soon"
"How soon is very soon?"
"Sooner than you think". The grumpy expression on the elfling's face gave way to a funny, puzzled one that made her father chuckle again. As they made their way home, he started formulating an idea in his head.
The next day, Aicasicil rose earlier than usual, before dawn, said that he was going to the harbour and only reappeared at day's end. So he did the next day, and the day after that too. The morning of the fourth day, after breakfast he appeared on the front porch. "Today is the day! Are you ready to go on an adventure at sea, young sailor?". The elleth looked at her mother, who just rolled her eyes and lauhged softly, knowing what this was about. "Go on you two, but be back before sunset".
They arrived at the little bay near their house where Earcalie loved to play and she saw tied to a rock near the shore a ship. Well... to an adult's eye, it was clear that it was no ship, but a small boat, shaped to resemble one of the big vessels moored at Forlond (albeit stylized), with a small sail that fluttered in the wind, and oars instead of the helm. A toy boat, for all intents and purposes, but to a child's eyes, to little Earcalie's eyes that was definitely a ship. Her ship. With a squeal, she ran towards it as her father shouted "Careful! Careful I say!"
"You are slow atya! Let us go sailing! Mooooove!". He designed the toy boat himself with the help of a couple wrights from the town. To build it in such a short time required a lot of focus, and delays on his own schedule but the smile on his daughter's face was well worth the effort. He untied the "ship", made sure that the seat was comfortable for her, and slowly rowed out the bay. The wind gently blew and they picked up some speed, though Aicasicil made sure to stay in sight of the beach, between the bay and the town that they could see further south, so that th wind wouldn't steer them further away. It was enough for the elfling happily chanting "We fly, we fly, we fly like Vingilot", she was having fun, she loved the "ship" and of course it saw many more trips in the little bay.
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Many, many years later, she found herself silently chuckling at the sudden memory that resurfaced her mind. She went on plenty of real ships as time passed, yet the toy boat always held a special place in her heart. She still had it, stored in the warehouse next to her mansion. She was sure that with a little maintenance it could still float on water. Float, not fly. Ship replicas were a passion that apparently shared by some of the men in Gondor, she heard from an elven traveler in Mithlond, about to take his last journey West. It was not surprising, as they were descendant of the Numenoreans who were, in fact, renowned sailors. Well, as far as craftsmanship went, elven toy boats surely were superior to mannish ones. But, she couldn't deny to be curious; who knows, perhaps one day she'll be able to meet a decent craftsman and see for herself...
atya: father in quenya
