Our horses are enjoying the grass in the shadow of trees and Cirdamir sleeps. I would imagine is the first good sleep he allows himself in days. I don’t think I saw him so happy, enthusiastic and restless before, not even in Lorien. He enjoyed everything, with a smile bright as the sun, from ship maneuvers to countless hours of swimming, the wine that seemed to borrow the smell of the sea, and songs I never heard before, not even at the campfires in Celondim, from travelers seeking the Sea or bringing its tales.
I was curious about his Sea and his friends he talks so wonderfully of. They are beautiful and free and their manner simple and direct. Most wear clothes of light materials and faded colors and walk the sandy beach bare feet. One is accepted with less words and introductions; like it was only natural his path would lead to the Sea and cross that of her wardens for a time. Among the other guests were some I knew from the Halls of Elrond, but the atmosphere was different, so were the stories and songs. From the Loth-i-Lonnath Aearandir enchanted us with songs of the Sea I had not heard before, with a skill that would charm the most elegant ball in the halls of Elrond. The seagulls are lucky to have such accomplished minstrels to enchant them..
I find myself humming the sad song of love Aearandir sang. A song of one elf’s love lost to the sea, and just the last line tells this lover was his ship. To me this song summarized most the essence of this people of the Sea. Everything revolves around the Sea from strategy to love and from hunting to song. The omens are different, so are the the greetings and blessings. I search a word to define their relation to the Sea and I find none. They are not conquerors for they look at it with humble admiration, nor priests or adorers as they know to understand and control its furies and and dangers and fight them. A complicated passion to compete with. And I will compete with it, for I found no love in my heart for walking her shivering paths. Its immensity overwhelms me and what is far behind the horizon worries me, each wave coming towards our shore a messenger of.
My rival, the Geat Sea.. Cirdamir told me, smiling happy with salt and seaweed in his hair still wet from her last embrace, that she is the only one that could keep him away from me… As if I needed a reason more to dislike her.. But if I look again at his face so happy, smiling to a dream, I believe I will try to get along with my rival. After all, they say we are all bound, or cursed, to, someday, hear her call, fall to her charm and walk her path of no return...
A spot moves on the cloudless sky. An Eagle flies towards the Ered Luin and for a moment my ear expects to hear the cry of the Albatross..
