(Archive) The Fellowship of the Sword 75 - Homecoming

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Weather: Clear

Time: Before Dawn

Season: Summer

Date: Mersday - July 9, 3022

Real Time: Sat Feb 10 12:25:27 2001

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*Note - log submitted by Rowaen*

Dol Amroth: Harbour

The air here is thick with the salt tang of the brine and the pungent odours of gathered fish and sweaty sailors. By far the least illustrious of the city\'s harbours, nonetheless it is the largest, playing home not only to the fishermen but to the shipwrights of the city as well.

Beyond the fishermen\'s piers are set huge stone channels in which rest half-completed hulks of vessels like the backbones of huge animals rest other ships under construction between massive warehouses scattered throughout the area. Traffic in and out of the harbour is nearly constant no matter what the hour, whether it is small pilot boats leading other ships in and out or fishermen returning or setting out for a day\'s work.

Nighttime brings to this place a stillness and quietness found often in graveyards and the barrows of long-dead kings. Indeed, the tall beams, black shadows against the blue-black sky, have the look of bent skeletons in funeral shrouds...half-constructed ships lie about like corpses in the last stages of decomposition. Even the smell of tar and sea creatures lingers in the air like the rancid breath of the charnel house. Lamps are about, high on poles in the event that night work must be done, but their glow is feeble in the dank, foggy night...

Contents:

Thoróndur

Erutirn

Amano

Dawn not far off, already the moon descends, Anar ready to take it\'s rightfull place. Therefore the light that shines is a mixture of both silver and gold... The influence of the sea is quite evident, for adding to the somewhat spooky appearance of the silent harbor, is a thin fog, thwirling around ankered ships, stappled boxes, lonely lamp posts. Amidst the fog, dark figures move around, not many words being spoken, as if not seeking to disturb this place of sea... And if there is a word entrusted to the thick sky, it reaches not far, fog reaching out to mangle the words in it\'s silent grasp...

Lone is the figure standing quiet on one of the fishermen\'s piers. Dark he seems from a distance, white mist passing his clothes, surrounding him, seemingly to hold him in a spooky grasp... Nearer blue and white comes visible, Rowaen sitting there at the pier. Blank his blue eyes stare about, scanning the sea, deep within a mysterious glance twinkles. Quite determined the young man seems, shifting his gaze from left to right over and over, as if in search for something amidst the waters and silent fog. Still he finds no answer, for an irritated sigh leaves his lips, eyes blinking up towards the half-lit sky.

[Arnafel(#29017)]

A dark hour, fit more for wraiths than Mortal Men -- and indeed, in the swirling mists, even the living seem but hapless shades. Yet, a firm tread rings hollowly, rending the silence, and a vague figure looms tall amidst eddies of pale fog:

\"Any sign of him?\"

\"No...\"

Insignicant that one words seems, swiftly muffled by the swirling fog, til there is no more then the memory. Slow Rowaen turns to greet the other with more then denial... and his blue eyes seem to flicker as they take a human into vision. \"Good morn, Lord. It still seems all a dream to me...\"

Silent he turns back again, to frantically roam the empty sea.

[Arnafel(#29017)]

And he comes forth from the shadowy embrace of the night, clad all in azure and argent -- the Lord of the Isilrim, streamers of mist trailing behind him akin to ghostly pennons. Yet, even in the darkness, the gleam of those grey eyes is undimmed, cool even as his voice:

\"Then awake swiftly, Squire...for ere long, we will be going forth into a nightmare.\"

[Erutirn(#17520)] Silently standing upon the dock is the figure of Erutirn Calgar. The young knight doesn\'t say anything, as yet, however he scans the ocean as he stands. After a few moments he turns to looking at the various ships still docked in the port.

[Amano(#30032)]

Mantled in grey, as twilight furled about him, the tall figure of a youth keeps silent watch upon the harbour, aloof, untouched by the fog that sinks the quays in swirling gloom despite the approaching dawn. Yet he remains not still, drifting hither and thither as the fog will, his steps echoing and faraway upon the wood of the dock. Pale as a wraith that might have come out of the darkness, his face drawn and seeming aged by cares unknown, he comes at last nigh to where the Knight-Admiral stands, yet still a span away.

His voice seems to auger through the mist, familiar in timbre, marking him as Amano of the Isilrim. \"Still the fog draws close about us, as it had on the seas ere we set foot on land once more.\" Disbelief still tinges the young man\'s words, though it must have been for near to an hour since their arrival, as though he were still unsure of where he was. If he had heard the speech between Rowaen and the Lord Isilrim, he gives no sign, and he still casts his gaze across the water, seeking something unseen.

\"A nightmare, maybe -- but we have all of us seen dreams and nightmares enough for ten lifetimes, now.\"

So comes the clear voice of Thorondur Girithlin, Knight-Herald and Elf-Friend, knifing through the fog and the darkness like his own silvered blade. The White Knight comes from the city, alone.

Absent it comes... words, spoken half aloud half in thoughts.

\"A nightmare in essence is still a dream, having survived and experienced the dream of the last past hours... I think not there is many I will be amazed about. For,\" and here he turns, eyes blinking, both expression and brows holding wonder, perhaps even slight confusement, \"it exceeds all form of logic...\"

To the others Rowaen speaks naught, mere finding suffice in a vague nod towards those behind him. And once more he turns to regain his place of watch, to seek the logic he lacks..

[Arnafel(#29017)]

To his kinsman and the Nimothan, the Silver Knight glances with arched brow, \"We walk in the midst of strange omens and wondrous sights...and so it has been ever since we took the Oath to find the shards. This is but another reminder of it.\"

And unhurriedly, he turns to whence the Girithlin\'s voice sounds, \"What does he say?\"

[Erutirn(#17520)] \"A nightmare... a dream... who knows, perhaps we never even left gondor.\" Erutirn says this as he turns around to look at the others, \"Half-men and dwarves and elves... surely they existed, but that many... who could say it was anything but a dream?\" He glances towards Thorondur, then Arnnafel, then the others.

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

Now Thorondur emerges fully from the darkness to stand before them, a radiant figure in white. \"He says nothing, for I found him not,\" the Herald tells Arnafel, \"and the Citadel itself remains asleep. They say he is gone -- to Erech.\"

And though he says nothing more, when Rowaen speaks of \'logic\' the Herald looks upon the lad and his youthful cohorts with some wry spark of amusement.

Mutterings, they seem so fragile amids the thwirls and swirls of the white mist.

\"Ghosts? A ship from far beyond....\" Ignorant the Nimothan shakes his head, his boot kicking a small rock into the depths of the sea.

[Arnafel(#29017)]

\"Erech...\", the Knight-Admiral murmurs -- and he shares a long glance with Thorondur ere shrugging faintly, \"It makes little difference. Numbers will avail us little upon the path we must tread...and if the blade comes to him unlooked for, then greater yet will be his joy.\"

And he replies drily to the one-legged Knight then, \"I can. Or if it is indeed a dream, then I have had one exceedingly similar ere this.\"

[Amano(#30032)]

A grimace mars Amano\'s visage before it smoothens to a semblance of calm. \"Speak not of logic at an hour such as this, Rowaen.. I am afraid, if I were to attempt to reason out of all we have seen, much of it would never be understood. Already my thoughts are awhirl with the task yet ahead of us. Dreams, and the dead.. who among us thought we would see such things in the waking world before we set out?\"

As if shutting his thoughts to himself on what had befallen them, the youth draws his cloak closer about him, his face closing at the words from the Knight-Herald. \"One day, I do hope so, lord. Yet what is to come.. I cannot imagine if it can be in measure greater, though perhaps more perilous, than what has passed.\"

\"If logic fails, then...\" a turn and dark is the glance of the blue eyes, \"what certainty I have left?\"

Two steps are taken, Rowaen moving slightly away from the end of the pier. \"Ghosts... they exist and yet they are not here? And still we saw one, even traveled on a ship... I ask you if logic fails, what room leaves that for fear?\"

[Arnafel(#29017)]

\"That which is wrought by the Shadow\" -- it is not the Girithlin who replies to Amano, but the Isilrim -- \"...is never great. Nay, it may overcome even the stout-hearted, but it will remain petty and mean.\"

Still and calm he stands, gazing upon the white-flecked tops of the waves -- and at Rowaen\'s words, he sighs softly, yet he says naught.

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

\"Logic is a crutch, no different than your old tree-branch,\" says the Herald to the Squire. \"Learn to live by your faith -- in yourself, in Gondor, in the West -- for the dark things these oppose will ever defy logic.\"

Patient, he seems, as he answers the Squire where the Isilrim answers his kinsman.

[Erutirn(#17520)] \"Logic... logic always fails, Rowaen.\" The young knight looks around, \"Though...\" Erutirn looks towards Arnafel, \"Who said the shadow has wrought the ghosts we saw to the north? No... there is something greater than the shadow at work in that place... far greater than us.\"

[Arnafel(#29017)]

\"Far greater than us?\"

And for a fleeting moment, the Knight-Admiral turns his gaze from the sea to Erutirn, a rare, brilliant smile fleeting across his visage, \"That is no hard task, for Mortal Men are little before the unseen mysteries of Arda. But...\"

And he returns to his contemplation of the waves, \"...there are those who would say that the Doom of Men sets them high indeed. And perhaps they too are right in a way.\"

\"And does not even a crutch provide for necessary support? Like the tree-branch did for me while recovering of my injuries... The leg healed and the crutch was not needed anylonger...\" speaks the Nimothan, failing not to face the Lord Girithlin directly.

A change of expression as the young man silently eyes the Knights, one by one... only when he holds the second within his vision, does Rowaen speak. \"All of you are conscious of your past, is it naught? The past forms a certainty on it\'s own, lessons to be learned, memories to be recalled. Such a past I lost at sea...\"

Like a hawk the blue eyes once more reach out, to see far and beyond, \"And I lack not faith...\"

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

\"We are Men, Arnafel. Let them ponder it who will,\" says Thorondur into the silence.

\"For myself, I accept it as I have learned to accept all things. But as a mortal man,\" he tells Rowaen, \"I say to you: You have cast aside one crutch. Now let us see if you might be done with another!\"

\"But the Citadel calls me,\" he adds more calmly, his voice now falling as he looks to the towers of marble, on high. \"We are home for a moment, and I intend to spend my moment well.\"

[Arnafel(#29017)]

\"You have lost a past, Squire, not your future.\"

Cold and measured, the Isilrim\'s voice cuts through the night -- and there is no wrath in it, but every word is akin to the cut of a blade, \"Too often do you lament that which is done and cannot be changed. Look to what is to come, that you may shape your own Doom by your deeds...or it will be your fate to lament forever!\"

\"Doubt not my words, oh Lords, for \'tis as the Lord Girithlin spoke. Logic is a tool, one I found the support I sought... Yet \'tseems it can be no more then that... It leaves me with a different form of logic now, namely truth....\" blue flickers, eyes piercing the sturdy surface of the sea.

\"I shall shape my future by going forth into the dark Tower, if only to seek if this indeed truth I saw and experienced. If the Lady that came to us in transparent form was not a dream, if the ship we fared upon was not an illusion... I fear not the dark, for even within the dark light can be found in form of truth...\"

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

\"Then search for your light,\" Thorondur says in parting, \"but I have found mine, and now I must go to greet her. fare you well, all of you.\"

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

And with that, he turns, and is gone to seek the Citadel.

[Amano(#30032)]

No words come from Amano for the longest moment, as he hearkens to the speech of the others about him yet at the last he utters, \"Perhaps it may be so, but I would not look within the shadow for truth. Oft the darkness deceives what it cannot sway by fear. When we return, perhaps then, but not before.\" Even he seems startled at his own words, but no further explanation does he give, only inclining his brow to the Knight-Herald in silent farewell.

A sigh, soft and almost weary.

\"Perhaps I speak in riddles to thee all... Amano,\" and here Rowaen turns, eyes resting heavy upon the figure of the Isilrim, \"is it not true a part of the sword we seek lays within the grasp of darkness?\"

[Arnafel(#29017)]

\"If it is light you seek to succour you upon the dark path we must tread\" -- around the small circle the Knight-Admiral\'s gaze sweeps, keen and compelling -- \"...then look within yourselves, Men of Gondor. Hold fast your memories of the wondrous, shining lands you have seen, where the Shadow dares not infringe. Stay true to the West, for you are children of Westernesse.\"

\"And thus will you find your guiding star, as bright as any wrought by Elbereth.\"

For a moment longer, he regards them -- and then he turns to the sea and the starlit path upon the waves which leads into the West, and his silence is a barrier that none may broach.

[Amano(#30032)]

If the Nimothan seems wearied, the tall Knight is no less and a strange sorrow lingers in his sea-grey eyes, unfathomable, unknown. \"It lies in darkness, Rowaen, clasped about by shadow but we shall deliver it from there for a purpose that shall in finality drive darkness away, and bring Amrothos back to the light. Rather, I would agree with the Lord Arnafel: that we should rather seek within ourselves this truth of which you speak, when we are in the fastnesses of the dark.\"

And softly, does he conclude, \"For it cannot be other than ourselves, to define what is true, and what is light.\"

\"Indeed the shard lies thither, and we shall venture into the darkness to reclaim that what belongs to the light. A light which will help restore young Amrothos... then seek no further for the truth I spoke off, truth in darkness...\"

Grave the Nimothan was, yet a smile touches his lips, cheerfullness returning to the young man\'s features, \"And what of history, was not the dark Tower at first a place of grace? One of the two towers built by two great Kings of the lands... erase naught that memory. Nay.. let the memory be even more truth within the vastness of dark...\"

More steps are taken, the Nimothan stepping further off the pier, \"Yet you are right, my friend, we must find truth within ourselves aswell, perhaps it brings you more recognition if I was to grant it another name... For the truth I speak off, I believe \'tis what others call hope.\"

[Amano(#30032)]

Gravely, does the Knight tilt his head, a brief bow. And a lightening of his darkling gaze there is, as if he had at last, too, grasped its meaning. \"Then, if you will find hope therein, you will have changed far more than I on this journey. Let it be so, and let us look to the morrow! We are here, but a brief time, and if you deem hope so close at hand, it must be. Ever have others sought it, and seen it not in you,\" he half-jests, turning so that he faces the city of Dol Amroth, stretching out before him, \"It may be they looked not long enough.\"

A fierceness there lies, in the Isilrim\'s gaze, as he perceives the dock town and further off, the white towers of the Citadel. \"I too, will have found what I seek. But my journey lies elsewhere.\" The wind rises, riffling the waves lapping the quay, and tugging at those standing there. \"I stay not longer, chasing dreams. I am home.\"

\"As I will not stay longer, for our way leads onwards...\"

Another step, Rowaen standing tall next to Amano, though he rises not above the other in length. Within the blue a fierce determination flickers, for once not sealed off by a coolly glance... \"Let us return to the city then, have a drink and some converse, yet,\" and here a grin is displayed, \"in truth I should not be here present, for my oath binds me not to return to Dol Amroth before having found way to restore Amrothos! Though I deem our Lord will be quite mercifull, for we shall tarry naught, we shall defy the darkness and bring out the light, reuniting both father and son! Let us go and drink to that while time permits us!\"

And so, awaiting naught another word, Rowaen walks away, white mist reluctant to leave him from it\'s grasp. Final is the glance casted at the sea, color alike the water, glance alike the surface, lacking not the depths... though neither the reflection of the early rays of Anar, golden and light.