(Archive) The Fellowship of the Sword 74 -The Wrath of Osse

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Great Gate of Lond Daer

Here are the remains of great watchtowers, the remnants of walls of gargantuan bulk. But they are shattered. The arch of the great gate has fallen, and the watchtowers stand roofless shells. The walls themselves lie leveled, their blocks scattered on the ground. Some force has washed aside all the power and might of Numenor much as the tide washes sand castles from their foundations.

To the west and south the ruined city lies stretched out like a corpse upon a bier, desolation upon desolation. To the east stretches the wilderness of the Enedwaith. To the north and northeast the Gwathlo can be seen receding into the distance, surrounded by miles of swamp and fen.

The camp is astir beneath the noonday sun -- and beneath the shadow of the crumbling walls of Lond Daer. Men of the West had build this place, and Men of the West have returned to it -- but these twelve are no more than interlopers now, newcomers unwelcome in the greying ruins.

Clad all in his customary white, the Lord Girithlin shoulders the great sword he has but lately discovered, and turns toward the Ruin. \"It is time we began our search,\" he announces aloud.

\"Our search?\" questions a lonely voice. From behind the lord Girithlin emerges Faengor Nimothan, clad in his usual black. His dour face, well-lit by the moonlight fixes on Thorondur and grave eyes peer forth. Nearing closer he turns to the ruins, \"A shard of the sword?\"

\"No less than that, Faengor Nimothan,\" says the Herald of Imrahil, glancing aside to the Man of Minas Tirith with a grim, secret smile of his own. \"Or so it seemed, if we read correctly this Vision that would guide us. Indilzar and I have put our faith in that, at least.\"

Near the the White Knight, another man of the west satnds, his gaze looking upon his the ruins. Tall does he stand, shoulders high, yet sadness can be seen upon his face as he looks upon the old walls. Quietly, Tamran turns towards the two other men, the image of Nimloth the Fair upon him comes into view, yet he says nothing as they speak.

\"Visions both omnious and enlighting I heared.\" Faengor solemnly replies, gaze stern, face grim. Turning to the ancient walls now he speaks, \"Regardless, my sword will not leave my side when we enter, we have seen too much to trust vague visions.\"

\"Well enough. Keep your swords by your sides,\" Thorondur tells the pair of Men sent especially by the Steward. \"The Men of Westernesse did build these walls, and dwelt here once -- but that was long ago. There may be bandits, now--\"

\"Or worse.\"

And he turns toward the gates himself.

\"Or worse...\" Faengor repeats hollowly. Drawing a stainless sword from his scabbard, the Sergeant-at-arms follows in his knight\'s trail, silent and watchful. \"Regardless, with Tamran by my side I have little to fear.\" and upon speaking, noble eyes turn to the experienced swordsman, greeting him with a fair shimmering of respect.

Tamran glances at the Nimothan, a grins now appearing upon his face, yet still quiet he remains, returning his gaze upon the doomed walls. With slow steps he follows the knight towards the gate, his eye looking from side to side.

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Gateway Road

The road has almost ceased to be a road. Trees have grown back until this stretch of the city is almost a forest, and bushes half-choke even this great thoroughfare. The buildings have mostly collapsed into low mounds of earth and rubble.

To the west the heights of the Old Acropolis shine in the sun: the ruin seems less complete in that direction, as if whatever forces leveled the houses in this area spared the higher ground.

To the east, the ruins of the city walls lie like blocks left tumbled on the ground after some children\'s game.

Eerie and queer, the silence that pervades this ruin of Numenor. The mighty works of Men long Ages past, raised high and tumbled low ere ever Gondor itself was founded in Exile, seem to brood watchfully, warily, above the shoulders of the men who take this road.

Yet confident and certain, Thorondur Girithlin betrays no anxiety. \"There,\" he says, pointing toward the Old Acropolis rising out of the ruins southward. \"That is where we will start.\"

In silence, Faengor turns together with Thorondur. Focused eyes gaze about him as they move, until finally the Errand Rider speaks, \"What do you know of this ancient city, which now lies before us in ruin, Lord Girithlin?\"

Tamran looks towards the Acropolis for a moment, before he finally speaks, \"A wise choice...\" His voice is clear, pride heard within those words for he stands upon a place built by his descendants, a place of might in ages long pass. Yet they are mixed in sadness for the fate that fell upon these walls.

Quietly he awaits the answer of the Kinght.

\"Little enough,\" admits the fair Herald, pausing a moment to consider the raised acropolis he has chosen for a destination. Shading his eyes against the sun with an upraised hand, he says further:

\"The histories say this place was founded by Aldarion, a King of Numenor itself, and a mighty seaman he founded the Guild of Venturers, from whom we Knights of Dol Amroth trace our traditions. It was ruined, \'tis said, then built again... but little more is known. Lond Daer was no more than you see now, when Elendil and his sons came from out of the West on the wings of the Downfall.\"

Sensing Tamran\'s sorrow, the Errand Rider pulls his cloak tight to his body, -- \"To walk between the ruins of Lond Daer is both an honour and a curse.\" and when the party nears the soutern parts of the city, Faengor turns to the Girithlin Lord, \"what powers are responsible for the the downfall of Don Laer?\"

Faengor\'s question provokes the flicker of irony that flashes now within Thorondur\'s eyes, and the smile, wry but wan, that turns his lips. \"The wrath of Osse and the the wrack of the Sea,\" he says, \"but one could as well say the pride and the hubris of Men.\"

Though he looks to Tamran now with a question, though it remains silent and unvoiced for the nonce.

The young soldier looks at the Herald for a moment, yet he does not brake the eerie silence, providing no answer to the kights unvoiced question. Instead Tamran turns towards the place mentioned by the Thorondur and begins to walk in a slow pace. His boot scraping upon the stones and dirt, as his gaze is angled downwards but a few feet before him.

\"Power leads to corruption,\" Faengor sighs to noone in particular, breaking the silence which previously over the small party. \"And none can stay clear of it, not even those pure of hearts. Yet, Corruption leads to downfall.\" The errand rider smirks wryly and turns away, casting his gaze to his feet together with the Sergeant.

Surveying the Men of the City with a quick, knowing glance, the Knight smiles to himself and tells them, \"If the pair of you stare at your boots for too long, we\'ll never find this shard. Forward, eh?\"

And with that, he starts down the ancient road once more, again the spirit of hope.

\"Your will is of iron, Lord-herald,\" the errand rider narrates, \"how one can remain good-humoured in these ruins is a mistery to me.\" shaking away his thoughts he turns to the road, following Thorondur with decisive steps.

\"Aye forward...\" Tamran speaks once more, \"It is the quickest way towards home.\" a smile crosses his face, as he looks towards the knight as he joins them.

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Shattered Bazaar

High walls of pale, cracked marble rise on all sides of a great courtyard. Empty windows stand like ruined eyes, silent witnesses to whatever horrors pass under their watchful gaze. Footsteps sound hollow in this ruined plaza, echoing off the distant walls which circle this space. A few empty doorways stand here and there, but the main road alone breaks the cicle: once to the south, leading towards the quay... and once to the northeast, deeper into the ruins.

Bright is the day, and in the sun\'s light, reflected off the pale marble, all the terrible beauty of this place is lain bare to your gaze. A cool breeze whips through the circle, driven from the south and full of the smell of salt.

And so they walk on for some time, in that eerie silence -- a silence broken only by the echo of their footsteps as they pass from the cracked and weed-strewn roadway into a more substantial site of fallen pride.

Now all around them rise buildings, or once-buildings -- crumbling reminders of a glory that passed long ago. Thorondur pauses, drawing a deep breath. \"There is something here,\" he whispers, \"that I do not like. The feel of this place, somehow.\"

Lost in thought, the silence of the place seems to have soaked into him as would a driving rain, yet one speaks, Erchirion looks up, and about, \"Yes...\" he says softly, looking around more, \"This is no place for the living...\"

Then he turns to look upon the form of Thorondur, and speaks again, \"Think you something more lurks about us?\"

The Men of the West have returned, but not the ones that build this place. The footsteps of the armed man echoes allong the old walls, bring back the sound of life in this decimated place. Yet unwelcoming are these ruins to the Fellowship, a grim reminder of their ancient doom. Tamran\'s hand comes to rest upon the hilt of his sword, as the words of the Knights echo on the cool air.

Steel hands clench tightly around the Errand Rider\'s sword and an alarmed frown graces the Steward\'s servant\'s face. Yet he does not speak, falling silent as he silently moves behind the Girithlin.

\"No more than Memory,\" Thorondur says grimly in answer to his Prince\'s son. \"Yet for all of that...\"

Gritting his teeth, the tall, slender champion draws forth the great sword Elemmacil, and looks about him warily. The caution of Tamran and Faengor is not theirs alone, it would seem. \"It will not hurt us, to be careful,\" he says at last.

Erchirion nods calmly, yet makes no move towards his blade for now, only looks about him before he speaks again, \"Be prepared..\" he says softly.

\"Perhaps we should look about?\" he says again after a moment, turning to the company.

\"Indeed. We make for the Old Acropolis,\" says the Knight-Herald, the silvered sword now glistening brilliant white in his hands. \"I do not truly expect any danger, my friends.\" He pauses, then adds--

\"Not of the kind that our steel may avail us against, at least.\"

And with those unsettling words, Thorondur sets out across the plaza.

Silent once again, Erchirion watches as the Knight-Herald steps forth making his way across the plaza. He half turns his head for a moment, the shadows within the doorways catching his eye and holding it for a pace. Then the Son of Imrahil turns and steps forth on the path following Thorondur.

\"Tell me of this place..\" he says to the man, \"If you know anything of it\'s past...\"

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Great Harbour Road

Once proud buildings line this great road, now low and grim. Elaborately carved marble is faded by the brackish rains of sea the storms of the coast have torn asunder much that was once great, shattering statues and breaking the cobblestones up so that tufts of rough grass push through the soil.

A cool breeze races through the streets and alleys, driven from the sea to the south. All about there is silence, and only the scarcest hint of movement: a rat? A gull? A feral dog? Who can say.

\"It is even as I told the Men of Anorien,\" Thorondur says to Erchirion as they pass through this bramble and rubble that once was a city. \"Once a port of Numenor, this place had fallen prey to the capricious wrath of Osse ere ever the Realms in Exile were founded.\"

Following in silence behind the lead group is the quiet Erutirn. The young knight walks akwardly silent for his leg. The glances around the area, watching the uneasy quiet in this place. However he makes a rather loud noise when his boot scrapes against the ground as he turns to look at... something. \"What was that...\" He mutters this almost under his breath.

Listening as they walk, the Prince nods, then he stops for a moment, turning to look at Erutirn, \"See you something Sir Erutirn?\"

Erchirion stands there for a moment, waiting for the answer.

Indeed, the Lord Girithlin draws swiftly to a halt as well markedly, his eyes narrow and scan the ruins about them with a warrior\'s cool resolve. \"What did you hear, lad?\" he asks of the one-legged knight.

\"I thought I heard something move, it sounded almost like a small rock being disturbed by a foot or a small animal, it must have been nothing... I see nothing.\" Erutirn says to both the young prince and the knight-herald. \"I don\'t like this place, we\'d best not stand here lest something truely appear.\"

\"This place is dead,\" Thorondur insists, glaring defiantly at the fallen works of their ancestors. \"There is nothing here to harm us.\" And as if to reaffirm his stated belief, he sheathes his sword once more.

\"Your mind is more deadly here than your blade,\" Erchirion says to him, calmly and softly, \"Let it not play games on you lest we all jump at shadows and figments, but you speak truly, this place is not for us, nor for any man.\"

And in saying this he turns once more to the path at hand, \"Let us take your advice and move along once more...\"

\"Yes, you are right... I\'ll try to ignore the shadows of this place.\" Erutirn says, then he begins to turn and walk towards the path ahead. \"The quicker we are gone from here the better.\"

\"No,\" Thorondur says as Erutirn starts down toward the quays. \"Not that way -- not yet. We will avoid the Sea this day, if we can -- for the Sea is what ruined this place.\"

And even as he says it, he cannot help but glance in that direction -- toward the Sea, where dark clouds gather ominously in the West.

\"Ironic isn\'t it?\" Tamran breaks his silence. Standing somwhat behind the rest of the man, he shifts his gaze between the sea and the ruins.

\"Ironic?\" Thorondur asks this, as he starts toward the west, further into the ruins and not toward the seaside. \"How so, Tamran of Minas Tirith?\"

\"Lead on Lord Girithlin,\" Erchirion says looking also to the sea, and the storm gathering there, \"And let us move quickly, the storm will be upon us within the hour..\"

And to Tamran he says, \"Aye, irony plays a major part in our lives at times my friend, and even as the sea gave life to this place, so too did it bring about it\'s downfall,\" his words come with a hint of humor, yet an underlying sadness, then he turns once more to the path, \"As you were saying Lord Thorondur... it would seem that Osse is quite thorough.\"

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Eerie Ruins

Strange!

This place is empty, it seems, of life and movement... and yet, the streets here, just out of sight of the great Harbour Road, are kept clean and clear by someone.

The breeze from the south is cool, but it carries the smell of the dying city as well as the brine of the sea. This area once was filled with large buildings in the proud Numenorean style, with great columns and arching entryways ... but they stand roofless, half-collapsed, with trees and bushes choking their once great central courtyards. Many stones are missing from the walls, as if someone had cannibalized the buildings for construction material.

From the west comes the sound of waves lapping against the inner seawall. To the north, a promontory rises, its cliffs rising sheer above the ruins, topped by the Old Acropolis of Lond Daer. A broken stairway climbs the hill, ending at the top in a great gate. Unlike the buildings at the bottom, the great gate and wall atop the acropolis seem to be in good repair.

\"Lond Daer, built Aldarion the Seaworthy, King of the Sea. Yet it was destroyed by the very waters that he loved.\" Tamran says, not even glancing at the others, as he walk deeper into the starnge ruins.

\"Ah,\" muses Thorondur now, glancing toward Tamran as they cross into a rubbled courtyard. All about them now are the reminders of past and faded grandeur, the works of the mighty brought low by the might of the Sea. A Sea that even now grows dark and brooding with approaching violence...

\"Now I understand, I think,\" he says to Tamran, calm despite the gathering storm and the wind. \"Yet I cannot see how or where to begin our search.\"

\"It seems that our history is filled with many ironies...\" Tamran\'s voice remains clear, yet softer than before. He glances around him uneaselly, his fingers always seeking the comfort of his sword.

Merely following now, even as the company draws close to the ruins there is a feeling of emptiness, a void of oppressing nothing. And into this void steps the Prince, and the Fellowship.

\"Something is amiss,\" the Prince whispers to himself, then looks to the group, \"You spoke of the Acropolis,\" Erchirion states, \"I can think of no better place to begin our search, at the very least, we will earn a view of the ruins about us.\"

\"I had thought that the sea might be glad to sea us,\" says Indilzar coming up the path. \"Yet now I see it is otherwise. Osse\'s wrath is kindled, but perhaps it shall pass.\"

\"No news bear I of our quest,\" says Indilzar. \"Just the empty stone houses lamenting for the Men that once dwelt here.\"

\"Perhaps we should look by the sea... if the men truely loved the sea they would have surely hidden something of great import there.\" Erutirn says as he glances towards the sea, \"Or maybe because they loved it so... the farthest point from the sea. Those would be the two places that I would hide this thing we search for... but I did not hide it, hopefully we shall find it.\"

\"It is even as the Bragollach says,\" Thorondur tells Erchirion, greeting Indilzar now with a nod wrought with gravity. \"we spoke of the Acropolis, and perhaps there is wisdom in it -- but I have lived all my life by the Sea, and now I fear Osse\'s wrath.\"

Pausing, he looks westward, where the thunderheads loom with their threat. \"These are lowlands we stand on, and quick to flood. Wisdom might dictate we find some higher ground.\"

\"This place is most...unsettling.\" The soldier continues, his gaze now fixed upon the Old Acropolis and more precicesly upon the it\'s gate. \"I do not think they would hid something near the very waters that destroyed them...\" Tamran aswers back to Erutirn, yet his gaze never leaves the gate.

\"Whither then shall we go?\" asks Indilzar, \"yon broken stair?\"

Broken Stair

This great stairway must once have been one of the wonders of Vinyalonde: a broad stair of great marble blocks from the base of the hill to the great gates of the Acropolis. Now it is badly in disrepair, blocks cracked or fallen, weeds growing from cracks between the stones, yet it is still functional, a tribute to the skill of the ancient builders.

A distant rumble sounds as if emphasizing the words of the Knight-Herald, \"We go up then,\" the Prince says, looking towards the storm, \"And with haste, for the storm will be upon us soon and I have no wish to try my hand at swimming in chain.\"

\"The broken stair,\" muses the Herald... and at the distant skyward rumbling, he nods, dour now as ever these others have seen him. \"Very well. We will climb, if we can.\"

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Old Acropolis

Once the Bar-en-Uinendil, or House of the Venturers\' Guild, this high point had served as the Citadel of Lond Daer in Numenorean times. Strangely, this great courtyard paved with flagstones seems still in use. In the very center there is an old fountain, from which clear water still runs: it must be fed from a natural spring. All around the sides of the courtyard, massive buildings rise, outlined against the sky. Tallest of these is a Lighthouse, rising to the northwest.

All is quiet but the wind blowing from the sea. But one sensation overpowers all others here: the smell of fish.

Now here and there, cool droplets of rain begin to fall. Fresh on the skin, and welcome maybe to a thirsty man -- yet the scent of the storm strengthens, and the sky grows ever more ominous.

\"Osse be merciful..\" Erchirion whispers softly aloud.

Then to the fountain he steps, and turns to face the storm that even now begins to cover the city with it\'s approaching fury.

Thorondur scowls as the rain begins to fall, stalking to the western edge of the plaza and staring down over the broken quays, and beyond them. \"There can be no doubt,\" he says, voice thick with foreboding. \"The storm comes.\"

The wind rises, blowing swifter now, and its howling through the stones of fallen stoneworks grows louder.

\"Fish...\"Tamran mutters to himself, as the rain begins to drop. He looks around the yards until his gaze comes upon great doors at the edge of the yard. \"Maybe we should seek refuge.\" He says louder, pointing towards the old building.

\"Perhaps we should find something to rest under and wait out this storm, perhaps we will find a good place to hide...\" Erutirn says as he tightens some of his garb, hiding most of his face underneath cloth. \"I would prefer not to be caught outside when the full force of this storm hits this desolate place.

\"A decision we must make now, lest the fury of the storm sweep us from our perch,\" And then to Erutirn and Tamran he looks, \"I agree, this storm will hinder us, but we must find that which we seek, so that we may be away from this place err too great a time has past..\"

\"Have you thoughts on this matter my Lord,\" the Prince questions Thorondur.

The rainfall comes more steadily now, and yet the worst has not so much as begun -- for westward over Sea, the sky is darker even than the night, save the flash of lightning. Thundrous rumbles punctuate the keenings of the wind, and over these must Thorondur raise his voice to be heard.

\"We cannot wait!\" The Herald cries. \"We must find the shard!\"

\"It will be difficult enough to find it under clear skies, yet in this darkness it will be almost impossible!\" Tamran says, as the wind begins to gain in strength.

Erchirion looks to the Knight-Herald, his face grim, \"Where?\" he questions simply, looking about the darkening city.

Strangely enough, Indilzar looks sedate. He has been silent to this point until he says softly, \"Regardless we cannot stay here. There is a strange feeling in the air, yet this courtyard will not provide us shelter I deem from any storm.\"

\"Where shall we look, Thorondur?\" Erutirn says, already starting to look around. \"I agree that we must find the shard, but we must not be washed away. If we are washed into the sea because we were caught in the open, all hope will be lost...\" Erutirn has raised his voice to be heard over the storm, \"I agree... whatever we do we must not do it here.\"

\"I do not know,\" admits the Herald, almost shouting now as the wind whips his mantle of white about him. Tearing at the cloak to keep it from tangling his arms, he crosses again to his western vantage in three swift paces.

\"I do not know! And yet the vision cannot fail us -- for the sword was sent to Lond Daer, and never came to Lond Ernil ere Amroth drowned his sorrows in the Sea! It -must- be here!\"

\"The ardour of your heart cries from within,\" says Indilzar slowly. \"Yet I deem that it shall not be found in this wrack. Yet let us make our way back toward the camp, but not by the way we came. We may have some time ere the storm breaks and even so we should not be hurt none too bad with rain.\"

And as Thorondur\'s lips part with speech of Amroth and his drowning in the Sea, the storm howls louder, and the rain now falls in earnest. Wind and water lash the stones, and the metal and leather of Men who stand between them.

Indilzar pulls his cloak tightly around him, \"Come. Let us move on. Standing here and debating will not make us dryer.\"

Erchirion turns to Indilzar, \"Lead on then my Lord.\"

The young knight speaks loudly to raise his voice over the storm, barely even having it reach the others as the storm now blows. \"The shard is here then, Thorondur, let us find it... let us search a building...\" Erutirn begins to work agaisnt the storm, heading towards Thorondur.

\"Then let us go down to the quays,\" says Thorondur, \"for there is no other way save the stair we climbed, now slick and treacherous with mud and rain.\"

The Bragollach sighs but this cannot be heard for a rumble of thunder comes. He makes his way slowly toward the broken stair...

And seeing Indilzar dare that stair itself, Thorondur grimaces -- but follows as he may, daring the treacherous path.

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Indilzar strides on and calls over the wind, \"This place is fiendishly complex. I deem that the way to the east seems free of rubble and look! The path seems to twist southward. Come. Let us head that way, but have a mind and be careful.\"

Tamran quietly follows the knights, tighlty holding his black cloak, his head deep within the dark hood.

\"Then southward we must bear,\" calls Thorondur, striving against the wind and the rain.

A flash of lightning comes, of a sudden -- and the skeletal ruins are backlit by the light, bright as day for a fleeting moment ere it fades... and thunder shakes the ruins.

From the stair above, small rocks are loosened, and tumble. \"The wrath of Osse, indeed,\" the Herald shouts!

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Long Quay

The remains of a mighty quay serve as the foreground here the Great Sea the backdrop that stretches forever into the West. Once a bustling waterfront in the service of prideful Numenor, all that now remains of Vinyalonde, of Lond Daer Enedh is the built-up silt of centuries. Like iron filings to a magnet, it has clung and mounded into underwater hills surrounding the mighty stone pilings of what once must have been a triumphant architectural wonder: the longest seawall in all Middle-Earth. Northwest, above the Bay upon an outhrust cliff, towers a tall Lighthouse.

Howling winds carry the sea-spray into the very ruins themselves out here there is no shelter from the waves that crash against the shore, threatening to flood the remains of the city. Foreboding thunderclouds pour down a driving rain, their din filling the ears. Only the mad could live long in this storm.

The path becomes a small rocky trail as it comes nigh the sea. They march southward and the escarpment is sheer and unclimable. The sea boils on and Indilzar looks hurriedly south, \"We must press on! There is nothing here save the wrath of Osse!\"

Now the Sea is spread out before them to the south and the west, and the fullness of the storm strikes harshly against the remnants of Numenor\'s work! Tall waves crash and roll from out beyond the harbor and over the moldering quays of stone.

\"If we can,\" Thorondur cries, striving again to be heard above the wind. Yet even he must pause, to look in awe upon the terror of the Sea, stricken by the sheer power inherent in it.

Suddenly, in the city behind them, a bolt of blistering blue-white crashes to earth, shattering the land about it with a tremendous roar that rips the sky in a peel of thunder that sets the very armour upon their bodies ringing.

\"We must\" Erchirion yell over the noise, \"Or all is lost..\" Then he nods to Indilzar, \"Press On...\" he speaks once more over the storm and the sea.

\"The sea... it has been long since I\'ve see it last... a pity to be so, angry.\" Erutirn says this, but no one could hear him over the storm. The young knight almost stops to gaze into it, as if called by unseen and unheared sirens, but eventually he hurries against the storm to catch up with his commrades.

Beneath the wall of rain, the Fellowship moves forwards ever so slowly, nothing more than shadows now under the storm. A traces of words are heard among them, mixed with the rumble of the winds.

\"Do you hear that?\" cries Indilzar, \"There are fell voices in the air! The wrath of Osse is upon us!\"

The sea roils and the wind howls...

BOOM! A lightning bolt surges from the sky and strikes the hill beyond the path and lo! A rumbling and sliding of the hill thunders down! For a moment the earth seems to gape in a chafing maw and then dust is quickly swept by the wind away.

It clears and then you can see that the path is no more and boulders now block both exits. The fellowship stands by the walls of the sea and there is no escape.

\"Ai!\" Thorondur calls aloud in shock, staring back at the city and the sudden swift smouldering left in the wake of the lightning. \"Uinen preserve us,\" he prays aloud, a deathly whisper -- for their route of escape has been blocked by the fall of rubble.

Grimly looking at the path behind that is no longer passable, Erchirion steels himself against the fury of the storm, \"It is settled then..\" he says calmly, flatly, \"There is no turning back now..\"

\"Hurry to where?\"

The words of Thorondur struggle to rise above the howl and wrack of the storm, but he stand sthere alone, a silver silhoutte staring out into the boiling Sea and their doom. \"There is nowhere to run, Erchirion!\"

Turning to Thorondur with a look of maddened mirth, Erchirion merely smiles before he calls out, \"Have you no faith my Lord..\"

Indilzar looks resolutely on and then sets his sword in the soil before him, \"Then if doom is to come. I shall accept it. For it seems to me that I am the last of the Bragollach. Thus shall end my line and my house.\"

He then falls silent and waits.

Seeing the only path of escape being cut off, Erutirn looks back towards the sea. \"It appears the sea has come to claim her children.\" The young knight looks into the sea, then after a few moments he actually sits down looking into the sea. \"Maybe it seeks to tell us something... not merely destroy us. For who knows what the sea wants untill it is over?\" His voice cuts in and out of the wind, some being heard... some not. What any one of his commrades hears is probably dependant upon where they stand.

\"Lose not your hope yet Bragollach!\" Erchirion counters Indilzar\'s words, \"We have passed through greater hardships than this and come away with merely a scratch.\"

And into the storm he looks now, grim faced, hardened, and angry, \"You will not take us this night!\" he yells at the blackened mass of clouds that even now pour down on them with unbridled fury, a low and building rumble his only answer.

\"I have my faith,\" Thorondur says grimly, a tall and slender figure painted nobly against the withering onslaught of wind and rain. His cloak whips about him, and the downpour soaks him the waves make their threat to wash over him, and all his fellows--

Yet steadfast he stares westward, into their doom. \"We are Swan-Knights, Erchirion, and heirs to the ways of the Venturers. If our end is here--\"

Tamran looks at the Bragollach, standing near him, as he speaks, \"If doom falls upon us, then I we shall meet again in the Great Halls...Yet I am not ready to visit them yet.\"

Then lightning crashes again, and shakes the Girithlin -- and in the thunder that follows he struggles to regain his footing. \"Uinen preserve us!\" he prays a second time.

Now whether by grace or fortune or some art not known before, even as Thorondur speaks the wind ebbs and then the rain lessens.

The wind dies and then this is replaced with the soft singing of gulls. Gulls from afar in the deeps of time. Then the clouds break in the west and from there comes a shining light as if a star burning for an instant that is blinding. Then in its place there stands of all things a maiden sweet and fair with the light of heaven haloed against her hair. She wades in the swiftly calming sea and comes to the land and emerges barefooted and bright-eyed.

Forced to his knees by the ferocity of thunder and lightning, Thorondur remains there as the skies strangely brighten, and still at the eerie sounding of the gulls. Yet when a maid swathed in blues and greens of the depths appears before them, he looks on without speech, in awe and in wonder.

Almost laughing, Erutirn mutters to himself. \"I was right, it must have been hiden near the sea...\" He seems about to say more, but he sees the maiden and falls silent. He seems awe-struck as she wades out of the ocean. The young man moves not from his seated position as he watches her.

Taken aback in the young Prince at the sudden reaction of the storm, and the appearance of the sea-madien, so taken is he that words are lost to him. Standing firm, Erchirion looks upon her as she makes her way upon the waters.Indilzar falls to his knees in awe and is dumbstruck by this maiden fair.

\"I shall not...\" Tamran begins to speak, yet his words are cut short as his eyes fall upon the maid. Awe struck he stands still, unable to even fall, as he looks upon the fair maiden appearing before the Men of the West.

The maiden of the sea holds up her hand and smiles at the Men and says unto them in a voice sweeter than the sweetest song that may be played upon the conch, \"The sea shall calm its rage, for Osse knows of thy quest and hope. How can such valour be denied? Men valiant and true? Truly the race of old yet lives in veins in the Hither Lands.\"

Then a secret smile is struck on those lips and to each of the company she casts her bright glance and that glance is like none here have ever felt before. More piercing is it than the eyes of any elf.

But Indilzar cannot hold that gaze for long and he quickly bows his head in respect.

And before that gaze does Thorondur the Girithlin strive to hold his head high, but only briefly -- for swiftly he bows that same proud head in reverence, and raises a hand to his brow. \"A heri aearath,\" he fervently whispers, \"A heri aearath na requain alquain.\"

A the sound of her words, Tamran regains his strenght and quickly does he kneels before the maiden of the waters, his head bowed low and in that position he remains for now.

And before her gaze does the Prince kneel, his eyes lowered before her in reverance and awe. Stricken still by her sudden appearance, words seem to ellude him and thus leaves him silent in the wake of her melodious voice.Slowly the head of Erutirn is bowed, looking slightly akward as the man tries to bow from a seated position. However he stays there and extremely quietly.

The maiden smiles once again and her eyes flash in an unknown thought. Her gown seems to shift colour for an instant and she says, \"I hear thee. Long ago the wind from the West drove tall ships over the Sundering Sea and tall towers were wrought. Doomed they were from the start, yet not without hope.\"

Then the maiden lifts up her arms and says, \"For thy errand shall not go unfufilled and the sea shall find favour with thee Men of Gondor!\"

Then the glance of the maiden finds Tamran and she says, \"Tamran who never dwelt by the sea. Shalt thou deny me now? Wilt thou bear what I shall give to thee?\"

Now lifting his head only slightly, Thorondur looks to Tamran in silent surprise -- and again to the enigma that remains this mysterious maiden.

At the sound of his name, the man of the Stone City raises his head, surprised and for a moment he looks into the piercing eyes of the maiden. At lenght he speaks, his voice carried upon the winds, \"Never have a dwelt by the sea, yet still love do I hold for the great waters, as my fore fathers did. I shall bear your gift and guard it with my life.\"

Then the maiden does not say anything to Tamran but approaching him, hands to him a shard of steel. She then steps back and says, \"Then take this, and free the son of Imrahil and bring peace once more to the heart of Gondor. Yet three more things shall I give to you.\"

She looks now at Erchirion and says, \"Son of Imrahil. Oh how thine heart must burn for thy brother! Come and take this.\"

To him she then offers a green key and she says, \"When the time comes, thou shalt know what to do with it.\"

The young knight turns to look first to his old campaigning friend, Tamran, then to the young prince. Silent still, perhaps waiting for some sort of permission to speak in the presence of so great a being.

Slowly does Tamran extends his hand, taking the precious gift of the maiden. The steel shard rests upon the palm of the Sergeant, and quietly does he look at the objects as the Lady continues to give her gifts.

So great a being? Or merely a mysterious lady with solemn powers. It is not for Men to say, and surely not Thorondur the Dunadan lord\'s blue eyes have seen much -- but raptly now they watch her gift Erchirion with some enchanted key, rapt with innocence like a child\'s.

Slowly does he rise, and come to her, for the Son of Imrahil looks upon her even as he rises and is taken with her once more. And standing before her, softly does he take the key from her, clasping it within his hand and nodding.

\"There are no words I can say to express my thanks to my Lady, for your part in all this.\" And reaching forth once more, the Prince kneels before her, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, \"I thank thee more than you will ever know.\" Then, as if nothing more than a little boy before her, the Prince rises and steps away so that she might continue on her task.

Then the maiden says to them, \"Yet such valiants must be in haste. Therefore, to thee transport is given.\"

Tall of beam, black hulled and ancient, this ship is a marvel of the ancient world. Its timbers look old, older than the hoarest of Men, yet there is a quality of strength \'neath it. Its masts are high only wrapped in a thin mist that seems to be woven of the dreams of Men. Her sails are tattered but such shreds that are there billow in the breeze. This is a ghostship if ever one can be seen. A wonder that these timbers yet hold it together. Timbers that long ago were woven of woods that have long lain under sea and storm.

Then from the mists there appears a ship that slowly comes to sight in the mists. There is not a one aboard and it stops by the rocks waiting to be boarded.

Now Thorondur looks to the Ship, for a ship it is, and his eyes widen -- for surely this is a wonder of wonders! Then he dares speak, and asks aloud, \"And thus are we to be delivered?\"

Before he is even certain it is a ship, Erutirn blurts out: \"A ship! How wonderful a ship it is! It has been too long that I have been away from a ship... this is a most wonderus and awesome thing.\" The young knight then looks around and notices the others, and then goes silent again... slightly more embarrased than when he started.

The maiden smiles at Erutirn and Thorondur and says, \"Let hope be renewed in thy heart Man of Cardolan.\"

Now she says, \"Last, I give to thee blessings and hope! Go forth against the shadow and be valiant still!\"

At last, Tamran speaks again, as the mysterious lady gives the last of her gifts, \"I thank you, my Lady, for the gifts you have given us...\" He looks up towards her, a strange glimmer in his eyes, \"Yet could I make a final request and ask the name of our fair protector?\"

Turning to gaze at the joy of Erutirn, the Son of Imrahil can only smile at the young Knight\'s enthusiasm, then he turns once more to gaze upon the ship that has come from the very sea itself for them to sail upon.

And then, he listens and looks upon the sea-madien as she speaks again, and listens only as Tamran ask his boon of her.

Now with gratitude Thorondur looks a final time upon the maiden of the Seas, and his thanks are implicit in the smile there that lies within his eyes -- but with the Hope she bequeaths to them, he looks again upon the ship that has come from the storm, where no ship laid before. And only by en effort of will does he still the steps he would take toward it.

The maiden looks to Tamran with her bright eyes and smiles a secret smile. She then lifts up her arms and begins a song of such loveliness that it is itself enchantment. There are no words, there is a beauty of music and the sea that seems to call to the heart. No ear that hears this song would forget it and in its very nature is the call of the sea - the great sea, slowly lulling the heart and mind into its embrace. Deep and dark, sweet and fragrant, it wraps the mind in grey shadows of peace and bliss. The desire then is kindled to explore strange lands and journey forth in the endless blue seeking whatever lieth there.

Indilzar listens perforce and slowly swoons into the embrace of the song. Silence reigns and he is caught enmeshed in notes of power.

And even as the song slowly ends the voice lingers on into the sea. Then if one might look, the maiden is gone, but still you may hear that voice ever on the cry of the gulls or the waves.

Now a long moment of silence passes, ere any of the Men dares speak.

Indilzar slowly opens his eyes and then rises to his feet. When he speaks, his voice is soft, \"Come. All the company is here. Let us go forth to the ship and to what doom awaits us.\"

Then at last Thorondur Girithlin regains his feet, and without a word he strides out into the surf.

And lo! There must be an ancient quay or sandbar there beneath his footfalls, for the water never comes above his knees as he moves toward the mystical ship.

Slowly now, Tamran stands up, putting the steel shard into his pouch around his waist until the time has come to reforge the sword. His gaze then falls upon the ship that weill carry them home.

-------------

The deck of the ghostship is devoid of signs of life. No mate, no crew, nor activity is there to be seen. There is a strange feeling here. Not one of malice, but one of watchfulness. The ship looks hardly sailable, but the deck lays under the feet hard and real. This is a strange ship.

Following behind Thorondur, Erutirn says. \"A ship... but what shall we call her? We can\'t sail a ship that holds no name...\" The young knight looks as the water goes not high, but continues onward towards the ship.

Indilzar follows Thorondur and approaches the ship and by the look of his eye you can see that he marvels in the work.

Having been touched by the power of the song, and forced to close his eyes lest he weep openly at the beauty that touches his heart, Erchirion looks forth upon the sea once more, only to find the madien gone from them, her song still lingering in the hearts and minds of the Men of the West. And long does he stand there gazing upon the place where she stood but moments before.

And then, the moment is lost, for the voice of Indilzar steals the silence and the attention of the young Prince. And in doing so the power of movement is returned to him, and move he does, following the Lord Girithlin\'s lead in silence, Erchirion makes way to the ship, hand clasping the key that was bestowed upon him.

\"Now perhaps this ship will bear us homeward,\" says the Herald of Imrahil, looking about him at the strange and faded ship in awe, \"for we have seen many strange things upon this quest, and that would not be the strangest.\"

As the last of the company comes aboard the ship, by its own volition the ship slips off into the sea.

As the last of the company comes aboard the ship, by its own volition the ship slips off into the sea.