To the gates of Morn and back.

Dol Amroth: The Rocks

Your ship rides amidst the waves just within the encircling breakwater wall of the harbours of Dol Amroth. This area is frequently referred to as \'The Rocks\' for the makeup of the sea wall. Its currently covered in hundreds of nesting terns and gulls and other waterfoul indiginous to the area. Away to the northwest lie the somewhat more open waters of the Bay of Edhellond. Along the shore to the south and west are three distinct harbours the shipyards, better known as the Working Harbour to the south-southwest, the War Harbour to the southwest, and the Commercial Harbour, due south.

The Seahorse

The ships of Gondor are legends in their own right. Though long ago were the Ship-Kings of old, the skill and magesty of their vision is still fully realized in this vessel. Each rope is tied down and in it\'s place -- ne\'er a loose strand lay anywhere ondeck. The wood and plankings are hued a ruddy brown, and brass cappings shine bright, set over the exposed ends of beams. From stem to stern, she is clean and masterfully wrought. Several copper-girded holes line the hull -- obvious oar ports.

The sails are tied tightly to the masts, each sheet of canvas neatly folded and trimmed down. The vast expanses of canvas shine white from their resting places, and the loose corners flap in the wind -- as if eager to be unfurled to their complete glory. High atop the mast flutters the white banner of peace.

On Board:

Hraefengar

Barsaphad

Laeraelin

Faelwine

Nimithil

---

[Barsaphad (#23963)]

The storm has passed, the lightning returned to the sky, and the thunder has sank beneath the slow churning sound of the gray sea. The waves of the bay lap frothing at the sides of The Seahorse, and spray a salt-tanged mist up towards the maindeck. The clouds overhead are a swath of gray painted over a canvas of bright azure -- the blue only visible where the ragged wisps part hither and thither.

The spray of the sea is complimented by the faint mist of the sky a drizzle settles on the polished beams and and crisp sails of the ship, reflecting the periodic flash of sunlight that escapes the argent canopy above. A strong wind descends from the gray and fills the sails -- flapping them tight against the rigging at the same time it makes the mastflags of Dol Amroth and house Azrabar wave a farewell to the shore.

At the wheel stands the Osprey Knight -- his eyes flashing fierce joy as the wind snaps his cape and tosses his sable hair. With his only good hand he gives the oak handles an expert spin, calling out to the deckhands as he does so.

\"Shore that foresail, Inzar!\"

[Laeraelin (#24692)]

Also on the quarterdeck not too far from the Captain, Laeraelin leans on the portside rail - or rather out over the rail. Not terribly tall to begin with, the Gondorian noblewoman stands on her tip toes and cranes her neck to see the prow of the ship - and their destination: the gap beyond the rocks.

Mist bedews her curly hair and shines in the errant rays of sun like tiny jewels. It beads also on her fair countenance giving her skin a glowing sheen. \"This is wonderful, Barsaphad. I think I shall disguise myself as a man and join your crew!\"

[Hraefengar (#15851)]

Sitting amidships is Hraefengar Scop, amidst a couple of coils of rough rope. He has been silent and subdued, and he does not look at the sky or the water. Instead he stares down at a length of smaller rope in his hand, and he attempts to tie knots into it with one hand, as his left arm is twitching and seems of little use.

[Faelwine (#31903)]

Fierce joy may come to some upon taking to the sea, but for the blonde woman who stands near the mast at the center of the boat, hopefully out of the way, there is only a wistful longing as she looks back towards the shore. Her cloak fluttering about her in the wind, she heaves a heavy sigh, then casts her gaze up to the sky, watching the sea-birds as they cry and flutter overhead. \"Would rather I be a bird than a sailor, and have wings to save myself, rather than be at the mercy of dark waters.\" mutters she in slow, cadenced Westron.

The Knight laughs loud over the sound of crashing waves, \"Imagine the scandal!\" He raises a single, black eyebrow, \"The Haradrim have women among their numbers -- some as keen and vicious a Corsair as any man.\" He speaks with the grim humor of experience, \"I daresay you could handle yourself as well.\"

He calls down now to the Rohirrim, \"She is only a horse of a different color, friends! Come up here,\" he nods toward the quarterdeck stairs, \"...and you can see the rocks more clearly as we thread the needle!\"

Laughing, Laeraelin quits her precarious position at the rail and looks at Barsaphad. \"I do not think I made of quite the same stuff as the women of Haradrim.\"

The lady walks edge of the quarter deck, where narrow stair - more a ladder that is attached to the bulkhead of the Captain\'s cabin - and beckons to their guests. \"Please come up, you will enjoy the view. It is best to watch the horizon, it eases the discomfort of rocking.\"

With a faint, half-hearted smile to the Lady, Faelwine nods and steps carefully around to where the scop is seated. She offers a hand to him for a long moment, then with a heavy, saddened sigh, turns and walks towards the ladder. She touches her hand upon the mast, and the ropes, and the railing along the way, seeming more at ease when she is holding onto something. Carefully she ascends the narrow stair, then stands clutching the railing of the quarterdeck tightly, paying no heed as the wind blows about her cloak and renders it useless for warmth.

\"Oh,\" she breathes, blinking with no small amount of wonder at the view. \"Ah... I suppose you have sailed through these rocks regularly, my Lord?\" she asks of the Knight hopefully, then bites nervously at her lower lip.

\"More times than I can count...have no fear.\" Barsaphad gives the wheel a gentle swing to the left and eyes the dark pillars ahead, \"To be honest, the bay does most of the work -- she pulls most ships through with no effort.\" He points to the curls of water that surge toward the rocks.

\"There is a river beneath the water that helps move everything that floats in the direction of the sea.\" The Osprey Knight watches Faelwine\'s ascent, and adds, \"Come here, and I will show you. You too Laeraelin.\"

Back in his eyes is the rougish gleam.

Placing herself between the Rohirrim woman and the port rail, Laeraelin too stands at the quarterdeck rail which looks out over the ship and beyond. On the heels of Barsaphad\'s assurance, the Telpekhor lady adds: \"I too have been through the gap many times, though admittedly, never when Barsaphad\'s hand guided the ship.\"

She looks over her shoulder at him, gray gaze meeting gray gaze and she smiles. \"Come,\" she says to the other woman, \"let us see what he has in mind.\"

\"I...\" Faelwine glances around, almost as though looking for a reason not to leave the relative safety of the railing. Then she sighs, and one corner of her lips pulls in a half-smile. \"It would seem I am outnumbered, and I should not refuse such an offer, at any rate.\" Still smiling, she steps forward towards the Knight, tentatively at first, then a bit more sure of herself once the boat does not immediately fling her into the bay.

Taking a deep breath of salty sea air, the Knight steps back from the wheel -- smiling broadly, \"Lady Faelwine...take the reigns.\" He quickly adds, \"It is just like the reigns of the horse...you do not force it, you only tell it where you wish to go, and she will lead you. Trust me...you can do no harm.\"

His smile does not fade as he offers his good hand out to the Lady Telpekhor, \"Laeraelin...you have held the wheel before, have you not?\"

After quite a while, Hraefengar stirs himself, and he rises from his place. On the deck he stands, motionless for a time, and then he plods towards the others, keeping his head down, his gaze fixed upon the deck. The wind whirls about him, and he shudders and closes his eyes a moment before continuing towards them.

Sensing the Eorling woman\'s ill ease, Laeraelin seems on the verge of offering her arm for comfort, if not support, when Barsaphad lets go the wheel. Her left hand lifts to her mouth in shock and her right she holds out to the Azbari lord. \"No..no, I have never steered before. My brother would never dare give me such a responsibility.\"

But her eyes do not leave Faelwine as she speaks.

Faelwine\'s eyes widen as the Knight steps away from the wheel. \"Me, my Lord?\" she blinks, certain that he must be mistaken. \"I... I... oh, Helm.\" she mutters, swallows hard, then steps into the Knight\'s place, lifting her hands and placing them upon the wheel carefully, as though afraid to grip it too hard at first. \"Now... uhm... which way, my Lord?\" she asks, keeping her voice level and calm with some effort.

The scop still makes his way forwards, well, wheel-wards, in that same steady, plodding pace, his head down. Next moment he is sprawling on his back, unsure what he has walked into. He lies there a moment, then gets up, and edges along the rail.

The Knight points over Faelwine\'s shoulder toward the looming gray gap in the rocks, \"Straight through...feel the way the ship -wants- to go that way. All you have to do is let the ship know you\'re there if she needs her.\" He smiles at Laeraelin and draws her to his side beside the wheel.

The crew below doesn\'t look twice as the Knight teaches the finer points of navigation, and busy themselves with the ropes and swinging beams. The mainmast still struggles to let free from the ropes, but the muscled arms of sailors still keep it in check.

\"As soon as we clear the rocks, Laeraelin...it is your turn.\" He spies the bard, and calls out, \"Are you alright?\"

As nothing untoward seems to have happened when Faelwine took the wheel, Laerealin\'s expression turns from one of shock and apprehension to one of eager anticipation. She drawn to the knight\'s side with no resistance - her eyes now going beyond taller woman before her and their destination ahead - the rocks. She turns once to look at Barsaphad, smiling at him radiantly - a smile of pure joy - and then her eyes are back to the sea.

\"I.... I do not think... I am overmuch hurt,\" murmurs the scop. Then he shakes himself and calls it out, stumbling away from the rail and to the quarterdeck. He shudders at the cry of the gulls and the blowing of the wind, and makes his way blindly, though his eyes are wide open.

With a nod of her head, Faelwine slowly edges the wheel around to bring the boat in line with the gap which the Knight pointed out. Not much effort on her part is needed, indeed, and momentarily she is merely keeping the wheel steady, waiting for the waters to carry them out upon the open ocean. A slow smile tugs at the corners of her lips, though she does not take her eyes from the waters before them. \"This is marvellous...\" she murmurs, and then her smile fades a shade upon hearing the scop\'s voice.

As the Seahorse passes the gray stones, several sailors jump to the rail and reach out -- each seeking to touch the gray stones in a ceremonial gesture. Laughing, they fall back to the deck before turning and sending up a choral cheer for the Rohirrim at the wheel. Barsaphad cheers as loud as any, \"Well done!\" The stone is now clear, and the open ocean spreads far before them.

The Knight gives Laeraelin\'s hand a gentle squeeze and moves it toward the wheel, \"And now, my fair Telpekhor, will you let her fly?\" He smiles crookedly, and calls out to the crew.

\"Let out the sheets!\"

There is a snap of cloth and rope as the white sails fill suddenly with wind, and the boat is flung far into the crashing spray.

Beaming, Faelwine steps aside to allow the Lady Telpekhor her turn. \"Thank you, my Lord,\" a courteous nod of her head to the Knight to add to her gratefule smile, and then she moves beside her husband and offers her hand to him. No longer does she seem ill at ease upon the ship, and she does not clutch at the railing as she had earlier.

Though it hardly seemed possible, the Telpekhor lady\'s smile grows broader and more radiant. Her cheer too is added to the masculine voices praising the Eorling woman. And then, as guided, she reaches her hand for the wheel and she takes it, firmly

\"Aye, aye, Captain,\" she says laughing. \"Where to? The curve of the world?\"

Hraefengar finally makes his way up to the quarterdeck, and stands with the wind in his face. His head bows as the wind strikes him, and he flinches as the gulls cry overhead. For a moment he does not seem to notice Faelwine. Then he reaches out his good hand, just barely brushing her fingers with his.

The cabin boy enjoyed giving the young Lady Bragollach a tour of below decks, though he probably wasn\'t brave enough to try anything. Nimithil is feisty. She\'s in high spirits when she climbs back up to deck, grinning broadly as she heads to join the adults.

\"To the gates of Morn and back, if you wish it.\" Lord Azrabar pushes the tousled curls of sable from his face and tucks them loose behind his neck -- exposing the gray scars that crawl up his neck and left ear. He beams as Faelwine\'s anxiety fades, and nods approvingly as Hraefengar settles himself atop the quarterdeck.

\"Do not be fooled by the gray! This is the finest sailing to be had -- no storm clouds, a cool sky, strong sea, and a steady wind.\" He lays his hand on Laeraelin\'s shoulder.

\"Can you feel the pull of the currents? They tug southwest here...toward Numenor fallen.\" His gray eyes gleam westward, \"You can almost feel it pain them to turn east or south...\"

Faelwine reaches to slip her hand about her husbands, and then to gently tug him close to her, giving him a reassuring smile. \"Are you truly alright, dearest?\" she murmurs to him. \"If you need to go sit down again, I will come with you and keep you company.\"

She turns her head then, arching a rose-gold brow towards the Knight. \"Numenor?\" she questions softly, sounding out the word carefully. \"I have not heard of that before. Why would the waters pull us thither?\"

\"It is thence they came, the sea-kings, and beyond them, beyond...\" Hraefengar shivers. \"I can feal the wind pulling me, and it sings, and the birds. Oh Faelwine, I am trying not to listen. I should not have come.\" His voice is scarce more than a whisper. Then, a bit louder, \"Maybe I should just go belowdecks.

With both hands on the wheel, Laeraelin\'s cloak is cast back with the winds. A long tendril of hair breaks loose from its bonds and whips freely behind her. \"I do feel it!\" she answers. \"It is strange, not entirely like the feeling when a horse has taken her bit - but something different.\"

Her eyes shift from the opens seas to Faelwine, however - and there is now sadness in them. \"Numenor,\" she repeats. \"Where our ancestors once dwelled ere we returned to Middle Earth.\"

Nimithil seems plenty familiar with the story, and is far more concerned with peering out over the railing to catch the wind in her face and hair. Her hair ribbon has been tied around her wrist, as it has thus far proven completely useless in staying in her hair, and she looks like the most exquisite puppy, giggling in the breeze.

\"Indeed, Master Scop.\" The Knight\'s voice is not dulled, but sharpened by a sorrow that adds an edge to his words, \"Akallabêth that is downfallen.\" He stares Westward as a darkness gathers in his eyes like a distant storm, \"In that land the Azrabari first build the horses of the sea, my friends.\"

He shakes the fell expression from his face and smiles at Hraefengar, \"The sea moves the heart, my father told me once. I see you know well what he meant.\"

To Nimithil he calls out brightly, \"Young lady Bragollach...I am glad you could join us!\"

\"The Telpekhor trace their line back to the Fallen Isle too,\" Laeraelin says, her gaze shifting to Nimithil. Smiling at the girl, she adds, \"And the Bragollach too.\"

\"But we are few, so few - and growing fewer by the years.\"

Faelwine mouths a silent \'Oh\', her gaze shifting between the Stoninglanders and noting, perhaps, the sorrow in their responses. \"So few? Then not all your people are of, ah... Numenor? For there seem a great many Stoning--er, there are many people, in... Gondor.\"

Glancing back to Hraefengar with a warm smile, she gives his hand a squeeze and replies to him quietly. \"It will be alright, Hraefengar. Let the wind sing to you, and I shall hold you here, and be sure that you are safe.\"

\"Only the strongest blood of those lands has dwindled here on Middle-earth...an irony not lost on us.\" Barsaphad smiles and points out toward the gray horizon, \"I have let the sea carry me toward the land of our fathers...but in time I had to return.\"

Ruefully he touches the wood of the wheel above Laeraelin\'s hand, \"Though I desired oblivion upon the sea...the folly of my actions drew me back.\" He sighs, \"And I am glad that I did return. Numenor should remain in memory, and in song.\"

Hraefengar looks at Faelwine, blinking in surprise, and then he smiles, relief coming to his eyes. He nods, then lifts his head, inhaling deeply the sea air. His head lifts, and he looks southwest, his eyes gleaming strangely. For a moment he stands transfixed, then looks again at his wife. Then the Knight\'s words catch his ears, and he tilts his head. \"The song is all around us, now, unfettered, and unafraid. You have but to listen...\"

\"Many of our people have inter-married with those who never left the shores of Middle-Earth,\" Laeraelin says, elaborating on the Knight\'s explanation. \"And so the blood of ancient Numenor grows thin.\"

She looks on the Master-Bard now, tilting her head. \"You hear it? Perhaps you have a forgotten ancestor from our land or perhaps it is there for any of noble heart to hear.\"

Nimithil doesn\'t have much to add to a discussion of history, though she\'s certainly had her history lessons. She\'s far too intent to explore the ship with the wind in her face. As an only child, though, she does little to aid in strengthening the numbers of the blood of ancient Numenor.

\"I see,\" Faelwine murmurs, nodding as the Stoninglanders explain their ancestry. \"They must have been mighty mariners, to sail across the ocean so, bringing their people with them. The blood grows thin, perhaps, yet I see your fathers\' sea-craft is not yet lost, so perhaps there is hope yet for your people to thrive.\" She comments with a smile, her own eyes going to the grey western horizon, and she draws closer beside her husband.

Hraefengar lets go of the rail and puts his arm around his wife, then glances at Laeraelin. \"I am a scop, Lady, and for the Eorlingas, our songs weave our history, our people, our being. One only has to follow the whispers. The wind carries songs, and songs, and more, tunes of sorrow and melodies of joy, peace and war and birth and death and renewal. What is, what was, what will be, they are all twined together, strands of fate, like a loom, or like a harp, and the wind plays them. The wind plays them, and the West belongs not to fallen Numenor alone, but the elven-folk, and those beyond... your Ulmo, whose voice sings the sea, our Bema, whose horn sounds in the neighing of our horses...\" He falls silent, and he trembles slightly.

\"It is that song that brought me back to Gondor, Hraefengar.\" Barsaphad lifts his face to the sky like the scop -- breathing deep. He lowers his gaze and and nods at Faelwine, \"Thank you...my shipwrights would be glad to hear it.\"

\"I think it is this song I shall bring to the Tourney...\" He check\'s Laeraelin\'s steering with a smile, \"I will have no orchestra of gulls and waves...but perhaps I can bring the sea to the land.\" He ponders the Eorling\'s words, and then lets his gaze slip toward the West.

Far above, a break in the gray stabs the distant horizon with a pillar of yellow light from Anor on high -- a beacon toward fallen Westernesse.

[OOC note: It was getting late and so we faded out here, leaving our intrepid heroes to sail the sea for the rest of the day.]