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Sharing writing is a wonderful thing. []With your permission I'll show you some of mine though it's quite different from the things that have gone in here before.I (used to) do a lot of creative writing together with other people, a kind of role play you could say, all in words.It taught me a lot about the English language which after all is my 3rd and I still grapple with grammar, vocabulary and all the finer nuances of context.But - it used to be a lot of fun and just perhaps you'll enjoy reading it too [] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“You are telling me that none, NONE!... of these vessels will take up my commission? Alandriel’s voice, tight and controlled, held in check by the awe inspiring presence of the regal elf, nevertheless betrayed her exasperation. “My lady, the Teleri’s tone was soothing and appeasing as he shook his head slightly, “I have tried to tell you for a few days now. There is nothing that I can do; maybe at a later time. “Alandriel bowed in return and he soon disappeared amongst a small crowd of elves that had gathered by the pier. Now what?“Still no luck, aye?”Alandriel turned around. Leaning nonchalantly against a stack of crates, scraping a piece of wood with a knife, was the same rugged, dark haired man she had talked to on a few occasions these past days: by her reckoning a Ranger from the North; one of a few that since the end of the War of the Rings seemed to have made the Grey Havens, or rather it’s environs their haunt; for adjacent to the ancient harbour had sprung up a new settlement, a village of sorts: a trading outpost, ideally situated closer to the mouth of the river Lhûn. Fishermen mostly lived there, trading their bounty from the rich estuary with the few farmers that determinedly scraped a meagre living off the marshy land. Infrequently river-men from the North hawked furs and ivory there, the latter even attracting the occasional dwarf from the Blue Mountains. Peace seemed to have driven some of the more adventurous folk to seek out new opportunities in the largely empty lands of the West. The village, despite being not much more than a shanty town had nevertheless the feel of a warm and close-knit if not vibrant place common to communities forced to work closely hand in hand. Yet these were ‘normal’ folk; rugged, yes even rough, just like the man who had addressed her. What set him apart however were his eyes, the way he looked at her with that disconcertingly sharp gaze of his. What had brought the likes of him, for she had noted the presence of a few others, to the ancient and fading elf haven she could only guess. Maybe it had something to do with King Elessar’s renewed interest in the North and his resolve - so she had heard - to one day revive the old glory of what once had been the cities of the Kings of Arthedain. Mithlond after all had played an important role also as a port for many a party of allies, be it Númenorean or Gondorian. Maybe this Ranger had been sent to keep an eye out; and what better disguise than as in an official capacity of harbour master’s assistant? Surely if she had been greatly troubled by the sudden exodus of many high lords and ladies some weeks ago and their subsequent return, others must have noticed too. That is what had drawn her here: rumors of a great gathering in a mysterious place by the name of Tor-Ontó. “No luck.” She sighed. “And there I was hoping that since the parties have all now returned, I would be able to secure passage. “They are all taken. I’ve told you so before.” Another wood shaving fell to the ground. “See those?” With the knife he pointed briefly at the group of elves by the pier before returning to his carving. “They have been waiting to set sail, now that the ships have returned…”“Yet more elves are leaving these shores?”He nodded and then lowered his voice so that Alandriel felt compelled to step closer in order to hear his words. “They call themselves Cuiviémar, somewhere from the North. A strange sight - with their elaborately embroidered robes of grey or white, their thick fur cloaks. Dark haired yet fair. very fair so much so it is almost as if the light shines through them.He lowered his hands and sheathed his blade, holding up the pointed piece of wood for her to see. “That will do.” Alandriel nodded yet it was not the sharply pointed peg that held her attention but his last words. Some elves indeed could give that impression, especially the ones born under the light of the trees. Only once had she encountered such a being. But despite that only brief meeting, she could well understand the awe and uneasiness she had detected in the man’s voice. Cuiviémar. She only possessed a fleeting knowledge of the High Elven tongue but it had something to do with ‘to awake’, ‘awakening’. The exact term she had never heard before, of that she was certain yet it reminded her of another word. Elves from the North? Where from the North? By the looks of them and the manner of their attire they certainly had not come from any ‘North’ that she knew. And why were they leaving now? Did that have anything to do with what she had begun to suspect? To fear? Was he trying to tell her something? She looked at him sharply yet he only grinned back crookedly. Exasperatedly she sighed and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. She knew she would not get anything further out of him. She had tried before - a few times and all in vain. “Well then, let me know if a vessel becomes available, ANY vessel. Please! It is most urgent. You can find me…..” “Yes, yes I know, my lady,” he said almost mockingly, “at the House of the Seven Stars, you’ve told me a few times already.” Strange woman, and quite insane, wanting to set off this early in the year, and going North, of all places, he mused, watching the woman climb the stairs that lead to the promenade lining the harbour area. As she vanished into one of the many alleys he sighed and retrieved the large leather-bound harbour log from atop the stack of crates. So slight, almost fragile but my, her hair is the colour of her spirit! Don’t envy the captain that will take her on…..if indeed there is one foolish enough to do so; for that amount, why, she could purchase a new ketch! His gaze wandered over the harbour and then he grinned. A single mast sailing boat, smaller than the elven vessels yet well built from some dark wood he did not recognize was just rounding the pier in search for suitable anchorage. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you, I know no other way.