From her seat on the ship's rail, she could hear the water lapping against the sides of the ships. The night was that quiet. Isil had risen, huge and slightly golden, and was now at the topmost part of its journey from pole to pole. Its light played upon the waves, its image captured a thousand times over, rising and falling, perfect, complete.
The stars were bright near the horizons, where the moon's bright light had not obscured them. To the north, the stars of the Valacirca were twinkiling softly. The Wain, as she remembered her mother calling it.
She heard the three hobbits before she saw them: Stacey, Primrose, and Sam. There was longing in their voices for the little comforts, the familiarity of home.
Drawing her grey cloak about her, she watched as they quietly walked past her in the dark and lowered one of the boats. It met the water with a small splash, and the hobbits descended into it with their few belongings.
Placing Prim safely between them, Stacey and Sam picked up oars and began to quietly paddle from the ship, bearing in a northerly direction.
She thought perhaps she should wake the others to let them know that the three had departed, but checked her step in mid stride. 'This is the way they wished to leave, true to their gentle hobbit natures, not wanting to bother anyone.' she thought to herself.
She raised her hand in farewell, and whispered a small entreaty to Ulmo and Ossë to guide their little craft and bring them safely home.
Pulling her cloak closely around her, she sat upon the railing once again, her back against a pillar, and watched the seas until near moon-set, when Isil unfurled a silver carpet from east to west, across the water.
[ June 29, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
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