[piosenniel]

The calling of the names was now done, and Ancalimon rolled up the scroll, placing it securely in the belt at his waist. He walked among those who had chosen to become Hobbrim, murmuring assurances and congratulations to many as he passed. Then going to the group of Hobbits who had chosen to migrate into Middle-earth, he bade them now step back from the beach and onto the grassy rise which ran along its sandy, rear boundary.

A great hush fell over the assembly as Man, Elf, Hobbits, and Hobbrim looked to the West. Those on the beach felt themselves drawn to the very edge of the sea-strand. The frothy tide lapped at their feet and inched up their ankles. As all watched, a great, black cloud formed on the horizon of the now darkening sea. The air grew cold as if a storm would soon pass in toward them.

There were murmurings and stirrings among those gathered on the grassy rise. Some there were who were sore affrighted at these events and sought to rush out toward the sea to bring back their loved ones. But Ancalimon held them back, saying, ‘Look to the faces of those who stand in the outreaching arms of the sea. They yearn for what comes. It burns brightly in their hearts, and they are not afraid. Stand back, and let this pass to them.’

Then did all those gathered look toward the place where the sun had been, that was now hidden like a smoky flame behind the menacing sky. And it seemed to them that a great, dark wave rose on the horizon of the waters and rolled toward them.

Wonder held them in their places as mists and shadows played about the wave as it drew near. Then it crested, and curled, and broke, rushing forward in long arms of foam and froth to rise up round the waists of the Chosen Hobbits.

And where it had broken, there now stood tall against the clearing sky a great figure of shifting light and majesty.

All who stood there, bowed in reverence to him, for he seemed a mighty king. The long dark tresses of his hair glimmered with sea foam as they cascaded down his mighty back. Upon his head was set a crown of silver, and about him draped a long grey cloak that clung to him like a soft mist.

He threw open his cloak and beneath it was a gleaming coat, well fitted round his torso as the silvered mail of a giant fish. And below that hung a shimmering kirtle, girt with ropes of pearls, in deep greens that flashed and flickered with an inner fire as he strode toward the shore.

Thus it was that Ulmo, The Dweller of the Deep, The Lord of Waters, stood, knee deep in the waves and beheld those who had chosen to be counted among his creatures. He smiled at them, then, like the sun breaking through a clouded sky to light up the waves beneath it. And in his gleaming eyes they beheld the depths of the deepest seas

‘Arise!’ he called to them, in a voice so deep it seemed to issue from the very foundations of the firmament. ‘Fear me not. For thou art my people now, and thou will I cradle dear in my arms, until thy doom calls thee to its fulfillment.’

Then did he reach out his mighty arms to them, and as one they strode out into the surf, heedless of the rising waters. To his lips he raised a great Conch, blowing a single, deep resounding note upon it, and moved his arm in a great circle before him, stirring the waters of the world to his purpose.

There arose before him a great swelling of the sea, a mighty wave, rising up in glassy greens and shot with the fires of an inner light. Its spume caught the sun’s light, and dazzled the eyes of those who stood on the land so that their sight was taken from them for a moment.

Then did it break over those who rushed toward it. They were engulfed by the power of it, and vanished utterly as it pulled all under and flowed over them.

[ November 15, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]