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piosenniel · 12-18-2003, 02:27 AM

The ride to the Emyn Beraid had been one of reflection for Erkaliel. Her mother’s mother had sailed West when Erkaliel was very young. It was a joyful parting when she left with a group of her companions on this very same road that her granddaughter now took. She had kissed them each on the brow, her daughter and Erkaliel and told them once again of the time she had ridden to the Tower Hills and climbed Elostirion, the tallest and most western of the White Towers. The sea had not yet called her, and she looked across the expanse of it toward Eldamar and Valinor. Erkaliel’s mother, Lithiel, had never made the pilgrimage. She had died before she could do so, killed in an ambush. Erkaliel often wondered if Lithiel had chosen to remain in the Undying Lands once her stay in the Halls of Mandos was done.

And now here was Erkaliel camping on the western edge of the Emyn Beraid, and a longing grew in her to look into the Stone of Elendil. With Tanroth’s permission, she rode to Elostirion, urging her mount there at a quick pace. Leaving Bracken to forage in the long grass that grew about the base of the tower, she climbed the long winding stairs within at a run.

At the top of the tower, in the center of the room, was the palantír. On an oaken pedestal it stood, glowing softly in the dark, windowless room. Placing her fingers lightly on the cool orb, she watched the hazy grey images within grow and sharpen. First a shining silvered path filled the globe, sunlight on the sea. Then, white shores with the waves lapping softly up to them. And beyond, a far green country, beautiful as the light quickened on it. Erkaliel’s mind was captured by these sights and her heart was filled with the desire to go to them . . . to be at home . . . and at peace.

She stood long looking into the stone. The night waned outside the tower – the stars, at first bright, grew dim as day approached. With some reluctance, she withdrew her touch from the stone, and made her way slowly down the staircase. Sleep did not come for her that night, or any night after. At night her eyes were filled with starlight, and by day they looked westward, watching as the promise of the Havens drew nearer.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:45 AM December 19, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

12-18-2003, 02:27 AM	#94
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	The ride to the Emyn Beraid had been one of reflection for Erkaliel. Her mother’s mother had sailed West when Erkaliel was very young. It was a joyful parting when she left with a group of her companions on this very same road that her granddaughter now took. She had kissed them each on the brow, her daughter and Erkaliel and told them once again of the time she had ridden to the Tower Hills and climbed Elostirion, the tallest and most western of the White Towers. The sea had not yet called her, and she looked across the expanse of it toward Eldamar and Valinor. Erkaliel’s mother, Lithiel, had never made the pilgrimage. She had died before she could do so, killed in an ambush. Erkaliel often wondered if Lithiel had chosen to remain in the Undying Lands once her stay in the Halls of Mandos was done. And now here was Erkaliel camping on the western edge of the Emyn Beraid, and a longing grew in her to look into the Stone of Elendil. With Tanroth’s permission, she rode to Elostirion, urging her mount there at a quick pace. Leaving Bracken to forage in the long grass that grew about the base of the tower, she climbed the long winding stairs within at a run. At the top of the tower, in the center of the room, was the palantír. On an oaken pedestal it stood, glowing softly in the dark, windowless room. Placing her fingers lightly on the cool orb, she watched the hazy grey images within grow and sharpen. First a shining silvered path filled the globe, sunlight on the sea. Then, white shores with the waves lapping softly up to them. And beyond, a far green country, beautiful as the light quickened on it. Erkaliel’s mind was captured by these sights and her heart was filled with the desire to go to them . . . to be at home . . . and at peace. She stood long looking into the stone. The night waned outside the tower – the stars, at first bright, grew dim as day approached. With some reluctance, she withdrew her touch from the stone, and made her way slowly down the staircase. Sleep did not come for her that night, or any night after. At night her eyes were filled with starlight, and by day they looked westward, watching as the promise of the Havens drew nearer. <font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:45 AM December 19, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.