The old man leaned against the piling at the end of the Falas dock, his staff supporting him. He looked with interest at the hustle and bustle of preparations taking place for some great voyage. It had been a long time since he had seen such a ship and crew set out. He smiled at the young man leaning in toward the older fellow, giving him assurance that all would be well. His hand tightened on his staff in anticipation as that same young man drew his sword and the sun glanced off the ancient lettering. He had thought never to see another cycling of this story during his long span of years.
The young man resheathed his sword, and boarded the ship, a final check that all was in order. Glancing over the side, he noted an old man in tattered robes. His eyes, as he met the young man's, were deep as the unfathomable sea, and his long beard was blue and grey. An ancient memory stirred the young man's heart.
The old man touched the prow of the ship with his staff and murmured a parting blessing:
May your oars have skill to steer
When hands that hold them fail;
May you always find lost courses;
May you steer truly by stars that are hid.
He tapped the wood of the ship three times then turned and strode quickly through the parting crowd, until climbing he came to a great pinnacle of the cliffs. Then he leapt far out and down and vanished with a mighty flurry of foam where the great breakers gathered to assault the towering shores.
[ June 11, 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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