Do the White Gulls Call (930 Fourth Age, Valinor) [One-Shot]
Jul 3, 2018 18:15:46 GMT -5
Post by Odothel on Jul 3, 2018 18:15:46 GMT -5
Long had the years been since she had come to stand in the white, gleaming city upon the shore, yet still each dawn Odothel greeted the sunrise upon the soft sands, wading the tide and smelling the salt of the waters. The golden wash of daybreak as the sun rose beyond the horizon did not grow old, and glorious it came day after day, marking time in a way that none of Alqualondë ever showed.
The waters were cool, lapping gently over the pale skin of her feet and ankles as she passed along the shore. Her voice, clear and gentle, silvery and pure, sang out in herald of the dawn. Familiar was her voice to the gulls that dipped and dove overhead, and to the Eldar who found their way to the water’s edge come the breaking morning. This land had been more beautiful as her dreams had shown, a land of light and life. Yet, Odothel knew she was unlike many of her kin that dwelt now in the West, for her heart looked onward and forward in a way that few yet had need to.
The ships no longer sailed to their harbors from the East. Word came to Aman in the Last Days of Ships of the triumph over the Black Lands, a place so far away from the white city that Odothel nearly could not paint it to mind. Victory gave speed and peace to the elves as they had left Arda behind, taking with them the last light of the Eldar, and there were few now who thought on the lands left so long ago, so far away.
Here, the Valar themselves walked amongst those of starlight. Here, music rose and fell, swept and swirled; it was a haven, a place of peace. No blood-rivers seeped the white streets, no darkness amassed beyond toothed mountaintops. Joy there was for many, yet in her own heart Odothel ached still. Familiar was the feeling of the shadow within her, for so long had she harbored it that the elf-maiden could hardly recall a time she did not bear it. And yet, it was the time before that haze that did not allow the ache to lessen, or for her patience and staidness to wane. All this way she had come to stand in the harbor of the Swanhaven, and a day was yet coming when she would be with the safe harbor Odothel found more wonderful than all other moors in Valinor.
Her voice faded, the notes she had been singing fading slowly from the windy shore as if they clung to life in the sea breezes. Her golden eyes looked upon the water, the waves catching the white-gold light of the sun as it rose, dancing and shimmering as if jewels sparkled beneath the surface. “Still is it more beautiful than we hoped, hobas nîn,” Odothel murmured to the quiet, her voice gentle and even as ever it seemed to stay. “It shall be more beautiful yet when you stand once more at my side, that we might walk together.”
A voice reached back to her, the sound lovelier than anything she had heard in what felt an age. Odothel stood still, eyes trained upon the horizon, dark hair lifting to play in the winds as they swept from the sea.
“On a quiet evening at the beginning of May
When the bat was in the skies
I heard a tearful young maiden
Singing beneath the shadow of the green branches
The sun was setting in the sea
And no stars yet graced the sky
When the young girl sang sorrowfully
"My love is on the high seas."”
Odothel felt her heart still, and her golden eyes grew warm and wet. The voice, familiar and more precious than jewels, carried forth in more words, and the elf maiden slowly turned from the waters. A figure, tall and lithe, stood upon the crest of the shore, storm-grey eyes upon her.
“The night's dew began to fall
Each bloom yielding softly to the droplets
The wind blew in a fragrant breeze
Bringing life and renewal to each field
The girl tunefully sang her song
Quiet and peaceful like the June dew
And this chorus constantly repeated
"My love is on the high seas."”
The elf began to move forward, his long legs carrying him in a steady stride. There seemed at once a draw that was greater than the water, and Odothel moved toward him in purposeful steps, the pace ever quickening.
“Day darkened and the stars shone
Setting their course amongst the clouds
The maiden sat, burdened by her sadness
Her singing could not have been more soothing
I moved closer to the young woman
Singing of her love sailing on the sea
Oh sweet was her sad lament
"My love is on the high seas."
The music enticed me
Nearer to the brown-haired maiden of the warm eyes
And she prayed to the King of Heaven
"Protect my love on the high seas."
Her heart was breaking with love
When I took her by the hand
“Wipe your eyes, your love is safe
I have returned to you from the high seas."”
She reached as he did, and their fingers fit together in a way that drew Odothel to tremble. “Hobas nîn,” she breathed, and for the first time in many years, there was one to hear.
Calrein smiled, his face lovelier and more alight than the dawn the elf-maiden no longer saw. He lifted his hand, tracing the contours of her face with gentle, warm fingertips, slowly turning to sink them into her dark, wavy crown. “Alpa nîn,” he answered.
“I have waited for you,” Odothel said, stepping nearer and lifting her pale fingers to clutch at his silver tunic.
“More patiently than I have waited for you,” Calrein answered low in murmur. A pinch came upon his brow, and for a moment his eyes grew heavy. “Yet I have found you now, and your spirit is lovelier than ever I remembered.” He pressed his lips to hers, and eagerly Odothel returned the motion.
Overhead the gulls called, and behind her the gentle thunder of water beating against the sand filled the air. Yet Odothel could hear nothing beyond the song of her own heart, and it was many minutes before either of them could part their lips.
“I am once more a happy man,” Calrein murmured, brushing his hand once more over Odothel’s dark hair, unable to resist the pale skin of her forehead. His lips were warm and gentle, and the elleth stuttered a breath, the sound heavy with peace, joy, and love. Once more, the elf reached warmly for her hand, and Odothel gladly settled it in his grasp. “I made you a promise, alpa nîn. One that I wish I had been able to fulfill sooner.”
Odothel felt a tear slip from her eyes, the warm trail it left upon her skin glistening in the sunlight. “I know,” she whispered. Her heart was too full to think on much else; her safe harbor was returned. She, once a lost ship had found once more her mooring.
Calrein wiped the water from her cheek with a gentle sweep of his thumb, eyes glittering himself. “Then come,” he murmured. “For we have waited far too long, and I have much I wish to make up for.”
Odothel’s voice failed, and she nodded eagerly, lips curling upward at the corners.
“Then I, in the sight of Eru Illúvatar himself, name you Amaurëa,” Calrein declared, pressing his lips once more eagerly against hers. Dawn. “For ever you have been my brightest hope, and you shall be so for our family as well.”
Amaurëa’s arms eagerly rose to lock around her love’s neck as she sank into his warmth, and her sorrow took to wing as the gulls of the harbor, finally flying away.
The waters were cool, lapping gently over the pale skin of her feet and ankles as she passed along the shore. Her voice, clear and gentle, silvery and pure, sang out in herald of the dawn. Familiar was her voice to the gulls that dipped and dove overhead, and to the Eldar who found their way to the water’s edge come the breaking morning. This land had been more beautiful as her dreams had shown, a land of light and life. Yet, Odothel knew she was unlike many of her kin that dwelt now in the West, for her heart looked onward and forward in a way that few yet had need to.
The ships no longer sailed to their harbors from the East. Word came to Aman in the Last Days of Ships of the triumph over the Black Lands, a place so far away from the white city that Odothel nearly could not paint it to mind. Victory gave speed and peace to the elves as they had left Arda behind, taking with them the last light of the Eldar, and there were few now who thought on the lands left so long ago, so far away.
Here, the Valar themselves walked amongst those of starlight. Here, music rose and fell, swept and swirled; it was a haven, a place of peace. No blood-rivers seeped the white streets, no darkness amassed beyond toothed mountaintops. Joy there was for many, yet in her own heart Odothel ached still. Familiar was the feeling of the shadow within her, for so long had she harbored it that the elf-maiden could hardly recall a time she did not bear it. And yet, it was the time before that haze that did not allow the ache to lessen, or for her patience and staidness to wane. All this way she had come to stand in the harbor of the Swanhaven, and a day was yet coming when she would be with the safe harbor Odothel found more wonderful than all other moors in Valinor.
Her voice faded, the notes she had been singing fading slowly from the windy shore as if they clung to life in the sea breezes. Her golden eyes looked upon the water, the waves catching the white-gold light of the sun as it rose, dancing and shimmering as if jewels sparkled beneath the surface. “Still is it more beautiful than we hoped, hobas nîn,” Odothel murmured to the quiet, her voice gentle and even as ever it seemed to stay. “It shall be more beautiful yet when you stand once more at my side, that we might walk together.”
A voice reached back to her, the sound lovelier than anything she had heard in what felt an age. Odothel stood still, eyes trained upon the horizon, dark hair lifting to play in the winds as they swept from the sea.
“On a quiet evening at the beginning of May
When the bat was in the skies
I heard a tearful young maiden
Singing beneath the shadow of the green branches
The sun was setting in the sea
And no stars yet graced the sky
When the young girl sang sorrowfully
"My love is on the high seas."”
Odothel felt her heart still, and her golden eyes grew warm and wet. The voice, familiar and more precious than jewels, carried forth in more words, and the elf maiden slowly turned from the waters. A figure, tall and lithe, stood upon the crest of the shore, storm-grey eyes upon her.
“The night's dew began to fall
Each bloom yielding softly to the droplets
The wind blew in a fragrant breeze
Bringing life and renewal to each field
The girl tunefully sang her song
Quiet and peaceful like the June dew
And this chorus constantly repeated
"My love is on the high seas."”
The elf began to move forward, his long legs carrying him in a steady stride. There seemed at once a draw that was greater than the water, and Odothel moved toward him in purposeful steps, the pace ever quickening.
“Day darkened and the stars shone
Setting their course amongst the clouds
The maiden sat, burdened by her sadness
Her singing could not have been more soothing
I moved closer to the young woman
Singing of her love sailing on the sea
Oh sweet was her sad lament
"My love is on the high seas."
The music enticed me
Nearer to the brown-haired maiden of the warm eyes
And she prayed to the King of Heaven
"Protect my love on the high seas."
Her heart was breaking with love
When I took her by the hand
“Wipe your eyes, your love is safe
I have returned to you from the high seas."”
She reached as he did, and their fingers fit together in a way that drew Odothel to tremble. “Hobas nîn,” she breathed, and for the first time in many years, there was one to hear.
Calrein smiled, his face lovelier and more alight than the dawn the elf-maiden no longer saw. He lifted his hand, tracing the contours of her face with gentle, warm fingertips, slowly turning to sink them into her dark, wavy crown. “Alpa nîn,” he answered.
“I have waited for you,” Odothel said, stepping nearer and lifting her pale fingers to clutch at his silver tunic.
“More patiently than I have waited for you,” Calrein answered low in murmur. A pinch came upon his brow, and for a moment his eyes grew heavy. “Yet I have found you now, and your spirit is lovelier than ever I remembered.” He pressed his lips to hers, and eagerly Odothel returned the motion.
Overhead the gulls called, and behind her the gentle thunder of water beating against the sand filled the air. Yet Odothel could hear nothing beyond the song of her own heart, and it was many minutes before either of them could part their lips.
“I am once more a happy man,” Calrein murmured, brushing his hand once more over Odothel’s dark hair, unable to resist the pale skin of her forehead. His lips were warm and gentle, and the elleth stuttered a breath, the sound heavy with peace, joy, and love. Once more, the elf reached warmly for her hand, and Odothel gladly settled it in his grasp. “I made you a promise, alpa nîn. One that I wish I had been able to fulfill sooner.”
Odothel felt a tear slip from her eyes, the warm trail it left upon her skin glistening in the sunlight. “I know,” she whispered. Her heart was too full to think on much else; her safe harbor was returned. She, once a lost ship had found once more her mooring.
Calrein wiped the water from her cheek with a gentle sweep of his thumb, eyes glittering himself. “Then come,” he murmured. “For we have waited far too long, and I have much I wish to make up for.”
Odothel’s voice failed, and she nodded eagerly, lips curling upward at the corners.
“Then I, in the sight of Eru Illúvatar himself, name you Amaurëa,” Calrein declared, pressing his lips once more eagerly against hers. Dawn. “For ever you have been my brightest hope, and you shall be so for our family as well.”
Amaurëa’s arms eagerly rose to lock around her love’s neck as she sank into his warmth, and her sorrow took to wing as the gulls of the harbor, finally flying away.