Drabbles for Mithlond
Sam stood alone on the shore,
watching even after he could no longer
see the ship. The tears had long since dried on his cheeks and there
would be no more for Frodo. Instead, Sam smiled gently to himself,
reflecting the smile he had last seen on his dear friend’s face. There
had been a spark of genuine happiness in those expressive blue eyes
that Sam had not seen for years and that was as comforting as Frodo’s
last words to him. Sam straightened and turned to where Merry and
Pippin had waited patiently for him. “Let’s go home now.”
Sweet were the breezes across the sea, fresher than anything ever
scented, even beyond the memories of fresh, rain-driven springtimes mad
with blossoms and dew. Bright were the waters with the sunlight
sparkling and dancing across them, and above the seabirds danced as
well. The gold-brown-grey of the sand swirled amid the waves as they
ever-reached their way up towards the land. What finer birthing place
could creation ever conceive for the maiden voyage of such ships? What
further beauty could this dying land give, than to place its timbers
upon the gentle waves and watch them as they found eternity?
As a salty breeze tenderly tousled his golden hair, the elf kept watch
from his tower high on Emyn Beriad. His ageless eyes gazed out over the
Gulf of Lhun and swept westwards across the sea to behold an elven ship
on it's last journey. The setting sun had bathed it in golden
splendour, a final benediction for the brave Ringbearers, Frodo and
Bilbo. Like a graceful swan in flight, sails swelling in the evening
wind, the great ship rode the sparkling waves before vanishing beyond
Sadly the elf turned his eyes to face a world suddenly diminished.
- Daisy Gold
"Ouch!" cried the Elf and not for the first time that day. First his
hammar slipped, banging his thumb, then that beam knocked him on the
head and now his beard had gone and caught in the decorative
feather-like edging he had been chiseling since lunchtime. He grumbled
as he untangled the silvery, silky chin-hairs and rewound them into the
facial bun he wore when working. Why oh why had he ever consented to
trying out that 'sun-lotion' those dwarves had sold him all those years
ago? And why oh why had he put it on his face, of all places?
Cirdan could only stare in total disbelief when he saw the huge mass of
little yellow rubber duckies clogging his harbor. Then he turned to
Gandalf who took a step backward when he saw the anger on the elf’s
face. “Care to take a stab at who is responsible for this?!”
“Now just calm down Cirdan! I’m sure Merry and Pippin will quickly
clear this up!”
Suddenly there came some anxious shouts before two boats collided
because the duckies kept them from steering out of each others way.
“I hope so for their sakes!” Cirdan grumbled before he stomped off.
So, Where are We Going?
Frodo and his party stopped at the stone pier in confusion. Gandalf
stepped up and scanned around the Bay while Elrond and Galadriel
muttered together behind him. Where was Cirdan? Where was the swan
Bilbo toddled over to Elrond and took a look at the paper that the
Elf-Lord was consulting, then tugged on his sleeve. "Master Elrond, you
have your map upside-down."
Elrond obediently rotated the paper and the watching Elves exclaimed
together over their mistake. "I do apologize Master Bilbo! It appears
we were supposed to convene at the other
Grey Havens, not this one!"
"Other Grey Havens?" asked the Hobbits with
surprise. "What other Grey
Havens?" Gandalf, talkative as always, only rolled his eyes.
"Cirdan opened them as a chain of franchised
boat-yards ages ago,"
Galadriel answered. "Celeborn bought one and operated it by Anduin for
a while, but we only had permits to build little river boats at that
location; it was never very lucrative. Tons of leftovers we had to get
"So..." said Sam, "There's not only more,
"Ah!" said Elrond still peering at his map. "We
want the one further south, with that new boat-launcher. Head 'em out!"
The Last Ship
Cirdan stood upon the crest of the hill and looked down upon his
well-loved Bay. Below him the last ship waited by the peaceful dock. He
raised his bullhorn to his mouth and called inward to the lands of
"LAAAAAAAASST SHIP! LAST SHIP! COME N GET IT!"
"Aw, already? But we just got here!" came a complaint from the trees
"But we were just starting a new song!" grumbled another voice as the
trees came alive with Elven host.
"It just isn't faaaair," whined an Elf, "Why are you not making any
more ships? You said you'd wait
Grumbling and whining, Elves began to file down the hillside, then
began to run as they caught sight of the ship. It's formerly gleaming,
empty decks were already beginning to be thronged with Elves. More
Elves descended by the steps and pathways at the ends of the Bay,
others made their way down ropes cast over the steeper parts of the
cliffs. The paths began to be alive with Elves, pushing, shoving and
Cirdan gave a resigned sigh as the ship began to flounder under its
load, sinking until its deckrails were nearly to the level of the sea.
Elves were still trying to get aboard the ship, clinging to the
mast and ropes. Fistfights were breaking out. Cirdan watched as one of
those aboard cut the ropes with a sword and the ship lumbered out to
sea, leaving a shrieking, protesting mass on the docks. Some of them
acutally leapt into the water, trying to swin after.
Cirdan's clear eyes watched, knowing what would happen. Sure enough,
the remaining crowd turned to him, begging and beseeching him. He knew
they would continue until he built another
ship. And he would. Again. Prophetic gifts and procrastinators just
didn't mix, he thought.