Unsatisfied with the Wizards' work, the Valar send another Istar to Middle-earth, Nerwen the Green, with the specific task to find the Ents, apparently vanished form the face of the world. During her mission, Nerwen will meet old friends and acquain...
Nerwen took her leave from captain Soronwen and her crew, thanking them all, and then led Silmelotë by the bridle along the gangway of the Telpewinga to the grey stone jetty, where a tall Teler was waiting for her, his long silvery mane indicating him as belonging to the royal descent of this tribe; unlike the Eldar's habit, he sported a long beard giving him a very unusual old look; but the lively spark in his bright eyes contradicted the elderly appearance. Nerwen recognized him immediately, even if a long time had passed since the last time she'd met him: he was Círdan, King of Lindon and Lord of the Grey Havens, and was here to welcome her in person. The absence of a closet was a lack of formality indicative of their ancient acquaintance.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Welcome back in Ennor, Lady Nerwen", he said, bowing, "and welcome in my dwelling of Mithlond."
Nerwen needed some moments to grasp his words, expressed in the local Eldarin tongue, which was Sindarin. She hadn't spoken it in thousands of years, but being endowed with an excellent memory, she was able to answer easily in the same idiom:
"Thank you, Lord Círdan. I'm glad to meet you again, after so long a time."
"Me too, I'm glad to meet you again", Círdan said, "Uinen told me about your arrival. Please follow me: you'll be my guest for all the time you'll need to prepare for your journey in Ennor", he took a closer look at Silmelotë, "It's a Charger, isn't it?"
"Yes, exactly: a female. Her name is Silmelotë."
"Nice to meet you, Silmelotë", Círdan said, bowing slightly his head in a greeting, showing he knew the Chargers understood the two-legged beings' language, in every idiom they were talking. Silmelotë responded with a very similar nod of her proud head.
Círdan moved on, showing the way; Nerwen came up beside him, and Silmelotë followed her obediently. Both took their first steps in a slightly tentative way, not used anymore to firm land after so many days at sea, but soon they got back to their usual walk.
Nerwen looked around, intrigued: she had never seen Mithlond before. The last time she had been in Endorë, before the War of Wrath, Beleriand still existed, therefore the Gulf of Lûhn, which had formed after the sinking of that land, was still to come; at that time, Círdan was Lord of the Falas, and lived in the coastal towns of Brithombar and Eglarest, now disappeared under the waves of the Great Sea. Comparing to Alqualondë on the shores of Valinor, the ancient havens of the Falathrim were only a pale shadow; here, Harlond and Forlond, the two parts of Mithlond divided by the estuary of the river Lûhn, were in turn a faded memory of the ancient havens in Beleriand. Nothing the Eldar built in Endorë, as splendid as it was in comparison to the buildings of Dwarves and Men, could equal anything built in Eldamar. It was something that had to do with the essence of Endorë, which was different from the essence of the Undying Lands. Feebler. The light itself seemed to be fainter, on this side of Belegaer.
