[piosenniel]

Mithadan dreamed of fire and leering orc faces. Dragons brought shining white towers crashing down into the streets. He saw his friends and others he had met looking at him with disapproval and even hatred. Over and over again, he saw Piosenniel lying dead in Idril's courtyard or being stabbed as she looked to him for aid. Throughout the dreams he felt a presence of implacable evil gloating over the fall of the city and the deaths of so many Elves.

Then, at last, he dreamed of a beach on the western sea. He was alone, standing on the sand. Relieved at the familiarity of the scene, he sat to await what would come. Again, as many times before, a great wave arose off-shore which rode in only to crash and break in the nearby shallows. And again, there stood Ulmo, standing in place of the wave.

"Set aside thy dreams of darkness; they derive from the evil thought of Melkor the accursed. It is time for thee to wake and walk among the living again."

"But Lord," replied Mithadan. "Her death was unnecceasary. We acted as gawking tourists watching as Gondolin fell though we could have departed once we learned we could not rescue the Halflings. We tarried too long and she died alone. I was not next to her. And I failed to save her our bring home my other companions. The delay was for naught but tragedy and it was of my making."

"Nay!" responded the Lord of Waters. "The Elf made her own decisions and died as a hero protecting her friend. And thee didst thy best to act in the interest of all thy companions, who also made their own decisions. Adjudge thyself not a craven! It is not the place of Man to be in all places when necessity calls. Nor should thee deride thyself for not foreseeing all ends. This too is not the provence of Man. Ye have undertaken a noble cause. Do not fail of thy task for grief of what could not be avoided. Rest easy and awake with clear conscience."

With that the great figure turned and sank into the sea.

"My conscience may be clear," muttered Mithadan. "Yet it will be difficult to forgive myself for I do not agree that what transpired was unavoidable."

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Kali had opened the porthole in Mithadan's cabin, letting the sun stream in to dispel the darkness. It was the third day since they had set sail in the Second Age. The Man stirred, and opened his eyes, fixing on the bar of golden light which lay across his bed. Kali smiled at him in delight.

'Mithadan! You are back! Are you hungry? I brought some fresh bread that Daisy made and a bowl of hot fish broth from me.'

He helped the man to sit up in bed, propping him up against the headboard with pillows. Mithadan's nose caught the scents of food and fresh sea breezes, and then wrinkled at the sour smell of a bed too long lain in.

'Kali', he said, his voice rough from disuse, 'help me up please so that I might bathe. I am hungry, but I cannot eat that good food, stinking as I do.'

Kali helped him up to the shower at the end of the hall, and brought him some clean garments as he requested.

Washed and dressed, Mithadan walked slowly down the hall to his room and sat on the chair in front of his writing desk. Kali had placed the tray of food on the desk and Mithadan began to spoon the fragrant broth into his mouth followed by pieces of the warm bread.

When the last of the broth had been sponged up by the last morself of bread, he sat back satisfied and took a deep breath of the fresh air drawn in through the porthole.

'The sea breeze smells different to me today.' he remarked, savoring the freshness of it. 'Where are we?'

'We are sailing south, in the Second Age,' came the unfamiliar voice from the doorway, 'to Númenor.'

[ August 17, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ August 19, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]