[Child of the 7th Age]

Abruptly, Cami sat up in her bed. Even in the warmth and protection of her cabin, she could sense the eerie silence which seemed to enwrap the ship. It chilled her to the core. She tried to huddle down and return to her sleep, but rest would not come.

She slipped a cloak over her shoulders and came onto the deck. To the stern of the vessel sat Mithadan. The Man was locked in his own thoughts, his face a sullen mask that was impossible to read. Cami walked by without even nodding an acknowledgment, keeping her feelings to herself. She stood near the helm. Her body shook in the chilled night air. All seemed cold and strangely quiet. A few wisps of fog encircled the mast.

Cami remembered how it had been in the Shire right before the Scouring. Everyone felt the ugliness and pain. It knocked on the doors of their homes, and never left their sides even in the fields and marketplace. A hundred times, they had sharpened their axes and restrung their bows waiting for the fight to begin. But, here, on the Star, it had always been different. The ugliness had seemed far away. The ship was a refuge from all that lay outside. Sometimes, Cami had even forgotten the troubles that lay at the base of Eru's Mount, or the hearts that grieved from cruelty and death.

But tonight was different. Tonight, she had no trouble remembering. And she feared that their refuge was gone. That tomorrow and the next day would only bring reminders of the blanket of fear that had descended over their ship. There were too many hints of all the things that could go wrong and how many ways they could fail or die.

In the distance, Cami saw another figure slowly approaching, bearing a staff in hand. Perhaps no one was asleep on this strange night. Perhaps all her companions lay awake in reflection or walked like ghosts upon the foggy deck. It was impossible to say.

The figure emerged from the shadows and came to confront her. "Ancalimon," she whispered. "Is that you? What has happened to the ship? Is this some doom that reaches out to touch us and our plans."

He shook his head in denial. His hand went to her shoulder, warm and assuring. "Now we are feeling what those in the tombs have sensed for many days. The power of Angthaur is growing, and it reaches out beyond Eru's Mount to all in the land and waters."

"Cami, you have a choice. The Star has a choice. You can give in and accept the darkness in the sky, or look beyond to try and glimpse the stars."

"But there are no stars tonight," she nervously said, staring up into the bleak heavens.

"Oh, no, they're there. The stars do not move or change, only that which comes from below and tries to block out the light."

"But what if I can not see them?," she asked.

"Then, you must remember them as they were. For such memory can be a precious gift in times when all else is gone. You know this in your heart, for you have given a great part of yourself to seek out and rebuild your people's past. And you remember Maura and his kin and what they tried to do. And these memories are a worthy thing."

"Now, return to your cabin and think on this. For I fear the blanket of regret will not leave this vessel until the power of Sauron is broken."

Cami made her way quietly down the coridors. When she got inside her cabin, she dug down underneath her bed and pulled out a volume bound in vellum with a cover that gleamed as blue as the mid-day sky. And she set it on her table. No one on the ship knew of this treasure. At first she'd been faithful day-by-day, but, too long ago, she had set it aside, making one excuse or the other. The memories would all be lost unless she could find words for them. She opened up the volume, took up her pen, and began to write.

[ October 03, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]