"So Isildur's ship bore the White Tree, " said Mellonin. She couldn't really be unhappy about it.
"And no word of who had the palantiri. They could have all been on one ship for all the records say, " conceded Lindo. "Although I cannot imagine such short-sightedness-- er, your pardon. Still, whether they knew where the other ships were or not, it made no difference. Their sails were torn and their masts were snapped; utterly at the mercy of the sea they were tossed to the western shores of Middle-earth. Small mistakes had no bearing on the ruin of Numenor or the escape of the Faithful."
"Then I have no tale to tell."
Lindo re-stacked the parchments. "Not at sea. And your tillerman cannot have been part of the invasion of Valinor, for by order of his father, Elendil's nine ships bode apart, waiting on the eastern shore. So we still do not know what broke the tillerman. But the fleet of the Faithful waited on the eastern shore of Numenor for some time, before the great wave fell and they were driven eastward. Perhaps yours is a shipyard tale, and not the story of a voyage."
Her disappointment was plain. "What's the fun in that?"
"I do not know, " said Lindo. "And neither will you, if you let that stop you."
"Hmph, " said Mellonin. Then, "I wonder how Ravion is getting along down at the docks."
"At the shipyard, you mean?"
She glared at him, and they replaced the parchments on the shelves. She lingered over the last sheaf, straightening it.
"So many questions. They don't even name the ships."
Lindo turned to the door. "There is time to dream."
Last edited by piosenniel; 09-05-2010 at 01:32 AM.
Reason: niggling, and more niggling
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