The three mariners were loading the crates of the wine shipment on board of the ship. Armanduil approached them and helped lifting the boxes, stowing them neatly around the mast. As Armanduil boarded the ship he noticed more passengers joining him, a Teleri elf from Duillond and another hailing from the woodland realm from the far east. The mariners untied the knots and removed the boarding plank. The white sail slowly unfolded and caught the mild breeze that blew through Mithlond. The ship slowly drifted away from the dock. The water in the bay was rather still as the ship silently left the harbor. The other two passengers, an elf maiden from Duillond and the proud Galadhrim from the east, were both setting out to attend the departure ceremony at Forlond. They chatted for quite some time as the ship entered the open water of the Gulf of Lhûn. Here the waves were higher and the winds colder and stronger. The three mariners were steering the ship closer to the northern shoreline who remained visible in the distance. Forlond was about 200 miles from Mithlond, but it was a pleasant sail, the wind was favorable. Armanduil stood on the bow while holding a rope that was tight to the mast, the ship cut a way through the waves, rocking up and down as he goes.
After one and a half a day the ship entered the bay of Forlond. In the distance he saw the white towers of the old city reaching high up in the sky. When the ship drew closer the dock of Forlond was within sight, blue banners were moving in the strong wind. Armanduil looked around the gathering of elves on the docks, and up the hill standing on a wall he recognized his mother Eril, her hair danced in the wind as she watched down on the approaching ship. At the dock the boat was tied again and all unboarded. Despite the cold wind, a warm feeling of homecoming filled his chest. He thanked the mariners for the lift and offered his aid with their cargo which they politely declined. He walked through the white gate into the town, passing slender white buildings which were decorated with thin pillars with pearl inlays. He walked up to a higher region of the town, to a place where the view on the harbor is magnificent. There he found his mother.
She turned her head towards Armanduil and her cold expression turned warmer as she smiled at him "welcome son, you have returned". Armanduil returned her smile and bowed gently "It is good to be back mother". Now she turned her body towards him and silently walked to her son, she set her thin fingers under her chin and raised his head as if she was examining him "I hope the vale gave you the answers you sought, I assume you have made up your mind by now?". Although she expressed it as a question, Armanduil knew it was a demand. He looked at her, but answered with another question "The vale had been kind to me, are you ready mother, the departure is in a few days?" Eril her expression stiffened and narrowed her eyes for a split second "What an odd question, I wished to leave these shores years ago, you are -still- in doubt are you not!?". Armanduil was at a loss for words as his mother looked at him with disappointment "If you wont decide, then I will do it for you, you will come with me". He kept looking at her without blinking and reached for his pocket, he pushed his clenched fist gently towards his mother. She furrowed her brows "What is this?". Armanduil slowly opened his fist where the pendant of his sister Faervel was resting in his palm. As struck by lightning her expression dropped as well as her mouth, appalled she took a step back, her gaze locked on the pendant. For a moment they just stood there as the wind was still blowing their hair like the banners behind them. She broke the silence "How came you by this... ?". He added solemnly "Washed up on the Bruinen, not two weeks ago. It came to me..". Eril looked at her son as she got hold of her emotions again, with her hand she folded his fingers around the pendant again, stowing it away from sight. She swallowed and looked somewhat cold again "This changes nothing." Hiding her tears she passed by her son, walking back to her home.
((How I imagine Forlond, Artwork of J. Gilronen, edited by me.))
