It was near dawn when a crewman, perched high in the ship’s rigging, called down the sighting of land.
“Dol Amroth!”, he cried out excitedly and thrust a pointing hand towards the distant city’s towers, which seemed to rise out of the surf.
“Aye!”, the helmsman gleefully shouted. The ship’s captain came out of his cabin, aroused by the exchange. He stuffed his half-eaten apple into a pocket and swallowed, and after wiping his chin with a sleeve, shouted out, “Ready the ship for docking!”. The crew, grinning at each other with anticipation, scurried about the deck like ants, briskly performing their well-practiced tasks. The captain stepped up next to the helmsman and supervised the crew with calm, clear determination, his orders crisp. Although mindful of the crew’s keen desire to explore the fabled city, he would demand their orderly attention to the objective at hand; safely navigating to the city’s docks.
Cutch, Ardanion, and Teahesto stepped out of their cabin to get their first glimpse of Dol Amroth that day, and to observe the crew’s prowess. The boy rushed to the railing, keen to catch the very first sight of what would be, at that time, the largest city he had ever seen. At first, he was puzzled, for the sight of the towers jutting up from the sea tricked the eyes into believing the city was partially submerged. His clever mind, much the product of his mother, quickly solved the little mystery. “It’s just beyond the horizon”, he muttered to himself.
Cutch and Teahesto joined him, and his father proudly placed a gentle hand on Ardanion’s shoulder. “Very good, son. And as you watch…”.
“The city will seem to lift up from the sea!” the boy answered and settled in to witness the miracle.
Teahesto, observing the father and son, could sense their bond and was honored that Cutch had invited his companionship. “I know you wish to tour Dol Amroth with your son, Cutch. But before we ride on from there to the Cape, perhaps I could show you Edhellond. It was once dear to me, and its history might be of value to you both…?”
Cutch looked into the Elf’s eyes, detecting an unspoken invitation to delve a little into Teahesto’s history, and perhaps some of the history of all Elves, something that father and son might treasure if for no other reason than respect for the Elven blood that mixed with the Mortal in their own veins. In Cutch’s younger days, when he had first visited Dol Amroth, he recalled hearing of the Elven ruins northward up the coast, but he knew little of them except they had been abandoned, long ago by Mortal reckoning. “Aye. I think we should do that. Auntie Lume can wait for just a bit, what say you Ardanion?” He lightly shook the boy’s shoulder to wrest his attention from the mirage of a city emerging from the sea.
“Yes, of course, Ada”, the boy answered clearly, but his eyes would not leave Dol Amroth. Cutch had to admire his son’s ability to focus, to drink in the details of a moment, to create a fond memory.
The morning, the current, and the wind finally brought Dol Amroth into full view, crowning a promontory at the end of a peninsula. The cliffs were topped by imposing walls shielding the city.
As their ship rounded the tip of the peninsula towards the cove embracing the city docks, a deep gong suddenly echoed across the scene. Ardanion gasped and peered at the city, trying to find the source of the bell’s commanding voice. Cutch pointed to the tallest tower, saying “Tirith Aear. The Sea-Ward Tower. It announces the arrival of ships. We are being hailed, Ardanion, or at least our ship is.” A skiff sailed out of the cove towards the ship, and on its arrival, the official looking fellow aboard it briefly exchanged shouted acknowledgments and orders with the ship’s captain, who in turn called for the sails to be dropped and oars let out. As the crew began to row, Ardanion watched with utter fascination as the ship and skiff slid single file into the cove and to their assigned dock. At times, the boy stared wide-eyed at the near misses with other ships and docks, but the captain calmly led them through until the ship at last bumped gently against the dock. The skiff peeled off while, with deft precision, the crew and dock workers tossed and secured lines to bind the ship's port side confidently in place. Ardanion dashed back into the cabin to gather up his things; Cutch and Teahesto smiled at each other as they followed the enthusiastic boy.
Few places in the world of Men are as busy as docks where ships from far-flung places congregated to exercise the rituals of trade. Captains shouted at crewmen as they loaded or unloaded the lighter cargo, cranes and winches squeaked and groaned as they wrestled the heavier pallets between ship and dock, and local hawkers scouted for secret trades on the edges of official business. All these mixed together in the chaotic orchestration of Men At Work. City residents who were irresistibly drawn down to a ship’s arrival, but had no direct business, mulled around from the farthest planks of the docks or from the heights of the surrounding buildings and raised walkways, close enough to see but far enough away to be safe. Having been captured by the theater of the dock, the crowd lingered, sharing gossip or boasts, varying opinions of How Things Should Be Done, and a few impromptu picnics laid atop empty barrels and crates. The air bustled with white sea birds swooping in to snatch up whatever morsels they’d espied amongst the debris of the ongoing labor. On the day their ship arrived, father, son, and Elf watched this under a sky so brilliantly blue it made many of the Mortals don brimmed hats.
Cutch, Ardanion, and Teahesto emerged again from their cabin to admire the busy docks. The boy froze immediately, paralyzed by the abundant sights and sounds seasoned with ocean air. With slack jaw he scanned the scene for a long minute until a guttural, adolescent exclamation blurted out. “HO-HOH!” He spun to look up at his father with a beaming face abrim with unspoken questions.
In regarding Ardanion, Cutch recalled his own first time, at the age of nineteen, standing near the same spot, feeling the same awe reflected in his son’s face. The Elf witnessed something dear pass between father and son, some deep understanding welling up from an experience they now shared. Cutch and Ardanion laughed and embraced, and Teahesto, ever pragmatic, said, “I imagine you two are hungry.”
