The Last Gray Ship

The Last Gray Ship
Credits;
Adapted from a short story by H. P. Lovecraft titled; "The White Ship".�
The names (except for Elanos) and places are J R R Tolkens, and I claim no credit except for the effort to do this. By Ottis413, edited by Shell68.
Very special thanks to GhettoEleth for beta reading this story, your tips and suggestions made this story what I had hoped it would be..

The Last Gray Ship

I am Elanos, keeper of the watchtower and lighthouse that stand on the coast of Harlindon, at the mouth of the Gulf of Lune. There lies the harbor of Mithlond, known to the men of the west as they Grey Havens.

This grey lighthouse, stands above sunken slimy rocks. Only visible when the sea is waning, and are obscured beneath the water when the tide ebbs. Past my beacon for over three scores of centuries I have watched sweep the majestic grey ships. In the days of my youth during the second age there were many, then came the third age and their numbers began to wane. Now, in the forth age there are so few that I sometimes feel strangely alone, as though I were the last Elf in Middle Earth.

From far shores came and went those white-sailed Argoses of old, from far southern shores where warm suns shine and sweet odors linger about strange gardens and mighty cities of men. The captains of the sea, both elves and men, came often to me and told of these things in the long autumn evenings when the wind howled eerily from the East. I have read more of these things, and of many other things besides, in the books my father, Cilborn the Shipwright, gave me when I was young and filled with wonder.

But more wonderful than the books of men and the lore of Elves is the secret lore of the ocean. Blue, green, gray, white or black; smooth, ruffled, or mountainous, the ocean is not silent. All my years have I watched it and listened to it, and I know it well. At first it told to me only the plain little tales of calm beaches and near ports, but with the centuries it grew friendlier and spoke of other things; of things stranger and more distant in space and time. Sometimes at twilight the grey vapors of the horizon have parted to grant me glimpses of the ways beyond, of the ways beneath, and often of the ways that were and the ways that might be. Such is the way with Elves, (my father especially), for the ocean is more ancient than the mountains, and freighted with the memories and the dreams of the Valar.

On occasion, when the moon was full and high in the heavens, the Grey Ships sailed to the far west. Outward they would glide very smoothly and silently over the surface, to Tol Eressea and Aman, never to return.

No matter whether the sea was rough or calm, or whether or the wind was friendly or adverse, they would always glide smoothly and silently. Ever easy went the long tiers of oars in rhythmic motion, their distant sails gently bellowing. One night a Gray Ship approached and I espied upon the deck a elf, bearded and robed, Cirdan, and he beckoned me to embark for the undying lands to the far West. Many times before I saw him under the full moon, and never had he beckoned me thus.

Bright indeed was the shining moon on the night I answered the call, and I walked out over the waters to the last Grey Ship on a bridge of moonbeams. Cirdan now spoke a welcome to me in the soft language I know well, and the hours were filled with soft songs of the crew as we glided away into the far west, golden with the glow of that full, mellow moon. When the day dawned, rosy and effulgent, I beheld the white shores of an island, bright and beautiful, and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise. Rising up from the sea the lordly terraces of verdure appeared, tree-studded, and showing here and there were the gleaming white roofs and colonnades of marvelous temples. Drawing nearer the green shore, Cirdan told me of that land, the land Tol Eressea, where dwell all the dreams and thoughts of beauty that come and those forgotten. When I looked upon the terraces again I saw that what he said was true, for among the sights before me were many things I had once seen through the mists beyond the horizon, and in the phosphorescent depths of the sea. There too were forms and things more splendid than any I had ever known, these were the visions of elves who had died before the world could learn of what they saw and dreamed. We did not set foot upon the sloping meadows of this island, however, for it is told that he who treads them may nevermore travel to other shores.

Our Grey Ship sailed silently along the shores of Tol Eressea, to the cry of sea birds of a species long ago perished from the shores of Middle Earth. We then beheld in the distance ahead the spires of a mighty city, and Cirdan said to me, "This is Thalarion, the City of Healing and Wonder, wherein reside all that man and elf have striven in vain to understand." And I looked again, at closer range, and saw that the city was greater than any I had heretofore known or seen in vison. Into the sky the spires of its temples reached, so that none might behold their peaks. and far back beyond the horizon stretched white walls, over which one might spy roofs adorned with rich friezes and alluring sculptures. I yearned mightily to enter this fascinating, quiet and peaceful city, and besought Cirdan to land me at the stone pier. Gently denying my wish he said, "my son, our journey has not yet ended, there is much to see and understand before we may rest". So the Gray Ship sailed on past the walls of the city, and followed for many days the westward flying birds, whose glossy plumage matched the sky out of which they had appeared.

Thus did we follow the birds of heaven, over warm blessed seas past the shores fanned by caressing, aromatic breezes. Another day and night after passing Tol Eressea did we sail, and when the moon was full we listened to the soft songs of the oarsmen, sweet as on that distant night when we sailed away from the home of my youth. Thus it was by moonlight that we anchored at last off a golden shore, where lies Eldamar, called Elvenhome by men. This is the land known as Aman, and we walked to the verdant shore as we had embarked, upon a golden bridge of moonbeams.

It is here, upon the eastern edge of Aman, where lies the Land of Eldamar. Here are unknown the ills of hunger and want, neither do suffering nor death haunt this blessed land, and here is where I dwelt for many ages of man. Among green groves and pasteurs I lived, with bright flowers of fragrant bouquet, the musical water of the streams and fountains runing cool and clear. Gorgeous temples, castles and cities of Eldamar, all are stately in manner and style, and I was content to call them home for a time.

Beyond each vista of beauty rises another more beautiful. Over the countryside and amidst the splendor of cities, move at will the blessed folk, all of whom are gifted with unmarred grace. For the years that I dwelt there I wandered blissfully through gardens where the white walkways are bordered with delicate blossoms. I climbed gentle hills from whose summits I could see entrancing panoramas of loveliness, with cities of enormous trees, like green towers, nestled in verdant valleys and upon gently sloping hills. I viewed by moonlight the sparkling sea, the crystal headlands, and the placid harbor wherein lay anchored the Gray Ship upon which I had traveled hence.

It was against the full moon one night that I saw outlined the beckoning form of that ship, and felt the first stirring of unrest. Then I spoke with Cirdan, and told him of my yearnings for the land of my youth, the land which the elves had forsaken.

"But not without fond memories of ages past" Said Cirdan to me, "Beware of those memories and yearnings of old wherein lies your heart. In Eldamar, there is no pain or death, but who can tell what awaits now in the lands from wence we traveled?"

Never the less, at the next full moon I boarded the Gray Ship, and with the reluctant Cirdan, left the harbor for the home I had forsaken.

With the birds of heaven going before us, leading us back toward the shores of Middle Earth, we departed. But this time the oarsmen sang no soft songs under the full moon. In my mind I would often picture the splendid groves and palaces of Mithlond, and would wonder what now awaited me there. On the green and flowery mountains of the Ered Luin, called the Blue Mountains by the Atani, I had hunted, walked and sang when the second age of the world was yet young.

Of thus would I speak to Cirdan, but ever would he warn me to turn back to the shores of the Undying Lands, for the forth age of Middle Earth is the age of men, and any elves who remain therein are fated to forget, and be forgotten.

I know not how many days we followed the birds before we beheld the mighty watchtower that had been the beacon and lighthouse of the Gray Havens, which some would say reach even to the heavens. Shrouded in mist the harbor was, and Cirdan again implored me to turn back, but I heeded him not, for from the mists about the tower I fancied there came notes sweeter than the sweetest songs of Eressea, it was the sound of the sea breaking upon the rocks below the tower, my tower, welcoming me home, me, who had voyaged far and dwelt in the Undying Land. So to the sound of this melody in my ears the Gray Ship sailed into the mist and entered the Gulf of Lune. When the mist lifted, then did Cirdan say to me, with tears upon his cheek., "You have rejected the beautiful land of the far west, which you may never behold again."

After I had stepped ashore, I closed my eyes listening to the beautiful crash of the waves, a sound that I had known for over six thousand years. Shutting my eyes to the sight of the last Grey Ship as it made its way back across the sea to another home that I had lost.

In the latter watches of the night, when I went within the tower, I saw that the room in which I had lived remained as when I had left it at the hour I sailed away. With the dawn I descended the tower and retrieved my packs from the shore, There I found a strange, dead bird whose hue was as of the azure sky and a whiteness greater than that of the wave-tips or of the mountain snow.

Thereafter the ocean told me its secrets no more, and though many times since has the moon shone full and high in the heavens, the Gray Ships of the elves were never to be seen again.

Credits;
This story was adapted from a short story by H. P. Lovecraft, (1890-1937) titled "The White Ship" originally Published in November of 1919 in The United Amateur.
Place names are of course by Tolkien, and are copyrighted by the J. R. R. Tolkien Estate Ltd.

Very special thanks to GhettoEleth for beta reading this story, your tips and suggestions made this story what I had hoped it would be..