Exploring Westernesse [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

Sea Light

Ilmarë smiled at them and nodded her head to acknowledge their gratitude. "I have brought you here for a very particular reason. Míril, someone wishes to speak with you."

"Who, my lady?" Míril cocked her head in confusion as she tried to think of who would need to speak to her.

Ilmarë walked to a large curtain that draped over a door in her house. She drew back the curtain with a slow and steady movement, revealing the visitor behind. A woman, seated on a comfortable couch, turned to them and stood. She was tall, slender and lithe. Her skin was pale but seemed blue in certain lights. Hair as gold as the sun trickled down her back and chest in curly waves.

Ilmarë began introductions as the woman all but floated over to them. "This is Calairien, Maia of Ulmo."

"Thank you, Ilmarë," nodded Calairien. "Míril, I am here on behalf of Ulmo."

Míril stared into the woman's deep, grey-green eyes. She was beautiful, more otherworldly than Ilmarë. Her dress was white and flowing, with sapphire and emerald shards in dazzling patterns. Her hands, or perhaps gloves, were scaled all the way to her elbow where it began to fade into normal skin. The name Calairien, Sea Light, was not unwarranted for wherever she stepped seemed to momentarily glow with a pale, sea blue light.

"What does the Lord need?" Míril gazed at her in amazement and hope.

Calairien smiled and gave a soft laugh. "He wishes to meet you, for he seems to believe you wish to meet him."

Elrohir and Elladan smiled as Míril nodded immediately and responded. "Yes, my lady. I would very much like to meet the Vala."

"And so you shall," Ilmarë smiled at her. "Calairien is here to bring you to him. Elladan, Elrohir, you may remain here, if you wish, with Fingon and Maglor."

Elrohir nodded immediately. "We would be grateful for that chance, Lady Ilmarë." He knew that Míril needed to do this by herself. She had a unique connection to the Lord of Waters that he didn't quite comprehend, but respected nonetheless.

With a grateful smile at her husband, Míril turned back to Calairien. "I am ready, when you are, my lady."

"Call me Calairien. I insist." The Maia laughed long and hard. "I am no great lady, but a servant of the seas."

"Alright," Míril smiled at her and turned back to Ilmarë. "Thank you, Your Grace, for allowing this meeting here. I hope to return and complete my tour of Ilmarin."

"You will be very welcome here," Ilmarë gave her a small, gracious bow and reminded her of one very important thing. "I'll make sure the Eye is available to you when you return."

Míril expressed her thanks before turning to Calairien. The Maia of Ulmo gestured for her to leave the house. As they walked on the surprisingly warm stone pathways, Míril began to ask the Maia questions.

"Where is Lord Ulmo?" She wondered if she would have to swim.

Calairien nodded. "Ulmo makes his residence deep in the sea. He rarely takes form, but when he does come ashore, he prefers to do so at a small beach north of Alqualondë."

"That will be a long walk," Míril sighed sadly. "Not unpleasant though, I suppose."

Calairien chuckled. "Do not worry. Lord Manwë has allowed us use of an eagle. Isilmo is his name, I believe."

Míril smiled. "Ah! I know this eagle. He is very kind."

"Truly?" Calairien asked. "Well then, he is better mannered than most eagles."

They walked in silence, approaching the edge of the cliff. In a large, green space there was Isilmo, the massive golden eagle of Manwë. He saw them immediately and seemed to almost smile.

"Greetings again Míril, and you must be Calairien of the Maiar." Isilmo bowed his head. "It is good to make your acquaintance."

"Truly you are more polite than most of your kind," Calairien laughed. "I am glad to have met you, Isilmo of Thorondor's line."

Isilmo gave a short laugh. "It is because I am well mannered that I act as a transport. Though I begrudge none for their use of me. Climb on!"

The two women did as instructed. Míril went first, followed by Calairien. The Maia explained to Míril that usually she, like Ulmo, did not take physical form. She prefered to be one with the shallow waters of the sea, where the light filters through and touches the seashells.

"It will be quite an experience, riding an eagle. I have not done so in many years." Calairien smiled wistfully. "Isilmo, we are ready."

"Hold on, though not too tightly." Isilmo flapped his wings and leapt off the edge of the mountain.

The wind flew through her Míril's brown hair, sending it flying every which way. Her eyes grew watery and soon she closed them to protect herself. For the first time in many years she truly felt cold, frigid, as the air rushed against her skin. She ducked, trying to make herself as flat against Isilmo's back as possible. This was much faster than the trip up to Mindelossë had taken.

After about twenty minutes of flying, the intensity dropped. They were close now, and Míril opened her eyes again. Isilmo began to land on Alqualondë's beach and Míril gasped audibly. It was beautiful. As they dismounted Isilmo, Míril crouched down and ran her hand through the beach's sand. For it wasn't just sand, but it contained millions of tiny crystalline stones, some red, some blue, some clear. Rounded shards of sapphire and ruby and quartz, topaz, tourmaline, and crystal. They sparkled in the sand endlessly, as far as her eyes could see.

"Come, Míril," Calairien said softly as to the woman. "There is more to be seen."

They thanked Isilmo. He nodded and told them to make some distance from him, for he would spray up a lot of sand on his departure. They did as instructed. Calairien led Míril, bare feet in the shallows, north along the beach. They entered a small cove. Míril could feel the power and uniqueness of this place. It reminded her of the cave in the White Mountains where she had first clearly heard Ulmo's voice.

Calairien retreated into the shallows without a word while Míril's back was turned. As the woman moved to speak to her, she heard a loud roar like a large wave.