Nainië by Laurefinde

The Talkative Albatross

     “Of what do you sing?”

     “My regrets,” Macalaurë told the albatross who had flown close and landed on a barnacle-covered boulder next to his own. He could not recall seeing albatrosses settle on the shore, they were always in the air at sea.

     “Regrets?” The jet eye of the bird regarded Macalaurë with interest. “How can you regret this beautiful expanse of sea or this wind that plays about you bringing you the scents and secrets of many things. How can you regret these waves of strength that grind all things to nothing or even the fish in schools coming up from the depths of the ocean to see the sun and find the death they seek by my flashing beak? Of what is there to regret?” The albatross twisted to the side and preened a wayward feather back into line before she returned to gaze on the lone beachcomber who seemed gentle enough to question. "You have a beautiful voice and I envy it."

     The corners of the singer's mouth rose at this. He looked to the booming waves noting the tide had turned and an incoming storm had made the sea fierce. His grey eyes searched each lifting breaker as they came closer. He would soon lose his perch and the barnacles would return to their preferred home under the sea. His wandering mind almost forgot what regrets he had as he mulled over the bird's words. Macalaurë had not spoken to anyone in so long even a sea bird was good company.

     “I have regrets that bear no meaning for you,” he finally replied. “You are a wise bird. I should be thankful for the simple things in my life now. I should not dwell on the things I cannot change.” Misery clenched his heart then eased with great effort on the singer's part.

     “What is it you wish to change?”

     Macalaurë studied the ocean waves once more as he returned to those regrets he seemed unable to dismiss. “Everything.” How could he possibly put into words the failures and destruction he had fostered over the years? The bird would never understand the history of his family, his oath or his inability to follow it to an honorable end. His father, Fëanor, had given his seven sons a mission, an oath that would be impossible to enact. Now he was the last son living compelled to do his best to make that oath good. He wondered if albatrosses knew or kept oaths. There was much silence as he thought to put words together so the bird would understand his regret.

     “I did things I should not have done, killed those who were innocent of any wrongdoing and I wish to return to the times before such things happened”, he finally said aloud. The singer's voice was rough with emotion.

     The albatross moved closer and angled her head sideways, one black eye looked at the sad traveler. What she saw on the barnacle boulder was unusual. The aged bird had not seen many of these shining ones yet there were stories handed down from nesting pairs to their offspring from the moment of the first shell cracking. Her mother had told her these creatures were special, they feel and speak a language all creatures can hear and they understand much in the way of the world that the kindred of Men do not. This one she had seen often over the years passing one way or the other by the sea but she had never cared to speak to him until now, until the sad song drew her in. It seemed the singer carried his strength in his voice with no care for important things.

     “Shall I catch you a fish or two?” the bird finally said.

     “Thank you but I am not hungry.”

     “You must eat or you will become too weak to sing, all birds know this.” The albatross angled her head toward him, ignoring the breeze and the incoming waves. “You know the story we have grown up with will change if you die. When our fledglings learn the tale you would no longer be upon the shore.  They will be unable to see the truth of it and your life will become meaningless to them. Your songs would whither and die from our memory... Is this why your song is sad?”

     Macalaurë smiled. It was the first time in many days his face had expressed a friendly tenderness. His mood lifted at the thought of albatross chicks learning of a sad singer who lived and walked by the sea.

     “I did not know I was part of your legends.” He contemplated the idea for awhile and both were silent. “I do not wish to trouble you with my lamentations but you should have no worry. I shall live forever, it is my punishment. Your offspring and theirs will see me for many ages to come.” He stood up and wrapped his tattered cloak around his shoulders. “Here, the tide has arrived to fill the pools and cover our rocks.”

     The bird seemed to sigh. She waited a minute or two then opened her wings, pushed with her legs and launched herself into the wind. She uttered a low call of farewell before sailing effortlessly into the west.

     Macalaurë raised his hand and stared longingly to where the albatross had disappeared beyond the waves. He stepped down to the wet shelf of shell and sand. Saltwater gently swept over his feet to fill the surrounding tide pools. He moved toward the undisturbed white sand where he took up his wandering once more. The sea in the afternoon light shone green in the raised breakers. He watched as the surge washed over the rocks he and the albatross had used and wondered if this was just another dream. His gentle face smiled with weary amusement as he thought about the education of albatross chicks. Optimism pushed itself into his heart and dueled with his darker moods. The result left his lips as a new song.