The Fairest Vessels That Ever Sailed by Lindariel

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Chapter 6: Their Shape and Way of Growth

Alatáriel is a tree-hugger, and Círdan is her student.

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Alatáriel laid her hand on a tall, straight tree. "And this one will be a keel," she declared.

"How did you choose them?" Círdan inquired.

"You already know how to speak with a tree," she answered, removing her hand from the tree. She began walking back toward the small pile of camp gear they had unloaded from their horses half a day ago. "But for this task one must first identify a likely tree, one that has the potential to grow into what you want it to become. Attend to its shape and how it grows, discern how it interacts with the air and soil and water in which it exists. Then speak with such a tree to learn its inclinations."

"How do you know if they are willing?" Círdan interjected, falling into step beside her.

"Every tree has an awareness of itself, a vision of the way it wants to grow in response to its particular situation. A tree satisfied with the way its growth matches its vision is not suited to this work. Only an unsatisfied tree will agree to be reshaped."

"Ah!" Círdan breathed, so taken with the idea she was presenting that he stopped walking to consider it. "It is a little like healing, then."

"Yes," Alatáriel replied, waiting for him to catch up, "it is very much like healing, especially during the reshaping. The most important thing to fix in your mind is the shape you want from the tree. This is almost instinctive for healers, since they are working with bodies just like their own. But shaping trees for woodwrights' purposes requires a thorough understanding of more than just the individual tree. One must also understand the properties of the wood from that kind of a tree after it is harvested and seasoned and finished, and one must also understand thoroughly the shape and size and grain of the piece of finished wood one requires. Teleporno has taught me about the shapes of wood required and the properties of different types of trees thanks to his deep knowledge of building, expressed in the swan-ships of his -- your -- people in Aman.

"In short, as a Yavannildë I learned how to encourage plants to grow into the shapes they imagine for themselves. Teleporno then taught me the lore of wood for shipbuilding, and then I taught the willing trees to grow into those shapes," she concluded.

"How do you secure a tree's consent to be reshaped?" asked Círdan, perplexed.

"I offer it the possibility of living on as a thing of great beauty and utility long after its natural life is over. Not all of them accept, though: about half the trees I have approached with this offer have decided to live as they have already grown. The others have willingly undertaken to grow themselves into ship timbers. I do not know why some accept and some do not. They are like people in that way, I think, not always predictable..." Alatáriel's voice trailed off as her gaze, trained on the canopy of tree boughs above, unfocused.

A greeting from Teleporno shook her out of her reverie as she realized they had arrived at their campsite. The little shelter had been pitched. Nearby Teleporno sat smiling by a tidy little cookfire, pulling several packets of green leaves out of the coals and dropping them into a trough-shaped piece of dry bark. A roasty green scent hung in the air. "I found fern fronds!" he exclaimed. "They should be ready to eat now."

Círdan snatched up a packet, dropped it onto a smaller piece of bark, and unfolded the crumpled leaves carefully. A burst of steam erupted from the handful of green spirals inside, and Círdan bent his head to breathe in the scent appreciatively. "Well done!" he said. "These look and smell excellent. I shall make a cook of you yet, nephew," he chuckled. He set his packet down by his saddlebags and began to rummage inside.

"Thank you, uncle," Teleporno grinned as he opened a packet of his own. "Come, Alatáriel, have some fresh greens."

"What a splendid surprise!" Alatáriel said as she reached for a packet. Teleporno handed her a piece of bark to use as a plate. "Thank you!" she said, adding "for setting up the tent also."

"I know you will need it this afternoon," he said. She nodded as she took two more packets onto her plate.

"Here," Círdan offered, "try this." He held one of the little clay fishpots in his hand, tipping out a thin stream of the oil onto his packet of greens. "They are wonderful with a bit of the oil on them." Teleporno moved over to try the combination.

"That does sound good," Alatáriel agreed, unmoving, "but I should eat lightly now in preparation for tonight's work. Just plain will be perfect! And then I shall retire to the tent to clear my mind for the work."

After chasing her plate of greens with a long draught of water, Alatáriel vanished into the tent. Círdan and Teleporno, deep in the consumption of delicious fish-oiled greens and waybread, exchanged a long look. "Well, uncle?" Teleporno ventured, "are you beginning to understand how she works?" This time he spoke very quietly in the old tongue, rather than in the Falathrin they had been using the past three days.

"Yes, I think so," Círdan replied in the same tongue, drawing out each word as if he were not entirely sure. "She has done this before? On shipbuilding projects with you?"

"She has," Teleporno confirmed. "This is how we prepared for and built Canyalqua, although we practiced on smaller ships before her. Alatáriel's people have an affinity for this kind of work. They are great designers and builders, and they have a special relationship with Yavanna Kementári, the Valië, um, the Balan of growing things on account of her spouse Aulë the Balan of things made by craft. Her mother taught her sailmaking in the royal atelier at Alqualondë, and then she took naturally to shipbuilding after we became friends. She is no good at all with adze or chisel or plane, but she comprehends the lore of the wood deeply, in some ways more deeply than I. None else that I know of have ever sought to create ships this way."

"I am glad she has decided to teach me the way of it," Círdan replied. "Soon the new shipyard will be finished and you can begin showing me the hull construction they use in the Blessed Lands. By the time these trees are harvested, we shall have a host of skilled shipwrights ready to build great ships."

"Yes, with better sails as well, but that too will be from my lady's teaching," Teleporno agreed.

Círdan finally dropped his voice to speak as quietly as Teleporno. "Your lady?" he repeated, with a twinkle in his eye. "Does she know you call her that?"

"I never call her that," Teleporno replied. "She has been through too much strain of late on account of troublemakers in her family. She is not ready to consider a suitor. For now, I am content to be her best friend and co-worker."

"Yet you think of her as your lady," Círdan pressed.

"Yes, I do. And one day, I believe I will be entitled to call her that in front of everybody. She has already allowed me to give her a name, the one she uses in preference to all others."

"What? Alatáriel is not her name?"

"No, her family names are Artanis Nerwen. But she chose the name I gave her over either of them, and I believe that to be a sign for the future. Now please, forget I called her 'my lady' lest I say it again before it is time," Teleporno urged. "Here, have some more waybread."

"Not for me," Círdan said. "If she is eating lightly, I should probably do likewise. I should not be sleepy for my first lesson."

* * * * *

As Anor set, Ithil rose. Alatáriel walked up to a tall tree she had selected to become a keel. She laid her hand on the bark for a moment before sitting down right next to it. Círdan sat down nearby. "It is difficult to open ósanwë with someone in an unfamiliar language," she told him, "but I will try to share my thoughts with you. If it proves impossible, you can still learn from watching and sensing the tree. We will go over it more as I adjust the other trees, and of course when we are back in Eglarest."

"Yes," he said.

"When I am ready, I will clasp the tree from one side. You must clasp it from the other side. But first I will try to open ósanwë with you."

"I am ready," said Círdan.

Alatáriel drew the ritual three breaths she had been taught to use before initiating ósanwë. With each breath she focused more intently on hearing without ears, seeing without eyes, speaking without voice. Then she spoke mind to mind. "Can you hear me?" she asked Círdan.

Círdan heard her mind touch his. It registered as a low, melodic, almost chanting cadence that stumbled a bit over the Falathrin tongue. "Yes," he replied slowly and clearly. The language barrier was down for now, but the work had barely begun.

"It is time," she said. She knelt and touched her forehead to the great tree, shutting her eyes and clasping her arms as far around it as she could. Círdan moved to mirror her position from the other side of the tree, being careful not to touch her. She reached out to the tree with her mind, reminding it of the conversation they had had earlier in the day. As she did so, she concentrated on sharing the awareness with Círdan. Since they both understood the language of trees clearly, he had no trouble following the conversation she was having with the tree. He heard the tree acknowledge her and consent to being transmuted.

Alatáriel's breath slowed as she focused her inner sight on the tree. She willed herself closer and closer to its core, past the hardness that protected the softness until her awareness walked among the very particles of Eä that gave it shape and form. Círdan struggled to follow along as she began to visualize the completed keel of a great ship, but she was well beyond the ability to shape language now, and he lost the trail of her thoughts. That did not stop him from sensing the tree pulsing from the manipulations she was applying to its substance. He felt ripples of warm yellow light strobing through him to gather in a cloud all around the tree, carrying the faint scent of an impossibly sweet flower. Although he did not dare move his head, he could not resist opening his eyes to see the light better. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw a soft glow coming from either side of the tree, and it seemed to come from the ends of Alatáriel's long unbound hair standing straight out from her head, gold touched with the silver of moonlight. Quickly he closed his eyes again, waiting for the next touch of mind or voice.

Alatáriel began to sing a lilting song in Quenya. She lifted her head from the tree and stroked the trunk several times with her hands. The sensation of light ripples subsided as Círdan waited, listening and wishing he had tried to learn Alatáriel's language with as much energy as she had tried to learn his. When she finished, she whispered "Círdan?" before slumping over.

Círdan opened his eyes and saw Alatáriel on the ground, hair splayed out around her like a great golden pool. "I am here," he told her, moving to take her hands. "Are you all right?" he asked, glad that he heard Teleporno approaching.

"Only tired," she said, still whispering. "I am sorry I could not take you with me all the way."

"No matter," he said, "we shall have many more chances."

Teleporno appeared, leaning down to pick up Alatáriel in his arms. "Come," he said, "I have prepared your bedroll. You must rest before doing more." He carried her back to camp, Círdan trailing along behind, and deposited her on her pallet under the lean-to. He moved to pillow her head in his lap, then picked up and opened a small clear flask lying beside the pallet. "One sip for each of you," he said, offering it first to Alatáriel who siezed it gratefully and sipped.

"I am out of practice," she said, handing the flask to Círdan, who looked inquiringly at Teleporno as he swallowed.

Immediately he was sorry he had swallowed the liquid rather than keeping it in his mouth to savor. It was sweet as mead, yet redolent with strange herbs and flowers. "What is this nectar?" he asked, astonished at how restored he felt by it.

"It is called miruvórë, a drink of Aman," Teleporno informed him. "We brought a small and precious supply of it with us."

"I should like to introduce our healers to it," Círdan said, looking at the little flask avidly.

"I can teach them how to make something similar," Alatáriel replied, struggling to sit up. She sounded much stronger already, but Teleporno gently pushed her back down anyway. "It will not be quite as potent without some of the ingredients from Aman, but I am sure we can find some beneficial herbs and flowers to use."

"You are going to be very busy when we get back to Eglarest!" laughed Teleporno, taking back the flask.

"Busy runs in my family," she laughed back, then suddenly sobered. Teleporno began to sing a silly nursery rhyme about a child who did not want to stop dancing long enough to sleep, and Alatáriel laughed again before suddenly falling asleep.

Two days later, Alatáriel finished her work with the trees. Three new ships would one day result from this trip's work, and Círdan was beginning to understand how to do the shaping. Now it was time to go back to Eglarest and see if Teleporno's new shipyard was ready. She was reluctant to leave this beautiful forest, the loveliest place she had seen in Endor so far, but she was sure she would return. As they walked through the forest whistling for their horses, the three trod so lightly among the blue and white flowers that none could mark where they had passed.

 

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Chapter End Notes

Yavannildë (Q)-- an acolyte of Yavanna

ósanwë (Q) -- telepathy, mind speech

Eä (Q)-- the physical world

miruvórë (Q)-- the meadlike Valarin cordial later known in its Middle-Earth version as miruvor (S)

This chapter takes place in early spring, before the birch leaves are entirely open. The "crumpled leaves" in which Teleporno steamed his fiddleheads came from primrose, a Middle-Earth perennial plant attested in at least three Hobbit names (Primrose Boffin Bracegirdle, Primrose Gardner, and Primula Brandybuck). Primroses (Primula vulgaris) grow in birch forests with the climate conditions of Nimbrethil; their leaves are edible and last most of the year even though the plant flowers only once a year.

Sorry for the delay in posting this. I suddenly realized I had to figure out how I thought the magic worked before I could write about it, and there were real-life interruptions as well.