The Voyage of the Sand Piper by Himring

The Voyage of the Sand Piper: At the Mouths of Sirion

Soon they rounded the Cape and entered the Bay of Balar, their destination. The pearl hunters had no permanent base in the area, but with all their comings and goings a few customary camping places or ports of call had established themselves. The Sand Piper first made for one of these locations, which was in Lisgardh, at the Mouths of Sirion. There, they camped on an eyot surrounded by reed on almost all sides.

Halven had meditatively surveyed the swampy channel and the network of muddy islands, with few patches of firmer ground in between, as they approached, and now, casting a look at the towering reeds, remarked: ‘This seems a safe, sheltered space.’

Cirdan was a little startled, but replied: ‘Yes, definitely—except for the midges, of course,’ and he flapped his hand at a cloud of tiny insects.

Halven grinned a little.

After a period of rest, the pearl divers were ready to start and set about their task with great efficiency. Halven did not attempt to take part herself, except for minor support duties, leaving matters to the experts, but observed their daring deep dives admiringly.

‘Aren’t they amazing!’ she exclaimed. ‘Look at that one over there!’

‘Yes,’ Cirdan agreed, keeping his gaze on the diver who at this moment surfaced, smiling widely. ‘She is very skilled. They all are.’

Halven seemed to sense a reservation on his part; he felt her watching him attentively.

‘In earlier times,’ he said reluctantly, ‘we only collected pearls as we found them by chance. I can hardly fault my people for doing what I asked them to do, and doing it well, but I have been worrying… We may be depleting the oyster beds. But Thingol’s need is great.’

Halven looked at the growing pile of shellfish on the shore.

‘Have you spoken to King Thingol about your concerns?’

‘Ye-es,’ said Cirdan. ‘I did mention it.’

‘You were being polite, and now you are not sure how closely he was listening?’ guessed Halven.

Cirdan gave a little, slightly jerky nod.

‘It might be worth speaking to him more clearly,’ mused Halven. ‘Sometimes I gain the impression some of those people in Menegroth think we practically have fish tails. They might be convincing themselves we can somehow sweet-talk the oysters into giving up their pearls, not thinking too hard about it…’

Meanwhile the diving proceeded as planned. There was shellfish stew for dinner, after the day’s stint was done, of course, and it was delicious. Halven sat, spoon in hand, and looked over the rim of her bowl at the horizon, across the bay. She spotted a small low island out there, not too far off, little more than a perch for sea birds. A higher land mass rose farther out among the waves.

‘That is Balar, over there, isn’t it?’ she asked, lowering her bowl and pointing with her spoon. ‘The Isle, I mean.’

‘Yes,’ said Cirdan. ‘That is where we will be going next.’

Chapter End Notes

The Havens of Sirion don't actually exist yet, at this period, but you may already have realized that this piece is partly intended to suggest a bit of backstory for Cirdan's choice of both the Havens and of Balar as refuges later on.