Eärrámë

Wind whipped the waves to froth, whitecaps dancing like silver slippers across the blue, the green, the grey – the sacred singing sea.

Wind filled our sail and wrapped it like a lover’s arms about the mast. Wind lifted her golden hair, the seabirds and our hearts.

Sunlight leaned to kiss the scurrying waves with sparkle; brilliance. Sunlight kissed my shoulders and hands, the back of my neck.

What man ever had such lovers? Love rushes in like the tide, love from above and below, love you can submerge in.

Where are we going? We are going to sea …

This drabble concerns Tuor's decision to sail west.

It was written for a challenge at Henneth Annun where you can find my work under the name fileg.