squirrelwrangler:

Their ships are their glory and their homes. Song cannot contain the importance of their ships to the Teleri. The ships are the unsurpassed culmination of the crafts of their hands, their love for and striving towards beauty, and the collected knowledge of their people. This knowledge was built upon trial and error and by every watercraft that has come before. They are the legacy of their people, of their creativity and also the kindness and friendship of Ossë, the first to teach then to sail, to master the waves and learn to fly across its surface. The ships are a connection to their roots and also the wings that take them to the future, but most of all the breathing present of their culture. Daily life ties to their ships like the netting that hangs from the masts. The Teleri are their swan-ships, for they have poured their souls into their sails and used their planks as the foundation of their lives. The ships are the physical manifestations of the furthest flights of fancy dreamed up by their builders. Seemingly delicate, calculated and engineered, they are also the work of an entire community, those long efforts of many hands, of men and women, from eldest to youngest. Every hand has at least some small part in the building and maintenance of the fleet, and all have sailed upon them. Undeniably the swan-ships are masterful works of art, yet they have purpose and a practical application greater than their unequaled beauty. Tools as well as sculpture, homes as much as monuments to their creators. The movement across the bay comes from the performance of their sailors to ensure their white sails catch the winds and their swan-shaped prows cut through the cresting waves, to create a dance that gives meaning to their glorious appearance. It is with pride that their owners gaze upon the work of their people.

The mingling lights of the Two Trees dimly illuminates the harbor of Alqualondë, and even that light disappears when one takes a ship out into the bay, for it would be a waste of not the just effort and craftsmanship but of the soul to chain any seaworthy vessel

to the docks, especially those as perfect as these masterpieces. To Tol Eressëa they will sail sometimes, but usually there is no destination in mind. The joy of the ocean and to see the jet inlay eyes of the swan-like prows buffeted by spray is goal enough. Out on the water there is no Tree-light, only the stars, and darkness holds no fear if it is surrounded by the creaking of sails and the roar of wind and wave.

When the true darkness of Ungoliant’s Unlight comes, and Morgoth destroys the Two Trees and steals the Silmarils, there is unease and sorrow in Alqualondë. It is strange to have only darkness come through the Pass of Light, and Ossë does not answer their demands for news or reassurance. The Teleri turn to their ships, for the vast majority live upon their vessels far more often than they do ashore. And standing aboard the gently swaying decks, huddled with their arms around their families in the cool holds, here they feel safe. The ships are the most perfected works of their people’s hands, their homes and their pride. And as long as they are aboard their ships, the lack of aught but starlight feels completely natural, whereas the dark streets of Alqualondë where once there was always at least a silvery twilight hold no comfort. On their ships they can pretend they are somewhere else, out on the bay away from shore, out near Tol Eressëa with its high cliffs and sweet-smelling trees. One can almost forget anything dire has happened. The swaying of the ships rock their children to sleep.

The Darkness of Valinor, and the madness that comes with it, feels like a hurricane on the horizon to the Teleri. But their ships do not falter on the waves and with hand pressed to their tall masts and proudly carved prows, they know they need but wait out this storm and the smooth waters will return. Strength pours from the wood of their ships to calm them.

With their swan-ships the Teleri wait.