I never liked te ocean. I always found it scary, I mused about it many times before, that it is unsettling to look at, to smell, to hear especially. But ever since I started my journey to visit other lands, like my friend from the Far West did, I am proud to say that I have grown to... tolerate its sight, smell and voice for at least a few miles, when I can't take refuge in the shadows of woods or behing the great sand dunes that eastern winds blow. When I cannot walk on roads for fear of being caught by hostile men. For a few miles I can walk, and bear it, until it overwhelms me and then all I can do is find anywhere to hide and soothe myself, think of my forest, of the great desert, of green and yellow hues, anything that is not blue.
Blue... I speak of blue, but so quickly can it turn to frightening grey, too, and the waves begin to roil, to scream and roar with the fury of eons immemorial. There is nowhere to hide at sea during a storm, no trees to shelter from rain and the sight of all that grey, no leaves rustling to soften the thunder, to shield the eyes from lightning. And then... and then it stops, suddenly, it returns blue like nothing ever happened, like the one rare day of rain in the desert.
My friend said that the sea answers to the mood swings of Osse, a spirit of ancient times, like the one that lead the Quendi on a journey into the unknown with only his word and a promise of a better home. Why the need to split us? My tribe's elders say that our roots are in the solid earth and here we should stay. My friend said that for his people, the coasts and the ocean are now home. How do they live like this I wonder? With no shelter from the fury when the grey swallows everything and with no landmarks when the blue stretches out beyond the horizon... I'd rather be lost in a desert than at sea. Yes... desert blue I call it. I know my friend won't like it, but maybe I can make him understand why its sight unsettles me, maybe I will understand what makes it so alluring to him and the other sea elves. When I will find them...
I pull my cloak close to avoid the sprays. My path will take me along the Haradwathian coast and north, where I did not know lands existed until the fateful day I met my friend. If I want to understand him and his people more, I must face the sight of this endless blue desert even if I don't like to. He also told me that to him, a constant song reverbrates in his ears when in the seaìs vicinity and that is a constant reminder of the journey the Quendi walked long ago... but why can't I hear it then? Should I hear it? Am I forbidden to hear this song of yore? Maybe, given that my ancestors refused the offer of the Powers. Maybe it is for the better that I cannot hear it... hm. It is one more question that I must ask once I find the sea elves.
With more and more questions in my head I march on, on my own Great Journey with no Powers to guide me but my own determination. Because why would they help one of the "Unwilling"?
