Chapter 433: An Invitation
Kael walked along the shoreline at Alqualondë, the white sand scattered with pearls, gemstones, and crystals that the Telerin Elves had strewn there as casually as decorations — treasures that would have been beyond price in Middle-earth, lying underfoot like pebbles.
He paid none of it any attention. His eyes moved across the pale grains of sand between the jewels, searching.
"What are you looking for, Kael?"
He looked up. It was Círdan.
"Ancient sand," Kael said, seeing no reason to be vague about it. "Grains that have been here long enough that time hasn't worn them away."
Ordinary sand eroded — ground down by water and time until it diminished to nothing. What Kael needed was the hardest kind, the grains that had endured countless ages of ocean and surf and come through unchanged. The beach he was standing on had certainly been here long enough, given Valinor's nature, but the sand itself didn't seem to meet the threshold he had in mind.
Círdan considered this for a moment.
"I might be able to help with that."
At Kael's questioning look, he gave a slight smile. "The sand on the shore is only what the waves push up — the remnants. What you're looking for is more likely to be found on the ocean floor. That's where the sediment of uncountable ages has settled and stayed."
Kael felt the thought click into place. Of course.
"Thank you, Círdan. That helps a great deal."
"We're friends, aren't we?" Círdan waved it off.
Seeing Kael turn towards the water with obvious intent, he reached out a hand to stop him.
"Wait a moment. I may be able to call on some friends who can help you more directly."
"Friends in the sea?"
Círdan reached into his robe and produced a golden conch shell. He raised it toward the water and blew.
The sound was low and resonant, carrying a quality that seemed to travel not just across the surface but downward, into the depths.
It did not take long. Several swift shapes appeared beneath the water, heading for the shore, and a moment later, a group of mermaids surfaced near the beach.
They were the Oarni — sea spirits, attendants of the sea Maiar Ossë and Uinen. Kael had first heard their voices during the crossing, singing through the fog as the ship made its approach to Aman.
They were beautiful, their upper forms pale and luminous, long fish-tails catching the light beneath the water's surface, white hair gleaming in the sun.
The foremost among them — wearing a light silver veil and a necklace of pearls — addressed Círdan with easy familiarity.
"Círdan. What do you need of us?"
"Good day to you, lovely ladies of the waves." Círdan's tone was warm. He gestured to Kael beside him. "This is the wizard Kael. He is looking for ancient sand — grains old enough that the sea has not worn them down. You know the ocean better than anyone. I was hoping you might be able to tell my friend where such a thing could be found."
The Oarni turned their attention to Kael. As attendants of Ossë and Uinen, they were sensitive to power, and what they felt from him — Maiar-equivalent, clearly, even if it could not be compared directly to their own masters' — earned him a respectful regard.
"Good day, honoured wizard Kael. The Oarni greet you."
Kael gave a friendly gesture. "Please, no need for formality. I appreciate your help."
His easy manner relaxed them somewhat. They put their heads together and conferred in low voices.
After a moment, the lead Oarni spoke. "We do know of a place. It is Lady Uinen's undersea pasture. There is sediment there that washed down from the Pelóri Mountains long ages ago — extraordinarily hard grains, worn by tens of thousands of years of water and not diminished by it. If anything, they have become more beautiful, like small diamonds. We do not know if that is what you are looking for, but it sounds as though it might be."
Kael's attention sharpened immediately. "Could you take me there to see?"
The Oarni looked uncertain. "The pasture belongs to our Lady Uinen. We cannot bring others into it without her permission."
She paused. "But if you need the sand itself — we could go and bring some back for you."
The disappointment Kael had felt vanished. He was quick to consider the other side of it, though.
"Would that put you in a difficult position? Would Uinen be displeased?"
The Oarni smiled and shook their heads. "Those hard grains are scattered everywhere in the pasture floor. We actually sift them out and discard the sharpest ones — they can cut Lady Uinen's feet if she walks there. If you want them, we can bring them now."
"Then I would be very grateful," Kael said with genuine warmth.
The Oarni slipped back beneath the surface and were gone, heading for Uinen's pasture.
Kael and Círdan remained on the beach and waited.
Some time passed. Then the Oarni reappeared — but they came back empty-handed.
Kael started to move toward them, then noticed.
"Wizard Kael," the lead Oarni said, with a respectful inclination of her head, "our lords Ossë and Uinen have heard of your deeds. They wish to invite you to visit them as their guest."
Kael blinked.
He had come to look for sand. He had not expected that looking for sand would attract the notice of two Maiar, let alone bring an invitation.
Ossë and Uinen were among the most powerful of all the Maiar — sea spirits in service to Ulmo, Lord of Waters, and the highest authorities over the ocean below Ulmo himself. Between them, they held absolute command over the seas. Outside of Ulmo, nothing in the ocean moved without their awareness.
Why would beings of that standing take any interest in him? He had Maiar-equivalent power, yes — but that was relative to ordinary Maiar. The gap between an ordinary Maia and a Maia of Ossë and Uinen's level was not a matter of degree. It was a different category altogether. He had only just reached the threshold of Maiar-equivalent power. They had been at the heights of it since the beginning of the world.
He couldn't work out what had drawn their attention. But he had no real grounds to refuse, and more than one reason to accept. He wanted the sand. And declining an invitation from two of the ocean's greatest powers, who had extended it without any apparent hostility, seemed unwise.
He said goodbye to Círdan and waded into the water.
The lead Oarni pressed a small golden pearl into his hand before he went further in. He felt the water part around it as he held it — withdrawing from him in every direction, leaving him in a pocket of open air that moved with him as he walked. Breathing was easy, natural.
He could have managed the same effect himself, through Transfiguration or Potions. But he didn't refuse the courtesy. He turned the pearl over in his fingers, appreciating the elegance of it, and followed the Oarni down into the depths.