Author's Note: "Missing Moments" is a series of vignettes that forms a companion piece to the overall story cycle which I increasingly think of as "Ariel's Isle."

I intend these stories to convey crucial experiences and events not themselves easily written into the main stories. They are not ancillary, however; rather I think they will prove essential to understanding some the deeper meanings and powerful emotions which suffuse the characters throughout, as well as inform their development over time.

While I hope to write them to be chronological in order, it is likely that some disorder will arise as these vignettes multiply. To compensate, as is my custom, I will include the date within the overall story with the title and setting information to orient the reader.

Publication Date: Thursday, November 6th, 2014 (Major Emendations: Saturday, December 5th, 2015)

Missing Moments

Chapter 1 – Why?

~~~ Friday, the 2nd of May, 1806 AD ~~~

~ 3:47 a.m. ~

Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix

"Why do you love me?"

Around and around Ariel's words echoed in his mind as Eric found himself lying strangely awake, his eyes alert and open, peering at the high glasswork of the bedchamber's ceiling and chandeliers.

"Because I couldn't love anyone else." he had replied with the briefest moment of thought. That had been his answer.

Slowly becoming aware of his own breathing, Eric lifted himself upon his right elbow, opening his eyes to behold Ariel beside him, her head resting softly upon her pillow and half upon his. He watched her for what seemed a silent eternity, the gentle rise and fall of her breast, the slight movement of the wisps of her hair as she breathed the air of the human world. In her repose, Ariel's expression was so beautifully serene, he thought, that it seemed to him almost a smile of happiness and contentment.

The moon lay low in the western sky, its light filling their bedchamber and its furnishings with a gentle silver luminance as its rays slipped silently and effortlessly through the great glass panes of the western windows.

As he looked down upon his young wife, he felt the overwhelming warmth of his own contentment and surety that he had indeed found her. Rather of course, she had found him, saved him, and not simply from death, but from life; a hopeless life which he could not now even bring himself to contemplate.

But the question remained. "Why is it that I love her?" Eric asked himself.

Oh, that he loved her there was no doubt. Just thinking of her could make his heart seem like it would burst with the simple need of her companionship. Indeed his answer to her question had been so truthful that it now seemed to him trite. No, he couldn't possibly love any other, not having found her, not knowing all that she had risked and sacrificed just for the mere chance that she might be able to win his love. He wondered, had she not come into his life, could he have ever truly loved anyone else? He doubted even the possibility of it now. All of his life Eric had hoped … no, known, that she was out there; and now here she was, his very dream, with him and right beside him.

And she … was his wife.

In that moment that Ariel had asked him her question his mind and heart had raced, seeking an answer. Still they searched. What words can truly describe even lesser feelings, let alone love, that deepest and most profound of all emotions?

Ariel was his dream, the one for whom he had saved himself, the one of whom he had dreamt all his life. Long ago before she had become his mysterious savior that night, long before he had found her stranded and stricken upon the shore not far from the palace, long before she has stepped back out of the sea and into his loving embrace … he had dreamt of her.

"What is it about her," he wondered "that makes her so … precious to me?"

Was it her character? Her personality? Was it the courage that lived in her despite her diminutive height and delicate frame?

He had seen her valiantly challenge the Witch over her father's fate, only to be seized and thrown back, suddenly and fearfully realizing that she would next be slain. In defense of others, Ariel could be fearless, at least until she realized her peril, and even then she might hopelessly persevere. After the Witch had threatened her life, Ariel had still dared to assail her again, this time in his defense. It was not just once that she had saved his life.

"How many other young women would have done such a thing?" he wondered.

Of course it worried and upset him, for from what little he had discerned from what she had told him of her former life, Ariel had often found herself in great danger because of this very quality of her character. As he looked upon her, he considered how she could be so willful in one moment, yet entirely giving in the next. Often she was both in the same instant.

Her curiosity and wonder at his world had won his heart from the moment he noted these qualities in her, that first night in the Dining Hall, and during the walk about the palace they had taken thereafter before Carlotta had spirited her off to bed. For once, Eric was himself proud of what he had to offer her, the history of the Palace, the tales of the settling of Christiansted, the ballads of the knights standing silent watch in the North Wing, the legends of Holger Danske.

It was so rewarding knowing that his mind and learning actually mattered to her, and that she seemed to find such joy in his mere words. He loved Ariel's quick but unassuming intelligence, her fascination with new things, and her love of books of all sorts. He adored her intense desire to learn, well … practically everything.

Along with her curiosity, though, Ariel was full of care and compassion for others, even in this newly found and sometimes cruel world of humans. Eric had seen this quality in his first foray into the countryside and town with her when they visited the Church of the Zebaoth, where she had recoiled in fear at the image of the Crucifixion and the pain she saw in the tormented face and body of the Christ, being of course then entirely unaware of the meaning and memory it had been intended to convey.

What amazed Eric was not only how sensitive Ariel was to even the perception of suffering, but also how immediately and how instinctively she seemed to feel such compassion for a suffering man, a human whose identity was completely unknown to her; and she didn't even know who He was. As Eric had held her in his arms and spoken soothingly to her, she had calmed at his words, suddenly perceiving through him that she was safe, and safe within that place.

Eric loved this aspect of Ariel. She had an inner beauty which reflected in how she regarded and treated everyone she met. To Ariel, everyone was worthy of her deepest care and no one was evenly slightly beneath her. To Ariel, even the most malign of beings was redeemable. Her innocent generosity of spirit, and sadly he thought, her naiveté concerning his fellow human beings, was wholly remarkable; and while she inspired him to greater hope for his own kind, he also feared that one day unless she was carefully protected, she would be terribly hurt, or worse.

Eric and Ariel had gone to that church with a weekly regularity that still seemed to be more than a bit mystifying but delightful to her, as Eric had himself almost every Sunday before she had entered his life. From what little he understood from their limited discussions of such matters, organized worship, perhaps even worship altogether, was unknown to her. This worried him. Despite the doubtful possibilities of his succession to the throne, the Lutheran faith remained an absolute requirement for the monarch, and was required of his bride as well for her to be accepted.

Thankfully, Pastor Jensen who had just weeks before wed them at sea, seemed quite delighted to see Ariel at their every meeting, and even once referred to her as a "child and gift of God" upon seeing her loving generosity to the orphans of Christiansted. Unexpectedly, the old minister had moderated his famously fiery and dire sermons since the marriage and Eric believed this had been to accommodate the sensitivities of the young Princess while she slowly learned of his peoples' beliefs. But not all of the folk of Jomfruøerne felt that way, and fewer in his homeland would share such generosity of spirit he feared. Eric worried that even while Ariel was learning of his beliefs and the faith of his people, others might come to regard her as some manner of…

He couldn't think it.

The offending word stuck in his mind, refusing to be said, even in thought; though Eric understood why some might believe it. Mariners had dark tales of the Folk of the Sea, such that many were fearful of them, and for good reason perhaps. He himself had looked upon Ariel's father, taken counsel of him, and had no doubt that his wrath could be as terrifying as his kindness could be endearing. But he hated to even let that awful word enter his thought, for Ariel was anything but an … abomination. Rather, she was to him more like an angel, ascended from some beautiful, watery heaven.

Even in the wake of the enlightenment, though, men and women still clung to superstition and ancient ways of thinking; and those who knew of Ariel's origins and nature had already seen to it that rumors had quickly spread among the folk of the Isles, as well as the strange tales about her. Many had seen her on that fateful third night of her new human life, and few would or even could forget what they had seen.

Never had Eric seen anything less than complete and thoughtful kindness reflect through Ariel's actions, nor since she had regained her lovely voice had he heard anything other than words and song beautiful and innocent emanate from her lips. Her voice was literally that of the sirens; soft, sweetly euphonious, quintessentially feminine; yet unlike those of those mythical creatures, utterly unthreatening. Her singing could be heard from far away, with a beauty and clarity that ever amazed him; and Ariel loved to sing.

She eagerly learned the songs of humanity, its music, its ballads, its hymns, and she stood awestruck at the infinite sounds of its countless fine instruments. The church's great pipe organ thrilled her, stirring some memory in her it seemed which Eric could not fathom, though at first she had been terrified at its mighty speech resounding with the masterpieces of Bach.

Even with this, Eric allowed himself the slight conceit that she seemed to appreciate even more deeply his own meager skills with the fife and piano; for Ariel never seemed to tire of him playing for her in the evening hours. Music and song were a spirit that he and his wife shared together, and he loved this so much in her that it made his heart ache for her presence, for her voice, just as it had after she had first pulled him from the abyss. Her angelic voice and sweet demeanor, though, were merely wonderful qualities that he loved about his new bride; and like the others, could not themselves explain his love … for her.

In so many ways Eric felt that Ariel's unique qualities far surpassed his own, for she possessed talents and beauties that arose from somewhere deep inside of her which at every turn in their new life together continued to surprise him. That being said, while elegant and demure she could be and often was, Ariel had apparently never been blessed with the power of self-restraint.

This was also a danger of course. Eric knew little of the world beneath the seas, and surely it must have its perils beyond sharks and strange witches; but the world above was deadly, vicious, and unforgiving to young maidens who offended the malign or intruded unknowingly in places they were not welcome.

Simple physical dangers that anyone born to the land would recognize were unknown to his young wife, even the earth's own irresistible pull. He remembered their ride across the countryside, Ariel's terrific and incredibly fortunate carriage-leap across the ravine to the west of town. Truthfully it was a moment that he thought they would surely plummet to their deaths or else be crushed against the opposite cliff.

How relieved he had been when he realized that Ariel had actually made that leap, and furthermore, that they were still alive and safe! He truly loved Ariel's adventurousness, her spirited insistence on living her life, and even her innocent unawareness of the dangers of her new world. In fact, he treasured those qualities in her, but at the same time he realized that they were also qualities he would have to guard her against, lest she ventured too far, or too fast, or into some great danger unknown to her.

What must the world she came from be like?

Ariel's kindness and compassion, her sweet and reflexive valuing of others before herself were but a few examples of her inner beauty shining forth. Were these values reflective of all of her people, or just some of them? From her father he had learned that like humans, they too fought wars against one another, though it seemed these were rare. From whence did her people even come?

Eric wondered these things yet doubted that he would ever fully learn their answers, or for that matter truly appreciate the depths of love Ariel was capable of; for in her this capacity was an instinctive love that seemed to dwell within her innately, like the light of heaven.

The light of the moon reflected on the sea beyond the western balcony of their bedchamber, its silvery road beckoning his eyes to follow. Just weeks ago this had become their wedding chamber, and Ariel's bridal chamber. Eric looked down upon her sleeping form as she lay there quietly beside him lost in her dreams. Was it possible that her beauty had even deepened since they had wed?

He let his mind consider her loveliness. Was it her bodily charm, her physical beauty that he loved?

Eric had met many beautiful women in his day. Princess Helena of Glowerhaven came to mind. Tall, regal, flawless in the proportion of her body and the clarity of her complexion. Yet in matters of merely physical beauty, Ariel still outshone her in every way that Eric found beautiful. Ariel's slender frame and limbs, her delicate hands, her tiny feet … they were perfect to him. She was perfect to him.

Was it just he that saw her that way? No, Eric had noted how other men of all stations regarded his young wife. They too perceived her beauty as they regarded her; with honor and love in the best, and envy and lust in the worst. Few had the opportunity to see her true beauty, the beauty of her sweet, quintessentially feminine vitality.

Gently, he reached down and touched Ariel's hair. In the sunlight its vibrant red hue was striking, as amazing as any he had ever seen. In the moonlight, however, it took on an almost unearthly beauty, the slender light diffusing through it strands and casting about her face a nimbus-like radiance that to him in that moment seemed almost a halo.

Yes, her hair was beautiful, and he adored that beauty, but it was certainly not why he loved her.

Closed in sleep, Ariel's eyes moved slightly as she traveled in dream to far-off places where he could not follow. As his hand moved gently through her hair and to her face, he suddenly found himself swept back in time, finding himself face to face with her again as she lay helpless in his arms. Her brilliant blue eyes had struggled to look up into his, so innocent yet so full of hope and joy at finding him against all odds. At the time he had been so oblivious to this, being so deeply concerned about her obvious distress and the circumstances that had cast her up upon his shore. How could he have known?

Thinking about it now, in that very instant is when he knew; something in him knew. That is when Eric knew that he loved her. But why? Was it her eyes?

Oh, Ariel's eyes were the loveliest he thought he had ever seen, so brilliant and alive with thought and emotion and a special curiosity that was uniquely her own. Her expressions in those eyes had belied the desperate need she had for words. When he had first brought her to the palace, it had been her eyes that had spoken to him; and still they spoke to him volumes in ways that the most profound poet could not convey. Eric loved Ariel's eyes, for in the words of the Bard, they were the windows into her soul; but no, they were not the reason he loved her.

Very gently Eric stroked the side of Ariel's face. Letting his fingers stray softly to her delicate nose, her delightful ears, then her moist lips; lips so red they seemed like a rose in springtime blossom. In a sense, Ariel was like a blossoming flower to him. Beautiful and delicate, fragile yet also resilient like all new life, full of hope for not only her own future, but for theirs, together and forever.

Every feature of Ariel's face was a wonder to Eric, from her flawless complexion to the fineness of her features, to her elegant and pert nose, her high cheekbones. He mused that he could go on perhaps forever in the describing the many beauties he saw in his young wife. There in the westering moonlight, he slowly lowered his lips to her eyes, her nose, and then her cheek, kissing each slowly as his memories of their first meeting together played out behind his own now-closed eyes.

Eric loved Ariel's beautiful, no … angelic, face; but that was not why he loved Ariel.

Ariel's chest rose and fell in a delicate, gentle rhythm. Most often she was silent when she slept, but every now and then she would stir, sometimes sighing, sometimes the softest and most delicate little snore would tickle the silence of their bedchamber.

At other times she would whimper or cry out softly and he would hold her, whereupon her nightmares would usually subside. Eric had come to realize over the past months that he was strangely sensitive to this, almost knowing sometimes when it was going to happen.

Indeed, despite her seeming peace, Eric felt then that same strange and growing urgency to watch over her; something that had happened before on other nights, usually before she had woken from the many nightmares she had since they had promised themselves to one another now more than half a year ago. He studied her, looking for any sign of distress in her sleep.

He watched as Ariel's eyes moved beneath their closed lids, twitching slightly. Moments later, a soft and troubled moan issued quietly from her mouth; without warning her right hand rose and flailed weakly at the air.

In that same instant Eric caught her hand gently in his left, cradling it protectively, then slipped his right arm gently beneath her below her slender shoulders. With a gentle tug he pulled her closer until he held her entire body nestled safely against his own. She calmed beneath him, her face regaining its peaceful aspect. He thought back then to Aaron's words, wondering at what he had been told, and wondering if what his friend had said of him … were true.

He studied Ariel's small hand clasped within his, delicate with slender fingers, so proportionate with rest of her elegant frame. Was it her body for which he loved her?

Immediately his better angels rose in him to vanquish such thoughts. A life of sermons, verses, and his own faithful longing for her before she had ever seen him welled up in his mind.

He had yearned for a girl who would love him for whom he was as her only man, her husband, and most importantly, her true love; not a girl who would desire him for his title, his holdings, or his family's wealth and station, dubious though these now were. In fact, Ariel as yet knew nothing of the full truth of his, no ... of their, situation … not yet. Such knowledge could only bring her to worry and even harm; and that he could not and would not allow.

Was it not right then, in return, that he desire his true love for more than her mere beauty, a beauty which must inevitably fade with time?

Yes, Ariel's body, like her face … like her voice, was angelic, heavenly. Not just her tiny hands and feet, but also her proportions and womanly curves, her soft femininity of which she seemed only vaguely and innocently aware; these were as beautiful as any he had ever seen. Ariel was yet young, but entering into the fullness and glory of womanhood.

As best they had been able to determine, Ariel was perhaps two years younger than he was, a year older than his mother when she had married. For a time he had wondered about his sailors' tales of mermaid lives, especially Hans'; so he had been happy to find that at least in their youth, Ariel's people grew into and entered adulthood not unlike their human kin.

As he held Ariel's hand in his, he allowed himself to look upon her, his new bride. Her diaphanous white chemise flowed with her form, rising and falling over her elegant and sinuous curves while at the same time somewhat concealing them. Being with her was as close to heaven as Eric had ever been, but still he yearned to somehow be even closer to her in a way that went beyond mere physical intimacy.

When the time was right, when she was ready; for she was already curious to explore the mysterious, blissful pleasures of marriage; they would endeavor to have a child together. If Ariel wished, and he thought she might, perhaps there would be several children. Hopefully there would be a son, but Eric was content that any child he might have with Ariel would be a God-sent blessing. What a delight a son or daughter would be to have with his love; and he cherished the thought that together, they might one day conceive.

Eric wondered how Ariel must feel in the difference between her former and present forms and how this life in her new-found humanity would affect her. The power of the Sea King was on her and only he knew the fullness of her humanity through the wonders he had worked in her flesh. Eric, though, felt in his soul, was sure, that Ariel's humanity was somehow complete, even perfect, in a way that now defied and perhaps even transcended the power of both the Witch's potion and the Trident.

Why did he feel that? As a daughter of the sea, Ariel had been breathtakingly beautiful; but as his wife, his human wife, no other earthly beauty could for him compare.

Yes, it was true. Eric loved Ariel's body, her physical form; but Ariel's body was not why he loved Ariel.

The young prince looked up once again at the full moon, now beginning to dip below the western horizon. It had almost set, reminding him of the fateful third night of Ariel's ordeal. As the moon sank he espied down the strand the small outcropping of rocks where she had first brought him ashore, saving him from certain death. They were the same rocks near which he had later discovered her with Max's assistance, a pretty but shattered strandling; a mysterious maiden barely conscious, seemingly half-dead and in pain.

"What are you looking at?"

The whispered words fell softly through the still airs about him. Surprisingly, it was Ariel's voice, yet one still dreamy and filled with the vagaries of sleep.

Eric looked down and smiled gently at her, his love for his young wife welling up within his soul. Ariel was looking up at him, her eyes glistening half open now in the last embers of the setting moon's silver fire. In them he thought he could see the stars themselves reflected as she watched him dreamily.

"The moon," he replied softly as he returned her smile, "I was watching it set."

Ariel looked at his hand still holding hers, her eyes still laden with sleep. As she found her body likewise cradled gently within his arms, her smile deepened.

"Why are you holding me?" she asked softly, still whispering, still smiling weakly, though slightly more wakefully.

"You were dreaming love. I thought it might be a nightmare and that upset me. I wanted to help."

Ariel looked at him lovingly, "I was?" then she paused. "Oh, but … I don't … I don't remember."

"Perhaps it wasn't a very bad one then?" Eric replied hopefully.

Ariel smiled sleepily at him, her body relaxing. Then her visage slowly clouded and she became visibly upset, almost fearful. It was then that Eric instinctively lifted Ariel from their bed, raising her head to his shoulder as she drowsily tried to explain.

"It, it was about that night," she whispered. "I was dreaming of it all over again." Ariel sleepily lowered her head to his shoulder. "But you … you weren't there." She choked back a rising sob, then paused, looking up at her husband and smiling softly with an adoring look in her eyes. "But then you were there, out of nowhere, and, now you're here." she added quietly. "How did you do that?"

Eric held his wife against his shoulder. "Ariel, I'll always be here for you." he paused, continuing softly but firmly. "I'll always be with you because I'll never leave you, never let you go; and I'll never let anyone or anything harm you; not even nightmares if I can help it, not if it's within my power." Surprised by the intensity of his words, Eric paused again for a moment, but resolving himself, continued. "I would rather die than let you come to harm."

Ariel's expression darkened again, her eyes glistening with tears which Eric could barely see in the last instant of moonlight. "No …. I don't want you to die … especially not for me!" she cried suddenly but softly. "I love you too much to lose you." Softly, sleepily, she paused, silencing a sniffle and wiping away unbidden tears from her eyes. "I can't live without you, I can't." she whispered.

Eric lifted gently turned his young wife until her eyes were opposite his own, looking into his as he looked deeply into hers. He held her there as he slowly brought his lips to meet hers. As he did so, Ariel's eyes closed and she softened in her husband's strong but gentle embrace, returning his kiss. With Ariel now lying against his chest, he could feel her heart beating as she slowly and deeply again breathed the air of the human world, as she slipped back into the sleep she had barely even left.

Truly there could be no answer as to why he loved Ariel. She needed him, even as much as he needed her. In this way they were the same. Together they were complete, and in the other's life each found their own greatest meaning. Ariel's inner goodness and unyielding love for him were unlike any he could have ever imagined in his most romantic dreams.

But wait.

Perhaps that was why he loved her.

He loved in his wife all of her many qualities, her compassion and wonderfully loving soul, her intelligence and vibrantly inspiring curiosity, her beauty and utterly breathtaking goodness. But these were not the reason why he loved her. No, Eric loved Ariel for a reason that he was now aware must itself transcend the very world itself. A reason that he knew could perhaps never be said in mere words; for Eric loved Ariel's soul, her purest and innermost being, which shone like the most radiant adamant in her myriad facets, beauties, and aspects. Ariel's soul manifested its subtle yet undeniable femininity and strengths in above all things, her humanity.

Yes. That is why he loved Ariel.

As the last infinitesimal sliver of moonlight disappeared beyond the shore where they had first met, Prince Christian of Denmark, and eighth who eventually would bear that regnal name, kissed Ariel his wife, the youngest and fairest daughter of the King of all the Seas.

To Ariel he would forever be merely "Eric," not an exiled Prince of the ancient Royal House of Oldenburg, nor the once-future King of both Denmark and Norway. Quietly and happily she slipped back into happier dreams as he guarded her in his sheltering and loving arms.

"I love you Ariel, daughter of Triton." he whispered to his sleeping bride. "Though you may not believe or even understand me, I always have, and I always will, even when fate takes us together beyond the circles of this dark and unhappy world."

Author's Note: I would like to add that while I am gently exploring the influence of the religious life of the period on Ariel, this is primarily because in that era it would have been an intrinsic part of the daily lives of virtually everybody. Even were it her desire, she could not have escaped it without bringing ruin down upon her spouse.

Acknowledgments and Credits:

Cover Art: "November Evening at Burkes Beach by Jim Crotty" processed using BeFunky com.

The link to the original is Jimcrotty zenfolio com/p528407615/h4ae3c855#h4ae3c855

Creative Contributions: Eric's memories of Ariel's first experience in a human church pay homage to a scene from "Merdoug" Doug Webb's 1995 story "The Little Mermaid from a Different Perspective." This was perhaps my favorite moment in all of his stories, thus I honor it here.

"Their next stop was the most beautiful place of all, the village church. The tall white steeple was simple, yet very beautiful to Ariel. The stained-glass windows drew her breath away with their lovely glow. She didn't quite understand the meaning behind it all, but she felt the respect that the boy gave to the solemn room through which they walked.

Some of the pictures and figures were frightening, a young human hurt and in pain. Ariel looked at these and drew close to the boy, shuddering. Eric looked down at the girl, and smiled, 'There's nothing to be afraid of here. This is a holy place.'

The boy's gentle voice and smile melted away Ariel's fear, and she smiled back gratefully."