The storm raged in the open Sea, and the dark waves lashed out in their fury. No ship was ever safe in this weather, be it a shallow fisherman's vessel, or a brigantine, laden with cannons. Heavy rain was pouring down onto the roofs, splashing on the streets, beating on the dark windows. No man dared to go out, however pressing be his need. The villagers were waiting for the storm to end, safe under the shelter of their roofs.
In the hour when dusk came, seen only in milder lands, a tall dark ship with black sails approached the pier. A ladder was put out, and two hooded figures stepped onto the land. Even as they turned, the ladder was pulled back onto the ship. They raised their hands silently in farewell, and watched the ship fade away into the curtain of heavy rain. Then they walked along the pier into the village. They made for a large three-storey building with brightly-lit windows, which turned out to be an inn. When they came near enough, they saw a sign-board above the door. On it was painted a woman with a fishe's tail instead of legs, and it read below – "The salty Mermaid". The tall slender figure turned to the other, slightly shorter and sturdier, and asked in a rather musical voice: "So, my friend, what do you think if we stay here for the night?" The second answered: "The name is too wet for my liking, as is this whole place, but I deem we have no other choice, don't we?"
Soft laughter rang in answer, and the taller one opened the door. "Let us go in, then!"- , said the musical voice, and in they went.
The dreary outside world was left out, as the door closed behind the newcomers. The inn was noisy and filled with folk of many different kinds. Men there were – sailors, fishermen and merchants. There were warriors also – chained mail glinted from under their cloaks when they moved, and swords hung at their belts. There were some men out of the East – their skin was dark and their eyes black. Their long unkempt hair was braided and golden rings glinted here and there amid the black strands. Three Dwarves sat in a corner, talking in low voices. No one had paid attention to the newcomers. They found a cozy, but rather dark corner by one of the several fireplaces in the room and settled around a small wooden table. Only then did they remove their hoods and cloaks. The first stranger, the one with the musical voice, was a young man, apparently just out of his twenties. And yet, though he seemed young, there were lines of care between his eyebrows and at the corners of his mouth, and there was depth in his bright green eyes. He was light-skinned and fair-faced, with shoulder-long chestnut hair, and as he lifted his hand to call the innkeeper, a small ruby ring glinted on his finger. His companion was broader in shoulders and slightly heavier in built. His short hair was black, as were his eyes. It was difficult to tell his age at once, for his skin was smooth, but for a rather ugly scar, stretching from his chin to his right cheek. There was an odd thing about him, though: his companion was drenched, cloak, garments and all, while his own clothes were dry.
The innkeeper trotted towards them and looked askance at both men. "I believe you have red wine in your cellars?" the green-eyed stranger asked. "Aye, good sir, there's always a supply of Red Gondorian in our inn! "-, the innkeeper answered, drawing himself up proudly. "Good, then, bring a bottle of your finest Gondorian, along with some cheese and bread" The man eyed the other stranger, asking: "Should I bring the same for your companion, good sir?" "No, I think not," -, the young man put in hastily, - "he isn't thirsty." The corners of his mouth twitched, when his companion said: "Indeed, I am not. Better bring me some roast meet, master, and make haste!" The innkeeper glanced curiously at both strangers before trotting away with a nod.
As soon as he went away, they looked at each other, and burst out laughing. "He is not thirsty... Honestly, Dorean, that was about the silliest and most odd thing to say!" The green-eyed man called Dorean stopped laughing to answer in mock outrage: "Indeed! As if you could get away better than I did! You'll suggest me to tell everyone within earshot that Fire Demons do not drink water! My sister wouldn't have approved of such behavior..." They went silent when the innkeeper returned with the food and drink, set them on the table and departed. Once he was out of sight, the conversation resumed. "Speaking of your sister, I have to say I am rather glad that you persuaded her to stay at Minas Tirith and wait for us there with the others" Dorean cocked an eyebrow. "Why would that be, Baltrok?" "Not that I don't like her... It's just... I grew rather tired of her and her bossy manners while we went to the White City" Dorean's green eyes twinkled. "I see". He patted Baltrok's shoulder and smiled. They were silent for a while and paid attention chiefly to their meal.
Once that finished, they looked around and saw that many men were gathered around a table in the middle of the room, and a voice shouted: "Sing us something, Waverly, go on!" Several other voices joined in: "A song! A song!" Baltrok turned to his companion and said softly: "Let us hope it is worth hearing. Tough I very much doubt it..." The look in Dorean's eyes was distant when he replied: "Yes... the one singing voice that used to move me passed away, long ago" Baltrok looked at him understandingly, and put his hand on the young man's arm. He did not have the time to say anything, as at this moment a voice said almost grudgingly: "Oh, all right, you scallywags!" -, and a girl was lifted on the table. She was very young, and must have been seventeen or eighteen years old. She had long red hair, and warm hazel eyes. She looked around, laughing, and asked: "What do I sing for you, rogues?" "Whatever, as long as you sing, Waverly!" -, a drunken voice called out. The girl laughed again, and called for her instrument. Someone brought her a tambourine. One of the men took a lute. The girl began a song to the fast tune she beat with her tambourine, it ran thus:
I saw three ships a-sailing in
From across the sea
Strangers never welcome but
For curiosity
But come they did
And when they did
Ready we did stand
And things would never be the same
In our village on the sand
When the ships pulled into dock
The villagers did hide
When trouble came it usually
Was brought upon the tide
When the pirates disembarked
They were making plans
And from then on things were not the same
In our village on the sand
Smugglers came into our town
And many sought to run
I stood my ground bravely and
Came face to face with one
Time and travel on the seas
Weathered face and hand
He was different than the others in
My village on the sand
He told me of the years he'd spent
On the stormy seas
Then he spoke a poet's words
Of philosophy
And when he had to leave again
He asked me for my hand
And I knew I'd never see again
My village on the sand.
Even as Waverly sang, one of the dwarves took a small violin out of his sack and played along with the tambourine and the lute. All seemed moved by the song, or by the way the girl sang it. There was a kind of brave defiance and a merry ring in her clear young voice. Baltrok watched his friend out of a corner of his eye when the song ended and Waverly got down from the table, promising to sing another one soon. Dorean sat stiff as stone, following the girl with his eyes, as she went through the room. Close at, she turned out to be very pretty. She had a lively face with fine features, and her warm eyes had an amber glow. Baltrok watched her pass by, his face alight with interest. Then his attention snapped back to his companion. "So, what will you say, dear friend?" "Beautiful..." -, was the somewhat distracted reply. Baltrok laughed, clapping a hand to the young man's shoulder: "Oh, I see" Dorean looked at him, feigning indifference: "What?" Baltrok was still laughing, when he replied: "Oh, just look at him go! "What?" Dorean, my foolish friend, I know you well enough to read your face and eyes! I think the young songbird with a wet name caught your ears... and eyes. Is it not so?" Dorean hesitated a split second, and then his face cracked into a shy grin: "You old villain! It's good that Rhiannon didn't follow us, or she'd be in league with you already, she nagged me for years about my loneliness..." Baltrok suddenly went serious. "Your sister was right at this point, Dorean. For once, I stand by her here. You needed to find someone. You couldn't mourn forever over that which passed away. And, believe me, she wouldn't mind." Dorean looked into Baltrok's eyes and nodded: "Perhaps, you are right"
After some time, very few people remained in the inn. Baltrok left for his room, bidding Dorean goodnight after his fashion: "Don't stay long now, we have things to do in the morning!" -, with these words he blinked roguishly and was gone. Dorean sat alone in the dark corner by the dying fire, lost in thought, when he felt a presence near. He looked up to find Waverly eyeing him with apparent interest. "I have seen many a queer customer here, but none quite as queer as you and your friend" -, she said. Narrowing her eyes, she went on: "There is something ... strange about you both." Dorean smiled at her curiosity: "Why do you find us strange, mistress Waverly?" She was lost for words for a moment, seemingly abashed, and then went on: "You are very different from other men here. I have never seen anyone quite as ... -, she blushed and lowered her gaze, - quite as handsome as you are... -, her eyes snapped back at him suddenly, and she added with a rather stern look, - But don't you get ideas about me after what I said!" Dorean felt warmth envelop his heart as he watched the girl, and a gentle glow settled in his eyes as he replied: "How could I?" She seemed soothed by this answer, and a shy smile settled on her lips. Dorean watched her for a moment, and asked: "Could you sing for me? Please?" Waverly seemed glad of this request, she went to get the lute which lay forgotten on a bench, and drew herself a chair. "What do you wish me to sing?" Dorean smiled slightly, answering: "Whatever as long as you sing!" She laughed a little, and then said: "There is one of my favourite songs. They say it was brought here from the shadowy land of Mirkwood, by some traveler, long ago. It might be, or it might not, but there it is" She ran her fingers lightly over the strings of the lute, and sang in a soft voice:
Merrily we sailed along
Though the waves were plenty strong
Down the twisting river line
Following the song
Legend's faded storyline
Tried to warn us all
Oh, they called her Loreley
Careful or you'll fall...
Oh the stories we were told
Quite a vision to behold
Mysteries of the seas
In her eyes of gold
Laying on the silver stone
Such a lonely sight
Barnacles become a throne
For the Loreley...
And the winds would cry
And many men would die
And all the waves would bow down to the Loreley...
You will not believe your eyes
How a voice could hypnotize
Promises are only lies
From the Loreley
In a shade of mossy green
Seashell in her hand
She was born the river queen
Ne'er to grace the land...
And the winds would cry
And many men would die
And all the waves would bow down to the Loreley...
Oh the song of Loreley
Charms the moon right from the sky
She will get inside your mind
Lovely Loreley
When she cries: Be with me
Until the end of time
You know you will ever be
With your Loreley
And the winds would cry
And many men would die
And all the waves would bow down to the Loreley...
Dorean listened to the song, amazed. "This cannot be mere coincidence!"-, he thought. Suddenly he became aware that his ring grew warm, and that the ruby glowed in the dim light of the candles. It was a sign. Dorean's heart felt so light he could sing himself. He looked back at Waverly. She was very pretty indeed. She had not the cold beauty of the Immortal folk, yet she seemed to him fairer than any other woman, or girl. There was warmth about her, an inner flame in her soul, which reflected in her eyes. When the song ended, Dorean asked, striving to keep his voice steady: "How did you come by this song, Waverly? Who taught it to you?" She frowned slightly, remembering. "I first heard it when I was a lass. I was helping my mother here, carrying mugs of ale and all, when a crew of sailors came. They were grim and tall, and weather-beaten. They told strange tales about lands far away, and about woods and rivers. One got up and sang this song. When he ended, he said: "Heed my word, sailors here: if you ever wander into Mirkwood far away, remember this song. For 'tis true." Then he drowned his mug and was gone, and his friends followed. Then, a few years passed by, my mother died, and I was left with father. One cold rainy night, much like this one, a woman came here, hooded and cloaked. She was silent for a long wile, and sat and watched only. When the men bid me sing, she seemed to listen carefully. And when I finished, she cast her hood back and took the lute from me. She was very beautiful... I never saw anyone like her. She had black hair, and was clothed in black, but it was her eyes that made me wonder – grey they were, and yet not so. They seemed to shine like silver. And she sang the very same song, and the men went all quiet to listen. When she finished, she laughed, a silvery laugh it was to my ears, and then she came to me and asked, if I wanted her to teach me the song. I said yes, and we went into a corner. Thus I learned the tune and the words. Before going away, she told me that I had a beautiful voice, and she asked my name. I told her it was Waverly. She smiled to me and said: "May life bring you joy, little Waverly, and may the Sun lighten your path. Fare well" And she was gone. I thought that she might return someday, but she did not. It is a pity, for I am sure she could have taught me much. I wonder, who she was, though" Dorean smiled. "Thank you for the song, Waverly" He stood up, and before going up, he touched her cheek lightly, his eyes glowing with a warm green light. She watched him go silently, and then turned and went to her room, extinguishing the candles as she went. Neither of them slept that night.