The summer sun hung low in the sky, its rays glimmering on the wavelets of a lazy river. Three worn canoes floated in the brown waters, bearing six twenty-somethings, camping equipment, and a battery-powered stereo that was balanced precariously on the top of a large cooler.
Caela leaned back her seat in her canoe and cracked open another beer. "I am officially taking a break from this whole rowing gig, Ian. It is YOUR turn. You've got those big manly shoulders; have at it, skipper!'
Her boyfriend squinted up at her from where he sprawled in the bottom of the small boat and groaned. "Not ready yet… arms sore."
Caela laughed and crooned mockingly. "Aw… poor little man have to help?" She leaned over him and frowned, blocking out the sun. She flicked his nose, at which he simply closed his eyes and swatted her hand away.
She leaned back again with a sigh and took a long drink from her can, then closed her eyes and started to sing.
An Elven-maid there was of old,
A shining star by day:
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,
Her shoes of silver-grey.
A star was bound upon her brows,
A light was on her hair
As sun upon the golden boughs
In Lorien the fair.
Her hair was long, her limbs where white,
And fair she was and free;
And in the wind she went as light
As leaf of linden-tree.
Beside the falls of Nimrodel,
By waters clear and cool
Her voice as falling silver fell
Into the shining pool.
Where now she wanders none can tell,
In sunlight or in shade;
For lost of yore was Nimrodel
And in the mountains strayed…." (1)
There was a moment of silence after she stopped singing, then the peace was broken by loud groaning erupting from all three boats. Ian snorted. "Cae, you are such a dork," he teased.
Caela chuckled. "Yeah? So? That's not a bad thing." She peered into the water as they floated down river. Not exactly the "shining pool" Tolkien wrote of, though.
A more raucous voice suddenly erupted from her left.
"There is a girl, her name is Caela,
And though her rack is neat,
She drinks and smokes with us fellas,
And's Ian's nightly treat!"
"Taylor!" Caela shrieked and threw her now-empty beer at the blonde head of the singer, trying not to grin as the boys in the other canoes burst out laughing.
Ian sat up from his lounging position. "Hey now, you're not allowed to comment on Caela's cleavage. It's reserved." He yawned lazily. "Well boys and girl, I say it's time to set up camp." He grabbed the oars and sank them into the water to steer to shore.
An hour later, they had unloaded their gear, dragged the canoes on to land, and set up camp. Caela sat curled up in a camp chair, looking fondly around this circle of her closest friends. Ian was at her right, with his best friend Chris next to him; Taylor, Rick, and Jonathan completed the circle gathered around the fire. Ian pulled out his guitar and Steve unzipped the bag that held his djembe, and as twilight turned to evening, Caela smiled contentedly. "Nothing is better than this," she told the night as she listened to her friends play.