A/N: I had forgotten how emotionally draining this chapter was to write. It doesn't really seem like much rereading it, but I remember at the time how horrible I felt when I was done. Funny how emotionally invested you get in characters when writing. More than one character of mine has made me tear up when I horrifically killed them off.

By bed time all mirth had faded. It was less than an hour by the time Adrahil found himself with a quivering ball under his blankets. He lifted up the covers to peer under at a pair of enormous eyes.

"Sea Star… You were doing so well today."

Imrahil refused to answer and curled up tighter when his father reached for him. There was a futile protest as he was picked out of bed. It only grew in volume as he was carried down the hall way to his own room.

"No no! Not in there! Please don't!"

The protests were weathered and ignored and Imrahil found himself deposited in his bed. Quietly he cried as he was tucked in again and he wailed when Adrahil left the room.

He was leaving him. He was leaving him in the room alone with the corpses under his bed and in his closet. Imrahil ripped the covers off and ran for the door. The bodies belonged to the sea and it would come to take them back. It would swamp the house, fill his lungs and break his bones.

His father was hardly half way down the hall when Imrahil caught up to him and flung himself so hard at his father's knees that the man had to press his hand against the wall to keep from falling.

"Imrahil!" His father turned to scowl at him, but his anger faded into simple exasperation when he caught sight of Imrahil.

"They're going to kill me! I don't want to drown!" he wailed.

All the way back to his room his father tried to hush him, but Imrahil continued to sniffle and give protest the whole way back.

"I don't want to die," he whimpered pathetically as his father set him back into bed.

Adrahil sat beside him and brushed his hair back from his face. "Imrahil, you are safe in your room. You're not going to die. I've check the whole room from top to bottom twice now and there are no sharks or bodies."

"I can smell them…"

Dubiousness lit Adrahil's face before he leant over and kissed Imrahil on the forehead. "Sleep please."

But when Adrahil stood up, Imrahil wrapped his arms tight about his waist. As he rose up Imrahil was pulled after him till the child was half dangling off the bed. There was a frustrated growl above him that rumbled his father's stomach. "Imrahil… please."

The boy shook his head rapidly and dug his fingers in so tight it must have been painful, but he refused to care; not if his father was going to leave him here to be eaten or drowned.

"You're going to hurt your arm. Stop it Imrahil." Frustration marred his voice as his father feebly tried to pry him off. The dig of the man's fingers hurt and the force of his grip made his arm ache terribly, bolts of pain radiating from the break. At last Adrahil seemed to come to the realization that the only way to get Imrahil off without hurting him was to relent.

He sat back down on the bed heavy with exhaustion. His face was stormy as he turned around, but while Imrahil loosened his grip he refused to let go. Without a word Adrahil lifted the covers and lay down once he felt Imrahil's arm pull out from behind him. Wisely, Imrahil stayed silent as his father pulled him to his side.

He twitched and shook at each shadowy flicker, but in time he fell into sleep.

There was no brooking with his father's temper that morning. Adrahil set him to dress in stormy silence and Imrahil did not see him again until breakfast. When their meal was done Ivriniel watched with a raised brow as their father grabbed Imrahil's arm and pulled him from the room with nothing but subdued silence from the child.

Once out on the balcony, Adrahil scooped Imrahil up and started down the steps. Immediately Imrahil's breathing catapulted, but he willed himself to stay still. He knew he was on treacherous ground with his father. Adrahil had always been of a good temper, but if one pushed enough even Adrahil lost his usual easy going patience.

Out on the beach and over the sea wall things started to change though. His father seemed to relax as he himself became as taut as a bow string. He whimpered and fidgeted as his father struck up an old sea farers tune. The humming was all but lost to Imrahil as the water crept over his father's feet.

He was utterly unprepared for Adrahil to sit.

Cold licked at Imrahil's skin and his eyes fluttered in puzzlement for half a moment as he tried to register the fact that his father had just sat them down in the ocean. Then the alarm washed in.

He let out a strangled shout and tried to scramble up onto Adrahil's shoulders. His father gave a grunt and nearly tipped backwards when he found himself with an eight year old coiled about his shoulders like a high strung cat. Any attempt at escape was thwarted by the hand locked around his ankle.

In desperation Imrahil pried at his father's fingers, but they were tight as a band of iron and he growled in frustration and fear. How could his father betray him like this?

Over time, Adrahil managed to work Imrahil down off his shoulders, though he winced as tiny nails scratched at his skin leaving red welts on his neck as Imrahil tried to cling onto him. There was a wordless terrified scream as water washed over Imrahil's legs up to his knees, but no matter how he cried, wailed, or shrieked, his father held him there.

He pressed his face tight into the crook of his father's neck and the man wrapped him close to his chest as he shook. One hand stroked up and down his back as the water came and went around them and each time Imrahil would cry out.

When he tried to escape for a second time he found large fingers darting along his sides and around his neck and under his arms. Even in his fear it was impossible not to choke out half a laugh around his sobs. He wiggled and squirmed and was soon in a full blown giggle fit as his father smiled and worked at all of his ticklish spots. In minutes Imrahil was all but a boneless heap in his lap gasping big breaths.

Then low, his father began a tune. The first thing Imrahil noticed was that there were words to this one and the next was that he did not recognize them. At first, he could have cared less, but as time progressed and the tune wound to an end and then began again, Imrahil found himself trying to restrain his panicked breathing to strain to hear the words. After a few moments he realized it was elvish.

The meaning of the words were lost on him, but still they had their intended affect and in time while he never truly relaxed the fight had left him. He resigned himself to a horrible fate of death by sharks.

Under him his father bounced his knee, bumping him up and down in time to the song. He was just expecting a shark to lunge up the beach when the song wound to a close for a third and final time. In the silence of its wake the fear started to come back tenfold.

Death would come another day it seemed though. His father rose up and Imrahil bolted for dry land before his father had a chance to pick him up.

Adrahil smiled and shook his head ruefully as the boy did not stop until he was up on the balcony, glaring down at the water.

"A long hard road indeed."

Come evening, Imrahil found himself dangling upside down from his father's shoulders. Several maids they passed smiled and greeted the Lord Prince only to start in alarm as they saw the child hanging down his back as he passed. Imrahil waved exuberantly at them. Rarely was his father so indulgent with him outside of the privacy of their rooms. It was undignified he said and that as Princes and Princesses of Dol Amroth and heirs to the founders of the Northern and Southern kingdoms of Men they had to set an example and always be of proper respect and manners.

Personally Imrahil thought it was all silly non-sense, but he behaved as a good child and simply sought indulgences where he could. He supposed this was at least one good thing to being hurt. Father was always far more lax about proper manners and decorum when he was ill or injured.

"You, Little Mouse, need a bath."

Imrahil's nose wrinkled at the idea. His father had all but thrown him into the sea at the mercy of the sharks. He was plenty clean.

It was an exaggeration, but in his young imaginative mind it had as good as happened.

"I am clean."

"You smell like a fish market."

"I do not."

Down the hall his father took him into his room and Imrahil tipped his head quizzically. He had his own wash room with its own big copper tub so why his father had taken him to his instead was beyond him.

Up against the bed Adrahil waited until Imrahil had scooted up onto the covers before he let go of his ankles. In his father's arms Imrahil was carried into his bath chamber. It was an enormous thing for a washroom. A large leaded glass window was dark along one wall and the gleam of the moon spilled along the floor. There were two wash basins beneath a large mirror. One was more feminine in design and was dusty, untouched for years.

In the center though was a large gleaming copper tub, far bigger than Imrahil's own. It was half full of steaming water.

Near the tub he was set by a cushioned chair and he held obediently still as his father helped him out of his night shirt and then his sleep leggings and braies. The clothes were folded neatly and set on the chair.

"Bathing you with the cast will be interesting, but we'll see if we can't keep it as dry as we can," Adrahil said as he rolled up his sleeves.

After days of nothing but cold sea water, the warmth of the bath felt wonderful. The ache of his muscles, taut and sore from days on end of anxiety and terror began to relax in the heat and his body was filled with a pulsing ache. It felt good though to finally ease up though holding his arm up along the edge of the tub felt a bit awkward. He leant with eyes half lidded into his father's hand that supported him as the other trickled cupfuls of water into his hair.

Before he knew it, his father was edging him forward in the tub. He complied, although a bit bemused.

His father lent in close with a smile, their noses brushing. "Do you trust me, Sea Star?"

It rarely boded well when his father asked that, certainly the last time his father had asked had been a terrifying moment, but he did trust him and could not bring himself to be dishonest even to get out of what was coming. He did not want to hurt his father's feelings. Tentatively, he nodded, droplets of water slipping along his chin.

"Make sure to keep your arm up," his father warned as he pressed a hand against Imrahil's chest.

Slowly his father eased him back into the water, only pausing when Imrahil finally began to struggle to get up.

"Shh, trust me. You'll be alright."

Imrahil stared at him with wide eyes, but did not resist again as Adrahil lay him back in the water. It was awkward, holding his arm above him and after a moment it began to tremble, but whether that was from tired muscles or fear was unsure.

He lay in the water trembling for an immeasurable time. Twice he tried to sit up, but his father gently pressed him back again. At last as the water started to cool, Adrahil sat him up and quickly scrubbed at his skin and lathered his hair. Cupfuls of water doused his scalp and he leaned back to let it wash the soap from his hair. The feel of fingers pulling through the wavy locks eased his earlier anxiety.

The towel his father bundled him in was overly large and his father laughed as he was nearly lost in the fluffy mass.

His father lifted up a corner of the towel that had flopped over his face. "There you are Little Mouse. For a moment I thought one of my towels had sprouted legs of its own and was trying to walk off on me."

Imrahil shook his head. "You're silly. Towels can't walk."

"So they can't." Adrahil lifted him up in one arm and grabbed his night clothes with the other.

All their earlier mirth faded in light of bedtime however. Mindful of his son's arm, Adrahil helped the child wiggle back into his tunic.

"Please…"

"Not this time Imrahil."

The boy poured on the big watery eyes and the quivering lip, but Adrahil simply tugged his son's braises and loose leggings back on. A hand on his back edged Imrahil towards his bed and the boy climbed in reluctantly.

"I don't want to be alone…"

"Imrahil, you're not alone. You're in a house full of people."

Stubbornly the boy shook his head. Outside the wind howled making the windows rattle. They drew Imrahil's nervous attention as he strained to hear the roar of the sea. When he turned back again, Adrahil was at the door.

Loudly Imrahil gasped as he sat up and knelt at the edge of his bed reaching out towards his father as he sent his covers tumbling to the floor. "No! Don't go!"

Adrahil smiled sadly at him and waved. "Good night Sea Star. Please, go to sleep." And then he was gone. The door shut with a firm click.

Imrahil stared at it for a second and then flopped on his belly to quickly scrabble at his sheets and drag them back into the bed. From a multitude of blankets and pillows Imrahil made himself a nest. The blankets coiled around him and were lined with pillows as if a wall against the evils that he knew lurked in his room. He clutched tightly at the raggedy stuffed horse his mother had sewn for him when she had been expecting.

With a pat, he reassured the horse. "It's okay Braigsûl. Sharks don't like feathers. We're safe here." He only wished he believed it, but he hoped Braigsûl could not tell. Valiantly he tried to still his shivers.

Outside there was an eerie hollow sound as the wind whipped past. The windows shivered and rattled and out in the garden by the kitchens an owl dove upon a rabbit that screamed. To Imrahil it sounded like death had found him. His breathing stilled as it felt as though his heart skipped. Then the rough sea winds slammed against the palace and his doors banged and rattled hard against their frames.

That was it. Imrahil was out of his bed in a flash, poor Braigsûl being pulled along by his tail. It took several tries to rip the door open, palm sweaty, but he shoved it open, grabbed up his horse again and thudded down the disturbingly dark hallway to his father's room.

"Papa!" He had taken down the hall so swiftly he was unable to stop himself fully and Imrahil thumped into the door.

He stood panting before it, glancing nervously up and down the hall. When there was no answer he hopped and thudded his fist against the thick wood. "Papa!" Except for the howl of the wind, silence loomed dark and ominous.

"It's okay Braigsûl… It's okay." His breath hiccupped as he clutched the horse to his chest as best he could with his cast. "It's okay," he whimpered.

Over and over in his head he repeated his father's words. There were no monsters, no sharks, no dead, but then he could hear that horrible scream from outside and the smell filled his nose and the splash of the water seemed to be carried on the wind. A drip of water from his damp hair trickled down his back.

"Papa!" He hit again at the door and grabbed the knob, but it would not turn. He sobbed out a breath and rattled it again and again, but it was locked. Down to the floor he slid and thudded his head back against the door. "Papa, please," he sobbed. Braigsûl was clutched tight to his chest, but the palamino brought no comfort. It was just another thing for the sea to take from him.

The dark of the house was deep and he wished he had taken one of the lamps from his room, but he could not carry both Braigsûl and one of the shells of lamp oil. Tears trailed down his cheeks and soaked into the plush horse as he buried his face into it and sobbed again and again for his father, but the door remained closed.

Something caught his ear and he stilled. There was a creak of wood. Immediately his head popped up and he stared down the blackened hall in a mixture of fear and hope. Someone was coming perhaps? He stood slowly and held his breath. Then louder it came and the shadows shifted.

Danger, his mind screamed and he renewed his thumps on his father's door. "PAPA!" he shrieked. There was no answer and he shot a panicked look towards the shadows as the whole palace seemed to moan. Old rafters and beams in the palace shifted with the heavy winds, but to the young imagination it was so much more.

In a last desperate attempt Imrahil took off down the hall first to Ivriniel's room. He tried the knob without even calling, but it too was locked. "Rin! Rini!" He slapped his hand on the panels, but the sound was lost with the growing fury of the weather outside.

"Ivriniel!" He thumped his fist and there was nothing.

There was no time. The dead were coming and he was vulnerable alone. He squeaked when he realized Braigsûl had been left alone by his father's room. One step and then two he started towards it when the windows rattled and he scooted back.

Next he bolted to Finduilas' room, but again her door was locked. "Fin!" he wailed, her broken legs completely forgotten in his fear.

Silence was all that greeted him and he thudded his head against the door and sobbed a gulping breath.

They had all left him. Of all his family not one had stayed to protect him against the beasts that lurked in the shadows and against the water that crept up in the night. The cloth of his night shirt stuck to him with water from his bath and it reminded him all too much of hours in the dark spent hopelessly drifting in the middle of the sea.

Well if no one would help him at least he would not abandon Braigsûl. At a sprint he took off down the hall and snatched up the stuffed horse, but when he spun to go back to his room the shadows seemed thicker now. Frightened he sank back against his father's door.

"Papa?" he uttered once softly.

There was nothing. He was alone.

A/N: =( Muffin. Sorry! It gets better… Eventually. I swear, Imrahil.