Celeborn and Cirdan stared unblinking across the Sea. Keen elven eyes scanned the debris that lay scattered along the shoreline, wincing each time they fell upon a motionless body. The Sea was now calm, but none had been found alive save those who had leapt from the ship with the Elven Lords and the Queen of Gondor.
Nearby, Arwen slept, thanks to a sleeping draught prepared by her grandfather, oblivious to the despair reflected in the eyes of the elven Lords.
Several elven archers and Gondorian soldiers worked near Arwen, readying a warm fire and some food caught not long ago by the skill of the elves. They stood at the momentary command of Lord Celeborn and were under orders to kill anything that posed a threat to the Queen. Until her husband was found, Arwen was the ruler of Gondor.
"We are going to search through the debris," Celeborn called to the men, "See that she is cared for and is not startled if she wakes while we are gone."
The uninjured nodded and moved closer to the sleeping Queen, weapons at the ready.
Silence hung like a thick veil between the two elves, neither of them wanting to voice the fear growing in their hearts with each passing moment. It didn't take long before they came upon a body, lying face down in the sand, quite dead.
Celeborn reached toward the obviously Gondorian man and rolled the lifeless
body over, revealing the numerous wounds sustained in battle with the Titan.
Cirdan searched nearby debris, seeing clothing and other items clearly
identifiable to the High Elven Ship, lying buried in the sand.
"We will give them a proper sending when we have the means," Cirdan rested a gentle hand on Celeborn's shoulder.
Celeborn nodded wordlessly as they continued their search, for what and who, they dared not hope.
"I hope the other ship weathered the storm better than we," Celeborn finally broke the silence as they walked.
"The Titan knew who we harbored. It knew." Cirdan said with an air of certainty in his voice. "The other ship escaped unharmed."
"Would that you are right, Cirdan." Celeborn knelt beside a dead elf, closing his eyes and heaving a heavy sigh.
Cirdan gazed out over the Sea, eyes straining for some indication as to the whereabouts of who they were looking.
"If he fell-" Celeborn trailed off, risking a glance back where the elven guards stood over his granddaughter. "It will kill her more swiftly than a blade through the heart."
"We must believe he lives. Somehow." Cirdan said, his confidence waning with each step. "Your grandsons were with him, as were Legolas and Gimli. They will protect their friend and King at all costs."
"He was injured, Cirdan." Celeborn looked ahead, quickly scanning the debris-littered sand. "Badly."
"Bones can be mended," Cirdan said with confidence, hiding the realization that if Aragorn had indeed been as badly injured as they thought, it would be with the blessing of the Valar that he still lived.
"He was coughing blood," Celeborn stopped abruptly and turned to stare at the elven Shipwright. "An indication of an injury far more severe."
"We will find him."
"I think we will not." Celeborn stopped and glanced down at the unconscious form of the royal chamberlain.
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Consciousness slowly returned as the cold water lapped at his cheek. One eye opened, and then the other, to reveal crisp blue water lulling slowly into his face. Slowly, Elladan pushed himself into a sitting position, struggling to return the sky to its normal stable, unmoving self. He lowered his head into his hands for a few moments to clear his senses.
"Elladan!"
The elf looked up sharply, instantly regretting the quick movement as his head began to swim with pain. The elf grimaced and opened his arms to embrace the brother that launched into his arms.
"You're safe!"
"Somewhat," came the muffled reply.
Elrohir released his brother, keen eyes scanning the others body for injuries.
As if sensing the unspoken question, Elladan raised his head, "Just pulled muscles and an incredible headache. I will live."
Elrohir turned to see that Legolas had knelt beside them and he flashed an amused grin at the elf. "I don't think I've ever seen you so disheveled."
"You've been taking lessons from Gimli." Legolas winced as he stretched bruised muscles. His clothing was torn and wet. His hair matted to his head in intricate tangles. The usually pristine look of the elf had been transformed by the raging sea into something resembling a drowned rat. The other elves, however, looked much the same. "I do not intend to live out the rest of my days here in Middle-Earth without that hairy, diminutive troll by my side." The sadness and fear in Legolas' eyes were plainly clear to the twins and the blond elf did not attempt to hide them from his kin.
Elladan stood, his head now relatively clear, and stared down the debris-covered beach. "Have you found any others?"
"A few Swan Knights and a few Rohan horseman have set up a small camp to the west of here, they are all we have found thus far. Most of their horses did not make it out of the stables below decks before the ship sank." Legolas answered with a bit of hesitation. "I wanted an unmoving base, for survivors to find while we searched the area."
"A good idea." Elladan nodded and breathed deeply and gazed out across the Sea. "Has there been no sign of my sister, Aragorn, Celeborn, Cirdan, and, as much as it pains me to say it, the royal Chamberlain?"
"No. None." Elrohir dropped his gaze, hiding the pain reflected in their dark depths. "Perhaps they are together?"
"Aragorn and Gimli were with me when the ship went down," Legolas offered, his gaze following Elladan's out over the calm Sea. "There has been no sign of them. But…"
Elrohir gazed at the hesitant elf. "What is it?"
"Aragorn was knocked overboard as the titan fell." Legolas said, disheartened and obviously thinking the same as Elrohir.
Elrohir exchanged a concerned look with his brother, realizing instantly that their foster-brother had not merely jumped to save himself from the sinking ship, but could very well have been unconscious when he hit the water.
"Then we must continue the search." Elladan set his jaw and walked down the beach, oblivious to the hopeless and helpless look in the eyes of the elves standing behind him. "If he's alive, we'll find him."
"Even if he is not, we will find him." Elrohir muttered, knowing that the keen senses of his kin could hear even his slightest whisper.
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Gimli groaned as consciousness returned slowly to the thick mass atop his shoulders that the dwarf called a head. He grunted, angered at his muscles' apparent inability to answer his call. Most of his heavy armor had been shed into the Sea but Dwarves were not well renowned as swimmers, and even after shedding the dwarven armor, Gimli nearly drown in his attempt to tread water long enough to find something to hold his hairy head above the raging seas.
That something had proven to be a very large plank of wood that he'd grasped in desperation after he'd hit the water. Consciousness had faded sometime in the middle of the night and the plank had deposited Gimli onto the beach during that time.
"Eru's heart, get me up!" Gimli huffed, rolling onto all fours where he remained until his head ceased to spin. Grateful that the ground beneath him was no longer moving, Gimli glanced slowly around his immediate area.
He tore at his remaining clothing and wrapped shreds of it around a gash in his hand and arm. After a few moments, he stood on unsteady feet and began to walk down the beach, occasionally searching the sea for any sign of the other elven ship. Debris were scattered along the dark, sandy shoreline, as were a great many bodies.
The dwarf dejectedly marked each body he came across with his own blood; A red 'X' on their foreheads to indicate to any others passing that they needn't waste time with the dead. There would be time to honor the fallen later, right now, he needed to find those who still lived, and so did any who came after him.
Gimli began to feel disheartened by the distinct lack of survivors as each body he came across turned out to be very cold and very dead.
When a gleam of metal caught his attention, Gimli strained his eyes down the beach toward the source. His eyes widened and his breath hitched in his chest. He began to jog toward the sight, a bit slower than normal, his heart soaring. He came to a halt beside the blade that had seen and survived more battles than could possibly be counted, including the last battle with the great Sauron himself. Gimli fell to his knees and clutched the blade to his chest. It was cold against his skin, clearly having been out of the hands of its bearer for a long time.
Gimli glanced uncertainly down at the body lying very still next to the Flame of the West. The dwarf closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer to Eru. He sighed deeply when he fingers touched the stiff, cold man and rolled him over.
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"Finish the repairs quickly!" Imrahil ordered as he paced the uppermost deck of the High Elven Ship. "We must find them!" Imrahil rubbed at tired eyes yet still paid close attention to those working below.
The elves worked furiously on the repairs, hearing the desperation in the voice of the Lord of Dol Amroth. Much damage had been wrought in the storm, but it was not un-repairable. They had no idea how far south they had drifted and the other ship could not be seen. Imrahil had the right to be upset.
Imrahil's captain settled next to his Lord and muttered. "It must have gone down. There are debris scattered everywhere and those we picked up in the night from the Sea speak of the same."
"I know." The response was barely above a whisper and the Captain had to strain to hear his Lord's words.
"He's alive. They're alive." The captain rested a hand on the man's shoulder and squeezed it gently. He knew what his Lord was thinking. "We'll find them."
Imrahil nodded slowly, unable to wrap his mind around a positive outcome for this situation. But some had survived. They'd picked them up throughout the night. There must be more.
Imrahil's eyes cleared suddenly and he stared at the Captain with a determined look, "We need check every island for survivors. If they're out there, yes, we will indeed find them!"
The captain smiled, grateful to see his Lord's despair at their situation had, for the moment, vanished.
"How am I going to explain this to Faramir?" The look of disbelief at the situation they'd found themselves in would have been amusing if it wasn't for the fact that is had been his King, Queen and a hoard of friends and kin on that missing ship. "He'll never believe this."
The captain cast an amused glance at his Lord, nodding in agreement at the incredible events that had befallen them since they left Minis Tirith, and remembering everything that had happened to Aragorn as well.
Imrahil took a deep breath, chuckling to himself, making light out of a grave situation in hopes of forgetting about the worst that could happen. "And he's never going to let Aragorn step one toe out of Minis Tirith again."