A/N: yup Arabella, you think I'd learn by now...but apparently not. Maybe
I'll get it all right THIS time..haha fixed chapter 3 too, its all better
now.
Chapter 4: Of Voyages and Ports
Eladlín had been given chart duty for the day. Siriondil was busy teaching the cook how to prepare something other than beef stew, and attending to other various matters. He sat with the large compass and ran his quill across the seas gently, breaking a trail through the blue depths. At long length he dropped the quill back into the inkwell and walked out to the railing. "Beran!" he called. No answer greeted him from the crow's nest. Sighing gently he pulled himself up onto the coarse rope ladder and started the long climb. "Beran!"
"What ails you little master?" questioned the old sailor. He sat inside the small wooden nest, curled up with his familiar pipe.
"Nothing, good sir. I have copies of the day's charts for you."
"Parts?" asked Beran. He was, as previously noted, an aged man, and his hearing was less than to be desired.
"Charts!"
"Oh, charts! You should have said that to begin with!"
Eladlín chose not to reply and held out his work for Beran to inspect. "Aye, 'tis all in order. We shall keep to the western wind, then?"
"Yes." said Eladlín shortly. His ears perked up as he heard a voice from down below.
"Eladlín?" called Siriondil, "Quickly, my boy! I need to speak with you."
"I will see you at the evening meal Beran." yelled Eladlín as he began his descent down the ladder.
"Wheels?"
Eladlín shook his head gently. "That poor old man, no wonder he enjoys the solitude of the nest." He glanced down to see Siriondil waiting rather impatiently for him. He quickened his descent and reached the deck within a few minutes.
"If you had gone just a bit slower, good Ulmo could have traveled around Middle Earth and back before you took a single step!"
"I am sorry, Siriondil. I have not your skill with the ropes."
"No, indeed. But you are learning, my young friend. Come, show me your work."
Eladlín started off towards his cabin and Siriondil followed him slowly. Much had changed between him and Eladlín since that first day on the sea. They had grown very close, and their relationship resembled that of a father and his son. He was very proud of Eladlín, for he was an apt young boy who learned quickly and eagerly. Siriondil could not imagine life without the vivacious little lad, and he knew he would miss him dearly when the time came for him to leave the Old World.
Eladlín laid his charts upon the worn wooden table and eagerly explained the day's route. "I felt the pull of a western wind this morning, so I have planned our course for it. The chart says the sea will swell here, but we have a sturdy little ship, and it should fare well through the waves."
Siriondil bent down over the charts and traced the path with his hands. He looked up briefly at Eladlín. "I could have done it no better myself."
Eladlín beamed. Siriondil would give him no higher compliment than that.
"But look! You have forgotten something!"
"And what is that?" asked Eladlín, unwilling that his path should be wrong.
"The land, my boy! We shall reach it by the waning of the evening sun."
~~~~~~~~~~
The ship had been readied and crept slowly towards the land, or at least it seemed that way to Eladlín. He watched it as it crawled into view, growing clearer with each passing second...
"Eladlín!" yelled Siriondil, pulling him out of his reverie, "Swing her port!"
He scrambled onto the ladder and tugged the rope, but it would not come loose.
"Swing her! What are you waiting for?"
"It will not loosen!" cried Eladlín, "I cannot budge it!"
Siriondil handed his work over to another sailor and leapt over the deck. If the boat refused to move, they would be in a fair amount of trouble. He shoved Eladlín out of the way rather roughly and grabbed the line. When it would not come loose for him, he unsheathed his light hunting knife and cut the rope free, thus lowering the main sail and allowing the boat to turn. He jumped down and heaved a great sigh. That had been far closer than he had ever wished to be. He looked over at Eladlín, who cowered in a corner. "What is it, my young friend?"
The boy's eyes widened upon being addressed, and he made no sign of replying.
Siriondil thought for a minute, and realized he had probably hit the boy hard in his attempt to free the cord. "I am sorry, little master. I did not mean to strike you, but I had to cut the line, or our ship would have collided with the rocks and splintered."
Again the boy did not speak and nursed his sore arm. He had never been hit before, and he did not know how to react.
Siriondil sheathed his knife next to his hip and held out his hand. "Come here, Eladlín."
Eladlín hestitated, unsure of whether or not he should trust Siriondil.
Siriondil made the choice for him and walked over to him. "I truly am sorry. Are you injured?" He took the boy's arm and looked it over carefully.
"It does not hurt." said Eladlín, hiding a slight grimace.
"Aye, well you shall have a fair bruise there by sundown, but there is naught we can do about that."
"Siriondil! She's lagging again!" called a voice. He straightened at once. "Go to your cabin and ready your things. There are matters I must attend to before we can land safely." He ran away again and hurled himself onto the ropes to straighten his ship.
Eladlín entered the cabin and packed his few belongings away. The pain in his arm subsided gradually, and he emerged onto the deck feeling significantly better. The shore approached rapidly, and he could see the outlines of men readying the harbor for their arrival.
"Ahoy!" called Siriondil from the top of the railing.
"Ahoy! Where do you need to harbor her?"
"She's bigger than she looks. Can you ready the farthest dock for her?"
"Aye! Bring her in!" answered the fair voice.
Eladlín walked to the front of the ship, for he greatly desired to see the people of the bay. He was overshadowed by a figure, and he glanced up to find Siriondil standing next to him. He relaxed for a moment, but then Siriondil placed his arm on his shoulder, startling him. He jumped slightly, but Siriondil pulled him tighter against him, and Eladlín snuggled close to his hip, eager for the attention and love. But as quickly as it happened, Siriondil left again to help moor the ship. Eladlín watched him with awe. It was the first sign of affection he had ever seen from Siriondil, for he was normally very reserved. He turned around to watch the men as they slid into focus, and suddenly he realized something. These were not men....they were...they were...
"Elves..." breathed Beran, "We have landed among the elves." He climbed carefully down the cords leading up to the crow's nest. The ship was moored securely and the sailors stood staring, unsure of the people before them. Beran slowly made his way to the front and looked up to the port master. "What deviltry is this?" he breathed, "This is the seaport of Edhellond. There should be none of your sort here, 'tis a men's harbor, or at least 'twas when I last laid eyes upon it. What have you done to our people?"
The elf laughed and his voice was fair and high, "We have done naught to your people, old man. They ran away of their own accord, so great was their fear of the elves."
"You lie." started Beran, fury rising on his tongue.
"I assure you I do not, old man. Go to the hills if you wish to find them. But where have you come from? Ships like this are not built in this land."
"Why do you want to know, elf?" replied Beran
Eladlín had watched the entire scene from behind Siriondil. These elves, they were so beautiful. His books couldn't even begin to describe them. Their long golden hair flowed over their shoulders, almost hiding the intricate weaving of their tunics. Their eyes shown a blazing blue, but Eladlín feared that was out of their anger with Beran. Eager to avoid a problem, he stepped forward. Siriondil made a grab for him, but missed and he walked straight up to the feet of the nearest elf. "You have no need for them here, for you have not traversed the seas. We hail from Numenor, land of Lord Elros."
The elf's expression softened at the sight of the young child. "Numenor.'tis a story we tell to our children. It is of a people who left Middle-Earth for a better life. Surely you have found it there over the great seas? Why have you come back?"
"To see the elves, and to trade with our kin."
The elf bent down and looked Eladlín in the eye. "Well, now that you have seen an elf, what do you think?"
Eladlín reached out to touch him, but Siriondil leapt forward and pressed his knife to the elf's throat. "You will not lay a hand on that boy. Unless your name is Elrond, he is none of your concern."
Eladlín yelled, "No, Siriondil! He means well! Do not hurt him, I beg you."
Siriondil glanced back at the boy, and found tears welling in his eyes. "Please." he asked. Sighing gently he removed the knife from the elf and sheathed it. He could not ignore Eladlín's request.
"Why do you have such a great mistrust of our people? The lad is right, I mean no harm." asked the elf as he stood rubbing his neck.
"You are full of magic, or so I have been told."
"Your parents have mislead you, though I trust it is not their fault. I hold no magic in my grasp, simply a soft hand with a horse and a fair voice. Now, what may I do for you and your companions? We have a fine kitchen and ample room if you have need of an inn."
"What is your name?" interrupted Eladlín.
"Have I forgotten to introduce myself?" Eladlín nodded, "I am sorry. My name is Mararion. And you are...?"
"Eladlín. And this is Siriondil."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance." said Mararion with a rather bemused smile. "Now come follow me and we will provide you with lodging for the night."
End of chapter 4
Don't forget to click the review button!
Chapter 4: Of Voyages and Ports
Eladlín had been given chart duty for the day. Siriondil was busy teaching the cook how to prepare something other than beef stew, and attending to other various matters. He sat with the large compass and ran his quill across the seas gently, breaking a trail through the blue depths. At long length he dropped the quill back into the inkwell and walked out to the railing. "Beran!" he called. No answer greeted him from the crow's nest. Sighing gently he pulled himself up onto the coarse rope ladder and started the long climb. "Beran!"
"What ails you little master?" questioned the old sailor. He sat inside the small wooden nest, curled up with his familiar pipe.
"Nothing, good sir. I have copies of the day's charts for you."
"Parts?" asked Beran. He was, as previously noted, an aged man, and his hearing was less than to be desired.
"Charts!"
"Oh, charts! You should have said that to begin with!"
Eladlín chose not to reply and held out his work for Beran to inspect. "Aye, 'tis all in order. We shall keep to the western wind, then?"
"Yes." said Eladlín shortly. His ears perked up as he heard a voice from down below.
"Eladlín?" called Siriondil, "Quickly, my boy! I need to speak with you."
"I will see you at the evening meal Beran." yelled Eladlín as he began his descent down the ladder.
"Wheels?"
Eladlín shook his head gently. "That poor old man, no wonder he enjoys the solitude of the nest." He glanced down to see Siriondil waiting rather impatiently for him. He quickened his descent and reached the deck within a few minutes.
"If you had gone just a bit slower, good Ulmo could have traveled around Middle Earth and back before you took a single step!"
"I am sorry, Siriondil. I have not your skill with the ropes."
"No, indeed. But you are learning, my young friend. Come, show me your work."
Eladlín started off towards his cabin and Siriondil followed him slowly. Much had changed between him and Eladlín since that first day on the sea. They had grown very close, and their relationship resembled that of a father and his son. He was very proud of Eladlín, for he was an apt young boy who learned quickly and eagerly. Siriondil could not imagine life without the vivacious little lad, and he knew he would miss him dearly when the time came for him to leave the Old World.
Eladlín laid his charts upon the worn wooden table and eagerly explained the day's route. "I felt the pull of a western wind this morning, so I have planned our course for it. The chart says the sea will swell here, but we have a sturdy little ship, and it should fare well through the waves."
Siriondil bent down over the charts and traced the path with his hands. He looked up briefly at Eladlín. "I could have done it no better myself."
Eladlín beamed. Siriondil would give him no higher compliment than that.
"But look! You have forgotten something!"
"And what is that?" asked Eladlín, unwilling that his path should be wrong.
"The land, my boy! We shall reach it by the waning of the evening sun."
~~~~~~~~~~
The ship had been readied and crept slowly towards the land, or at least it seemed that way to Eladlín. He watched it as it crawled into view, growing clearer with each passing second...
"Eladlín!" yelled Siriondil, pulling him out of his reverie, "Swing her port!"
He scrambled onto the ladder and tugged the rope, but it would not come loose.
"Swing her! What are you waiting for?"
"It will not loosen!" cried Eladlín, "I cannot budge it!"
Siriondil handed his work over to another sailor and leapt over the deck. If the boat refused to move, they would be in a fair amount of trouble. He shoved Eladlín out of the way rather roughly and grabbed the line. When it would not come loose for him, he unsheathed his light hunting knife and cut the rope free, thus lowering the main sail and allowing the boat to turn. He jumped down and heaved a great sigh. That had been far closer than he had ever wished to be. He looked over at Eladlín, who cowered in a corner. "What is it, my young friend?"
The boy's eyes widened upon being addressed, and he made no sign of replying.
Siriondil thought for a minute, and realized he had probably hit the boy hard in his attempt to free the cord. "I am sorry, little master. I did not mean to strike you, but I had to cut the line, or our ship would have collided with the rocks and splintered."
Again the boy did not speak and nursed his sore arm. He had never been hit before, and he did not know how to react.
Siriondil sheathed his knife next to his hip and held out his hand. "Come here, Eladlín."
Eladlín hestitated, unsure of whether or not he should trust Siriondil.
Siriondil made the choice for him and walked over to him. "I truly am sorry. Are you injured?" He took the boy's arm and looked it over carefully.
"It does not hurt." said Eladlín, hiding a slight grimace.
"Aye, well you shall have a fair bruise there by sundown, but there is naught we can do about that."
"Siriondil! She's lagging again!" called a voice. He straightened at once. "Go to your cabin and ready your things. There are matters I must attend to before we can land safely." He ran away again and hurled himself onto the ropes to straighten his ship.
Eladlín entered the cabin and packed his few belongings away. The pain in his arm subsided gradually, and he emerged onto the deck feeling significantly better. The shore approached rapidly, and he could see the outlines of men readying the harbor for their arrival.
"Ahoy!" called Siriondil from the top of the railing.
"Ahoy! Where do you need to harbor her?"
"She's bigger than she looks. Can you ready the farthest dock for her?"
"Aye! Bring her in!" answered the fair voice.
Eladlín walked to the front of the ship, for he greatly desired to see the people of the bay. He was overshadowed by a figure, and he glanced up to find Siriondil standing next to him. He relaxed for a moment, but then Siriondil placed his arm on his shoulder, startling him. He jumped slightly, but Siriondil pulled him tighter against him, and Eladlín snuggled close to his hip, eager for the attention and love. But as quickly as it happened, Siriondil left again to help moor the ship. Eladlín watched him with awe. It was the first sign of affection he had ever seen from Siriondil, for he was normally very reserved. He turned around to watch the men as they slid into focus, and suddenly he realized something. These were not men....they were...they were...
"Elves..." breathed Beran, "We have landed among the elves." He climbed carefully down the cords leading up to the crow's nest. The ship was moored securely and the sailors stood staring, unsure of the people before them. Beran slowly made his way to the front and looked up to the port master. "What deviltry is this?" he breathed, "This is the seaport of Edhellond. There should be none of your sort here, 'tis a men's harbor, or at least 'twas when I last laid eyes upon it. What have you done to our people?"
The elf laughed and his voice was fair and high, "We have done naught to your people, old man. They ran away of their own accord, so great was their fear of the elves."
"You lie." started Beran, fury rising on his tongue.
"I assure you I do not, old man. Go to the hills if you wish to find them. But where have you come from? Ships like this are not built in this land."
"Why do you want to know, elf?" replied Beran
Eladlín had watched the entire scene from behind Siriondil. These elves, they were so beautiful. His books couldn't even begin to describe them. Their long golden hair flowed over their shoulders, almost hiding the intricate weaving of their tunics. Their eyes shown a blazing blue, but Eladlín feared that was out of their anger with Beran. Eager to avoid a problem, he stepped forward. Siriondil made a grab for him, but missed and he walked straight up to the feet of the nearest elf. "You have no need for them here, for you have not traversed the seas. We hail from Numenor, land of Lord Elros."
The elf's expression softened at the sight of the young child. "Numenor.'tis a story we tell to our children. It is of a people who left Middle-Earth for a better life. Surely you have found it there over the great seas? Why have you come back?"
"To see the elves, and to trade with our kin."
The elf bent down and looked Eladlín in the eye. "Well, now that you have seen an elf, what do you think?"
Eladlín reached out to touch him, but Siriondil leapt forward and pressed his knife to the elf's throat. "You will not lay a hand on that boy. Unless your name is Elrond, he is none of your concern."
Eladlín yelled, "No, Siriondil! He means well! Do not hurt him, I beg you."
Siriondil glanced back at the boy, and found tears welling in his eyes. "Please." he asked. Sighing gently he removed the knife from the elf and sheathed it. He could not ignore Eladlín's request.
"Why do you have such a great mistrust of our people? The lad is right, I mean no harm." asked the elf as he stood rubbing his neck.
"You are full of magic, or so I have been told."
"Your parents have mislead you, though I trust it is not their fault. I hold no magic in my grasp, simply a soft hand with a horse and a fair voice. Now, what may I do for you and your companions? We have a fine kitchen and ample room if you have need of an inn."
"What is your name?" interrupted Eladlín.
"Have I forgotten to introduce myself?" Eladlín nodded, "I am sorry. My name is Mararion. And you are...?"
"Eladlín. And this is Siriondil."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance." said Mararion with a rather bemused smile. "Now come follow me and we will provide you with lodging for the night."
End of chapter 4
Don't forget to click the review button!