Direction
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How many hours Galadriel had spent floating in the water she could not tell. The shame of leaping overboard and refusing to accept Valinor's light was only eclipsed by the terror she felt plunging into the blackness of the sea that threatened to swallow her whole. Fear gripped her chest with every stroke, terrified that some fell beast from the depths would wrap its tendrils around her legs and pull her under, but all she could do was keep going. To stay was certain death.
Are you a stone, sister?
Galadriel paused to catch her breath and turned to float on her back. She relaxed into the gentle roll of the water as Finrod's words echoed through her mind.
The stone sees only downward. The darkness of the water is vast and irresistible. The ship feels the darkness as well, striving moment by moment to master her and pull her under. But the ship has a secret, for unlike the stone, her gaze is not downward, but up. Fixed upon the light that guides her, whispering of grander things than darkness ever knew.
She pondered these words when it dawned on her.
A guiding light, of course.
Galadriel looked up to the afternoon sun in the sky. Having no coastline in sight during the day, she would have to wait until the stars lit the night sky to find direction and swim back to shore. The stars would guide her home, where she could prepare anew and hunt down the monster that killed so many of her kin.
That was when she heard it - a soft, bellowing echo in the distance, a grumbling from below. Its call reverberated through the cold water and sent a shudder up her spine. For several long seconds she remained motionless, dagger in hand, waiting for the beast to reveal itself. But instead of a hideous sea creature breaching the water, a small, dilapidated raft came into view.
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