Chapter Eleven: Trespassers

When Ecthelion opened his eyes after what was probably his worst night at sea, he was more than relieved that the ship had stopped rocking so violently. In fact, it seemed as if it had stopped floating altogether. He hoped that they were beached somewhere, so that they did not have to put out to sea again – at least, not for quite some time.

He sat up slowly; for fear of making his head spin. It felt like his joints and bones had been turned into a soft pulp, and his head felt as if it was a separate thing from his neck, but at least his stomach remained steady.

"Is the storm over?" Ecthelion asked, and he barely recognized his voice – it was a harsh, raspy croak that sounded nothing like his usual mellifluous tone.

Maedhros spoke up then. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Ecthelion turned to look at him, and noticed that Maedhros was sitting up, and looking just as bad as he did. Ecthelion took some comfort in that. "Where are the others?"

"I suppose that they are up on the deck." Maedhros stood up slowly, swaying a little before he found his feet again. He turned, and smiled at Ecthelion. "Do you wish to join me?"

"Let me see if I can find my feet, first." Slowly, Ecthelion stood up, knowing that he should not rush his movements. At this point in time, the one thing he feared was for the blood in his head to leave it too quickly, and leave him with a most horrible headache. But when he managed to stand up without feeling like he ought to sit down again, he smiled, and nodded at Maedhros.

The red-haired Elda smiled, and approached him, each supporting the other so that they made it up to the deck with some relative speed and ease.

It was as Maedhros had said. Ereinion and Glorfindel were standing near the wheel, talking to one another in hushed tones. Telpeär, in the meantime, was nowhere to be found.

Glorfindel was the first to notice their approach. He looked up, and smiled upon seeing them. "It is good to see that you are able to stand on your own two feet after such a wild storm."

Maedhros chuckled. "I pray that we do not have to endure such a thing again. I have sailed over the sea in a ship once, but during that time we did not have to sail through a storm."

Ecthelion winced. "And I pray that I do not have to endure such a thing ever again. My first time on a ship, and it is the first time that I must experience how it is like to sail through a storm. It seems that I do not have the same luck as you do, Maedhros."

"And it is just our luck that we were able to weather the storm," Ereinion remarked. "I had almost thought that we would capsize."

At that moment, Telpeär appeared from the crow's nest at the top of the mast. "I must agree. That was a very violent storm. I have never seen its like."

Ereinion chuckled. "It is well, then, that you were not alive to witness the storm that occurred during the Breaking of the World."

Before they could go further into the discussion of storms – a topic that Ecthelion had no pleasure of hearing about at the moment – he decided to steer the topic to something more important. "Where are we?"

Telpeär frowned as he began to climb down from the crow's nest to the deck. "I do not know. The storm blew us further south than I expected. We are nowhere near Yaminah."

Ecthelion winced. He had hoped not to hear that. "How can you tell that?"

"The water here is too clear, too blue," replied the youngest member of their group as he approached them, a serious mien on his face that was quite unlike the usual cheerful smile that Ecthelion had grown accustomed to seeing. "Yaminah is located near a delta, and if that were the case the water would be somewhat murky, not clear. Pallando's notes make no mention of a reef near Yaminah, and we are floating near one."

Ecthelion's hopes fell. He had hoped for a brief respite from sailing, to allow his stomach to settle down again. "So that means we will have to set sail soon and go up north."

Ereinion shook his head grimly. "Not quite so soon, my friend. Our ship has taken damage, and we will have to repair them before we may depart." He turned, and looked towards the north. "I can see a coast to the north, and there are people there as well, but this reef is acting like a barrier and prevents us from moving the ship into the waters inside the reef." He frowned. "The reef itself does not rise more than a foot out of the water, but we cannot lift our ship over that, and if we tried to ram through it, we would only cause irreparable damage to the keel. We may have to wait until the tide is high enough before we can get through.

Maedhros smiled slightly then. "It is a natural seawall, then."

"I am not so surprised to know that it was like that," Telpeär said quietly. He gazed into the iridescent turquoise waters that shimmered and lapped at the sides of their ship. "I do not know if you can feel it, but this place…it is one that is favored by Uinen. It was she who raised the reef."

Suddenly, Glorfindel spoke up again – he had been silent since he had greeted Maedhros and Ecthelion. "I seem to recall reading something of this from Pallando's journals… Let me see… Ah, now I remember: he made mention of a nation called Ma'yi, which, he wrote, was protected by a seawall raised by Uinen, for she favored these people who were seafarers and made their living from the sea."

"And are the people friendly?" Ecthelion asked.

"Surely, they must, for they would not have the guardianship of one of the Maiar – and one as mighty and as respected as Uinen – if they were not worthy of that protection."

Just then, Ecthelion heard a strange chattering sound come from the port side of their ship. Blinking, he and his companions walked up to the port side railing, and looked down into the water. There, they noted several gray, slender shapes darting in and out of the water, and they smiled.

"Dolphins," Telpeär said softly, and Ecthelion noted something that sounded like relief in his voice. The young Teleri turned to him, and grinned. "It is said that they are Uinen's favorite sea creatures, and that they can be found in waters that are blessed by her presence."

Ecthelion smiled, and felt relieved. If Uinen does indeed guard these waters, then there is really nothing to fear, he thought.

One of the dolphins poked its head out of the water then, and seemed to eye the five of them with a curious, quizzical manner. After a while, it uttered a series of chirps and clicks, before diving back into the water, and then, moments later, making a magnificent leap over the exposed area of the reef and into the waters within.

It was during the leap that Ecthelion noticed something unusual. "Telpeär," he asked, "is it common for dolphins under Uinen's protection to wear ornaments on their fins?"

She surveyed the damage done by the storm, and sighed wearily. Many of the structures were still standing, fortunately, but the roofs – made from dried coconut fronds or large dried anahawleaves – were mostly gone. The lighter structures, like the sheds that were used for drying fish and tanning sharkskin, were damaged as well. But overall, the damages were not too serious: their boats were in good condition, and the larger structures, which were made of wood, were intact.

"We thank you once again for your protection, Inang Dag'at," she murmured, closing her eyes momentarily as she offered the prayer on behalf of her people, to their benefactress.

She looked towards the reef, and watched as the dolphins frolicked in the middle. It was breeding season again, and she knew that she would once more have to go out onto the reef and make sure that no sharks tried to gain access and wreak havoc on the birthing females. While her people never raised their hand against any of the creatures of the sea, save for they caught for food, they did, however, take exception during the dolphins' breeding season.

It was an arrangement that stretched all the way back to the beginnings of their nation. In exchange for the protection they received from the Ma'yen, the dolphins did all they could to aid the Ma'yen in such tasks as fishing and pearl diving. And when one of the boats got lost or stranded in a storm, the dolphins were there to guide and direct them back to shore and home.

They also made excellent border patrols. Over the many years of close contact with the dolphins, the Ma'yen had learned how to understand their language of clicks and chirps, while the dolphins eventually learned to understand human speech. While the dolphins could not speak the human tongue and vice-versa, it was sufficient that each understood the other, and could communicate in the manner that they were accustomed to. And because of this, the dolphins were considered the guardians of Ma'yi's outermost seaward borders. Anyone who was not familiar with the ways of the Ma'yen would never suspect a dolphin of being a warden, and thus they were perfect for that capacity.

For some odd reason, she felt compelled to go to the reef, though it was still too early to begin the shark hunt, which often occurred in the early evenings during the breeding season. She felt the need to be alone with herself, felt the need to think. She took her spear, belted a dagger around her waist, and headed towards one of the nearby canoes.

"Going out to the reef?"

Sinag-Tala smiled when she heard Talim's voice. "Yes. It is the breeding season again, and I wish to be on the reef like I always am at this time of year."

Talim smiled back, her teeth shining white against her tanned skin in the afternoon light. "Do you not think it is a little early yet? I think you should wait until the sun is at least halfway down the horizon, and come with us when we launch the boats."

"No, I wish to go there now, and have a moment of solitude to myself before the hunt begins in earnest." She sighed. "There is much I wish to think about."

Talim's expression showed concern. "Are you certain you wish to go alone? I think it would be best if I went with you, and kept you company." She smiled slightly. "It has been a long time since we last talked to each other in private, as if you were not babaylan and I was not a warrior."

Sinag-Tala uttered a small laugh. Talim was right: it had been quite a long time since the two of them had spoken to one another without the impediments of duties and responsibilities. "Perhaps you are right. Come, let us go."

The two of them chose one of the canoes, and pushed it out into the waves. Once they were standing knee-deep in the water, they climbed into the vessel, took up the oars, and began paddling towards the slowly shrinking line of the reef.

They paddled in silence for a while, passing the rows of houses that were built on platforms above the water, balanced on stilts of bamboo that had been driven deep into the sands for stability. At length, Talim asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Sinag-Tala sighed, and tightened her grip on the handle of her oar. Now was the moment of truth. "I was thinking of Hiraya."

In spite of that, Talim didn't seem to miss a beat in paddling. "What about him?"

"I…do not really know how to handle him, or what to think of him." She stopped paddling a moment, and looked over her shoulder at her friend. "Did he not tell you? He asked for my hand in marriage."

"I knew," Talim replied, not the least bit ruffled by the idea. "He spoke of it to me, seeking advice, before he went to you." She raised an eyebrow inquiringly at Sinag-Tala. "Is that what you wished to think about?"

Sinag-Tala sighed, and nodded. "Yes, it was that…"

"Why do you ask me this, Hiraya?"

"And why should I not?"

Talim offered a small shrug. "I do not see anything wrong with it. If anyone were to wed you, it would have to be Hiraya. He is foremost of all those who would dare challenge for your hand. In fact, I doubt if anyone would wish to challenge him at all."

Sinag-Tala shook her head. "It is not as simple as you think."

"It is not so simple as this, Hiraya! I am a babaylan, and leader of my people! I do not have time to think of such things. I must think of my people first."

"And am I not one of those people? You are too hard on yourself, Sinag. You need someone to help you, and take care of you."

"I do not need anyone. This duty was left to me by my parents, and to no one else."

"But your parents had each other. They were not alone."

"It is a good match," Talim observed. "You know each other well. You are both of a marriageable age. And had your parents been alive today, they would offer no objections to the match."

"That is not the point," Sinag-Tala said, this time a little more vehemently. "I…I do not understand yet how I feel for Hiraya. When I asked Father why he married Mother, he said that it was because he loved her, and that she loved him. He told me that when the day came that someone asked to marry me, I should choose based on what I felt for the person in question. But he never told me what I should do if I did not understand how I felt." She shook her head. "No, I will not marry Hiraya, not now. Not while I cannot understand how I feel for him."

Talim sighed, and Sinag-Tala thought she heard regret in that sigh. "It will be as you say, Sinag."

There was a soft thumping sound against the side of the canoe then, causing Sinag-Tala and Talim to look towards the direction from which it came from. When they did, they saw a dolphin, its head poking up over the water. A ring, carved and polished from white coral, dangled against its flank, from where it hung from the dorsal fin by a thin but sturdy thread.

Sinag-Tala blinked, recognizing the dolphin. "Sindala?"

The dolphins had their own names, of course, in their own language, but since the Ma'yen, being humans, could not pronounce those names, instead gave the dolphins names in their own language. Sindala, as this particular dolphin was called, had been Sinag-Tala's friend since her childhood. The ring of white coral that she wore on her dorsal fin was a gift from Sinag-Tala herself, one that she had carved with the help of her parents.

Sindala responded to her voice, uttering a series of clicks and chirps that made Sinag-Tala's eyes widen in fear. No, she thought, surely not…

"A ship?" Talim asked softly, disbelief threaded through her voice. She too had heard and understood Sindala's message. She looked at Sinag-Tala. "What do you intend to do, Sinag? I think we should go back and warn the others, get the other warriors to come out here. I do not think we can do this by ourselves."

Sindala chattered then, and wriggled around in a manner that showed disagreement.

Sinag-Tala waited until Sindala had stopped chirping, and shook her head. "No, I will go ahead and speak to the people on the ship. Sindala tells me that there is nothing to fear from them, but I am not taking any chances. You go back, sound the horns, and gather a dozen armed warriors. Get them to the reef as soon as they are ready."

Without further ado, Sinag-Tala grabbed her spear, and jumped off the side of the boat. Grabbing hold of one of Sindala's dorsal fin, she took a deep breath, and felt the dolphin dive into the water, and speed off towards the reef. While this was not the most conventional mode of travel to the reef, since it was inconvenient for both human and dolphin, it was the swiftest, and necessary in times of need.

Sindala surfaced again near the reef, and Sinag-Tala was stunned to see a large ship looming just outside the protective ring formed by the reef. "In the name of the gods…"

It was unlike any ship that she had ever seen before. It was certainly more beautiful than the ships of the Rûmenyans, though certainly not as large. The timbers were dazzling white, and the prow was shaped to resemble the head of a swan – a bird that she had seen only once before, when she went on a journey to Rûmenyen with her father.

And then, she remembered all of a sudden the nights of her childhood, when she had gone running to her father when she could not sleep, and he would tell her stories of white swan ships that sailed to the land where the gods dwelt, never to return again…

It cannot be, she thought disbelievingly. This was too much like a dream. She had always believed that her father's stories were merely what they were – stories, and nothing more. But this ship in front of her was proving all her beliefs otherwise.

How I wish you were here with me, Father, she thought, and felt the tears coming to her eyes again, but she shook her head, clearing the tears from her lashes. Now was not the time to think of that. With that thought in mind, she straightened, and climbed up the corals in front of her, drawing an air of authority around her.

With a deep breath, she planted her spear to her left, and opened her mouth to speak; her words clear, but commanding. "How now, strangers! State your names, and your purpose in these waters."