When Lethril awoke, it took him a moment or two to fully realise that he was not in his own bed, but lying on a thin layer of straw spread on the floor, surrounded by other men. It was the common room of an inn, for the night turned into a resting place for those who could not afford a room. The air was rank with sour sweat and stale mead and Lethril knew he stank as bad as anyone else. The landlord came in, still drunk and puffy-eyed, and started kicking those who still slept.

'Get up, you dung heaps. Get up and make yourselves useful.'

Lethril soon saw what he meant when the others rose muttering and started to pull forward the tables and benches that had been pushed against the walls to create space. He lent a hand and soon they were all sitting down, being served a breakfast of bread, cream and mead. Feeling light-headed from last night, Lethril avoided the mead, but dunked the soft, white loaf into the cream and ate happily. Suddenly, he noticed someone standing behind him. It was the landlord.

'Paying for that, are you?' he asked roughly.

'Of course, sir,' said Lethril and glanced up at the fat man.

'What with?'

'I have coins,' said Lethril and started rooting through his pack for the little pouch. The room had gone quiet, and he became painfully aware that every eye was focussed upon him. The pouch was gone. 'I had coins, they were right here,' he said and looked pleadingly at the landlord.

It dawned on him then that the landlord had known all along that the pouch was gone. The smirk on his face confirmed his suspicions. Surprise turned into confusion and then anger.

'You took it!' said Lethril.

The fat man slapped him across the face so hard that he nearly tipped backwards onto the floor.

'How dare you accuse me of stealing in my own house! You get out this moment and never come back!'

With that, he grabbed Lethril by the collar and half led, half dragged him outside and threw him onto the cobbled street. Before the door slammed shut, Lethril could hear cheering and clapping from inside. Seething with anger and shame, he stood up and looked around him. The sun had only just risen and the street was empty.

'Eventually he will lose even his regulars,' came a voice from behind him. Just by the back door to the inn sat a man in rags and a hooded cloak, evidently too poor to even afford a place on the floor. Lethril, who in his innocence looked down on no man, glanced at him curiously.

'Not all men are like him,' continued the shabby man from beneath his hood, 'but you would be wise to always use your valuables for a pillow.'

Lethril thought he could make out a smile on the man's lips.

'Who are you?' he asked.

'No-one to most, but maybe someone to you. Go now and learn of life the hard way. Perhaps we will talk again, later.'

With that, the man stood up, remarkably swiftly. He was tall, taller than Lethril, who was by all means a fine height. Was he old? Lethril could not quite decide, and before he had a chance to meet the stranger's eyes, he had turned and walked away. His stride was great and proud, and he soon turned a corner and disappeared.

'Wait!' shouted Lethril suddenly and ran after him, but turning that same corner he found nothing but an empty street.

The early morning mist that rose from the sea made everything hazy, and as Lethril wandered aimlessly, he soon started wondering whether the man had been real, or some remaining fragment of a dream. Inevitably, his steps soon took him down to the harbour, already bustling with activity as the fishing boats came in with the tide to sell their catch to the market salesmen. Lethril was very good at watching, and he sat atop a barrel for the next couple of hours, trying to figure out how it all worked. There was a lot of shouting and haggling, and sometimes the negotiations even came to blows, and then he would feel a strange mixture of disgust and excitement. He knew it was wrong, but it was compelling to look at.

Eventually he had decided what he wanted to do, and by a stroke of luck, he witnessed an incident that would change his fortunes that day. The captain of one of the larger boats had caught one of the deckhands drinking some of wine they had shipped from another harbour to Amroth. It was fine wine, too, for the castle, and not even the captain himself had dared a sip.

'There are hundreds of the likes of you out there, so don't flatter yourself thinking I need you' barked the captain at the boy, who was already walking away, red in the face from shame and perhaps an earlier beating. Lethril saw his chance and hurried over to the captain, who was huffing and puffing furiously, his cheeks expanding like great big bellows.

'Perhaps you could do with some help aboard that ship of yours?' asked Lethril and smiled.

The captain swivelled around, taken aback by this prompt offer. Then he looked the boy up and down, clicking his tongue disapprovingly at his clothes.

'What's your name, boy?' he asked.

'Lethril, sir.'

'That's captain to you. Have much experience sailing?'

'No, sir, captain.'

'I could almost tell. You look like you came straight from one of them villages a few miles off. How old are you?'

'I will be seventeen this summer, captain.'

The captain grunted, but Letrhil could not guess what it meant.

'How'd that happen?' asked the captain and nodded to the bruise on his left cheek.

'The landlord at the inn stole my pouch of coins, and when I confronted him, he hit me, captain.'

'Aye,' said the captain, a sudden wave darkness sweeping across his features. 'I know the one. Well, my lad, you are in luck. Come down here in the evening before the tide comes in again and we'll see how you get along. I am Harkal, the captain of this ship, but to you, I am always captain Harkal.'

'Yes, captain Harkal. Thank you, captain.'

He spent the morning wandering the harbour, marvelling at the crowds that gathered for the fish market. Never in his life had he seen so many people together. There were men, women and children of all ages, and even a few cats and dogs. To Lethril, it seemed awfully disorganised and chaotic, and he soon took refuge amongst the branches of a tree. He had only sat there for a little while when a voice called up to him.

'Why, that is a rather splendid idea! Mind if I join you?'

It was a young girl, perhaps a couple of years younger than himself, but already with the sensual glittering eyes of a woman.

'No, not at all,' said Lethril, climbed down to the lower branches and extended a hand to help her up.

Her grip was firm, but her hand soft, and the dark eyes unsettled him. Suddenly they shared a branch, and she was so close he could smell the fish on her hands and the salt in her hair. He climbed swiftly upwards again, to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. She followed slowly, held back by the skirts of her dress. Soon they were sitting side by side, the girls swinging her legs happily and humming softly. Lethril searched for words, something to break the silence, but the feeling of being so close to a girl overwhelmed him.

'A quiet sort, aren't you?' said the girl, looking straight at him. 'What's your name?'

'Lethril,' he replied quickly, glad to have something to say.

'I'm Nella. This is a good spot. Splendid view!'

He followed her gaze towards the sea and spotted a large ship coming into the harbour. Now he noticed quite a crowd gathering on the seaside, all seemingly waiting for the ship to moor.

'What is that ship?' he asked Nella.

'Don't you know? It's a delegation from Rohan. What are you doing up here, if you're not waiting for that? A little old for climbing trees, I'd say!'

Lethril's knowledge of geography was very limited. Rohan was a name he had not heard often, and he vaguely associated it with fierce warriors and horses.

'Are they coming to start a war?' he asked, passing over Nella's comment on treeclimbing.

Nella burst out laughing, a loud, clear laugh that made Lethril's ever-present blush a shade or two darker.

'Of course not! You are not from Dol Amroth, are you? They have come to visit the castle.' Nella pointed to the distant hills. The mist had almost cleared now, and there lay a grand building with many pinnacles and banners. At least Lethril knew that the King did not live there, but in Minas Tirith, far away to the north. Rohan was probably even further away. He wanted to ask Nella so much, but was afraid she might laugh at him.

'I don't know much,' he said apologetically. 'I only came here yestereve.'

'Oh, it doesn't matter,' said Nella and smiled at him. 'I like you. You're not like other boys.'

He lost himself in her eyes. They were so very dark, like deep pools he could drown in if he looked too long. Her hair was dark and curly, framing her round little face. She had so many freckles they almost joined together, but Lethril still thought her pretty. Was she leaning a little closer? Her soft lips parted, almost expectantly, but at that moment a cheer rose from the gathering on the shore and they pulled apart.

Lethril felt dizzy as he turned to look at the men of Rohan, but he had to wait a while yet, for the crowd surrounded and followed them, but they were heading up the street where they sat. In his dreams he had kissed many girls, and he had always imagined it would be easy, but Nella had surely kissed many boys before him, and now he was frightened. The unpleasant events of the morning were forgotten. Now he had already found means of survival, and here he was, sitting in a tree next to a pretty girl.

The delegation was much closer now, and for the first time ever, Lethril saw men of a different land. He started openly at their bright hair. A dozen or so of them were mounted, and Lethril wondered if the horses had come on the ship, too. Then he noticed there were women amongst the riders! His heart skipped a beat as his eyes darted between them, their hair just as golden as that of the woman in his dream. As the passed close to the tree, he breathlessly studied their faces, but although they were all beautiful and proud, none of them was her.

'Very lovely, aren't they?' said Nella, but there was a hint of frost in her voice. Lethril may have been oblivious of many a thing, but he could tell she was jealous.

'You are prettier than any of them,' he said, and was rewarded with a smile. Then suddenly she flung her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his before scrambling down the branches and onto the ground. She looked up at him and waved, then ran off and disappeared into the throng of people.

He spent hours looking after her, but she was nowhere to be found. Like the mysterious man that morning, she seemed to have vanished without a trace. Eventually, darkness began to fall, the market stalls were shutting and Lethril abandoned his search and headed for captain Harkal's ship.