...

~ The Mariners ~

Elraen and the dwarves slowly collected themselves, soaked and stunned in silence, and gathered on the deck. They were all still feeling quite in a bad way but were relieved to discover they were all alive and present and relatively unharmed.

"Well bless my beard that we're alive and rid of those wicked Men but now what? Do you know how to sail this thing?" said Nim.

Elraen shook her head, still catching her breath and trying to recover her nerves.

"And who in the wide world shot those arrows?" exclaimed Dim.

"Lady," Frain jumped in, "you're bleeding!" he cried, pointing at her neck.

Elraen touched the front of her neck with a wince and saw the bright red on her fingers. She grimaced. "It is not serious I think, or I should be dead now." She searched her pockets for a handkerchief. "Here, have this," said Frain, holding out one of his. She took it and pressed it to her neck, with no idea what to do or say next.

Just then the blast of a horn rang through the air. It was no harsh blare such as a battle horn made by Men would sound, but beautiful and pleasant like a court minstrel's fair music, yet at the same time it had a stern and commanding feel to it.

Elraen turned to the direction from which it came and stepped up to the rail, peering out, straining to find the source of the noise over the large rolling waves. At last she spied it. A pale little spot against the dark sea.

"There's a ship!" she cried, pointing out. She wondered how on earth whoever was on it could even see them let alone aim arrows so far. "We have some time, it still looks far yet," she said. Elraen plucked one of the arrows off the deck, inspecting it. Suddenly she realized how weary she felt, and sat down. By now the sun had completely set and the sky had grown dark.

It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes before Frain called out again. "They're almost here!"

Elraen scrambled to her feet, having to see for herself that they had arrived so quickly.

"Why it's the elves!" said Dim.

"Do not the Dwarves have a fraught history with the Elves?" she asked nervously.

"Not with all," said Nim. "With the Elves of the Havens we've had no quarrel and still do business with them from time to time. Besides, I don't see a lot of other choices at present."

"And we are not descended from the Dwarves who pursued that ancient war besides," asserted Frain.

'The Havens!' thought Elraen. A break in her quest at last. She sheathed her sword, which in spite of all that happened she was still clutching, and held it loosely by the scabbard strap.

The Elven ship was even bigger than the one they were on, and lightly and skillfully it pulled up alongside. It was beautifully wrought with intricate carvings along the sides. There stood at the rail several elves tall and fair, looking down upon them in curious wonder. A few had arrows pulled at their bows, perhaps in anticipation of any remaining pirates. Elraen suddenly felt keenly aware of how she must look, after weeks of roaming through the mountain wilds and several days on a rowboat with almost no food and poor rest, and having just been drenched by an oversized ocean wave.

The elf ship pulled so close that they were able to easily lay a broad plank. Four of their crew crossed over bearing fine large blades and boarded the pirate ship. They stood a few moments, looking cautiously around and back at the captives.

At last Elraen broke the silence. "Mae govannen," she said with a little curtsy, still holding the cloth at her neck. At that they all looked at her, surprised, even the dwarves. "We are out of danger," she continued in their speech, "in part thanks to you, and in part thanks to the great wave that just passed by."

The tallest elf stepped forward intrigued, almost smiling, and sheathed his great knife. His gaze fell upon each of them in turn. "Well met indeed!" he at last replied. "A mortal maiden who speaks the Elven tongue? With a company of three chained dwarves. Strange chances do we meet upon the sea!"

Elraen could make out only parts of what was said. "I am better with the Common Tongue," she confessed.

He looked at her a moment, pondering all these strange things together. "I am Annael, captain of this ship you see here," he declared in the Common Speech. "What a sight we've come across! A young mortal who from afar we nearly mistook for an elf, with three dwarves, together all held captive by wicked Men. You three I guess hail from the Blue Mountains," he said to the dwarves. They each introduced themselves with a deep bow and offer of service. "I may find use for such service as you can provide in the future, but clearly you are in need of mine. We have tools here to remove those Orc chains," he said, "and I can take you as far as Mithlond at the Havens." They bowed low again many times with more praise and thanks and declarations of their debt.

"And who might the mysterious maiden be that these three can thank for our detour?" he went on, turning now to her.

"I am Elraen, out of the kingdom of Eorl a ways south of here," she said, "it is the Lord of the Grey Havens that I seek."

All looked at her, in wonder anew, not least the dwarves who at last learned the mysterious purpose of her lonesome journey. The captain looked at her quietly for a long moment.

"And what is it you desire of the great Shipwright, child?" he asked at last.

"I seek counsel," she replied, "at the urging of my foster father, the last ambassador of Gondor to Rohan."

Annael looked at her gravely for a moment, then his face softened. She wondered if the name of Gondor meant anything to him. "Well, then you are in luck, as mortals might say, for it is Lord Cirdan whom we serve. It would not be our custom, but days are strange when darkness grows. I think indeed it will be good for him to meet you. We will take you to him. Come," he said gesturing for them to cross over.

They boarded the ship, the crew pulled anchor and turned about back northward. The freed captives told the elves what they would of their stories as the dwarves were at last freed of their chains and Elraen's wound was tended.

"What are the elves doing sailing way out here?" asked Nim.

"This ship is newly complete, built to carry the elves migrating West," said Annael. "We had it out for a test, as we do all the new ships."

"Do you know aught of such wicked men?" asked Frain.

"We do not trouble much in the news and affairs of Men. But I might guess they are perhaps a rogue group from among the Corsairs, who dwell mostly very far south from here. The few Men that still dwell in this region have no ships such as the one that bore you."

At last Elraen spoke up. "How did you mistake me for an elf?"

He looked at her, wondering at her confusion. "You have a light," he replied after a long pause. "Mortals sometimes say that about each other as a term of speech. But in your case there is indeed a real one. A curious sight it was, bright and yet very faint, like a phantom or vision of an echo of a fair white fire. We were uncertain to approach at first, but it had a wholesome feel to it that we could discern from afar. By the time we came near it became difficult even for an elf to see, brighter in the eyes, then disappeared. From a distance we at first wondered if we had come across one of the Calaquendi."

"The elves of Valinor."

"Yes. Although the light was rather different than what you usually see from the Elves of the West. It piqued our curiosity regardless; it is indeed only because of it that we chose to intervene."

He looked at the dwarves, who were following the conversation, silent and amazed. "Most fascinating. Apparently it is so veiled only Elves can see it. Right now it cannot be seen, perhaps it only kindles when you feel very alarmed or threatened. I hope Lord Cirdan can tell you more."

"I look forward to it," she said. Then they were shown to their lodging. There were many empty rooms available, and the captain had quarters prepared for them as well as they could manage. In each room they were provided large basins of hot and cold water with which to bathe and clean their clothes, and such fresh clothes and linens as they could spare. There was also a small table upon which had been set some bread, dried fruit, water, and strong wine.

Elraen felt blissful after the hardship of the last several weeks. She washed up and cleaned her clothes and happily sank into the soft bed for a better sleep than she'd remembered in many years.

The next couple of days went by quietly as the elves went about their business, the weather fair and clear. They would break into songs, some solemn, some more silly and accented by their laughter. 'A merry lot they are,' thought Elraen to herself. The dwarves being even less happy on the open sea remained in their quarters most of the trip, also sometimes irritated by the melodious laughter that they suspected was at their expense. But Elraen spent much of the time near the bow, gazing quietly at open sea, mostly toward the western horizon, almost expecting a half-fancied land beyond it to suddenly appear. At night she would often remain long out on the deck, gazing up at the sky as the grey elves were wont to do. Some took notice of this and would talk with her at whiles of their love for the stars, even singing the Lay of Earendil in full, and many other songs besides. They wondered, for she would stare long and intently at them, especially the bright Evening Star, as if the twinkling little lights stirred some lost memory that she could not find.

As the sun set on the second evening, the wind picked up all of a sudden. The waves began to swell and off in the distance rolling thunder began to boom. Before they knew it the ship was getting tossed around by angry waves like a child's toy in a wash tub. A stinging rain whipped at their faces with a howling wind lashing at their sails, and lightning began to crack down close by. Even the Elves struggled to keep from being flung into the sea, and they began to fear they might fare no better than the mariners of the Havens who had come to the rescue of another mortal in an age long past.

Elraen knew she could not be the source of this storm, she'd been feeling far too content the past couple of days. She crouched and clung tight to the rail, and thought of the poor dwarves who must be getting ill swaying and tossing round in their room. The captain called to her to get inside. She started to make her way across the deck from the bow, trying to keep her balance and shield her eyes from the sheets of blinding rain. Then suddenly the waves pushed the boat in such a way that it seemed to jump into the air and slam back down onto the surface. Elraen was knocked from her feet and fell flat onto the floor. She rolled over and crawled back to where she had started and clung to a rail post. There seemed naught to do but hold on. She closed her eyes and started to sing.

It was an ancient song, a short folk rhyme commonly taught to children in South Gondor where there had once thrived a culture of seafaring mariners and their families. Lord Artamir had once told her that the verses likely rooted back as far as old Numenor. The lyrics were in essence a plea to the Lady of the Seas for safe passage. Elraen's voice sang out softly, barely audible even to anyone if they were standing near.

When she finished the song, a blast of water and warm wind blew swift over them then suddenly the wind slowed. She got up from where she'd been crouched and stood a little higher, still holding to the rail, and sang it again. The waves shrank down more, and within minutes the rain tapered off to a misty drizzle.

Elraen wasn't sure if her singing had anything to do with the storm's sudden departure, but she looked out at the water and smiled to herself anyway. Then she turned around to find the elves all staring at her amazed, feeling themselves surprised and confused and curiously reverent, as though by contrast they were all quite certain the singing had driven away the storm. The captain walked up to her as the rest returned to tending the ship and tidying up the deck. "Well, Lady Elraen, I daresay your debt to us is now paid! I am most curious to hear what my lord has to say."