[Arvedui III]

Rangar felt horrible from the moment Turthol shoved him out the door. Clearly his friend was too humiliated to joke. "What can you laugh at if not at yourself?" He mumbled as he rejoined the others, figuring that Turthol needed time to fume before he apologized; Yet for what Rangar still had to work out. "What's up?" Tareth asked. "We overdid it." Rangar said simply and looked up toward the room. "Why?" Said Enien, still grinning broadly. "He's gonna burn those cloths now, he means it." "HE'S WHAT?!" Wren burst out, causing many in the tavern to cease their conversations and stare. "Going to burn those horrid cloths." Rangar shrugged. It wasn't a great deal, leastways, he thought it wasn't. Wren didn't answer, but began storming up the stairs toward Turthol's room.

The group sat in silence while muffled yells issued from the chamber for several minutes, then Turthol came down the stairs. Rangar got up, but before the words could leave his mouth Turthol flopped down at the bar. Not again. What does he find so great in drinking? Then, before he could stop himself, "Don't drink too much, you'll be drunk like back in Bree." Stupid! He thought, but couldn't help laughing all the same. Wren had now rejoined them, and after Turthol made the oddest reaction possible to his words: a toast; He went back upstairs and bolted the door.

"That was smart." Rangar said aloud, though meaning to only scold himself. "Should we try and-" Bregand started, now wearing a similar guilty look. "No, just leave him be." Rangar cut in. "Let's all find beds and take some rest." They did, Turthol's haunting fife wandering into their rooms throughout the night.
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Rangar woke early as always, and it seemed a mercy to do so some nights, this one in particular. It had passed through his mind more than once that Barodin had awoken memories, albeit hazy, undistinguishable memories, that should have just stayed put. But, he wanted to know them, didn't he? Not like this. He thought as the sat down against the wall near Turthol's room, shaking off the familiar bad dream head ache. Quite suddenly, the blot slid out of the lock and the door hit Rangar, knocking him out of his thoughts and onto the floor. "How did I know." Came the sarcastic statement from behind the door. "Turthol, I'm" Rangar began, getting to his feet. "I know, I know. Don't worry about it." Said Turthol through a yawn, stepping outside and into view.

Soon, the rest of the company rose, and most reluctantly, Rangar followed Wren to the wharf where the Silver Wrym lay in harbor. Ships. Why ships? Rangar felt very uncomfortable around the sea, most of all on a wooden boat. However, despite all his misgivings the ship took his breath away, and suddenly he understood a little why the men of Dol Amroth used such crafts for their banner. She was huge, and green of her sides glinted in the sun magnificently. Still, he supposed his disquiet showed for Enien, who had previously been talking to Rave, asked him frankly, "This wasn't your idea, was it."

Before he could answer, the elf Ani Dao appeared beaming, and came down the gangway. As she reached them, the elf asked, "Ready to go?" Rangar gulped. "Yep, show us aboard."