[Envinyatar]

The previous night - Eärnil

‘Look,Father! The Valacirca! See how the tip of the sickle points north, and how our ship’s bow points south and sails away from it.’

Eärnil stood at the stern railing looking up at the night sky. It had been his great delight to listen to the stories of the Elves in Edhellond as they spoke of how the Valar had placed the stars in the sky. And the Elven mariners had shown him how they often steered according to the placement of the clustered stars when that was all there was to go by on the dark, open seas.

Tarciryan smiled down at his son’s eager face, the boy’s features picked out in soft relief by the moon’s pale light. The breeze that blew them southward, ruffled the Eärnil’s hair, framing his pale face with a certain wildness. ‘One of Ulmo’s creatures,’ he thought, watching the seaspray glint on his son’s face. ‘Born to love the sea, I think, and to ride upon her in the great ships.’

The moon shifted in the sky as the ship turned slightly toward the west and the features of the boy’s face fell into shadow. ‘How long, Father, until we reach the Anduin?’

‘A day, I think, Eärnil, if the wind is with us. Then we will have to tack against the current to the docks at Harlond.’ Tarciryan’s brow furrowed as he sought to recall how long it had taken the last time he had sailed up to see his brother. ‘Hmm . . . four days I think for that, barring any difficulties.’

It was Eärnil’s turn to frown. ‘Harlond, Father? But I thought we were bound for Osgiliath. Isn’t that where Uncle Tarannon . . . I mean, the King, is?’

Tarciryan laughed at the perceptive young man. ‘Yes, we’re bound for Osgiliath. But I fancy a little ride before we get there. You can take a peek at Anor as we ride past. It’s not far from Harlond to the outskirts of Osgiliath. Only a few hours more. We can enter the city without the fanfare the King is sure to have planned for us.’ He grinned broadly, thinking of the surprise in store for his brother and his old friend.

'Your Uncle will not expect us for a week yet. When I wrote the letter to him, I thought we would sail later than we did.’ He tapped his son’s cheek lightly with his open palm. ‘We will surprise him . . . and Gaeradan . . . throw their well laid plans off kilter.’

Eärnil laughed at the image of his father’s friend caught with his plans gone awry. Tarciryan laughed, too. ‘Poor Gaeradan, he’ll have to improvise!’

[ July 01, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]