[Nuranar]

Calnan awoke with a start as a solid body crashed heavily into his hammock. "C'mon, mate, our watch!" the man whispered as he stumbled past.

Calnan gave his head a quick shake, swung his feet over the edge and dropped down - then nearly collapsed on the deck as his stiff legs all but refused to bear him. Who knew battles could give you such a workout?! His legs were stiff and weak, and his back and arms felt as if he'd hired on as a stonebreaker working a twelve-hour day.

With a silent groan, Calnan headed for the ladder. The cool air refreshed him somewhat; the sky was all but black, a hint of grey in the east presaging the sun. He reported to Meri Loliway on the quarterdeck.

The first mate only nodded frostily before turning her back and walking to the rail. She's probably still sulking about her blowup with Avershire, Calnan mused. The entire crew - even those few who hadn't heard the cabin door slam - already knew about her outburst in front of the corsair captain. Surely she wouldn't be that upset about the sinking... Calnan reined in his thoughts sharply. He knew Avershire had had no choice, but the horror of the Pora Diy's sinking still hung over him. He couldn't think about it now.

A wounded man moaned down below, cutting into Calnan's reverie. Association of ideas led him to Devon. He had talked to his friend after the last watch. Devon had been just a little too matter-of-fact about not being able to use his arm as well. Calnan could see how severe a blow this was to him, but had in turn hidden his knowledge.

At least he's still here, he sighed. Then he caught sight of Meri, motionlessly gazing out to sea. His fury at her refusal to help Devon had dissipated, and he didn't dwell on it for fear of bringing it back. But a deep resentment had formed in its place.

He understood her point of view, he thought. Meri Loliway was a warrior through and through. Not for her the high-minded ideals of loyalty and fellowship; she lived by the brutal reality of the sword. Calnan respected her practicality, even as he silently protested her callousness.

He was no stranger to the facts of war. Sometimes the wounded had to be left behind and friends abandoned. But only in the greatest extremity, only in the direst need! In this situation, there had been no urgent need for departure, no immediate pursuit, no desperate fight to the death for all concerned. The battle was hard-fought, but it wasn't so close that one more sword was vital to the outcome.

And as for friendship... Well, friendship isn't practical! Calnan thought wryly. And that was what distinguished them - those few loyal to Gondor, those on this ship - from the corsairs. No one could doubt the corsairs' courage or their valor. But they fought, albeit together, ultimately for themselves. That's where the line of practicality ended. Sure, friendship isn't practical, but if we don't look out for each other, in the end there's no difference between us and them.

Calnan walked a few more paces, then paused as a thought hit him. I wonder how she would've reacted if it'd been Avershire who was wounded. He grinned sardonically at the horizon and resumed his walk. Hmm...