[Lalwendë]

Regan had brought Tarn his effects together with a needle and a reel of rough thread to mend the long rends in the leather of his coat. It was obviously a needle that had previously been used to stitch a wound together, possibly his own wound, as it was tipped in encrusted blood; and it was a crude, quite blunt one, but Tarn had insisted upon having it. The rips had been awkward to fix, and the needle had gone into his finger more than a few times, but these hurts did not register on him.

Finally he had fixed up his coat as best he could. He was sitting looking at it with a frown, as it had been an expensive purchase from a Southern trader and he was not happy to see it in such a rough state. As he contemplated cleaning it, he heard a crashing noise coming from a cabin along the gangway and leapt to his feet, swinging the coat around his shoulders without a thought.

Fully kitted up again, he followed the noise down the gangway to Jynne’s cabin where he was just in time to see little Hilde hurling her axe. He stepped back away from the doorway in amazement and not a little fear. He was not alone; a crowd had gathered, Regan amongst them. He raised his eyebrows at Tarn silently, and a smile crept about the corners of his mouth. Tarn nodded and thrust out his bottom lip in a grimace, appreciatively looking at what the woman had achieved. It was one of the only times he had approved of the actions of another Lossoth.

Looking up, Marreth barked out an order to set sail and the crowd instantly dispersed to take up their posts. Tarn did not have one, and he knew he would have been allowed to remain within his cabin, but adrenalin now surged through his veins again and he ran down the gangway after Regan, eager to play whatever part may come to him.