[Lalwendë]

The noble Elf was standing alone by the rail. He was watching the boats arrive with the goods, and had been on watch since the Lossoth had left the shoreline. Tarn had spotted the figure of the captain almost straight away, standing apart from the others onboard, his eyes trained on the line of boats heading out towards the ship.

Tarn kept a watch upon him as the small boats pulled across the waves, expecting the Elf to move towards the winch and make ready to meet the traders, but he remained motionless. He reminded him of a sea bird, eyes keen for prey, but still and calm on his perch.

In the second boat sailing towards the ship, Tarn helped the oarsman to steer the small craft towards the centre deck, where the winch stood. The great ship made the swell of the waves much larger, and Tarn’s face whitened a little in fear as for a moment he thought they would be swept under the hull by the undertow. But the oarsman was in control and soon lines were being thrown down to secure the smaller craft.

Tarn made sure that the scarf wound about his face was secure. The Elf Captain had now moved towards the winch machinery where all the activity was beginning to take place. He sent others to do his bargaining, and remained on deck to watch. He set to work helping with the winding of the winch handle. Still he remained silent.

Feeling as though those sharp eyes were boring into his own, Tarn turned his face away quickly and not noticing the shouts of the Elves, the falling barrel caught him unawares. The men in the first boat took up their oars quickly and pushed the little vessel away from the winch with all the force they could muster, sending their own boat crashing into Tarn’s. He fell to the bottom of the little boat, jerked from his feet by the bump. As the barrel broke free of its moorings and crashed into the water, it sent up a mighty plume of spray. The boat rocked and was swamped for a moment. Shaking his head, Tarn started to bail the water out furiously.