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Old 12-01-2004, 01:09 PM   #249
piosenniel
Desultory Dwimmerlaik
 
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The space between the ships was narrowing as The Sea Spirit drew closer to the Corsair vessel. Rôg did not fear that he would be crushed between them where he swam in the small area of water between them; the sides of the ships would touch long before the keels were near enough to cause him problems. He was anxious, though, because the distance between the Elven ship’s side and the plank where Andtuariel stool was becoming critically close.

Again, and in a much louder voice, he urged her to jump. But his words from that distance were hard to hear above the din of the beginning battle. Still, he noted. she had heard something and now glanced down looking to see who had called to her. He pushed himself up as far as he could from the surface of the water and motioned to her with his flipper.

Too late!

He saw her look up and over to where The Spirit drew closer. There was a sudden look of horror on her face as the loud cracking sound that echoed between the ships was quickly followed by the deafening whump as the Elven vessel’s mast crashed to the deck of the Corsair ship. She was frozen in time for a moment, then fell from the plank like a limp rag doll.

Rôg dove deep below the surface of the waves, one eye above to where she might enter the water. Like a leaden weight, her body plunged downward, and, unresisting, was met by his own as he raced upward to bring her to the surface. He moved his body under her floating above the waters surface. He spoke to her, wanting her to take hold of his flipper, so that he might more easily move her to safety, But, there was no response. Desperate, he grabbed her by the neckline of her cloak, and flipping on his back, the main weight of her supported on his underbelly, he swam slowly around the prow of The Spirit to the side of the ship away from the battle.

Rodhal had been watching Rôg from the first, crouched down and peeking over the edge of the deck as he could. He followed the path of the Skinchanger, and seeing the tired fellow trying to keep the Elven maiden afloat, he ran quickly to get his uncle’s help. ‘Down here!’ he cried, tugging Galhardir to the side of the ship by his coat sleeve. ‘He looks tired Uncle and the poor Elf weighs heavily on him. He can barely keep the both of them afloat.’ Galhardir got into the longbot that hung on that side of the ship. Several of the other Lossoth took hold of the ropes and lowered him in a crazy, swinging motion to the water below.

‘Take her!’ Rôg gasped, as Galhardir reached down toward the Elf. ‘Get her out of the water.’ The Elf’s sodden body was pulled as quickly as could be done into the bottom of the boat. Rôg put his hands boat’s edge and hauled himself into it. He was shivering now, his face drawn from the cold, and from the gravity of the situation. Galhardir had taken his own cloak and set it about the man’s shoulders.

‘Nay,’ rasped Rôg, attempting to stand and place the cloak over Andtuariel. ‘She needs it.’ Galhardir pushed the man back down to the seat. ‘Nay, Rôg,’ he said gently, settling the cloak about the huddled figure. ‘She has no need of it now. She has gone where the cold touches her no longer.’ He raised his hand to wave to the Lossoth above, signaling them to raise the boat back to the deck. With great care they bore the Elf’s body to her room and laid her out on her bed, to be seen to later when the press of battle was not upon them.

Rôg, for his part, put his grief at the death of the fair Elven maid aside. There was nothing more he could do for her. But his other companions were now fighting on the Corsair deck. He could still aid them in his own small way. Shaking off the now sodden cloak, he took wing once again as the merlin. Eyes sharp as he circled above the battle, he flew in a tight circle, then darted swiftly down; his beak and talons harrying the Corsairs from above as he could.

Last edited by piosenniel; 12-02-2004 at 03:11 AM.
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