The Court of Ardor by AliceNWonder000137  

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The Call of the Sea / War on the Waves

Morelen, Notaldo and Lireno journey south to reunite with The Guild of Element and The Three and to discuss a new alliance with the north.  They see the wonders of the ocean but not all is quiet and peaceful.

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43)  Call of the Sea / War on the Waves - Year of the Sun 494 Girithron (December)

 

Morelen

The stay at Gil-Galad’s manor was fabulous.  He treated them warmly and the riders were lodged in expansive quarters that reminded them of their homes in Hithlum, under Fingon.  The structure itself was more devoted to the sea and a delicate blend of both Sindarin and Noldorin culture, a product of the prince’s more cosmopolitan upbringing.  The staff were also a mixture of people, some Noldor, some Falathrim and some Edain and the décor reflected that.

On the morning of departure, the skies were clear but cold and a light dusting of snow lay on the ground. The sea was calm with some ice crusting on the docks with icicles dangling from the eaves of the manor.  The riders stood out on the balcony, breath streaming in the cold air.  Morelen rubbed her nose and hands and then Silmani’s shoulders.  She pulled the young lady’s fur coat tighter and secured the mithril clasp, an eight-pointed star on a field of blue, the sign of Fingon’s House.  An attendant brought them a pot of hot coffee.

“Quite the view, isn’t it?” Gil-Galad said, his hands wrapped around a mug of steaming liquid.

Notaldo blew a hot breath into his palms and nodded.  “Indeed it is.  I’m sad to leave.  This island has a sense of peace and unity.”

“It has been my home since the fall of the Falas.  I am indebted to Círdan.  He is wise beyond measure.  His defense of the Falas and smooth evacuation was masterful.  Every inch of ground that we gave cost the enemy dearly. My people and I would not be standing here but for him.”  He looked down and saw Silmani’s coat pin and smiled.  “I am glad that memory of my father endures.  I would see our house thrive and be reborn under Turgon.”

The riders bowed. “We wish it as well,” Notaldo said. “We will take our leave of you, my prince.  We will never forget your courtesy.”

Gil-Galad returned a wide grin.  “Not so fast, good riders.  I have decided to journey with you.  Círdan will join us as well.  I am not so well traveled as he and I wish to see the world so that I may better serve our people.  A diversity of ideas and cultures can only broaden our horizons and my experience.”

Morelen cocked her head. “A…wise idea, my prince.  We would welcome you.”  Gil-Galad had more of the feel of a contemporary rather than what she saw in Fingon or Fingolfin.  The latter two were like Ainur to her, larger than life.  Gil-Galad was younger than she was but she had a feeling that he would grow into the role.  “Life in the south is quite different.  I think…I think you will like it.”

They looked down and saw Círdan and Ferui waving from the dock in front of the Bregolaph.  A gangplank went to the vessel from the dock. The ship was large, shaped expertly like a swan, the design of the master shipwright.  Two tall masts rose above the ship, awaiting triangular sails to catch the wind.  At the prow was the sculpture of a swan’s neck and head, expertly painted in white, black and orange.  On the sides of the vessel were wooden wings, tucked into the hull, painted in white.  It had six decks with a high quarter and poop deck aft, ideal for a view or defense.  Rope ladders led from the decks up to the masts for sailors to climb.  The crew scrambled around, hauling barrels and bags of supplies as seagulls soared and dove above.  They walked down to the docks to meet the sailors, where ice had been scraped from the wood to prevent slipping.

They nodded to Círdan. “When do we depart?” Notaldo asked.

Círdan shook his head. “That’s Captain Ferui’s purview. I’m just along for the ride.”

Ferui snorted a chuckle and pointed his thumb at the Shipwright.  “He just designed and constructed this wonder, that’s all.  Now please, welcome to the Bregolaph.  You are free to board.  My crew will see to your quarters and bags.”  He licked his finger and held it up into the wind.  “Ah, perfect.  Fair winds and following seas.  With a little luck, we’ll be at the trading post of Gensatra in under two weeks. That’s where I dropped your father off, Morelen.  They have the best lobster bisque.  Ethirbenn has tried to recreate it, but I fear that he gets a little heavy on the cream. Just saying.”  He gestured up the plank and made a motion for them to hold the railings.  “Don’t want you falling off.  It’s a little cold in the water.”

Hîgwen met them at the top of the gangplank and she, along with some of the crew, took their bags and showed them the way to the cabins.  Each family had its own and the two young ladies had a room to themselves. Idhrendiel and Silmani clapped and giggled, running off to find their room.  Líreno chuckled.  “It’s like I have two daughters.”

As the crew headed down the staircase below, Morelen pointed to the sea.  “It calls to me,” she said to Notaldo.  “I think I’ll stay topside for a while.”

He nodded.  “I’ll stay with you.”

Círdan and Ferui came aboard and pulled up the plank.  “All aboard!” Ferui called.  “Cast off lines!”  Sailors lifted the thick ropes that tied the Bregolaph to the dock and workers dockside pulled them in, freeing the great ship.  They used poles to push the vessel away and oarsmen pulled to propel the ship out of the port.  As they passed the last of the jetties, Morelen waved to children gathered on the massive stones that served as breakwaters for the port.  The children, clad in thick furs, jumped up and down, waving and blowing kisses.  Seagulls followed the Bregolaph as fishing vessels sortied out to pursue their catch while clam diggers prowled the cold beach.  It was a microcosm that the High Elves were amazed at.

Ferui called to sailors up in the masts.  “Raise the sails!  Full ahead!”  He went to the great wheel that steered the ship and put on his yellow sea cap as barefooted sailors pulled the lines that raised the sails.  The wind caught the canvas and the sails billowed out like clouds with a snapping sound and the Bregolaph surged ahead, cutting the water like a knife.

Morelen peered over the bow, the wind fluttering her raven hair behind her and she inhaled the smell of the sea, salty, cold and full of life.  She looked down to see a school of dolphins leaping and diving just ahead of them. Sailors tossed fish over the side and dolphins bolted up, catching them in midair.  What a wonder.

Círdan, and the Sindarin woman whom he danced with, approached them.  “It’s magnificent, isn’t it?  The sea.  It calls to we elves.  When I awoke at Lake Cuiviénen, the first thing I saw was water.  It has been in my heart ever since.  Water…and my Halviel,” he said, gesturing to the woman.  “She is my seashell, a song on her lips and the roar of the sea in her heart.  She is every bit the sailor that I am.”

“The things that you have seen,” Morelen said in wonder as she gazed out on the sunlit horizon.

“We will have smooth sailing all the way south.  Ulmo is good.”  And he was not wrong.

The journey was swift as there always seemed to be a wind in their favor and the sails were always full. The weather began to get warmer too, a feeling of humidity creeping into the climate as they continued south.  Dolphins frequently swam alongside of the Bregolaph, hopping and playing at the bow of the ship while sailors tossed them fish. Morelen, Silmani and Idhrendiel always joined in, digging into buckets of bait fish and flinging them out to have dolphins leap up and catch them, the two young women laughing freely.  Halviel and Hîgwen stood behind them, clapping in joy. Morelen looked out to see something huge, jumping out of the water and then crashing back, throwing up a massive spray.  Her eyes went big, and she stopped what she was doing.

“That is a whale,” Círdan said, pointing.  “She’s part of a pod that will birth calves soon.  They’re very gentle unless provoked and we don’t provoke them.”  

They gazed out, seeing spouts of water.  “Magnificent!” she said in awe.  Something about the ocean captured her.  She closed her eyes and just felt the salt sea spray on her face.

“We are nearing the outpost of Gensatra soon,” Círdan said.  “It has been too long since we have been here.  I have not been able to send any ships since the Nirnaeth…every vessel was needed for the evacuation of the Falas and all trade from the north ceased. I’m pleased that we may be able to resume that.”

The sun began to set in the west, casting a radiant spectrum of colors across the horizon.  White fluffy clouds floated in the distance, turning red, then pink, then purple.  Sailors called out to slack the sails for night as a bell rang out the time. “We’ll be nearing the shallows soon!” Ferui called out.  “Watchers on the prow and in the crow’s nests, looking for reefs!” he ordered, and barefoot sailors rushed forward and up the rope ladders.  

A sailor pulled up a wooden cylinder attached to a line.  “Eight fathoms, sandy bottom!”

Ferui looked up at the sails.  “That’s good! That’s good!  Maintain fifteen knots, half speed ahead!”  He took a deep sniff of the air.  “Ah!  Hîgwen almost has dinner ready!  I could eat a whale!” he called with a deep laugh.

Soon, platters of fish, shrimp, octopus and squid were brought topside along with deep pots of broth. Hîgwen led the galley crew in laying out the food on wooden tables on the main deck and crew who were not working gathered.  They ate as Círdan, Halviel, Gil-Galad and Ferui stood by, not eating until the crew had finished.  Even when the crew swapped out with the workers, they waited and then joined the feast. Ferui raised his mug and then drained it in one long gulp, froth rolling down his chin onto his waterproof coat. He then waved his yellow sea cap. “Music, we need music!” he called and someone began to beat rhythmically on a kettle drum, a deep sonorous pounding like the waves.  A recorder joined soon after and sailors began to hop around on the deck as Ferui and Círdan roared with laughter.  Ferui took Hîgwen by the arm and they began to hop, circling each other.  “It’s called a jig!” he called and then gestured to the riders.  “Come, join, join!”  Círdan and Halviel leapt up out of their seats.

Silmani practically pulled Morelen and Notaldo up and began prancing about, followed by Líreno and his family.  Sailors cheered and drank, drowning out the lap of the waves and the snapping of the sails. Notaldo spun Morelen and Silmani in a circle, the young lady squealing with joy.  The tune ended with a recorder playing a chorus and then drifting off into silence.  Círdan raised his hand and began to sing a sea shanty,

“We have plowed the waves, since times of old,

Brave sailors all, strong and bold,

We rig the sails and brace the lines,

Our ships are swift and our blood is brine!”

Sailors clapped in rhythm to the shanty, an ancient sea tradition and the riders joined in.  Ferui leaned over.  “You people have taken to the sea.  She is lovely and fierce all at the same time.  Respect her at all times or she will be sure to remind you.”

“I could stay on this boat forever,” Morelen said.  “You have been wonderful and courteous captain.  We won’t forget your kindness, Ferui.  Maybe one day, we could work on your boat.”

He smiled. “Ship, lass, she’s a ship.  The finest in Círdan’s fleet.”

She cocked her head. “Ah, a ship, thank you.”

He put a boiled orange shrimp into a red sauce and then into his mouth and chewed for a moment.  “Work on my ship?  Well, there’s no time like the present, is there.  Come, follow me!”  He led her and Silmani forward and told them the names of the parts of the ship. Booms, winches, halyards and stanchions. “The luff is the forward edge of the sail, used to get the best wind and the aft part is the leech,” he said, moving his finger around at the mainsail.  “Here, crank the handle on the winch and see what it does to the sail.”

The two ladies began to turn the handle and the sail tightened.  They then released a latch and loosened it again.  Ferui pointed over the side to where one of the rope ladders went up the mast to the boom, the wooden crossbeam that held the sail. “The ropes attach at the deadeyes and then up there,” he said, pointing, “it’s the Círdan Ladder that leads up to the topsail.  You two can climb it in the morning when it’s light.”

Morelen narrowed her eyes. “Why?  We elves see almost a well at night as we do in the day.”

“The key word is ‘almost’. I don’t want to see you two hurt in any way so we can wait a little while.  Our sailors are the most experienced in the world.  We’ve been doing this for eons now.  You can wait the night,” he said with a broad smile that told her that his word was final.  Even Círdan and Gil-Galad heeded his word aboard ship.  He licked his finger and held it up into the wind.  “I think we’ll make port by tomorrow evening. And don’t think that I won’t take you up on work tomorrow,” he said with a wink.  “Have a good night.”

They went below and back to their quarters, Silmani joining Idhrendiel, who was holding a doll that looked like a cat.  The two young ladies waved at Morelen and then ran into their room, giggling.  Morelen snickered, happy that the two were becoming fast friends.  She slid into their cabin and saw Notaldo, sitting in the porcelain tub, full of hot water.  “There’s plenty of hot water,” he said, patting the side of the tub.  The water sloshed with the pitch and roll of the ship, but not by much for as stable as the Bregolaph was on the sea.

“I’ve been out working on the ship,” she said proudly, tilting her nose up. “I think I could use a bath,” she added and then pulled off her comfortable cotton pants that she began wearing on the journey, then her sea jacket and tunic, then her boots.  She slid into the water, facing him, her legs wrapping around his waist.  She wanted him.  She needed him.  Her whole heart was full of love.

He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her close.  He took a sniff.  “Yup, you smell like fish and I think you could use some soap.”  He dipped a bar in the water and began lathering it up on her chest and neck, then rubbing the lather into her hair.  She took the bar and began doing the same, giving him a sideways look with a mischievous smile.  He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and then lifted her up onto his lap.  She pulled with her legs, holding him tight.  She could stay on this ship and be a sailor. It would be a good life.

He rinsed her off and carried her to the bed, the gentle rocking of the ship becoming part of their movements.  A porthole let the star and moonlight into the cabin, shining on their bodies, reflecting the water and growing perspiration on their skin.  She sighed contentedly, stroking his wavy hair with her fingers.  The creaking of the wood with the waves blended in with the creaking of the bed and Morelen gave in, her face scrunching with pleasure as lightning coursed through her body.

Notaldo fell over, panting and Morelen rolled on top of him.  “I’m not done with you yet.”  All of her life she possessed inhuman stamina and rarely seemed to tire.  She hungered for everything, knowledge, skill, magic…and love.

Dawn came all too quickly in a night that seemed eternal.  Seagulls called as sunlight streamed in through the porthole and the ship rocked quietly to the sound of the sea, crashing into the hull.  Notaldo was deep asleep, worn out while Morelen dozed in his arms, the aloe scent of his hair in her nostrils.  Bells rang the time out as sailors called for the sails to be unfurled.  Morelen rolled out of bed and sat back in the tub, washing herself, thinking again about a family.  She would see her father again soon.  What a wonderful thing it would be if she could make him a grandfather.  And to meet her mother, Yavëkamba…  It was a dream of hers.  Try as they might though, she had not conceived yet.  Elves had a notoriously low birth rate, so Notaldo had told her many times not to worry.  Still, it was on her mind.

She stepped out of the tub as he woke.  He stretched and groaned as she glided by him, running her fingers along his body and then putting on her sailing clothes.  “I’m going to help with the ship today,” she said.  “Ferui’s going to show Silmani and I.”

He closed one eye tightly.  “Feel free to start without me.  I’ll be in the tub.”  He slid into the water, sloshing around.  “I think we’re going to need to change the sheets.”

Morelen chuckled and shook her head, giving him a sly, backwards glance. “See you topside.”  She gave a thought to their love last night and she blushed red as she stepped out the door.

Silmani was already waiting in the corridor with Idhrendiel, wearing a basic, blue cotton outfit for work.  “We’ve been waiting,” Silmani said impatiently, stomping her foot.  “You’re always late, Morelen!”  Excitement was etched on her face, and she had a pair of work gloves tied to her leather belt.

“I am always on time,” Morelen protested with a grin.  “Come on, let’s learn how to work a ship.”  She straightened her blue and green work clothes with pride.

Ferui met them at the top of the stairs with a mug of coffee in hand. “Excellent!  Are you ready to get to work?”

The two young ladies practically leapt into the air and the captain roared with laughter and then gulped the rest of his drink.  In no time, they were pulling lines, pulling on the boom to change the angle of the sails and then tying them down.  It was hard work but they were loving every minute of it, sweat glistening on their faces.  Ferui pointed up the rope ladder that led to the crow’s nest.  “Alright, up you go.  Up you go.  Careful now, careful.  I’m not diving in the ocean after you!”

The three followed the captain up, who was obviously an expert at this. He reached the crow’s nest and then helped them up.  “Take a look,” he said, pointing out to the horizon and then to the north where they could see land and jungle.  “That’s the Mirëdor Peninsula where a number of Silvan colonies are.  Friendly people.  They have trading posts all along the coast.  We’ll be entering the Ûsakan Bay by afternoon where the outpost of Gensatra is located.  From there, we can ride to your father at Chrys Menelrana’s manor.  That’s a fairly short trip.”

The view was incredible and Morelen felt that she could see forever.  The ocean was so blue and the sky clear with distant, fluffy clouds.  “I think I can see them from here,” she joked, her heart pounding with the thought of seeing her family again.  It would be a longer ride to Ty-Ar-Rana to see The Three but she could already see them in her mind.  “Idhrendiel, Silmani, you will love it here.  I know it.”

Ferui pointed further up the mast.  “We still have a ways to go!  There, up the Círdan’s Ladder!  I’ll help you.”  He lifted the girls up, one by one onto the wooden rung of the ladder and they climbed like monkeys up to the top, stepping onto the small platform where the wind whipped and the sails snapped.  Ferui came up next, followed by Morelen.  It felt as if they were flying like birds, high above the deck.

“This is…this is…thank you,” Morelen said as she braced herself on the wooden and chain railing.  Seagulls gliding along, barely above them, hoping for a sailor to toss them a fish. The sun climbed higher into the sky, Arien guiding the great vessel much like Captain Ferui did.  Though an insignificant elf, she would give her all to see that the Maia, Arien, was not slain.

They stayed in the loft for a while, feeling the wind and the sea spray until Ferui went to the ladder.  “I have to head back down but are you fine to climb down on your own?”

Morelen nodded.  She and the monkeys had been good climbers for some time, spelunking the caverns of Nargothrond and nearby forests.  As Ferui slid down, she pulled out a cloth, wrapped around some blueberry biscuits.  She gave two to the girls and munched on the third. Then, she wrapped her arms around her chest, closed her eyes and smiled.  Weren’t the lives of elves supposed to be eternal bliss?  Was that not Eru’s plan?  Instead, her existence was a juxtaposition of peace and violence, pleasure and horror, comradery and death.  Could she endure another Nirnaeth without her mind shattering?  She had heard other elves call this “The Long Defeat.”

As the sun passed overhead, they sailed through a narrow straight that entered the Ûsakan Bay.  The weather got noticeably warmer and more humid and schools of dolphins joined them again.  Morelen looked down to see Ferui speaking with Círdan and Gil-Galad and they seemed concerned.  She tilted her head towards them and could hear their words.

“We should be seeing the fishing fleet from Gensatra by now,” Ferui said, scanning the horizon.  “This is concerning.”

“We should be at the outpost in a couple of hours,” Círdan replied.  “We may get answers there, but we should be vigilant.  I don’t like this.”

Ferui’s jovial face went serious in an instant.  He rang a large bell that clanged loudly over and over.  “To arms!  Crew, to arms!”  Sailors immediately began to don light, leather armor, grabbing short, curved swords and bows.  “Archers, up top!  Prepare the catapults and ballistae!  Be sharp about it!  Hîgwen, tell the surgeons to be ready!”  A kettle drum began to beat out a battle rhythm.  He pointed to the sail master.  “Lodon, come up on the wind!  Get me the weather gauge!”  This was a man who knew his ship and crew.

Círdan began directing the sailors on deck.  “Secure the hatches!  Tie down those lines!  Fill those barrels with water now!  I need oil up here, move it!”  They hadn’t seen any threat yet, but it was obvious that everyone trusted Captain Ferui. Morelen scanned the horizon with her powerful eyes.  She saw four masts, sails billowing, drawing closer.  Four ships.

As archers climbed the rope ladders into the crow’s nest below, she called down, “Captain Ferui!  Four ships on the horizon, heading towards us at good speed!”  She turned to the two girls.  “Come, we need to get you down.  Follow me.  Be quick about it.”  With her gloved hands, she grasped the ropes of the ladder and slid down among the archers and then down the next ladder to the deck, the girls hot behind her.

Notaldo came up on deck, his sword belt on.  “What’s going on?”

She pointed off in the distance.  “Four ships are inbound, and the local fishermen all seem to be gone. Ferui’s called us to arms.  We need to get these two below and arm ourselves.” They looked over to see Hîgwen returning from below with armor and then slinging Ferui’s rigid leather breastplate with rings of blue laen on as he steered the ship.  His wife then picked up a short fishing spear with barbs and hooks, designed to battle sharks.  “Come, come, hurry, we may have fifteen minutes.”  She scrambled down the stairs and put the girls in their room.  “Stay here until it’s all clear!  Am I understood?”  The girls nodded silently, eyes huge, Idhrendiel hugging her stuffed cat tightly.

She and Notaldo rushed into their room and donned their shining silver armor. They each grabbed two quivers of arrows and strapped their sword belts on.  They rushed back topside and saw Círdan and Gil-Galad directing the sailors to place shields on the rails.  The sails of the four ships were larger now and growing by the minute, holding a line of wood between them and Gensatra.  Líreno climbed the rope ladder up to the crow’s nest.  “I’ll help the archers up top!”  He scrambled up with the grace of an elf and took a position in the nest that was shielded by solid planks.

“We cannot go around them,” Ferui called.  “I see firepots on their decks.  They mean to do us harm, people.  Círdan, are you ready to douse fires?”

“Aye, captain!  We’re ready!” the Shipwright answered, holding a fine crossbow and clad in armor of rings and plates of blue laen and mithril, light and easy to move in.  He called it Gaerennon, the Sea Armor.  His wrists were covered in bracers of mithril and white eog, a gift from Ossë in times long past.  Halviel stood beside him in rigid leather armor, a short, curved sword at her belt.

Ferui turned the great wheel left.  “Hard to port!  I’ll confound their aim!” he yelled, laughing.  “Prepare the starboard catapults!”  Sailors loaded a round stone that was soaked in oil and stood by with a torch.  The ship lurched left, and everyone leaned the other way as the sails snapped in the wind at their backs.  “You see! We have the weather gauge!  They have to tack to get us!” he bellowed as the Bregolaph accelerated while the hostile ships had to steer back and forth for the wind.  They could see oarsmen on the enemy ships, pulling hard.  A dark blue octagonal flag flew over their ship with a silver star in the center.  The Court of Ardor.

Ferui laughed at the enemy vessels even though he was outnumbered.  “Look, they’re much smaller!  Círdan’s ships rule the waves!” he shouted to the crew, and they cheered back.  They could even hear the oarsmen below.  Morelen suspected that he was just instilling them with confidence and it was working. The Bregolaph veered to the west, flanking the hostile squadron.

Gil-Galad motioned them over near the starboard bow.  “If they board, we will meet them here,” he said, brandishing a white glaive, with a sharp point and a razor edge.  His armor was of white plates with a white cloak that danced in the wind.  “Stand with me, friends of my father’s.  We will meet them here if they try to board.”  A number of sailors stood with them, curved swords, bill hooks and spiked clubs at the ready.

Círdan gave a half smile.  “We have some tricks up our sleeves, learned when fighting the Easterlings on the sea at the Falas.”

Three of the enemy ships lagged behind, trying to turn to meet the Bregolaph, leaving one more exposed.  “That’s it! Come to papa!” Ferui bellowed.  “Prepare to fire!”

The lead Ardan ship fired a catapult, its stone falling far short, casting up a plume of water.  “The wind’s in your face, fools!  Return fire!” Sailors lit the stones and two of the Bregolaph’s catapults uncoiled, hurling their stones.  One went high and tore through the enemy’s sail, lighting it on fire.  The other crashed through the deck and soon, smoke could be seen.  “Ha ha!” the captain cheered, giving an obscene Sindarin gesture with his fingers.  “Reload!” he ordered as he came further to port, causing the enemy line to become jumbled. The lead Ardan ship slowed even as their oarsmen pulled harder and the second ship tried to move around it.

Two more stones crashed into the water, nearer to the Bregolaph now, throwing up plumes and steam.  “Fire!” The Falathrim responded and two more flaming orbs smashed onto the already burning ship.  One sail was consumed by fire and sailors were leaping into the ocean. Dark smoke billowed up from amidships as the vessel slowed nearly to a halt, oars barely moving.  One Ardan stone tore through the Bregolaph’s jib sail and it caught fire.  “Put that out!  Put that out!” Ferui yelled to the sailors on the boom and they shuffled over, dumping water on the flames.

He steered to starboard now to use the dead ship as a shield so only one could fire.  Men were leaping off of the burning hulk as lifeboats dropped into the water.  Another Ardan stone slammed into a catapult and it blew apart, throwing sailors and wood splinters into the air.  “Hîgwen!  Get the wounded below and let the surgeons know we have incoming!”  She rounded up the sailors’ wives and they began carrying injured and dead sailors below.  He pointed at the second ship.  “They mean to ram us!  Not if I can help it, but prepare to repel!”

The Ardan ship accelerated, oarsmen pulling hard, striking the water in unison, a sharp ram on its prow just below the surface.  Ferui pointed to the sailors on the booms, controlling the sails. He held one finger in the air, waiting for something.  “Now!” he yelled, and they let the sails out to catch more wind and the Bregolaph bolted forward, picking up speed.  The Ardan ram would miss behind the Falathrim.  “Fire!”  The remaining catapult fired a flaming stone into the Ardan ship’s main mast, shattering it, wood splinters and burning fragments flying into enemy sailors.  The mast wobbled and, with a loud crunching sound, collapsed into the water on the port side.

Círdan raised his hand.  “Archers! Now!”  A stream of arrows flew down from the masts onto the enemy ship, striking down the crew.  They were mostly men with a smattering of Sindarin and Silvan elves.  “Damn, what are they doing, fighting for the Dark Lord? No matter!  We fight!”  They saw Ardan archers drawing.  “Cover!” They ducked down behind the shields as arrows peppered the hull.  One sailor screamed, an arrow in his eye.  Morelen popped back up and fired an arrow from her bow, Luinë, into a man’s throat. Blood sprayed as he fell backwards.

The Ardan ship veered left, to port, away from the Bregolaph, which sheered a number of the enemy oars away, wood cracking and splintering.  “Fire!” Círdan yelled again and another volley rained down on the enemy.  Ardan sailors lay on their deck, dead or crawling about with arrows sticking out of them.  By then, the other two Ardan ships had come into range.  Ferui ordered the ballistae to fire and long bolts with sharpened tips tore through the hull of the third ship at the waterline.  The enemy ship flung a flaming stone that crashed into the boom of the foresail, knocking it off of its hinge, throwing sailors onto the deck or into the sea.  The Bregolaph fired back, its fiery orb landing on the wheel of the ship, killing the captain and knocking the rudder off course.  Arrows flew thick now in both directions, Morelen and Líreno pouring shots at a rapid rate.  One enemy shot glanced off of her breastplate, knocking her back a step.  A sailor screamed beside her, an arrow embedded in his throat.

Two more ballistae bolts ripped the hull of the enemy and water poured into that ship.  It began to list to starboard as the sea rushed in.  Panicked cries could be heard as Ardan sailors were swamped below deck and drowned.  Out of control, the ship slammed sideways into the Bregolaph’s starboard forecastle, wood splinters flying into the air, knocking sailors to the deck on both ships. Grappling hooks flew over the rails and enemy sailors began to board, even as their ship began to sink.

Gil-Galad raised his glaive, Aiglos, and yelled, “Prepare to repel!” Enemy elves and men climbed over the railings, screaming and howling.  Gil-Galad shoved his weapon straight into the chest of a bearded man and the man’s howl stopped in his throat.  The elven prince tore the blade out and swept it across the bellies of several of the enemy, spilling blood and guts onto the deck.  Notaldo and the sailors let out a battle cry and met the enemy at the railing, swords clashing.  Two rushed at Morelen, shrieking and brandishing curved swords at her.  She tried to move and nearly slipped on the gore on the deck.  As she recovered, one blade came down on her shoulder, the pauldron of her armor absorbing most of the impact.  Still, she winced and brought her sword, Melima, up to deflect the second cut. The enemy’s blow glanced off of her blue blade, giving momentum to her own cut as she brought Melima back overhead and sliced down through the man’s shoulder to his chest.  He froze as blood flowed down his body, eyes huge.  Morelen kicked him away, freeing her sword as the first man rushed into her, knocking her back.  He punched at her face, his fist slamming into the metal of her helmet. She saw stars for a moment and then kneed him between the legs with her armored leg.  He let out a pained grunt as she slammed her gauntlet down on top of his head and he crumpled in front of her.  This was brutal, close quarters fighting on a pitching deck that was covered in blood. There was no room for finesse.

Gil-Galad hurled a man into the sea, flinging him with the blade of his glaive in the man’s belly.  Swords rose and fell, spreading gore across the deck.  Then, something crashed into the Bregolaph from the port side, throwing people about.  Morelen was thrown into several of the enemy, and they all fell down.  She drew her dagger in one smooth motion and drove it into a Silvan elf’s eye and twisted.  Blood sprayed onto her arm and she tried to stand, bracing herself with Melima but she slipped on the deck.  Two men crawled on top of her, one stabbing down at her mouth with his dagger, but she turned her head and the tip clanged off of her helmet, burying into the wood.  She turned back to see the man’s head fly away as Notaldo lopped it clean off.  The other man looked at his friend’s headless corpse and stared as Morelen’s dagger plunged into his armpit up to the hilts.

“We’re being boarded from the port side!” Círdan yelled as he smote an attacker in the head with his blue, ithilnaur hammer.  The man’s helmet caved in, and he fell to the deck where he stood. “Follow me!”  The enemy on the starboard side were nearly all wiped out, a few throwing down their weapons and others leaping into the sea.  Debris, burning wood and bodies floated among men flailing in the water, others sinking with the weight of their armor.  This was the horror of war on the waves.

Notaldo pulled Morelen up and she let out a feral cry, sword and dagger in hand and charged into the new threat.  Círdan and Halviel grabbed and then hurled clay pots onto the last enemy ship, and they burst into noxious fumes of green mist, causing enemy reinforcements to gag and puke, adding to the foul air already floating over the fight. Morelen glanced over to see Ferui still steering the ship, an arrow protruding from his shoulder.  He grimaced but he would not be pulled away by Hîgwen.  Enemy sailors rushed the wheel to take control, but Hîgwen led a charge of the women, armed with billhooks and barbed gaffs, spearing attackers like fish.  A burning sail fell next to Morelen but she barely noticed.

The defenders crashed into the enemy, bodies smashing together with the thump of weapon on shield.  Morelen cut at a man with her sword and was parried, but she drove her dagger into his neck, spraying blood.  Círdan pounded another on the chest with his hammer, shattering ringmail and ribs.  Gil-Galad threw Aiglos down, too close quarters to be effective and drew his curved sword, slicing a man down the chest.

The women defending the wheel were hard pressed, a few down on the deck bleeding.  Ferui lashed the wheel, drew his sword and dove into the fight, howling a war cry, the arrow still protruding from his shoulder.  Morelen threw a man over the railing into the sea and rushed to attack that enemy group from behind.  With a shout, she stabbed a man in the back and then plunged her dagger into another’s neck.  There was no honor here, just survival.  Several turned, faces registering shock at a new opponent.  One swung a curved sword at her head and she parried with her dagger while simultaneously thrusting her tip into his mouth.  Everything smelled like blood now amid cries, screams, shrieks and moans.

Líreno leapt from a ladder onto the enemy group, crashing down and knocking many to the deck.  Morelen stabbed as many as she could before they could rise and gave a nod of thanks to her friend.  The attack on the wheel had failed.  Hîgwen, a gash on her forehead, sat down besides Ferui, who was kneeling, panting in pain.  She tried to pull him from the fight, but he shook her off and roared, standing and ripping the arrow from his body.  He pointed to the enemy ship latched onto their starboard.  “That one is sinking!  Cut us free!  Cut us free or we go down with her!”

The Bregolaph began to keel to starboard as the Ardan ship became swamped and began to settle under the waves.  “It’s mine!  I’m on it!” yelled Líreno, leading sailors to the rail and slicing furiously at the grapples, ropes snapping free.

Círdan pointed his hammer at the last Ardan ship, grappled to them on the port side.  “Follow me! We’re taking this one!”  He hurled another clay pot into the faces of enemy sailors, it bursting into a foul green fume.  They started coughing and gagging, some vomiting on their deck.  The Shipwright let out a feral cry and leapt over the rail onto the enemy vessel, followed by Gil-Galad and the crew.  The prince was like a whirlwind, slashing and stabbing, clearing a path for the assault.  An enemy sailor moved to kick over a pot of flaming oil onto them and Morelen flung her dagger into his throat.  She pulled it from him as she ran by, the man slumping to the ground.  Círdan ripped open a hatch to the lower decks and threw another pot down, followed by cries and gagging below.  “Take the wheel!” he yelled to his sailors, and they rushed the controls.  “Follow me below!”  He took a step onto the stairs and man thrust a billhook into his side, breaking some rings of his armor, the tip digging in several inches.  Blood ran down his shirt and he winced, slamming his hammer into the man’s face, caving it in.  He took a knee, holding his side.  “Go! Go!  Keep the attack moving!”

Morelen and Notaldo rushed past him with Gil-Galad right behind.  It became pure savagery.  Blades rose and fell with bodies.  Notaldo and his wife had fought, side by side for centuries and were entirely in harmony like their music.  They dodged, moved and attacked as one, parrying for the other while cutting and thrusting, cleaving a way aft through flesh and bone.  Blood spread across the deck and they shuffled to keep their footing.  Gil-Galad’s white armor was now crimson, rivulets pouring down the plates of his harness and his face was covered, giving him the appearance of a demon.

Enemy officers poured out, far more skilled and drove the three back some paces.  As Notaldo and Gil-Galad battled against many, the captain, a Sindarin elf, faced Morelen, sword and dagger, matching hers.  The deck was clearer now, most of the enemy crew dead or wounded.  The two cut and thrust in an expert dance of swordsmanship, metal ringing on metal.  This was now a duel.  She circled and lunged at him with the tip of Melima and slipped on blood, overextending herself.  He grabbed her arm and then smashed her in the helmet with the guard of his sword. She turned her face but the impact still rang her bell.  She staggered back, her one eye blurry, seeing the captain lunge at her throat.  She tossed her dagger at him in a desperate move, causing him to blink and then she sliced his sword hand off with Melima.

He fell to the ground, holding his stump and she put the blade of her sword to his neck.  “Yield and I will grant you mercy!”  She glanced around to see Notaldo and Gil-Galad standing amid a pile of bodies.

“I yield,” he groaned.  “The ship is yours.”

“It’s over,” Gil-Galad said with a sigh, leaning against a mast.  He gave them a tired grin.  “You riders are everything my father said you were.  I am honored to draw swords with you.”

Morelen staggered and was caught by Notaldo, who removed her helm.  “Oh, you have a black eye,” he said with concern.

She looked down at the enemy captain.  “I accept your surrender.  I will take you to our Captain Ferui.  We must attend to our wounded and our damaged ship.  Come with us.”

The aftermath of the battle was heavy.  Of the Ardan fleet, the first ship had burned to the waterline, black smoke still billowing from the wreck.  The second was adrift, the main mast destroyed with oars sheered off on one side. The third ship had sunk and the fourth was captured.  Bodies of enemy sailors, smashed, hacked and burned, bobbed on the sea and many cried out for help, clinging to debris.  The Bregolaph had suffered heavy damage, several sails burned, and one boom destroyed. Dead sailors lay on the deck amid sloshing blood and gore.  Hîgwen and the women moved the wounded below for the overwhelmed surgeon.  Círdan, with Halviel at his side, was injured but would not be treated until the crew had been seen to.  Ferui lay against the wheel, blood pouring down his arrow wound, his face pale.  They were not up for another fight and would be lucky to make Gensatra.

Ferui struggled to stand, his wife bracing him.  “You have to come below,” she demanded.

“No, no, my crew.  My crew,” he said as if in a daze.  He staggered forward on the main deck, kneeling at each body.  “Travel safe to the Halls of Mandos, my friend,” he said, over and over, kissing each forehead.  He had known each of these sailors for centuries.  They sang and ate together.  Morelen’s heart broke at each one.

She waited with the wounded enemy captain until he was finished.  “The enemy has surrendered,” she told Ferui and Círdan.  “I have extended him mercy.”

Ferui balled his fists for a moment, shaking, and then relaxed. “Good, good,” he said nodding but unable to make eye contact.  “You did well, Morelen.  I won’t forget what you and the riders did today.  You are as good on the sea as you are on horseback.”

“We are taking the prisoners below,” Gil-Galad said.  “We cannot bring everyone so the rest can await rescue on the ship that’s adrift.”

Círdan pointed at the damage on the Bregolaph.  “We can make half speed but we’ll need to put in at Gensatra for repairs.  I’ll have sailors start working on the boom and the damage to the hull.  We’ve sprung a few leaks but we’ll patch those up.  We have enough crew to man the captured ship. It’ll be tight but we can make port in an hour or so.”

Hîgwen nodded but then pointed to deck.  “Good, now you two, sit!”  The Captain and the Shipwright did as they were ordered, and she began pulling off their armor to look at their wounds.  Tired sailors began repairs, and pulling lines to right the sails and get them underway.  The two ships soon began moving slowly and then picking up speed.  Morelen put her hand over her eye until someone came and gave her a cloth wrapped over ice.  Then, she and the riders went back to work.

The sun was setting as the two wounded vessels sighted the fishing village of Gensatra, but only burned out buildings remained.  Exhausted, Captain Ferui could only lower his head as they slowed to dock.  “So much death.  All stop!” he called, and the sails were lowered, letting the Bregolaph glide to the wooden structure, the captain maneuvering it with expertise.  The dock had been damaged but was still usable.  He leapt off with some sailors and they tied the ship down, followed by the captured vessel.

Morelen’s head ached, and her limbs were numb.  She climbed down from the boom and wanted nothing more than to sit and pass out but she saw Silmani and Idhrendiel on deck.  The two girls looked horrified, stunned, mouth agape, seeing the blood on the deck and bodies covered in sheets.  “Don’t look, girls.  Come, let’s get you off of the ship.  We can get our things later.”

Líreno came up with his wife.  Telerien took the girls to the gangplank and, to her surprise, Morelen saw some elves waiting for them on the dock.  Her eyes then registered recognition.  It had been so long.  She rushed off of the ship and stood there, not quite believing what she saw.  “Father!  Lyaan! Lysa!  Lyrin!  You’re here? How?  How did you know?”

Lysa opened her arms and Morelen rushed to meet her embrace.  “I saw you.  I saw you in my dreams, sailing to us, dear girl.  Oh my…it’s been so long.  It is so good to have you back.”  Lysa stroked Morelen’s black hair, matted with sweat and blood.  “Oh, your eye.  We’ll get that taken care of,” Lysa said in a voice full of compassion.  All of them piled onto her as Morelen bit her lip, steadying herself from shaking.  Fëatur wept openly, gripping her tightly.

Morelen pointed to the riders coming down to meet them.  “This is my friend, Líreno and his family, Telerien and Idhrendiel.  My husband, Notaldo and Silmani, daughter of our friend, Hurinon.  We’ve…we’ve come for a visit and business from the north on behalf of King Orodreth of Nargothrond.”

Fëatur held her, studying her face.  “I can’t believe it…I can’t believe it.  You’re here.  You don’t know how much I worried,” he said, his voice cracking.  He stroked her face and touched her black eye.  He then pointed back to a Noldorin woman who approached slowly, appearing nervous.  She was tall and slender with blue robes and chocolate brown hair that flowed down to her shoulders, and she was ethereally beautiful as befitting a High Elf.  “That, Morelen…she is your mother.”

Yavëkamba came forward, her eyes misting up and her nose red, but her face beamed with a smile, ear to ear.  “Let me look at you, Morelen.  I last saw you was when you were an infant.  You don’t know how long I have waited for this moment.”

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Chapter End Notes

I did a lot of research on sailing and medieval naval warfare that I hope plays out here.  I also wanted to showcase Cirdan and Gil-Galad for this.