The shipwright strode down the rough trail through the dunes to the shore, followed at a small distance by Ereinion. The elfling's legs were very much shorter than his host's, and Ereinion was hard pressed to keep up, even when walking as fast as he could manage. The dunes closest to the house were covered with scrubby grass, brambles and dried thistles, but as they approached the shoreline much of the greenery faded away into bare white sand and windswept marram grass.

There were so many interesting things to do here. Ereinion could see a prickly dry head of some plant that was just begging to be picked, small blue and purple flowers amidst the grass, and there were small footprints running up and down some of the steepest slopes. But there was no time to stop and explore today. Cirdan was walking a great pace, and Ereinion was afraid that if he became lost he would never find his way back home. The green dunes all looked amazingly similar compared with the hills and mountains back home, and the paths and hollows held no memories for him.

"Here." Cirdan stopped so suddenly that Ereinion nearly ran into him, and pointed down a small sandy incline to an expanse of damp sand and, beyond that, the sea.

Peeping out from behind Cirdan's legs, afraid that it might be rude to push ahead to have a better look, Ereinion took a deep breath and let his mouth hang open. He had never expected the sea to be this big. The sands seemed to stretch on forever, but beyond that the pewter sea went on and on until it seemed to blend into the skyline. Even the sky seemed bigger here, and if he looked up he could nearly see a full sphere of grey overcast skies.

Suddenly feeling very small and alone, Ereinion instinctively reached upwards, fumbling to find a reassuring hand as he craned his neck to try and find an edge to the sky. The shipwright seemed so tall next to him, his face shadowed against the brightness of the sky.

As the cold fingers brushed against his thumb, Cirdan's arm jerked backwards with a start. The shipwright looked down at the small hand with great distaste, and suddenly found need to move his hand up rub his hand against his beard.

Ereinion's hand fumbled anxiously in mid air, trying to grasp the fingers that he had been so sure were there, then slipped towards the embroidered trim of the shipwright's tunic.

His bushy silver eyebrows rising into a surprised angular line, Cirdan hurriedly sidestepped out of the reach of such a short arm, once again frustrating the elfling's efforts. This time Ereinion seemed to realise what had happened, and looked up at him in confusion, the grey eyes wide with surprise. He had never met such a stupid elf before. His Naneth and Adar always knew when he wanted to hold hands before he even reached for them, and his grandfather always knew - always had known, Ereinion corrected himself very properly - when he needed a cuddle. His Adar had told him that Cirdan was very wise, but perhaps he had made a mistake.

Smiling his best smile at the shipwright, Ereinion stretched out his hand for Cirdan to take. Perhaps he just did not know what he was supposed to do. He had once heard Ainon speaking with one of the other soldiers, and he had said that Cirdan did not have children of his own - not even grown up ones. Maybe the shipwright was so old that he had forgotten how to hold hands. It must have been so long since he had been an elfling.

Cirdan coughed rather awkwardly and pushed roughly past the child to stride rapidly down onto the flat of the sands, leaving the child stumbling behind him. The tide was going out, and the sand was damp, smooth and firm. As they got closer to the shoreline, each step that Ereinion took made the sand underneath his feet lighten momentarily, and he found that if he hopped as fast as he could manage then he could make a third pale patch before the first completely faded. The retreating sea had left several large pools in the endless expanse of sand, and as they passed one close by, Ereinion was sure that he could see the shadows of tiny fish flashing in groups across the submerged sands.

Oblivious of his young guest's eager glances towards the waves and rock pools, Cirdan strode across the beach with a speed brought about by deep thought. He had little idea what the High King had been thinking when he had decided to send this child into his care, but this had certainly not been what he had intended when he had offered his hospitality to the House of Fingolfin all those years ago. The child was but a handful of years past infancy, and would yet need the care and nurturing of his parents. Fingon had always stuck him as impulsive - reckless even - but Cirdan doubted that this decision would have been made without great thought and pain. What courage his previous deeds had shown, double would have been needed to let his son go.

Sighing deeply, the shipwright came to pause beside the first rocks uncovered by the lazy waves and hoisted himself onto a large, flat boulder to stare morosely out to sea.

"Lord Cirdan?" A high-pitched voice cut across his thoughts, and he looked down to find the child staring impatiently at him. "May I please go and explore?"

Cirdan stared at him for a few seconds, prompting an earnest assertion of, "I promise that I will not go far."

He had never come across anyone who would ask permission for so simple a thing as a chance to walk on the beach before, and the mere words filled the shipwright with doubts. Presumably the child's father would sometimes fail to provide such permission, but the reasons that one should choose to do so were beyond him. The boy was in no danger, and while he was painfully thin, Cirdan doubted that he would wilt from starvation in the short distance to the waterline. Each morning, noon and evening he would walk back from the shipyards, and each time there would be children playing - shrieking as the chased and splashed each other, gathering into games, and throwing pebbles at circles drawn in the sand. Surely he would not be required to give permission each time he wished his guest to conveniently disappear.

"Aye. Whenever you wish." Cirdan said and then, feeling that this betrayed a certain amount of his disinterest in the child added, "Do not go further than the city walls."

"Yes, Lord Cirdan." Ereinion's dark head bobbed down obediently, and he turned and walked quickly down to the very edge of the sea. He did not want to appear too eager by running or leaping, but it was wonderful to be so free after the weeks of travel. The sea looked different when you were this close to it, more like an endless grey-green lake than the thin blue line that they had ridden towards, and he had not expected it to chase in and out across the sand.

With the immediate irritation dealt with, Cirdan turned to his letters, resting the parchment against his knees to prevent the strong wind from whipping the papers out to sea. Fingon had always been rather less tidy than his father, and while he had now adopted the same seal, the wax was smeared in such a way that he could distinguish the two. Frowning slightly at the elaborate precision with which his name had been inscribed on the envelope, Cirdan flipped it over and roughly slit open the seal.

The news was worrying to say the least, and the shipwright could well see why the High King felt that this had been the last opportunity to allow his son to escape safely. While an adult elf might be able to manage a gruelling ride to safety should their stronghold come under siege, it would be too much for a child. Even this journey had taken a toll that was far too great on the young prince.

Cirdan looked up from the document for a few brief seconds, watching as Ereinion leapt in the air in an attempt to dodge a wave that was foaming up the beach behind him. The child's clothes were loose on him, and his eyes had an empty, dull look about them. Although he felt that he was far from a suitable father for the boy, it was evident that he could not be sent back from whence he came. Perhaps a suitable family could be found to host the child. There were plenty of pleasant couples that had grown children, and would not object to caring for one so small.

He had once met the lady that Fingon had taken to wife, and he had known then that the new Queen of the Noldor would never desert her people whilst she yet had a choice. To desert their stronghold now, when the hope of their people grew weak, would never have been an option for her. But the separation could not have been easy, and Cirdan did not even dare to think that he might imagine what it had cost her. She had added her own words to the letter, and while there was much written in the way of greetings and instructions as to the boy's care, the slight wobble to her script and the faint smudging of the ink where tears had fallen told a different story.

Sighing heavily, Cirdan looked up to watch Ereinion as he waded out into the surf. The salt water would not be good for the soft leather of those tiny boots, but before he could issue a warning, the child stumbled backwards and was knocked over by an incoming wave.

Rising to his feet with a hint of anxiety, Cirdan surveyed the foaming surf, wondering if he need go in and rescue the child. He had not asked the boy if he could swim, he berated himself - a simple mistake that could cost the child's life. The elflings of the Havens learnt to swim before they could walk, and he had forgotten for a moment that the child would not have similar skills.

Ereinion surfaced, blinking and spluttering, as the wave rushed back to join the rest of the sea and hurriedly scrambled to his feet. Unnoticed back on the shore, Cirdan relaxed with a sigh of relief, and fastened his cloak back around his shoulders. The child was unharmed, and after catching his breath and wiping his face with a sodden sleeve was soon back skipping along the shoreline, now venturing even deeper into the water.

Cirdan sat back down, his face creased in worry as he watched the boy's progress. Ereinion had been brought up by those that loved and cherished him. It was the least that he could do to ensure that the child was kept safe.

"Ereinion!" Cirdan bellowed over the wind and, when Ereinion turned, made various violent movements with his hands to indicate that the child should hurry over.

Looking rather worried, Ereinion squelched over, his wet hair free from its braids and being blown every which ways across his face. "I did not mean to, Lord Cirdan. The sand sucked away."

Waving away the breathless excuses, Cirdan looked severely at the child. "Do you swim, Ereinion?"

Sagging a little with relief that he did not seem to be in trouble, Ereinion nodded earnestly. "Yes, Lord Cirdan."

In the summer months his grandfather had often taken him to a deep pool where the river had meandered slowly under the trees. He had enjoyed splashing around and learning the different strokes, and having his father and grandfather play rough-and-tumble with him in the water.

"How far?" Cirdan asked shortly, looking appraisingly at the child. Ereinion looked rather like a weed that had grown up too fast in a dark and shadowy place, and he doubted that the child would have much stamina.

"Oh." Ereinion bit his lower lip slightly as he thought. The pool was the biggest that he had seen - big enough that both his father and grandfather had been able to swim at once - but it did not compare with the size of the sea. "From about here to there."

Cirdan looked from Ereinion's pointing finger to a rock-pool some small distance away. Not far enough to be sure of his safety when playing in the sea. The children of the Havens were never far from the water, and they were not always watched.

"Aye." The shipwright stroked his beard in a rather worried fashion then looked back at the waves crashing against the rocks. "I shall see how well you swim presently. You are not to go near the sea until I do so."

"Yes, Lord Cirdan." Ereinion nodded rather sadly. He had enjoyed playing with the waves, and although there were plenty of other things to do on the beach he would miss them. The shipwright had turned back to his bundle of parchment, without any suggestions on what he was allowed to do. He would have loved to climb the cliffs or try and capture the crabs and jellyfish in the rock-pools, but he was not sure if he would be scolded if he did so. "What may I do, Lord Cirdan?"

"Play." Cirdan looked up from the letter with an expression of great irritation, and racked his brain for some activity that would occupy the child. "Throw stones into a circle."

Cringing at the shipwright's frustrated tone, Ereinion looked down miserably at the sand and wrapped his arms around his body for comfort. The sun was sinking quite low in the sky by now, and he felt cold in his wet things. Back home his Naneth and Adar would be gathered around the fire, talking about interesting things and eating the special cakes that he liked so much. Even when his parents were at their most busy, all the family would gather together for a little while and eat and drink as they spoke about the happenings of the day. When he had been younger, only four or five, he had often pretended that his Adar and grandfather were there even when they were away fighting things. He was much too old to do something that stupid now of course, but suddenly he wished that he could be somewhere warm and cosy, imagining that all his family were around him.

Cirdan grunted as he settled back down to finish off the letter, swung his legs up onto the boulder and leant back against the sea-smoothed surface of the cliff. Neither mother nor father had mentioned swimming in their missives, but the child apparently needed tuition in fencing and archery, and was well able to ride a pony. He apparently spoke Quenya well, and to the shipwright's dismay, could recite poetry and play the flute. Cirdan valued the silence of his evenings greatly - and for that matter, the mornings and afternoons too. Both parents were sure that the boy would enjoy himself, and treasure the shipwright's company. Both parents had chosen to have a child.

A dull plop made the shipwright's head rise from the letter, and he looked up to find the prince sitting cross-legged on the damp sand, a small pile of wet and sandy pebbles beside him. The boy wore an expression of dejected misery, and every so often he would toss a pebble into a large circle that had been drawn very carefully in the sand.

Bending his head closer to the parchment to avoid having to see the little picture of despondency before him, Cirdan re-read the letter, musing over the words. He had once offered to keep this child safe, and he would not break his promise now.

There was another plop, this time accompanied by a quiet sniff, and Cirdan tucked the letter into his pocket and rose to his feet in one smooth and rapid movement.

"Oh very well, I shall see that you swim."

~*~

Swimming, Ereinion found, was much easier when someone you trusted was nearby, than when the shipwright was stalking disinterestedly through the water beside you and making critical comments as to your ability. The waves kept splashing him in the face, and made it more difficult to do the strokes, and the water was bitterly cold. The sea tasted different from drinking water, and in a different way from which the river water had. When he swallowed too much of it, it made him want to choke, and it hurt when it went down his nose.

"Not like that." Cirdan shivered in spite of himself as he waited for the child to wade back over to him, and looked longingly back at the bundle of clothes on the shore. His shirt was soaked through, and the cold north wind was whipping down the coast, chilling him to the bone. They had been in the water for a couple of hours now, and he was beginning to think that this was a problem that could not be addressed in a single day. While the child could swim, he would need much practice before he would happy in allowing him to go off alone. The other elflings could well lead him into danger that they did not understand.

Ereinion walked tiredly back over to him, shivering with cold now that the exercise was not warming him. His legs were not working properly anymore, and he kept stumbling into the water, and each time it was harder to get up. "Lord Cirdan."

"You must breathe when you turn your head." The shipwright looked hard at the child and sighed. He did not know how to teach a child to swim. He had seen many fathers out in the bay during the summer months, teaching their younglings how to swim. None of the happy, laughing elflings had borne any resemblance to the weary, blank look that Ereinion now wore. Maybe now was the right time to broach the subject of moving to a more suitable family.

"Yes, Lord Cirdan." Ereinion nodded weakly at his guardian and tried to remember exactly when he should be turning his head. The shipwright had shown him at the start of the lesson, but that had been long ago, and Ereinion did not like to ask him again.

"Perhaps," Cirdan looked down sternly at the little boy who was standing chest-deep in the grey water, his dark hair plastered to his face, "you might like to stay with some friends of mine."

Ereinion stared at him for a moment, blinking the last of the stinging salt water from his eyes. "Adar said that I was to stay with you."

The child's voice was firm, but had an uneasy hollowness to it. Frowning slightly, Cirdan knelt down in the icy water until he could look at the child eye-to-eye. "They would be very pleased to have you to stay."

"No." Ereinion said as loudly as he could, beginning to shake nervously. His Naneth and Adar had told him that Cirdan would look after him, and that he was to be trusted, but now he was going to make him live with strangers that he did not know - that his parents did not know even. "Do you not want me to stay with you?"

The child's voice was so lonely and lost that Cirdan nearly buckled on his good intentions. He had invited the child after all, and he should at least treat him with the hospitality that he would offer to a visiting dignitary. Perhaps after a week the boy would be more settled, and more agreeable to a move.

"Aye. But you would be happier elsewhere." Cirdan warned then, on seeing the frightened and woebegone look that Ereinion gave him added briskly, "We shall see."

Ereinion did not respond and looked down at the sea as it swelled and fell as each new wave passed them. If Lord Cirdan did not want him, then he did not know what he should do. Everybody had always said that he was to live with the shipwright, and his Naneth and Adar were too far away to go back and ask. And then if Cirdan's friends did not want him then what would become of him?

"Ereinion. . ." Cirdan looked down at the child with a note of anxiety. He was sure that the boy's cheeks were now rather more damp than they had been a few seconds ago, and the child seemed to have gone rather limp. "Are you. . ."

His cheekbones reddening, Cirdan gestured roughly towards the tears that were pooling around the child's dark lashes and trickling down his cold, wet face.

"No." Ereinion said loudly and wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and cheeks.

"Good." Cirdan said shortly, and averted his eyes as the young prince took a deep, and not particularly steady breath. "Now, we have wasted enough time."

Nodding rapidly to try and distract attention from his wobbling lips, Ereinion plunged into the water with a mighty splash and began swimming away from the shipwright as fast as he could while still maintaining the stroke.

~*~

Finally, with Ereinion swimming close enough to Cirdan's satisfaction that the shipwright decided to call it a day, the pair dressed and made their way across the beach and up the steps onto the cobbled roads and quaysides. Both were bitterly cold and rather uncomfortable due to their wet and clinging clothes, and Cirdan was in no mood to make allowances for the child.

It was market day down in the courtyards, and the narrow streets were swarming with elves of all ages and descriptions, buying and selling wool, cloths, vegetables, animal, bread and anything else imaginable. Terrified that he would become lost amidst the pushing and shoving forest of boots, knees and thighs, Ereinion scurried after Cirdan, his hand orbiting around the shipwright's fingers in a perpetual cycle of trying to grab a hold, only to have Cirdan move aside at the last moment.

Eventually the shipwright stepped off the street, and Ereinion gratefully followed him into a rather dark little shop, with great lanterns hanging from high beams. The stone walls were covered with shelves containing tools and blades and measuring sticks, and in the corners were great barrels of nails, hinges and tacks. Everyone in the shop smelt of salt and fish and tar, and more than a little frightened, Ereinion shrunk closer to Cirdan's legs.

Conversations were being held far above his head, but he could not make out the words over the low rumble of many others speaking at the same time. Someone had dropped a little brass tack on the floor, and it was rolling around, glinting gold in the lantern light. He wanted to pick it up and keep it for himself, but it was too far away to reach without losing contact with his guardian, and before he could do anything someone with great heavy sea boots had stepped on it, flattening the head against the point.

"My thanks." Cirdan carefully tipped the tiny brass hinges into his cupped hand and transferred them to the depths of one of the square pockets on his tunic. His hand lingered for a moment as he bid farewell to the storekeeper, and as he turned to leave he felt a cold and damp little hand curl around his smallest finger.

Now that Ereinion had managed to get a hold on him, he seemed unwilling to give it up, and his fist was clenched fearsomely tightly around the larger finger. Snorting through his nose, Cirdan stepped back out into the brightness of the street with Ereinion hurrying behind him. Each step that the child took tugged gently at his hand, and the angle at which each was required to hold their arms was far from natural. In short, he could not think of a less comfortable way to proceed.

Frowning, Cirdan gave his hand a slight shake and tried to pull free from the child's grasp. They were returning to the crowds near the market and he moved quickly between the hoards, hoping that they would become so far apart that Ereinion would have no choice but to release his finger.

Unfortunately, Ereinion did not seem aware of this plan, or the role that he was to play in it, and he scurried after the shipwright, his eyes wide with panic lest he lose his way home. His irritation rising rapidly, Cirdan increased his pace until Ereinion tripped over a cobblestone and dragged down heavily on his finger, after which point Cirdan decided that trying to detach the child in the this manner was more likely to cause pain than success.

They slowed to a walk as they left the streets behind and started up the lonely cliff path to the shipwright's home, and taking advantage of the solitude chance to experiment without curious glances or whispered comments. Very slowly he moved his hand backwards and then forwards, frowning a little as Ereinion's hand followed him, never once releasing the firm hold. He supposed that the boy would let go eventually, but for the moment there seemed to be no relaxation of the grip.

Whistling casually and apparently admiring the windswept gorse and rough wooden fencing by the cliff edge, Cirdan slowly raised his arm higher and higher. Ereinion followed suit, reaching skywards until he had to stand on his tiptoes and stretch his arms as high as he could manage just to retain his grip. Turning to look at him with silver brows slightly raised, Cirdan briefly considered lifting his arm still higher to shake the child off then saw the look on the child's face. He had seen that expression before, on young sailors during their first storm as they held desperately to the ropes as the ship plunged over waves and swayed in the gale.

Cirdan relaxed his arm with a sigh, and paused in the middle of the sandy path. Ereinion seemed to be irrevocably attached to him, and no amount of persuasion would make him choose otherwise. The shipwright shut his eyes for a moment then closed his hand around the child's fist. Ereinion had been sent to him for safekeeping, and for better or worse that was where he would stay.