The bed was empty and the door that led out onto the terrace was open and banging in the wind. Quite a large puddle of water had formed on the floor by the open door, indicating that wherever the boy had gone, he had been for quite some time.

"Ereinion?" Círdan entered the room and placed the stuffed animal down on the dresser by the doorway and peered into the shadowy corners and dark nooks and crannies. "Ereinion!"

Even his sharp and irritated call did not bring the elfling scurrying out of wherever he had hidden himself, and now becoming rather worried, Círdan walked over to the open doorway with a speed that spoke of an anxiety that even his face did not betray.

It was a wild night outside, with the wind howling in from the sea and the rain beating harshly against the side of the house. The moon and stars were covered with thick cloud, but he could just make out the dark silhouette of the trees thrashing in the storm.

"Ereinion!" Círdan raised his voice to a mighty bellow in an effort to be heard above the noise of the storm. The wind was howling mournfully around the house and the wind and rain whipped some loose strands of silver hair against his face. The balustrades were high at this point, so it was unlikely that the boy had been blown down to the ground or had gone further than the east facing terrace, but it was dark and stormy and he was not entirely happy with the idea that one so small should be out here alone.

There was no reply, but as he peered into the deeper shadows in the corner he thought that he could make out a small crouched figure with its face turned up to the stars. Perhaps the boy had thought it a good hiding place, but then he was of the Noldor. Those that had long dwelt in Aman often forgot what light there might still be in darkness.

"Ereinion!" Círdan strode over to the child's side and looked down at him to bellow in a voice sure to be heard even over the most terrible gale. "Why are you not in bed?"

There was an anguished yelp and a pale shape shot back across the stonework from under the wet tread of his socks. Moving quickly, Círdan caught a rather rough hold of the boy's wrist, instantly regretting the action when he felt how thin the child's arm was under the clinging cloth of his sleeve.

"Inside!" Círdan pulled the boy to his feet, and glared down at him with obvious frustration. "What in Arda possessed you, Ereinion?"

Gulping, Ereinion fumbled a hand towards the smooth wood of the balustrades and held on with all his strength. He had not seen the stars yet, and if he did not then maybe Naneth would not and she would think that he had forgotten her. But he had not. He wanted Naneth now more than anyone.

"Ereinion." Círdan stopped and turned to Ereinion as the boy attempted to fasten his hold on the railings. His voice held a distinct warning tone by now, and he had come to except complete obedience whenever he felt he had to speak in such a manner. He had never truly believed that a child was completely without thought or reason before, rather considering them as a small and not particularly wise elves, but now he had to agree that his companion had been correct. And shipwrights did not like being proven wrong.

"I cannot see the stars." Ereinion explained in a frustrated voice that was verging on tears as he tried to resist the pull of Círdan's hand. "Naneth promised that she and I should see the same stars."

"It is cloudy, child!" Círdan jerked his arm forward angrily, sending the child stumbling down onto his hands and knees. "You shall see no stars tonight."

Crouching on the wet stonework Ereinion scowled at the shipwright's damp socks and gulped back tears. He had grazed his knees, his left palm was stinging and he must have been outside for longer than he had thought for his soaked nightshirt was clinging to his legs and arms. "But Naneth promised. . ."

Realising that he was whining, Ereinion made a determined but unsuccessful attempt to sound more reasonable. "I want to stay."

"Ereinion!" Círdan snapped, grabbing hold of the child's shoulder and pulling him into a sitting position. "Inside. You are not to come out here at night again."

He had not meant to sound so angry, but it did seem to have a number of desirable effects for after a moment or two of quivering, Ereinion scrambled to his feet and stood silently by his side, ignoring the hand that was offered to help him up.

They marched quickly inside, the young prince scurrying and tripping after the shipwright's long strides. It was bitter night, still closer to the winter frosts than the mild of spring, and the child had felt worryingly chill. He should have never have let it be possible for him to sneak outside in such a manner. The boy was so light that he might have been blown from the walls and had he not found him, Círdan suspected that he would still have been there in the grey of the morning.

Ereinion skipped smartly inside when Círdan halted by the door, taking the opportunity to give the shipwright a long worried glance. Círdan was scowling ferociously which probably meant that he was very angry with him. Although he wanted to explain that he had not meant to make him angry and that he was sorry and that he had only wanted to see the stars that his Naneth was seeing too, the words did not seem to be there. He did not feel like saying anything at all any more. And now Círdan had placed the storm- bolt across the door and it was too heavy for him to move by himself. Maybe he was not supposed to think of his Naneth and Adar anymore.

"Come now, get to bed." Círdan said briskly, patting the mattress firmly and tugging the child forward with his other hand. The sheets were rather rumpled and bundled up but he had little intention of remaking it at this hour. Children would probably not notice such things in any case. "It is late, Ereinion!"

The note of frustration in the last comment seemed to break through the child's despondence, and Ereinion increased his pace and scurried to the side of the bed where he made a few pitiful and extremely slow attempts to scramble up onto the mattress.

"Here." Making his voice deliberately grumpy to avoid the child mistaking his actions for kindness rather than impatience, Círdan closed his hands around the child's ribcage and swung him roughly up onto the bed. The boy was lighter than he had thought a child could be, and his bones felt so small and fragile that the shipwright placed the child down carefully amidst the sheets rather than dropping him as he had intended. He could feel the child's heart beating frantically inside his chest, and his breathing was far from regular.

"Am I to sleep now?" Ereinion asked quietly, wriggling in his soaked nightshirt to try and get rid of a crease that was bothering him.

"Aye. . . no," Círdan hesitated as he plucked some of the wet garment between his finger and thumb. Tempting though it was to ignore the problem for Thatharien had long retired to her own chambers, the boy was too cold and miserable to be neglected. "You are too wet."

"I am sorry, Lord Círdan." Ereinion spoke in a meek little voice, looking up at him with a painfully sad expression. Someone had unpacked all his clothes onto shelves that he could not reach, pushing the chair across the room would make too much noise at this time of night, and he did not know where Thatharien was.

"Círdan." Círdan corrected roughly, hoisting the child back into his arms and standing up straight. The shelves to the left of the fireplace were filled with small piles of folded cloth in a variety of colours, and surmising that they were his guest's garments, the shipwright strode rapidly across the room to stand before them.

Feeling rather uncertain at the sudden and unfamiliar motion, Ereinion fumbled for a handhold, eventually curling his arm around the shipwright's neck. Círdan did not seem to be very good at carrying people either, for he had forgotten to put a hand on his back or wrap his hand around his knees to keep him steady. Naneth would not have liked that much, and in truth he had felt much safer when his grandfather was throwing him in the air than now when he was perched on Círdan's arm.

"Now, have you more nightshirts?" Círdan stopped abruptly, nearly sending the child off balance, and ran an eye over the contents of the shelves. Everything seemed incredibly small even for a young boy, and he had little idea of where to start.

"They are. . ." Ereinion moved his head from side to side as he looked at the objects on the shelves, giving each a barely perceptible nod as he checked them off. "There."

The prince stretched out a thin arm to pat a bundle of soft cream coloured cloth, then smiled approvingly as Círdan picked one off the top of the pile. Nodding his thanks, Círdan shook out the fabric to check that it was indeed the desired nightgown, inwardly marvelling that anyone would take the time to stitch stars and leaves around the hems and cuffs of so tiny a garment.

"Oh." Ereinion's voice was full of disappointment, and looking up from his silent contemplation of the embroidery Círdan noticed that the boy's lower lip was quivering.

"Ereinion?" Círdan arched a bushy silver brow at the boy and waited, nightshirt on one arm and child on the other. The child was clearly over- tired and perilously close to tears, and he did not wish to provide an excuse for any such outburst.

"I. . . I. . ." Now paying little attention to his safety, Ereinion wriggled around to reach across and rummage through the remaining nightshirts. "I thought it was another one."

"They are different?" Círdan looked more closely at the pile. The boy clearly thought this of heartbreaking importance, but each looked identical to him.

"Naneth made me a special one." The child continued shuffling through the garments, moving too fast to properly examine each one, and making a fine mess of Thatharien's tidy stack. "With little grey eagles and special gold stars. . ."

The last nightshirt was discarded untidily on the shelf and Ereinion's face crumpled in dismay, despite his efforts to control himself by taking deep breaths, ". . .I think that she might have forgotten it."

Finally defeated by the happenings of the day, the small body sagged against Círdan's own. Worried that he might drop the child, the shipwright wrapped both arms around Ereinion's shaking body and awkwardly patted his hand against the boy's back. The child could not begin sobbing now - not when they had successfully navigated through the day without incident. He had no idea how to deal with or comfort a crying child. He had seen them cry for a bruised knee or a bruised elbow, or for hunger or fear or want of some fancy, but Ereinion was not hurting and needed nothing. Fortunately for both of them though, this motion snagged the very edge of one dangling nightshirt, and moving rapidly to catch it as it fell, Círdan caught a glimpse of a border of painstakingly embroidered eagle chicks and gold and silver stars.

"Here, Ereinion!" Rather embarrassed by the amount of triumph in his voice, Círdan shook the child's shoulder for attention. "Is this not it?"

Ereinion looked bleakly up at him then smiled a little, the tears in his eyes disappearing as quickly as they had come. "Naneth made it."

"Aye." The shipwright nodded slowly then briskly shifted Ereinion in his arms, took the favoured nightshirt in one hand and carried the boy through to the bathing chamber where he sat down on the stool and proceeded to roughly dry the child with a spare bath towel. Huddled limply in Círdan's lap, Ereinion let himself be pushed to-and-fro as the shipwright rubbed his hair and limbs. He was rubbing more vigorously than other people did and it was pulling and tangling his hair, but Ereinion did not like to complain in case Círdan became cross. The shipwright obviously thought him a nuisance for his body was taut and what words he spoke were curt and impatient.

Huffing with exaggerated impatience, Círdan gave the damp hair a last rub and threw the towel into a wooden box by the door. Ereinion turned to look doubtfully at him, rumpled tangles of damp hair falling down over his dark eyes, and stretched his arms up into the air. The shipwright looked at him with a perplexed air for a moment before realising what was intended and slipping the nightshirt over the child's head. Dressing a child was rather more difficult than it looked, even with Ereinion doing his best to help. The moment that the garment was over his arms the boy seemed to turn into a mass of bony elbows and shoulders that would hinder the progress of the soft fabric, and small fingers that would catch in the cuffs or collar. Eventually though they managed to get all the relevant holes and sleeves in the right place and emerging from the garment, Ereinion shook his head vigorously to shake the hair from his face.

"Thank you." Ereinion whispered meekly, closing his fist around one of the baby eagles on the hem and holding on so tightly that his knuckles went pale.

Círdan grunted uncomfortably and stood up, boosting Ereinion up so that he could get a hold around his neck when the boy began fumbling at his chest in something of a panic in an effort to steady himself. He did not like being thanked by others, especially when he did not feel that he had done anything worthy of recognition and praise.

"It is time to sleep now." Círdan carried the boy over to the bed and placed him down on the mattress, standing over the bed as Ereinion wriggled under the blankets. That done, Círdan turned abruptly and headed for the doorway where an oil lamp was filling the room with a soft glow. Despite the nuisance of this evening he should still have time to read a little of his book before he wished to sleep.

"Oh, and I found this among some things that your father sent me." Remembering the reason for the late night visit in the first place, Círdan half-turned at the door to absently touch the stuffed animal on the dresser. "Does this belong to you?"

"Arassë!"

The delighted yelp caused Círdan to spin round to find Ereinion sitting up in bed, arms outstretched, and beaming at him with an expression of awe more suitable for an omnipotent power or one mighty among the Valar than a humble shipwright. Something seemed to have been rekindled in the child's eyes, and despite his obvious tiredness he suddenly seemed more alive.

"It is yours?" Embarrassed by the boy's obvious thankfulness, Círdan picked up the small creature and tossed it casually across the room to land lightly at Ereinion's side. "Catch!"

Still smiling, Ereinion grabbed at the little fawn and rubbed its nose against his cheek. Suddenly the room did not seem so big and lonely, and the frightening big bed actually looked rather cosy, and he was so very tired. It was just that nobody was here to read to him and the blankets were all screwed up and difficult to smooth out.

"Come now, it is time for you to sleep." Seeing that the child would not settle without his aid, Círdan crossed the room and drew back the covers, shaking out the rumples and smoothing out the sheets. Smiling now, Ereinion obediently squirmed into a laying position and carefully moved Arassë so the black bead eyes could see out.

Círdan lowered the sheets down over the child, pulling the covers up the Ereinion's chin. "Are you warm?"

Ereinion nodded rather sleepily, wriggling so that the wool of the blanket would not tickle his chin then remembering his manners, added politely. "Goodnight, Círdan."

Grunting a response, Círdan walked over to the lamp by the door and dimmed it into darkness. He pulled open the door, ready to retire to his own chambers then feeling a sudden desire to offer what comfort he could to the child added, "I shall be in my room."

Holding the door open to allow a narrow slit of light to fall down across the bed, Círdan paused for a moment looking down severely at Ereinion, giving him a chance to say if he was still uncomfortable. The child certainly looked happier and more relaxed than he had been since his arrival, although in truth he was probably too sleepy to do anything else. Frowning a little, he suddenly nodded sharply and began turning when a quiet voice interrupted him.

"I like you, Círdan." Ereinion smiled briefly at him and wrapped his arms around Arassë, snuggling the toy fawn close to him with a blissful expression. "You find things."