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The Prince and The Shipwright by Dragon

As they continued westwards the air began smelling salty, especially in the evenings, and the soil began to look and feel strange in a way that he heard described at sandy. The roads and byways became busier and often they would pass people herding cows or groups of soldiers of unfamiliar mark.

One dark and windy night they rode on until they saw tiny slits of light through the lashing rain. As they got closer Ereinion could make out great walls of pale coloured stone and small figures moving in front of them. His curiosity overcoming his sleepiness, he looked up eagerly to question Ainon. Unfortunately the captain did not seem too eager to answer Ereinion's queries at this moment in time, and the prince soon found himself bundled up in tight folds of thick wool.

Rather disgruntled at this treatment, Ereinion wriggled ferociously, trying to find some way to see out even if he was not allowed to speak. They had not seen any sign of civilisation for so long that even the high walls and the thick line of trees before them seemed like a great palace or city.

"Be still. Keep quiet." Ainon hissed so sharply that Ereinion obeyed instantly and without question.

The cloak muffled most of the sounds of the night, but Ereinion could hear the horses' hooves clatter to a halt on the paving, and after some anxious voices, the sound of someone hammering on thick oak doors.

Ainon dismounted without revealing his burden from underneath the cloak, and he held the prince so tightly that Ereinion began to wonder if the elves that manned the gates were unfriendly. He had once heard his Adar talk of elves fighting elves, although he had not really understood. He would never get to understand anything at this rate. Whenever anyone saw him listening to anything interesting they immediately nudged each other and stopped talking.

The soldiers made their way up some steep steps, their footsteps echoing inside the narrow passageway. As Ainon hurried up the stairs two or three at a time, Ereinion was jolted violently up and down until he was nearly crying. Even elves became stiff and sore after weeks of riding and although Ainon eventually came to a halt, his aching stomach still continued churning.

Struggling desperately, Ereinion tried to fight his way clear of Ainon's cloak before he was sick. At first Ainon held him painfully tightly, but then the cloak was ripped aside and somebody grabbed him and pulled him out into the room.

Squinting in the sudden brightness of lanterns and firelight, Ereinion confusedly made out Ainon's dismayed face and the smug satisfaction of a strange soldier that was holding him. Like many of the soldiers that they had passed recently he was dressed in grey-green and his armour was of a rather coppery colour.

"I need. . ." Ereinion managed to gasp out in a small voice, but he was ignored as the strange captain's eyebrows shot up.

"It is a strange package indeed that you bring, Ainon." Ereinion swallowed desperately as he was swung upside down and playfully examined. "I have not seen one before that blinked."

Ainon grimaced at his counterpart and made to grab the prince back, but was restrained by two other soldiers.

"A child is unusual enough, but to be smuggled through in the dead of night. . ." The words hung heavily in the air and the captain looked enquiringly at Ainon.

"I have to. . ." Ereinion whimpered, trying to fight his way out of the strange captain's grasp.

Ainon appeared to be struggling to keep his words civil, and he held out his arms to receive the prince. "Leave the boy be. I can explain."

The arms holding Ereinion tightened around him, and the strange captain took a step back. The child was obviously extraordinarily precious for reasons that were not yet clear, and he had the advantage in negotiations whilst he held him.

"I am waiting." The captain began calmly, only to recoil slightly as much of the contents of Ereinion's stomach splashed down his tunic. Wrinkling his nose he held the elfling away from him with an expression of disgust, and spoke rather wryly. "This is yours?"

Ainon began to speak, his usual measured manner rather strained by anger, but Ereinion was no longer listening to him. He had been sick before now, but never without Naneth being there. There was nobody to give him a cuddle or help him wipe his face or change his tunic. Nobody had come with a beaker of the sweet gingery drink that would take the taste away, and Arassë was packed deep in one of the saddlebags.

The child's first cry was more of a gasp, but then he began to sob quietly and so pitifully that the soldiers surrounding him began to look awkward and drift away to the fire or to offer food to the newcomers.

"This is the son of the King?" The captain's eyebrows curled upwards again, and his face held a hint of amusement. "This is the High Prince of the Noldor?"

"Aye." Ainon met the mocking eyes with an inscrutable glare. "That is Ereinion, son of Fingon. He is here at the invitation of Lord Cirdan."

The captain nearly dropped the child with surprise. Apparently his counterpart was entirely serious. Flushing rather awkwardly he set the child down on his feet, releasing him to return to his minder, but the boy merely crumpled to the floor gasping out words between sobs.

"He appears distressed." The captain remarked guiltily. Should this story find its way back to the Lord of the Havens, he would probably find himself rewarded by heading an army against Angband.

"He wants his Naneth." Ainon answered grimly, surprising himself with the ease with which he had managed to decipher the child's wails. "She is not here."

The two captains looked at each other worriedly for a few moments. The child was showing no sign of calming down - if anything his sobs were increasing in frequency. Deciding that the best option was to delegate the task, the sea-elf slapped Ainon's shoulder with feigned merriness.

"Come, let us talk. Linendil shall see to his needs." He motioned across a kind looking elf with silver hair and whispered conspiratorially to Ainon. "He has one of his own."

~*~

"Shh. It is nothing that a bath cannot solve." Linendil knelt down and tried to take the limp little boy into his arms. He was aware that his friends were watching him curiously, and probably placing bets on his chances of success. Children were not common, even in the relative safety of the Havens, and one in such obvious distress was almost unheard of. "A nice warm bath, and then some food."

To his horror the child seemed little more than cold pale skin over tiny fragile bones. The only part of him of any substance was the hard mail of his mithril shirt, and even that was soaking wet and icy cold. A child should never have been travelling in such conditions.

Scooping him effortlessly into his arms, Linendil carried Ereinion through to the bathhouse, and sat him on a stone ledge beside the fire.

"You shall soon be warm and cosy." He promised, helping the child out of the stiff shirt and soggy woollens. Ereinion did not respond and simply cried harder, whimpering for his Naneth.

"Your Naneth is not here, little one." Linendil slipped his hands under the child's arms and lifted him into the tub of steaming water. "But I am sure that she is thinking of you."

He had a son of his own, back at home. He imagined that the two boys were much the same age judging by their height, but his Nénar was strong and healthy looking and his rosy face was nearly always smiling.

"I have a son, about your age." Linendil filled a jug with warm water and poured it over Ereinion's huddled form, using one hand to shield the child's eyes from stinging soapy water. "He is fond of scrambling on the cliffs. I think he goes much too high, but he has not yet fallen."

Ereinion did not respond but his crying did ease, although it was not apparent whether this was due to comfort or simply having realised that however hard he cried his Naneth could do nothing to help him.

"Whenever I come home he likes to play with my shield. He sits on it and slides down the sand dunes." The elf's eyes crinkled up happily at the memory. "He also likes to paddle in the surf and go crabbing from the north quay."

Ereinion shivered despite the warmth of the water. He knew that the nice soldier was only trying to cheer him up, but he was reminding him of all the fun things that he had done with his Adar. Even if he knew what crabbing was, there would be nobody to play with him or make him feel special in the Havens.

"There." Linendil rinsed off the last of the soap, wiped away the stray tears from Ereinion's cheeks, and wrapped him in a huge towel. "Is that not better?"

Ereinion sniffed and muttered something so quietly that the soldier had to bend his head to hear it.

"You want Arassë? Who is Arassë?"

Ereinion whispered something else, no longer caring who knew that he needed a stuffed fawn however close he was to eleven.

"Ah. My Nénar has a special blanket. He will not go to sleep without it." Linendil grinned and strolled through to the main room where the two groups of soldiers had gathered, and enquired as to the whereabouts of the small fluffy toy. "He shall soon be found."

Ereinion watched with big eyes as the bag that contained his personal belongings was emptied, and the contents strewn across the floor. He paid little attention to having his hair combed or someone pulling a huge undershirt over his head, all his concentration being on the helpful soldiers as they alternately held up possible items and made suggestions. Eventually the child grew tired of shaking his head at cases of mistaken identity and looked on with increasing anxiety as his belongings were packed back into the bag, and some soldiers began rummaging through bags of shirts and tunics.

"Arassë?" Ereinion queried in a woebegone little voice at last. The soldiers looked at him uncomfortably and Ainon sighed.

"I am sorry Ereinion, he must have got left behind somewhere."

This time he did not even have the spirit to cry.

~*~

They stayed the night there, sheltered from the storm and sleeping in narrow wooden bunks that felt impossibly soft after the weeks of camping. The next morning, after a good meal they set off again, although this time Ereinion was not required to wear the armour.

He had wanted to throw it away for the magpies that would surely flock to claim so shiny a thing, but as usual Ainon had intervened. Apparently it was valuable and his father would be most cross if it were lost. He would have much rather had Arassë than a stupid metal shirt, but Ainon had scowled when informed of this opinion, and had told him that precious though Arassë had been, he would have offered little protection against a poisoned arrow or a thrown spear.

So the nasty mithril shirt came with them anyway. Ereinion could not see the point of having it. It was not even as if he would be allowed to do anything fun with it like seeing if he sank if he jumped into the bath with it on. But Ainon had insisted. And then given him a long lecture about how important it was for soldiers to be prepared. As if he did not know.

They rode past ploughed fields and small farms, and once or twice had to slow to avoid hens or lambs that had wandered onto the road. By late morning the countryside merged into houses and stables built of pale yellow stone and thatched with some sort of thick sea grass. Nice though the spires and arches were, Ereinion could not help thinking them slightly inferior to the heavy grey fortified buildings of his home. These would never stand up to an attack.

There were so many elves here. Ainon pointed out people smoking fish, a dog with a litter of puppies, and busy markets. They even stopped at one stall to buy some fresh bread and apples, and sat on the edge of a fountain in the middle of a square to eat them. Ereinion barely remembered to swallow as he stared openly at everyone and everything with huge eyes.

Most interesting were the other children - chasing each other around the square, sailing tiny boats in the icy waters of the fountain and playing with some kittens. He had never seen so many other elflings before, and these all seemed so full of life. He would have dearly liked to go and play with them, but despite Ainon saying that he could and even pointing out one boy who was playing alone and surely would not mind company, Ereinion could not bring himself to go over and say hello. He had always wanted a friend, but right now the other elflings seemed awfully loud and really a bit frightening.

In any case, he was quite happy to sit and watch for the moment. People seemed to smile and laugh so much here, and all the colours seemed brighter. He began to wish even more strongly that his parents were with him, to allow them to see the wonderful world that existed beyond the hills. Perhaps his father could even come to live here, with all his people, and they could all live happily ever after.

Presently they remounted and followed a wide paved road through the town and grassy dunes, up to a huge house of pale coloured stone, and came to a halt in a large courtyard. The soldiers dismounted and handed the reins of their tired horses to stable hands that appeared from behind some trees. Ainon lifted him down from the saddle and placed him on the ground before turning to remove some bundles from the packs.

Rather overcome by their sudden arrival, Ereinion wandered into a small grassy patch shaded by some trees and sat down, hidden behind a tree trunk. It was everything he had ever dreamed of. Trees to climb, shrubberies to hide in, large grassy lawns to run around on, and stables to sneak into. He knew that he should be busy exploring before someone caught him and made him do something boring, but he suddenly did not feel like moving at all. He would be quite happy to sit here for a very long time.


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