[maikafanawen]

Wren had raced passed the others up the gangplank and grasped Ani Dao’s hand.

“Here we go!” she shouted, as the wind ripped around her, sea spray mingled with the morning breeze. Ani Dao smiled and began shouting orders to the crew. The anchor was hoisted and the jolly boats began to move the ship away from the docks and down river out of the harbour. Men began to climb aloft ready to unleash the sails and stays were unwrapped from their figure eight holds and grasped firmly in the calloused hands of sailors. The mizzen course, and inner and outer jibs were opened and began to pump in the wind. When the Silver Wyrm was away from the docks, Ani Dao had them open the front spritsails.

After she was finished she hopped down to the quarterdeck and stood next to Wren who had just finished helping a sailor get a splinter out of his hand. The man was very impatient and insisted that he could do it himself. She had seen him trying to dig it out with a knife and stepped in at once.

“There ye go Mr. Dalleck. Keep it clean,” she stood, wrapping the remainder of unused bandage around her wrist. The sailor shook his head and chuckled.

“Thank ye miss. Though, next time it happens I’ll make sure to take care of it outa yer sight.” With that he winked and ascended the shrouds and ratlines up the mizzenmast, ready to free the sails.

“You’re going to be quite busy if ye plan to help each and every of the crew with a little cut or scrape,” remarked the she-elf. “Ready to sail?” Wren nodded enthusiastically and pulled herself up the forecastle deck railings, dodging hands bringing a trunk back down to quarters. Sidestepping the crewman holding a tight grip on the forestays, she jumped down to the small deck just behind the bow.

When they were clear of the docks and a blue strip of wide river beckoned them on, Ani Dao’s voice rang out above the wind, “Alright men! We’re clear. Let ‘em loose!” The sails, free from their halyards, beat out against the wind, catching the breeze and sending the ship forward down the Anduin. They were off to Harad. It was the final leg of their journey.

***

“Ani Dao! Where are my things? Which cabin I mean?” asked Wren, tying her windblown hair out of her face. The elf looked up from the maps strewn on the table where Ryeran, the sailing master chosen for the expedition.

“Yours is the third on the left going down the stairs. We almost had just enough rooms. Only one needed to be shared. Your ranger friends took it up.” The noblewoman left the Captain to the maps and charts and retreated to her room for a bit of organizing and settling in. The first room on the right was Turthôl’s and Rangar’s. The door was open.

“Is someone not used to the sea?” she said peeking in to see Turthôl looking unhealthy. He vomited and the noblewoman recoiled. Disgusting. She dug into her pockets producing a licorice stick. “Here,” she said, thrusting the candy before him. He looked up, angry. “Oh, no. I’m not poking fun. It helps with stomach problems. Carmalita’s making basil and rosemary tea now. It helps also with sea-sickness.” Nodding, the ranger took the licorice stick, though somewhat reluctantly, and began to chew on it. “I’ve got more if ye need it. The apothecary just got a new shipment before we left. I bought a few pounds of it.” Deciding that Turthôl would probably rather be left alone in with his mild agony, she excused herself and returned to her cabin where she draped a velour spread over her bed: one of her few luxuries she had accepted from Ani Dao whose cabin was decorated with the regular captain’s finery. After her cabin was relatively comfortable, she went to help with Carmalita who was bossing Hach, the cook around, telling him just what to put in the tea.

“This is going to be the cleanest ship I’ve ever been on!” said Ani Dao as she passed by on her way to her cabin to retrieve yet another map. “What with Wren’s hygiene and Carmalita’s dietary methods, we’ll come home plump, hale and hearty!”

Mr. Dorengil’s watch, under the scrutiny of Carmalita working at the other end of the table on organizing her herbs, ate quickly, and with good manners, bringing Hach their mess plates when they were finished. Wren suppressed a chuckle as she watched them between stitches on a pair of woolen socks.

“I think we’re a good influence on these swabs,” she whispered across to Carmalita. The nurse laughed out loud, spilling her bowl of Valerian on the table. Finally the sun sank, and Mr. Yazven’s men took the second dog watch.