[Arvedui III]

The gentle sway of the ship kept Rangar ill-at-ease as she pulled out of Harlond. He and Turthol both agreed to share a cabin, a simple one which he liked, as there weren't enough for everyone to have thier own room. Rangar took to wandering aimlessly around the decks, finding nothing else to occupy him. As he past the cabins he chuckled at Turthol, who was looking very green. "I told you, too much ale." But then, as Turthol let his drink come back up, Rangar grimaced and kept walking. He wasn't seasick, yet; He had the looming sense he would be soon.

But the days passed, and Rangar became almost easy at sea. And yet. The back of his mind screamed that something was terrible wrong. Perhaps it was his discomfort and guilt about Calmir and his sea longing, or maybe it was the fact that the crew addressed him as 'Sir' or ‘Master Rangar'. Terms which made him feel vastly unworthy for some reason. It was stupid, he knew. But still, Rangar couldn't help feeling as if any respect paid to him was unjustified. A sensibility which Turthol took every opportunity to joke about. 'Spose I've earned it Rangar thought as for the eighth time in five days Turthol started laughing and mock-bowing when Rangar described an incident on deck.

Only one person on the whole ship seemed to agree with his views, and strangely enough, it was a crew member, Talon. Honestly, the queer man gave Rangar the chills, but he was jovial enough to make him shrug off his fears. "Aye sir, can feel like everyone's paying you what you don't deserve." He said. "Just got to enjoy your fortune, while it lasts." He added with a smirk.

On the ninth day out from Harlond, the sky turned gray. A sense of foreboding hung over the ship and Rangar could smell rain in the salty air, but despite the signs, he felt content. And after all, a little rain never hurt anyone, did it?