Calimir had worked automatically, the singing of the waters silenced in light of the events. After his shot that had released Turthol from the grip of the ropes, Calimir's hands hadn't stopped shaking. But somehow he'd managed to help drag the unconscious Rangar back on board, and stood back and watched while Carmalita worked over him.
The search for Turthol in the water was fruitless, and though Calimir raked his eyes over the water for nearly an hour, none of the crew spotted any sign of the ranger. His shivering becoming uncontrollable after the recovery of Aerin's body, he moved silently toward his cabin, slumping on the bunk and burying his face in the pillow.
It was a few minutes later when Calimir felt a hand on his back. He spoke into the pillow, "Enien, it was my fault that Turthol fell."
The hand moved rhythmically up and down his back. "How many times have I told you the same?" The elf raised his face, his hands still shaking. "The only thing you are responsible for is that Turthol didn't die still caught in the ropes. I've just been with Wren and Rangar. Nobody blames you." Calimir sat up slowly, his face closed.
"I know." Leaving the cabin and Enien, Calimir went back on the deck. Avoiding Ani Dao he went to his place at the prow, huddling against the railing as the storm came in. All night, he watched the lightning dance across the grey waters, felt the angry spray drench him, colder than his tears.
[ June 14, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]
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The seasons fall like silver swords, the years rush ever onward; and soon I sail, to leave this world, these lands where I have wander'd. O Elbereth! O Queen who dwells beyond the Western Seas, spare me yet a little time 'ere white ships come for me!
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