[Lalwendë]

The door to the hut flew open as Tarn unlocked it and stormed in. All that effort and those fools had escaped. They had found nothing and he hadn’t even had a chance to train his seals today. He threw the helmet into a corner, letting go some of his temper, and grasped hold of a lantern from a hook on one of the great whale bones which served as beams to hold up the roof. The lantern was a crude object, but filled with flammable whale oil, a fuel that not all the Lossoth could afford; it gave off a warm light when Tarn ignited it with an ember from deep within the dormant fire. He was frustrated about the events of the day, but his immediate concern was to get the fire going again. He turned over the embers and gradually added more fuel until he had a blaze.

Tarn busied himself with preparing a supper of coarse, flat bread, smoked herrings and warmed goats milk. He ate slowly, staring into the flames of the fire and thinking about the caves. Faces danced in the blaze and his thoughts turned to the Corsairs and Elves, and their determination to get these stones. He wanted to find them, but that was for his own ends, as they had made the promise of weapons, and maybe power, but he puzzled over the possible nature of these stones, and why these fine people were prepared to risk so much to get them. His seals could find them any number of treasures in this cold sea, but it did not seem that they wanted mere riches. The thought came to him that he ought to go to the Corsair ship, as there would no doubt be more goings on.

As he thought about what was the best course of action there was a loud and brutal knocking at the door. Putting the empty plate down he went to see who dared to disturb his rest. It was Tarlsson, holding Thynne firmly by the collar.

“So, the boy is back?” said Tarn, standing tall in the doorway. “Come in and explain”

Tarlsson was drunk, as usual, and the boy was red-faced, not daring to look at Tarn. “I found him not long ago. Was trying to have a quiet drink and in he comes. Course I asks him what the blazes he’s doing wandering, hasn’t he got work to do, and he says he thought he’d have to find some place of his own to sleep. Finds a boat to sleep in he does. Then he says he woke up and he’s been looking for you most of the day. I say how can he have been? You’re not hard to miss. And I don't doubt you've been looking for his lazy hide, too.”

Tarn realised that the lad had been telling the truth. How could he have found him if he was hidden in the caves? And he hadn’t told the lad he was to sleep in the hut while he was working for him. Still, it was right that he be shown some discipline in front of his father. Bending down and staring Thynne straight in the face he coldly told him that if he was to do such a disappearing act again then he’d be left in the Caves of the Dead. Alone. Thynne shivered, and continued to look at the floor.

“Been trouble down there I hear tell, today,” put in Tarlsson, proud that he had some gossip, and placing a foot inside the hut.

“I know. Goodnight,” said Tarn coldly, trying to shut the door on him.

“Elders have been meeting too. A right little chinwag,” offered Tarlsson, leaning his weight against the door and holding it open. “Someone’s dead, so the story is saying.”

“I know Tarlsson, but I have to have some words with your lad. Strike while the iron’s hot. You know.” It was an excuse, but Tarn did not want the man in his hut tonight, not if he decided on heading out to the ship again. Hearing that his son was to be scolded, Tarlsson nodded, and with a failed attempt to slap Tarn on the back in understanding, which missed due to his drunken state, he turned and left.

“Go and make yourself a bed in the corner,” Tarn grunted to Thynne. He had no intention of punishing the lad in any way beyond making him fear that he was going to reprimanded. Besides, he was thinking about the fact that someone was dead. He had thought they had all got out. Then it hadn’t been such a waste of a day, but he was sure there would be more to learn at the ship.