[Arry]

Hands reached down to bring the two Elves quickly up from the rope ladder. Once on deck, Annû withdrew from the ring of questions that hammered against them, letting his companion answer them as he might. Others of the Elves made way for him as he walked to his room, their heads nodding slightly at his passing. No words or thoughts of comfort reached him. He had wrapped his grief about him, tightly . . . steely proof against unwanted access.

The door to their room was slightly ajar. For a moment he leaned against the frame, eyes closed, willing the familiar laughter at some puerile jest to come tumbling through the entryway. But there was only silence, broken softly by the thump . . . thump of a moth’s wings beating against the parchment shade that covered the low lit lamp near his bed.

‘You’ve left the lantern by your bed burning,’ he chided himself, stepping into the room. ‘Carandû will have your hide, little brother. You know how he hates . . .’

With a great wrenching pain, grief’s armor broke. Against the witness of the empty room it could not hold. Annû’s legs buckled and he slumped to the floor, his back against the now shut door. Head in hands he sobbed . . . waves of sorrow crashing over him . . .

Outside, the snow whirled softly against the ship; flakes disappearing as they met the icy waters.