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piosenniel · 06-07-2005, 01:59 AM

Endamir raised one edge of the tarp to see what was going on. Mixed with the sound of wind and rain slapping hard against the meager covering, he could catch the shouted words of his brother and Lindir. Both were madly scooping water from the deck and heaving it overboard. The rain was falling so hard and so wildly that it seemed a useless effort on the two Elves part. As fast as they scooped, the rain renewed the barely depleted volume. And oft times as they threw their buckets of water overboard, the pernicious wind would hurl much of it back in their faces.

The roiling of the sea’s waves matched that of Endamir’s stomach. He had already lost the meager breakfast they’d taken before arriving at the ship. And in the toss and turn of the ship’s deck, he could not find his brother’s pack that held his medicines. It was dark under the tarp, and close, and stuffy, all increasing his sense of disorientation and nausea. The onslaught of the storm had also showed the tarp to be not much protection. Rain mixed with sea water and flowed back and forth beneath the tarp. The wind howled and raged and picked up any of the tarp’s edge that was not battened down.

Endamir groped about in the darkness. Somewhere by his knees he recalled there was a little stack of coiled ropes. Following his brother’s example, he tied one about his waist, and grabbing his bucket he caromed out from beneath the tarp making for where Orëmir stood.

As luck . . . bad luck, that is . . . would have it, his boots could find no purchase on the slippery wood of the deck. The ship pitched at a precipitous angle and he found himself sliding dangerously toward the ships railing. Odd thoughts ran through his mind as the side came nearer. He glanced at his tunic, where a bit of breakfast revisited had deposited itself. ‘Well, at least my shirt will be clean when I die,’ he thought. His bucket went skittering along the deck, free of his grip now and plummeted over the edge.

He called out to the Lady of the Seas and was about to consign himself to a face to face meeting with her spouse when a strong hand gripped his arm hard and hauled him back to safety . . .

06-07-2005, 01:59 AM	#30
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Endamir raised one edge of the tarp to see what was going on. Mixed with the sound of wind and rain slapping hard against the meager covering, he could catch the shouted words of his brother and Lindir. Both were madly scooping water from the deck and heaving it overboard. The rain was falling so hard and so wildly that it seemed a useless effort on the two Elves part. As fast as they scooped, the rain renewed the barely depleted volume. And oft times as they threw their buckets of water overboard, the pernicious wind would hurl much of it back in their faces. The roiling of the sea’s waves matched that of Endamir’s stomach. He had already lost the meager breakfast they’d taken before arriving at the ship. And in the toss and turn of the ship’s deck, he could not find his brother’s pack that held his medicines. It was dark under the tarp, and close, and stuffy, all increasing his sense of disorientation and nausea. The onslaught of the storm had also showed the tarp to be not much protection. Rain mixed with sea water and flowed back and forth beneath the tarp. The wind howled and raged and picked up any of the tarp’s edge that was not battened down. Endamir groped about in the darkness. Somewhere by his knees he recalled there was a little stack of coiled ropes. Following his brother’s example, he tied one about his waist, and grabbing his bucket he caromed out from beneath the tarp making for where Orëmir stood. As luck . . . bad luck, that is . . . would have it, his boots could find no purchase on the slippery wood of the deck. The ship pitched at a precipitous angle and he found himself sliding dangerously toward the ships railing. Odd thoughts ran through his mind as the side came nearer. He glanced at his tunic, where a bit of breakfast revisited had deposited itself. ‘Well, at least my shirt will be clean when I die,’ he thought. His bucket went skittering along the deck, free of his grip now and plummeted over the edge. He called out to the Lady of the Seas and was about to consign himself to a face to face meeting with her spouse when a strong hand gripped his arm hard and hauled him back to safety . . . Last edited by piosenniel; 06-07-2005 at 02:20 AM.