The road was lit with the honey-sweet rays of the sun, the brine in the air mingling with the perfume of angelic white painted milkweed blossoms and delicate lace-like flowers that lined the cobblestone path behind the inn. The roughly hew cobbles rattled gently beneath the footfalls of Legolas and Gimli, rocking back and forth on uneven ground. The startling crimson of the sky had lessened to a rich orange colour that shone off of the silver metal-wrought buckles of the traveler's belts, turning them from bent iron to brass in the flickering gleam of the morning sun.

"Where is this ship that you said we would find here at port?" Gimli questioned. "As far as I can see in this light, there is hardly any port in the first place, let alone a ship."

"Patience, Gimli," Legolas chuckled, patting his friend on the shoulder reassuringly. "Remember that things are not always as they seem. The ship that I speak of will not be in the main port."

Gimli glared up at his friend. "And why is that, exactly?"

Legolas mused on this thought for a minute. "Let us just say that there are some kinds of ships that cannot and should not be...confined."

"By Durin's Beard, Gandalf has rubbed off on you, Legolas," Gimli observed. "I think that the wizard's senseless mutterings have worn on your mind."

"You are absolutely full of compliments today, are you not, Gimli?"

A huffing grunt responded. It sounded like a snuffling boar hunting for truffles. "You seemed to really hit it off with that deranged maiden Ree," he said after another minute of blissful quiet, only foot against pathway and soft morning and the gentle hint of brine on the morning breeze.

"She seems to be reliable," Legolas said, hoisting his pack up onto his shoulder. He and Gimli had finished their breakfast and had then gone back upstairs to gather their belongings before heading out. He had paid the innkeeper and tipped the serving girl, and realized with bitter amusement that the drunken men were still lumbering their way through another round of drinks and horrid singing.

"I like the spirit in the lass," the Dwarf commented offhandedly. "Pretty thing, but still knows how to stick a knife up her opponent's—"

"Really now, Gimli, it is best that you leave it at that," Legolas interjected. He too thought that Ree would make for a good companion. There was no doubt that she was worthy of the title of a sailor. He had felt the hard grip, the rough palm, the strength in her arm as she clasped his hand with her own. He could clearly imagine her, hanging out up the mizzen mast, one foot perched on the taut rope ladder leading up to the crow's nest, the other dangling into empty space as on the same side, her hand was firmly holding a length of rope. She would have that knife on her belt, the sharp kitchen tool, and she would be carefree. So, so carefree. In a way, he envied this momentary vision of her. Perhaps this was one of the real reasons that he had left to go on an adventure across the Waters, not only to explore, but to be free. He wondered briefly what freedom tasted like. Maybe, he thought to himself, it tasted different for each different person. This prospect of freedom, though, tasted like pine and spice fresh on the wind. Absolutely delicious and invigorating.

The twosome rounded a bend, and in that moment, Gimli got his answer to where the ship might be hiding. They had been walking for some time, and the packs were beginning to find their way down into the rivet of their shoulder blades, digging in just enough to be aggravating and uncomfortable. The road to the main harbor had been passed a while ago, along with strands of quaint shops selling all sorts of trinkets (some of which undoubtedly were of Dwarf make in their craftsmanship) and wares, along with bakeries and little run-down homes of stone and wood, aged by the abrasion of the sea winds and salt.

After a while, the shops faded away and the buildings that were present were even more dilapidated, exteriors gouged through, boards falling away without anyone to nail them back in, roofs falling in ungracefully on themselves. At the end of the cobbled road was a high sea wall of tumbled rocks, rough and hewn from the sides of mountains and polished smooth on the other side by the sea that pounded against them relentlessly. Pale and craggy on one side, dark as the unyielding night on the other, the wall served its purpose of secrecy and concealed the small town.

Assisting his friend in the ascent of the wall, Legolas pulled Gimli up over the final large shelf of stone, and then both turned outwards to face the sea. The sky was golden now, reflecting on the shifting waters below, turning them a rich amber that put most jewelry to shame. As sunbeams danced mystically over the surface, shadows dwelt in the creases between the little wave peaks. Rocking gently, anchored a few dozen yards or so from the wall was a ship.

It was nothing massive, but it was of considerable size, and would require a large crew to man. The main mast reached upwards like the spire of a great lord's castle, the tattered flag lashing in the wind at its tip without marking or emblazoned symbol of whom it belonged.

"They fly a banner without colors," Gimli noted, squinting for his lack of supreme eyesight that Legolas possessed and he did not. "Why do you suppose they do that?"

"There must be some reason," Legolas mused. "They seem inclined toward secrecy already, if you realize that they docked as far from the main port as they possibly could. This is what they call being out-of-the-way, Gimli."

Without another word to the disgruntled Dwarf, Legolas took a light leap down to a lower ledge of rock, an ugly slab of grey slicked over with algae that would have been dangerous if wet with the water of the sea. At the very bottom of the rock wall was a small boat of sorts, resembling a rowboat or a dinghy. It was sitting low on the surface, and it was obvious to see why. Sitting aft in the dinghy on the rower's chair was a massive man. He was like nothing that Legolas had seen in all his life. The man's skin was a very dark brown, almost like polished wood as it gleamed golden under the sun and shone back the glistening of the water. He was incredibly tall, coming about even with Legolas' head, a rather impressive accomplishment, which made the Dwarfish companion feel awfully small indeed, as Legolas himself cast a very imposing figure. As they approached, they were able to get a better look at his appearance. He wore a ratted threadbare tunic to protect his massive shoulders from the blistering sun, and trousers cut off at the knee, also threadbare. There was nothing on his feet, but that was common for sailors. They either wore boots or nothing at all. Especially the rope rats; they always went barefoot to get a better grip on the ropes as they danced from mast to mast, flying through the air many deadly feet above the churning sea. The weathered face of the dark man crinkled like stained paper and his onyx eyes glittered as his wide mouth found its way into a smile.

"The Master Elf and Dwarf, you have come at last," he proclaimed with a flashing grin of white teeth that contrasted startlingly with his skin. "Ree told me she did that you two would be here. I admit that I doubted her. 'An Elf and a Dwarf, lass,' I said to her, 'you must be out of your bleeding mind.' And next thing I know, here you are."

"What is your name, sailor?" Legolas inquired, hoisting his pack yet again so that it stopped digging into his shoulders.

"The name is Kelderief," the large man said. "Around here, most just call me Kul. It's easier that way."

"Gimli," said the Dwarf, thumping a fist to his breast in greeting. It was unnatural to skip the formality of introductions, such as naming one's self as the son of his father or the daughter of her mother, so on and so forth.

"Call me Legolas," the Elf replied.

"Then well met, Gimli and Legolas. Welcome to the Sea. I have been told that you plan on spending a bit of time on board. Our ship is strong enough; she's gotten us through enough storms. Mist Star is her name after the previous captain that could guide her through the roughest of waters and the thickest of fogs by the light of the heavens by night."

Gimli shifted his weight. "A fine ship by any standards." Exposed to ship-lore or not, a Dwarf could spot good craftsmanship. "Who is the captain now?"

"A fellow by the name of Benedict. He just asks for us to call him Captain. Once again, it's easier that way. Otherwise I'd be calling him Ben or Ned, although neither one really seems to fit him. So it's Captain. Oh, and Crowfoot's first mate. Just thought you might want to know that. Although," he added with a chuckle, "Ree's been giving him a run for his money. It's plenty obvious that those two are at war. From the looks of things, Ree is holding her own. She's a strong little thing." He spoke of her as if he were a proud father celebrating an accomplishment of his child. Legolas nodded. "All right then, climb aboard, it is always best if we cast off before the sun reaches its high peak and the waters get clear."

Legolas leapt lightly onto the boat, and it rocked gently beneath his feet, which were quavering slightly. Each little motion of a wave on the surface caused his legs to tremble in an effort to stay standing straight. Gimli smirked, but he was not able to keep the façade of smugness for much longer, because as soon as his boots came in contact with the bottom of the boat, he pitched forward and had to be caught by his Elven companion hooking his arms around the Dwarf, all the while trying not to fall himself. It took a few moments for them to get properly seated.

"Don't you worry," Kul soothed. "You two will gain your sea legs soon enough. It's one thing to be a simple passenger. It is entirely different when one wishes to be part of the crew."

Legolas leaned backwards and was then shoved forward by the momentum of a small wave as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Part—part of the crew?"

"Aye, Ree will expect you to earn your keep. The food's not for free, if you take my meaning. You have to work for what you get on the Mist Star. She'll have you know that soon enough, I would warrant. A sharp girl she is, too." Kul grasped the heavy wooden handles of the oars in his giant strong-fingered hands, and once again, Legolas spied rough callouses riddling the whole hand of the sailor, his more prominent on the meat of his hands rather than fingertips, proving his skill as an oarsman.

Kul pushed and pulled the water with great strength and rhythm, his muscles falling into motion as he simply repeated the action of arm up, arm down, over and over again. He did it subconsciously, but he was in constant control. He could feel the sea, and he knew how to move the oars to cut cleanly through the waves and still propel the dinghy forward, towards the Mist Star. With each motion of an oar, the ship grew larger and larger. Gimli's face grew greener and greener. Legolas was managing to hold his own, although his normally pale and fair cheekbones were tinged an unhealthy color.

At long last, the dinghy pulled up alongside the Mist Star, and its beauty as a vessel was even more apparent up close. Although heavily scarred in some areas, the woodwork was of fine quality and the mast reached up in a majestic fashion. Tested and tried, this ship was a strong one.

A rope ladder was knotted to a set of steel hooks at the edge of ship's side, the stiff crusted strands giving the weary Elf and Dwarf good handholds. Standing up in the boat alone took toil, and reaching out with confidence for the ladder seemed nearly impossible. At long last the contraption was climbed, and Legolas and Gimli clambered ungracefully (for and Elf and a Dwarf, that is) onto the roughly hewn deck. Kul slid over the side of the ship as though it were second nature.

Standing before the newcomers was a small crowd. It appeared as though the crew had taken a few minutes from their duties to greet the strange new folk that would be traveling with them for the Valar knew how long. Crowfoot, Gibbins, and Wilkins were among the lot. Everyone wore similar garb, not in the fashion sense, but in the sense that everything was worn thin and lightened with sun. Out of the mass of Men came a single young woman, her cloak and carving knife discarded, too-large pants tucked into boots, hair askew in the wind. The young woman cracked a mischievous smile, her chin crooked as well as her grin, and her greenish eyes twinkled a color closer to gold, like the amber of the waves. Ree.

"Well look who showed up," she remarked, one hip cocked to the side, her pleasure evident in her voice. "Welcome aboard."