Post by Tyrun the Norseman on Jul 4, 2004 4:24:18 GMT -5
The funeral was hard...as they always were. But now, the ladies of Windstorm needed to get home. Sigehelm had asked Tyrun to escort them all back to Windstorm, and he had agreed readily. A bit of work was always good for easing the sorrow and despair he felt after these occassions.
But Tyrun never could never get used to the small horizens these other sailors were used to. A trip across the channel? Tyrun was certain he could swim that distance, by now. But the captain of Windstorm's ship was fretting as if they were about to cross the North Sea in a canoe.
No matter...the Norseman had made this journey a thousand times. He knew he could gauge the winds and tides properly, to get them all back home safely and comfortably. And, he would take Edie with him on The Eagle. Nobody else seemed to like that idea much, but Tyrun blustered it out with a lot of talk about educational sailing, and the privelege Edfeil had, as a fellow sea-captain.
And so, they finally set sail from the quay at Eenheid...Tyrun had informed the Windstorm captain that he would sail out and abroad, on a weaving path, to scout for danger. The sloop was far more nimble and swift than the other ship, and could cover a large swath of sea, without falling behind.
As he tacked to and fro with the wind, Tyrun tried engaging Edfeil in conversation about the business of sailing...asking her questions to test her knowledge. She only sat at the gunwale bench, her hands in her lap, her eyes on the deck. Finally, in exasparation, he barked a question at her.
"What tack, dammit? We're at sea, and there ain't time for hesitation!"
This is the kind of tactic that would have worked perfectly on Tyrun. However, it caused Edfeil to merely give him a mute stare. Sighing, he said no more...and when the coast of England was in sight, he trimmed the sails, tied the rudder, and sat beside her on the bench.
Putting an arm gently around her shoulders, he spoke in a soft, sad voice. "We are destined to watch our loved-ones die, Edie....we're just mortals. And it'll never get easy. No matter how old you grow. And it don't matter how much you beg, or curse the gods...it never changes. All we can do is live on, and try to honor the memories of them that have departed." Impulsively, he wrapped the other arm around her, and gave her a tight hug.
With that, she collapsed against him, and cried with a total release of pent-up feeling. Tyrun said not a word, but held her close...cursing himself for his lack of something proper to say. And so, not a word was spoken, as the young lady wept thoroughly, and the weathered old sea-captain could do no more than hold her close, and assure her that he was there for her...and always would be.
...as it turned out, The Eagle arived at Windstorm a few hours later than was expected. Tyrun hopped down to the dock, and assisted the Lady Edfeil as she disembarked. His face was tired and haggard, but he passed a steady glance over those who watched, letting them know that any nosy questions might well be answered with a deft punch in the mouth.
And so, he took the gentle maiden by the hand, and led her slowly to the castle, to her much-needed rest...
But Tyrun never could never get used to the small horizens these other sailors were used to. A trip across the channel? Tyrun was certain he could swim that distance, by now. But the captain of Windstorm's ship was fretting as if they were about to cross the North Sea in a canoe.
No matter...the Norseman had made this journey a thousand times. He knew he could gauge the winds and tides properly, to get them all back home safely and comfortably. And, he would take Edie with him on The Eagle. Nobody else seemed to like that idea much, but Tyrun blustered it out with a lot of talk about educational sailing, and the privelege Edfeil had, as a fellow sea-captain.
And so, they finally set sail from the quay at Eenheid...Tyrun had informed the Windstorm captain that he would sail out and abroad, on a weaving path, to scout for danger. The sloop was far more nimble and swift than the other ship, and could cover a large swath of sea, without falling behind.
As he tacked to and fro with the wind, Tyrun tried engaging Edfeil in conversation about the business of sailing...asking her questions to test her knowledge. She only sat at the gunwale bench, her hands in her lap, her eyes on the deck. Finally, in exasparation, he barked a question at her.
"What tack, dammit? We're at sea, and there ain't time for hesitation!"
This is the kind of tactic that would have worked perfectly on Tyrun. However, it caused Edfeil to merely give him a mute stare. Sighing, he said no more...and when the coast of England was in sight, he trimmed the sails, tied the rudder, and sat beside her on the bench.
Putting an arm gently around her shoulders, he spoke in a soft, sad voice. "We are destined to watch our loved-ones die, Edie....we're just mortals. And it'll never get easy. No matter how old you grow. And it don't matter how much you beg, or curse the gods...it never changes. All we can do is live on, and try to honor the memories of them that have departed." Impulsively, he wrapped the other arm around her, and gave her a tight hug.
With that, she collapsed against him, and cried with a total release of pent-up feeling. Tyrun said not a word, but held her close...cursing himself for his lack of something proper to say. And so, not a word was spoken, as the young lady wept thoroughly, and the weathered old sea-captain could do no more than hold her close, and assure her that he was there for her...and always would be.
...as it turned out, The Eagle arived at Windstorm a few hours later than was expected. Tyrun hopped down to the dock, and assisted the Lady Edfeil as she disembarked. His face was tired and haggard, but he passed a steady glance over those who watched, letting them know that any nosy questions might well be answered with a deft punch in the mouth.
And so, he took the gentle maiden by the hand, and led her slowly to the castle, to her much-needed rest...
