Storm at Sea

Early Forelithe, 1394

“Hoist up the main sail!” called the sea captain, standing proud and strong in the prow of his ship. Lightening bolts as big as trees flashed closer than he imagined possible. The young seahobbit thrust his sword high into the air, “No storm shall touch my ship!”

“Aye, Captain!” said the sea-maiden, shouting her response over the billowing wind and rain. “Up with the sail, sea-lad!” she yelled, repeating the captain’s orders.

From the rear of the “ship”, four-year-old Pippin took his duties seriously. He got to his little feet, raising a walking stick twice his height into the air; tied to the “mast” was an old bath towel. “Aye, cappin!” he replied enthusiastically.

Though the sun shone bright overhead in the Shire and the sky clear, Pippin unmistakably saw the dark storm his comrades described: Black, ominous clouds pelting hard rain upon the wooden deck while searching for a friendly port in which to moor. It was all happening just as his papa related in a tale of uncle Isengar’s adventure the night before.

At the same time, from down the lane, Paladin rode home early from the fields upon his pony, Fergie. He slowed the animal, seeing something strange and wonderful unfold in his own yard. When he saw his young son lift up the walking stick, he became very amused. Paladin recognized the walking stick as the one he himself used on an old “adventure” of his own long ago, yet over the years could never part with it. Paladin brought Fergie to a stop, dismounted, and then tethered her to a sapling near the fence-gate.

“The waves are so big!” the eight-year-old sea-maiden shouted to her captain. “How will we get home?”

Paladin smiled, watching his youngest daughter in her dress and apron row as if her life depended on it, fully in the moment of her lively imagination.

Without a sound, he crept near the rain barrel kept by the smial door. He dipped the water bucket inside, filling it full of the cool rain water--real rain water gotten mostly from yesterday‘s downpour. It was an unusually warm afternoon in Forelithe, so Paladin had no worry of the children getting sick--so as long as they quickly changed clothes afterward.

The great waves of the deep sea swelled high before the sea-captain; taller than the Misty Mountains cousin Bilbo described vividly in his own tales. “Even the Eagles should fear this storm! But you shall have no fear, Sea-maiden--I and my trusty sword shall get us home!” Merry swung his wooden stick into the air once more, stabbing an unseen foe. “There you are, Smaug, you wicked dragon! No more will you haunt the people of Lake-town!” It was a good thing he was wearing his war-helm, which normally was a wooden toy pail that Pippin would use to store his toy blocks in.

“He breathed fire on…on…my…sill, Cappin!” Pippin said angrily. Darn that Smaug!

Pervinca stopped rowing; turning to her little brother she whispered in irritation, “It’s a sail, Pippin, not a sill!”

“I shall put out the fire, my Captain!” shouted Paladin, now near enough to the children. He reared back and let fly the water--squarely over the children and down upon their heads.

Three young heads turned just in time to see their papa (and uncle) toss a large, heavy sea wave upon them.

“A sea-troll!” shouted a very soaked Merry, stepping out of the old cow trough they used as their ship. “Get him! Don’t let the troll get away!” The three wet sea-mates squealed and laughed as they chased their quarry around the yard.

Paladin also laughed, running in circles to avoid “capture” as the young warriors tried their best to pin him down on the sea of green. The “father” in Paladin rose to the surface, remembering that the children needed to get out of their wet garments. He let himself go down quickly. “Quarter! Give me quarter!” he laughed, feeling little hands tickle his sides. Of course, he got in a few tickles, himself.

From the doorway, Eglantine stood watching the entire affair. Through the kitchen window, she had spied her husband pinch the rain bucket and fill it. She knew then that he was up to mischief. Tina let the children pass by to get changed, but she halted Paladin. “Be quick and wash up,” she called after them, “tea will be on shortly.” She then turned to her husband with a mock scowl. “You’re incorrigible!” she smiled. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Come sail with me?” he said with a twinkle in his eye, then kissed her.

The End