Part 10

All her mistakes became clear at once, and Eowyn cried out in anguish. Legolas held her tight.

Haldir was with them in an instant. “I saw it fall, Eowyn—”

“Reduce the flames!” Master Eldacar’s voice rang out over the wind, surprisingly loud and filled with authority.

“I can find it,” said Haldir. He laid a comforting hand on Eowyn’s back. “I can find the spot again; I know exactly where—”

“Lower the flames!” shouted Eldacar. He had taken the helm.

Arador rushed forwards, moving along the rail. “My Lord...” He pushed past Legolas, and dropped into the burner well.

“I will take a company of border guards—”

“YOU WILL BE DEAD IF YOU DO NOT DO EXACTLY AS I SAY!” bellowed the scholar. Legolas and Haldir exchanged startled looks. “I need you on the anchors!”

Legolas ripped off his harness and gave it to Eowyn. “Put this on; hook yourself to here.” Haldir was already beside the starboard anchor; Legolas rushed to the port.

“Ready?”

“Yes, sir!” cried the two elves, in unison.

“Wait for my word—Arador, hold those flames steady...” Eldacar seemed to be staring into something beside the wheel. “On the count of three: one; two; three!”

The elves dropped the anchors.

For a moment nothing happened—the ship continued on its perilous way, but lower in the sky now, and in imminent danger of collision.

Then it lurched, its bows falling sharply, came to a sudden stop—throwing forward anything that was not strapped down—levelled off, and sat, bobbing violently on the wind.

The anchors had snagged on something down below!

Legolas, having hardly lost his balance, ran back to Eowyn, who was lying flat upon the deck. “Thank the Valar you attached yourself in time!”

Arador was picking himself up off the burner housing. “Are you burnt?” cried the elf, as he helped Eowyn to her feet.

“No, my Lord. Gloves!” The boy held up his hands.

Haldir was safe, still standing beside the anchor emplacement.

Legolas took Eowyn’s arm and led her aft. “What now, sir?” he asked Master Eldacar.

“We tend the burner,” the man replied, “and wait until the wind drops. Then we will tack north, over Emyn Arnen, to the Dead Marshes, where we will have no trouble setting her down.”

“Tack?” said Legolas.

“A nautical term, my Lord,” the scholar explained.

“I know—but I did not realise that you had sailing experience, sir.”

“I have made an extensive study of the literature,” said Eldacar, guilelessly.

Legolas pulled Eowyn closer.

“Why should the anchors hold us,” asked Eowyn, suddenly, “when the mooring lines did not?”

“The anchors hang on elven rope, my Lady,” replied Eldacar. “The mooring lines were simple hemp.”