Faramir Fiction Archive

Out of Memory and Time (PG-13)

Written by Shireling

30 March 2008 | 58682 words

Chapter 5 – A Close Call

The Grey Swan was plying her trade in the waters of the southern seas, shuttling between the ports of Umber and Harad. With the threat of winter storms, Cardolan planned to avoid the treacherous waters around the Bay of Belfalas for the winter months. He had to report to the Swan Fleet’s agent on Tolfalas in early spring but that was his only deadline.

Their trading was going well. The ship was known to be reliable and had no difficulties in picking up valuable cargoes; the strongboxes in Cardolan’s cabin were satisfyingly full. Min continued to prove an asset as both book-keeper and general deck hand. He had also proved adept at small innovations that improved the standard of meals on board; his adventurous use of the herbs and spices, so abundant in the markets of the south, livened up a diet that was often bland and unappetising. To new eyes, few would guess at his horrific ordeal of the previous winter, he was now strong and fit, his skin tanned to a deep bronze by the hot southern sun, his long, white hair bleached with feint highlights by the sun and the salt air. With his scars hidden there was no outward sign of his ordeal and he had become so skillful at lip-reading that many strangers failed to realise he was deaf.

His handicap became less noticeable as he and the crew evolved a method of hand signals to communicate. He was still barred from going aloft and rarely went further ashore than the immediate vicinity of the dock; the Duck was his safe haven and the bustling activity of the harbour-side left him dizzy and disorientated. He was still prone to ‘funny turns’ as his crew mates called them; most often in port but occasionally when at sea. Though he had said nothing to Cardolan or Tat, Faramir had an idea that the ‘turns’ were triggered when a sight or a smell or an action prompted some long buried memory. It was as if his conscious mind rejected the possibility of remembering, precipitating a ‘fit’, a pain in his head so excruciating that all thought was impossible and his body’s response was to shut down, throwing him into near unconsciousness.

He knew the thoughts and memories were there; his sleep was often still rent with nightmares but on waking the illusive visions and knowledge would evaporate like mist on a breeze, giving him no chance to capture them. He didn’t want to know and he didn’t want to remember. He thought himself a coward but he just didn’t want to know what foul deed he had committed to precipitate the punishment meted out to him. Cardolan’s gentle probing always resulted in another withdrawal as Min sought to distance himself from his past and in the end the Master gave up, accepting that the origins of the enigmatic stranger who had landed on his deck would likely always remain a mystery.

The Grey Swan was making its last call in Far Harad before heading north, when the accident happened. The holds had been emptied under Min’s watchful eye and the crew were cleaning out the vacant space ready to receive the next cargo of casks. One of the crewmen, climbing up the cargo net to the deck, slipped and fell. He landed heavily, striking his head and falling awkwardly on his arm, breaking his wrist. The stunned man was carried up on to the deck where his arm was splinted and the bang to his head checked. Thankfully he seemed to have escaped with only minor injuries and despite a headache was soon up and working while the new cargo was loaded.

Because the tides were not favourable the Master decided to delay departure until first light. Come dawn the crew were shocked to learn that the injured man had died in his sleep in the night, a trickle of blood from his ear the only clue to the internal haemorrhage that had slowly and inexorably claimed his life. Cardolan reported the death to the port authorities and, once assured that the death was a result of the accident, the port Magistrate gave permission for the funerary rites to go ahead.

Short of a crew member on what promised to be a long and difficult passage, Cardolan felt it necessary to take on another sailor. In a busy port there were always itinerant sailors seeking a passage. The Master liked to pick and assess his crew, not giving a man permanent crew status until he had proved himself to the Cardolan’s satisfaction. Cardolan took on a sailor who hailed from Linhir, a small fishing port in the Bay of Belfalas; his papers were in order and he appeared fit and able. Talhir accepted the Master’s terms and took over the berth of his unfortunate predecessor.

The Duck set sail, heading north for Tolfalas, on a journey that promised to last over month, if the winds and tides were favourable. The Master planned to make the journey in one hop but he retained the option of calling in to Umbar or Kelavir if the need arose. It was not a happy journey, the crew were restless and the seas temperamental. The new crewman, Talhir, worked hard both at his duties and at establishing his place within the crew. Min had little to do with the man, though instinct warned him to keep a close eye on him. Without hearing, Min struggled to isolate what it was about the man that set his teeth on edge; he was just a little too friendly, a little too ingratiating. Min was particularly conscious of Talhir’s attempts to befriend Tat. Min warned the Master and the Bosun of his concerns and though they trusted his judgement, his inability to explain where his concern stemmed from left them with little option but to be extra vigilant and Min with a determination to keep an especially close eye on the youngster.

Towards the end of the voyage the Bosun discovered Talhir poking around in the cargo hold. He confronted the man who claimed he was searching for a knife he had misplaced. Though there was no evidence that the cargo had been tampered with the incident confirmed to the Master that Talhir was not to be trusted, and would not be offered a permanent position on the crew. The man seemed resigned to the decision and when the ship finally docked at Tolfalas he accepted his purse of coins and disappeared into the crowded throng on the dockside without a backwards glance. Of the crew, only Tat seemed sad to see his new friend go but his sadness was soon forgotten with the prospect of a run ashore.

It was late when the noisy and inebriated crewmen staggered back aboard at the end of a nights carousing. Min and the crew members left on duty to guard the ship watched them with wry amusement as they staggered, weaving drunkenly to their bunks, not envying then the headaches they would surely have come morning.

Min was about to retire to his own hammock when he realised that Tat had not returned with his crew-mates. Pushing down a sudden up-swell of anxiety he went to the crew cabin and shook first one then another of the drink sodden men awake. Unable to get a sensible response from any of them, he went straight to the Master. Despite his own anxiety even Min was surprised at Cardolan’s reaction to the cabin-boy being adrift.

Cardolan gathered together all but one of the sober crewmen, leaving that one man on watch. He roped in the marshals who patrolled the waterfront as they began their search for the boy. Min ignored his own discomfort at being ashore, desperately hoping that his normal reactions to the crowded, chaotic waterfront would hold off. As was often the case when he felt under duress, the buzzing in his ears intensified and only his determination to find his missing friend kept him to his task.

While the Master and the constables checked out the Inns and bawdy-housesand the lock-up, Min and the Bosun and the rest of the crew checked the alleys and cargo sheds. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack and their fruitless search took them full circle back to where the Grey Swan was berthed. While the Bosun went back on board to check if the lad had slipped past them and returned, Min took another turn around the great stacks of cargo.

He lifted his torch to get a better look into a particularly dark corner when a brief flash of reflected light caught his eye. It was gone in an instant but without thinking Min stepped into the gloom, his torch raised. As he moved forward his torchlight illuminated a sight that made his blood freeze. Tat, his face a mask of terror, was forced forward over a bale, his hands caught and tethered behind him with the remnants of his shirt, his voice silenced by a filthy rag stuffed into his mouth, a blade at his throat. There was no doubt about the assailant’s intention. Min yelled and drew the knife from his belt; it flew through the air, sinking to the hilt into attacker’s upper arm; the man screamed and released his hold on the boy. Min’s initial cry had alerted the other searchers but he was unable to hear the sounds of their approach. He rushed forward to stand between the boy and his attacker until the constables appeared to take charge of the wounded assailant. Tat was sobbing and struggling to release his hands; Min pulled him to his chest, holding tight with one arm while he released the bonds and removed the gag with the other. He grabbed an empty sack and wrapped it around the shocked youngster.

Cardolan appeared as Min and Tat moved back towards the ship. Having assured himself that the lad was not injured, Cardolan had Min take Tat to the Master’s cabin. Only as he was leading Tat away did Min finally catch a glimpse of the assailant’s face and was shocked to realise that it was Talhir.

More than an hour passed before the Master appeared in his cabin. Min was keeping a vigil, Tat was asleep in the Captain’s bunk, the shock and a surfeit of ale had knocked him out.

How is he? Cardolan wrote on the slate.

“Lucky we found him when we did… a few more minutes and Talhir would have succeeded in his foul intent!” Faramir whispered, not wanting to disturb the sleeping boy.

Was he harmed? Cardolan wrote.

“Cuts and bruises. He has a split lip and a bruise on his cheek that will probable black his eye but fortunately nothing worse.”

He was not violated?

“No.” Min assured him, noting the Captain’s shoulders sag with relief. “What will happen to Talhir?” he asked

We will take him to Dol Amroth. He can face the Prince’s own justice! Cardolan wrote.

“Why not here?” Min queried.

Too serious. I take this personally! Cardolan wrote. As he sent Min off to rest he handed him back his knife. That was quite a throw he wrote.

“Instinct, I guess. I’ve only ever used it for carving and cutting rope,” Min shrugged.

Well you have my thanks, Friend Cardolan gripped Min’s forearm in salute and sent him on his way, pondering on yet another puzzling facet of his mysterious crewman.

On the morning after the attack Min approached the Master’s cabin with the intention of enquiring after Tat. He brought breakfast for the pair, two thick slices of bacon layered between still warm bread and two mugs of hot sweet tea. Tat was awake and sitting huddled in the Master’s bunk looking miserable and dejected. At the sight of Min the lad started weeping, his whole body shaking in delayed reaction to his ordeal.

“May I?” Min asked the Master, indicating his wish to comfort the distressed youngster. Cardolan nodded his assent and signalled that he would return when he had checked that the crew had the ship ready to sail.

As he slumped against Min’s shoulder the boy was babbling incoherently, finally giving voice to his fears and terror at what had happened. He wasn’t naïve; he had been at sea long enough to know of the wickedness in some men’s hearts but to have been betrayed by someone he had looked on as a friend had devastated him. Min didn’t need to be able to hear his words to understand what the youngster was trying to communicate; he soothed with his arms and his voice until the boy calmed enough to sip down the reviving brew Min had provided.

When the Master returned Min went back on deck to his duties as the Bosun guided the ship away from the dock and set a north-easterly course for Dol Amroth. With his duties completed and the ship well underway, Min returned to the Master’s cabin, knocking and entering as was his usual custom. The sight that met his gaze as he entered the room shocked him to a standstill. Cardolan was sitting on the edge of the bunk with a sleeping and obviously well-spanked Tat cradled in his arms, the youngster’s glowing buttocks positively radiating heat.

Faramir muttered an apology as he turned and left, closing the door behind him and taking up guard on the threshold to prevent anyone else inadvertently disturbing the private moment. As he stood in the darkness of the corridor he contemplated what he had witnessed, Cardolan and Tat were the nearest he had to a family and for some reason he was surprised but not shocked by the scene.

“Is he alright?” Min asked, when the Master finally quit the room. Cardolan put a finger to his lips and opened the door wider, Min caught a glance of the youngster, face down and fast asleep on the bunk, covered only in a light sheet.

He will be, Cardolan wrote.

“You spanked him! Hasn’t he been through enough?”

I am responsible for him. He is my sister’s son. The Master wrote by way of explanation.

If Min was surprised by the revelation he hid it well. “But a spanking after such a terrifying ordeal?”

I spanked him for drinking to excess and for not staying with the crew. Had he been a cabin boy on any other ship, he would have faced a public flogging, Cardolan wrote

“But he trusted Talhir!”

And next time he will be more cautious! Cardolan was unrepentant.

“It seems harsh.”

When we reach Dol Amroth I am going to seek another trade for him.? Cardolan wrote

“Is that what he wants… to leave you?”

He wants to be a healer. I can buy him an apprenticeship. He will be safer. Cardolan wrote

“But you are his family!”

I will still be his family. I will just arrange more voyages to the City, he wrote.

“I will miss him!” Min said with genuine distress.

The Master regarded him intently before writing on the slate, You could settle in Dol Amroth. You have skills that would be valued.

“No. The Duck is my home now. There is nothing for me in Dol Amroth. I will stay as long as you will have me.”

Whilst the Master wouldn’t allow any mistreatment of the prisoner, for Talhir life on the voyage was miserable. Rather than confine him in one of the secure cargo lockers below he was forced to sit on the deck, his hands secured around behind the main mast in full view of his former crew-mates. He was given sufficient food and water and twice a day he was released under close guard to attend to his hygiene and comfort. Cardolan and the Bosun turned a deaf ear to the taunts of the crew, though when one of the men appeared in front of the prisoner with a pail of hot tar and a wicked looking knife, speculating on the fate of predatory degenerates and offering to pre-empt the sentence he could expect in Dol Amroth the Master drew the line. As far as Min was concerned, each time he passed the man he had to restrain himself from lashing out at him, so incensed was he at what the man had done.

Physically Tat recovered quickly from his ordeal but he remained subdued and kept to his cabin when not required on deck. He stuck close to Min, seeming to find reassurance in the quiet but calm presence of the older man. To his own surprise Min suffered no ill effects following the incident; no increase in nightmares and no ‘funny turns’. He went back to his duties and, at Cardolan’s request, made sure that the ledgers and cargo manifests were up to date for an audit by the Prince’s agent in Dol Amroth. He tore out two pages of parchment, not because there were discrepancies or errors but because he had taken to doodling and sketching as a means of relaxation when the numbers and figures would not add-up. He tucked the loose pages into the back of the ledger to keep them safe and made a mental note to retrieve them when the ship docked.

The Grey Swan was delayed in passing through the narrow entrance into the great enclosed harbour of Dol Amroth; as they approached they were met by the magnificent sight of a great Galleon and they were required to give way as the mighty vessel was manoeuvred into the dock. It was the Royal Swan, flagship of the Swan Fleet, Prince Imrahil’s personal vessel; two pilot boats nudged the ship into her berth. The Grey Swan, small and insignificant by comparison and with no cargo to unload, was directed to a far berth towards the end of the harbour wall.

The Master’s first task after completing the arrival formalities was to have Talhir taken into custody by the port constables to await trial at the assizes the following morning. With Talhir unloaded, Cardolan took Tat ashore to seek out the advice of his old friend, the senior healer of the Royal household, leaving the crew to complete a list of routine maintenance and repairs.

Min was uneasy; he was grieved at the prospect of being parted from the lad he looked upon as a younger brother, but that did not seem to adequately answer for his disquiet. The great ship kept drawing his attention; her ornate figurehead, her bright gilded paintwork, her magnificent anchor, the graceful lines of her decks, the great white swan gliding on the royal blue waters of the ship’s standard as the flag snapped and fluttered in the breeze; each detail drew his eye in a way that made his throat tight and his stomach clench. He went below to work on the ledgers, though in truth they were already complete. He felt exposed, anxious as he always was when in harbour, only more so. And the city, why did the city beyond the harbour wall seem so dangerous… so familiar! He wanted to be away, to put the land so far behind him that all he could see in any direction was water. The air, the scents, the whole atmosphere of the place set his nerves jangling.

The Master and Tat had not returned by dusk and when the crew gathered in the galley to eat it was all Min could do to force down the meal, the stew was tasteless on his tongue. With no one given permission to go ashore the men settled on the deck or in their cabin to play games of chance by the light of swinging lanterns. Min excused himself and in the privacy of his cabin prepared a generous dose of the sleeping herbs he kept to hand and swallowed it down, more than happy to circumvent the nightmares that were pressing perilously close. He climbed into his hammock and wrapped himself in his blanket, willing the oblivion of the potion to take him before the terrors of his dreams could ensnare him.

The dosing cup gave Cardolan his answer when Tat was unable to rouse Min come morning. Unable to wait until the herbs released their grip on his friend, Tat had to leave without saying goodbye, gathering the last of his belongings and carefully wrapping the carving of a flying fish Min had made for him.

Cardolan left Min a message instructing him to bring the ledgers to the Agent’s office at noon. The Master confirmed the arrangements with the Bosun who had responsibility for accompanying Min and seeing that the coffers were conveyed under escort to the shipping office. With the arrangements made Cardolan and Tat made their way to the Hall’s of Justice where Talhir was to stand trial.

Just before noon Min stood at the top of the gangplank, the ledgers tucked under his arm, as he watched the coffers being loaded onto a cart flanked by an escort of six large and heavily armed soldiers all wearing the blue and white livery of Dol Amroth. Min, still sluggish from the after effects of the potion, pulled his wide-brimmed hat over his face to protect his sensitive eyes from the glare. He swallowed hard, his anxiety hadn’t abated and it took all of his willpower not to bolt when the Bosun tapped him on the shoulder and indicated that it was time to leave.

He took his place within the cordon of guards but their procession did not set off immediately. Their departure was delayed by a large entourage of dignitaries and visiting Royalty out for a promenade to the end of the harbour wall, attended by both local and visiting guard companies. The Duck’s guard detail came to attention and saluted them as they passed, the salute taken up by all the other bystanders… all except Min.. As the blond haired nobles passed by, barely noticing the Guard detail and oblivious to his distress, he stood, head bowed, under sudden assault; frozen in place, the buzzing in his ears so loud that he felt sick. He blindly thrust the ledgers into the Bosun’s hands and, forcing his way past the guards, bolted back up onto the deck, seeking safety, while he still had the capacity for conscious action. The pain in his head, a vice that blocked thought, hampered his coordination and, as he neared his cabin, finally robbed him of consciousness.

The Bosun, recognising his plight, shouted a warning to the crewmen on deck that they would know to look after their stricken comrade. He had no time to check that Min was alright. The group of visiting Royalty had passed by and he could not delay his own errand for fear he would be late for his appointment at the Agent’s office. As the escort party proceeded along the quayside he spared a moment to wonder at Min’s extreme reaction to this latest port of call and to how Master Cardolan would react to the book-keeper’s absence.

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