1. Calm after the Storm
The fighting had been long and bloody under the shimmering moonstone-and-pearl sky.
Now Swan-knights and sailors alike were busy in the oppressive heat, patching up rigging so the captured ship could limp to Dol Amroth once the wind returned. Others were binding the vanquished Corsairs, none too gently, in the sweltering hold, where the clutter of small household goods, foodstuffs and other rather pitiful loot still bore silent witness to raids on some poor fishing-villages.
Imrahil, returned to his own vessel, stood bone-weary in the inadequate shade of the mainmast, discarding pieces of his scorching armour, thrusting swordbelt, surcoat and quilted tunic into his esquire's arms.
He tugged impatiently at his shirt-ties. Finally, laces only half-undone, he yanked the garment off, grimacing in distaste at the blood now mingling with his sweat on the white lawn. Next he stooped, chest bare, to pull off his boots.
Unclothed at last, he clambered nimbly a short way up the stays to look outwards, one hand shielding his eyes from the glaring sun, in vain search for some clouds, fervently hoping they would not stay becalmed for much longer.
Then, in a graceful arc, he dived towards the gleaming coolness of the Sea.
27.11.06 Double-drabble inspired by an ...inspiring... conversation (read: daydreaming *g*) with Denise.
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