It poured. Fat drops of rain tumbled from the sky, beating on the decks of the ships and coming in waves down the wharf, off roofs to the paths and threatening to squeeze through cracks in the bricks of old homes. Wind howled against the tall sails in the harbour and brushed past the towers of Dol Amroth – and the sky was grey, full of darkness. But did that stop the children of Dol Amroth? Not once.
“Marien, Marien!” Nemmy called across the Court of the Fount as folk hurried for shelter, “wait for me!”
Marien, followed by her younger sister Estia, ran across a wall and cleared a barrel. “Race you to the fountain!”
Nemmy quickened; her bare feet pattered across the stones and her dress clung to her arms and legs. She knew she was faster, but her friend had cheated. She got a head-start. Hardly able to keep in the laughter fizzling beneath her tongue, she skidded to a halt and straight into Marien, sending her tumbling into the fountain.
“Woah – hey!”
Nemmy hollered when she in turn was pushed into the fountain. Spluttering and laughing they clambered to their feet to come face to face with brothers Annor and Anwadir.
“Follow us.” Said Annor, without so much as a ‘hello’.
“We found something.” Anwadir continued.
“Well, not exactly found…”
“But we won’t tell you how!”
“But I think they want to know.”
“All right, all right!” Anwadir held up his hands, “I’ll tell you! Gee, pipe down girls.”
The three girls just stood staring, wordless. Annor dug his hands into his pockets and produced a label, soggy and running with ink while Anwadir spoke.
“Dhanis and Dia gave us a clue… ‘the good stuff’s on the top shelf,’ said Dia. And ‘take what’s at the back,’ said Dhanis. So we did.”
“The what?” Nemmy inspected the label, raising her brows at the words Fine Gondorian Whiskey.
“The good stuff, Nem. Come on! Baranon and Aeglosseth are waiting. Probably makin’ out.” Annor waved a hand in the air, laughing.
Marien put her hands over Estia’s ears and complained.
“You’re not teaching the poor girl anything good!”
“Oh, as if she weren’t going to learn every colourful word under the sun eventually.” Nemmy pushed her and snorted. “Let’s go, I want to find out what this good stuff is.”
Annor was wrong, but he had been right before and it was certainly a topic of playful mocking. Baranon and Aeglosseth were sniffing the contents of bottles and inspecting labels, trying to keep them dry. But the names had all faded off by now, dark ink running into the grass on which they knelt, between the city wall and a round garden that provided them excellent cover from potential snoops. The children scouted this way and that, then ducked behind the garden.
“Take a sip of that, Nem.” Aeglosseth waved a bottle under Nemmy’s nose. “Don’t think, just drink. It’s great. You’ll have to get to it before the rain does.”
“Yeah, yeah…”
Nemmy brought the bottle to her lips and took a good sip. Her eyes grew wide and she clutched her throat with one hand.
“Woohhh… is this even safe to drink?” She shook her head through a fit of coughs.
“You just have to get used to it. That’s what Dia said, anyway.”
“It’s tasty.”
“You reckon? Pass.”
They passed the bottles they had in a circle, careful to make sure Estia didn’t get any, each sampling the contents until they felt dizzy. The rain pressed on and thunder rumbled in the clouds above but they remained there well into the evening, talking and laughing and telling stories.
There was once an eagle from Gondor, just a little thing with big bright feathers and sharp talons and sharper beak. He spent his days soaring in and out of trees, swooping to the ground to snatch up creatures for his dinner, and preening those beautiful feathers of his high up above the ground, ever proud of the view he had the privilege of seeing. He looked over the lands one day, at the mountains in the distance that reached up to kiss the skies with their shoulders nestled in the clouds.
“Silly mountains!” Snorted Estia, “They can’t kiss the sky!”
“They can if they believe in themselves, Estia.” Said Marien, “Now shut up and listen to Nemmy.”
...And he thought about just how far they would be able to see from all the way up there. After all, mountains are taller than trees. So he strapped on his favourite wings, and… what? Did he really do that? No, he just… he just set off. He flew into the mountains.
“You’ve had too much too drink.” Baranon waved his bottle at Nemmy.
Poppycock and his good friend balderdash. So this eagle, he did, he flew off into the mountains. It was bloody freeeeezing-
“Don’t curse in front of Es-!”
Do you want to hear the damn story or not? So it was bloody freezing as all hell, Miss Marien, and this eagle got ice and snow and what-have-you on his wings. So he hid in caves here and there to keep warm as he made his way up. It was quite incredible, really, that he ever made it to the top. And when he did he perched himself on the peak of the mountain, ruffled the snow out of his feathers, and raised his head to look out over Gondor’s land. And he saw fuck-all. Because the clouds were in the way. He soon died of hypothermia because of the freezing air an’ all.
“Does that mean that if I really believed in myself, I could kiss the skies?” Estia mused, hugging her drenched cloak around her.
“Of course.” Said Aeglosseth, “You just have to believe really hard.”
Estia clenched her eyes closed and seemed to be concentrating.
“Believe harder!”
Estia clenched her eyes even more shut until she forgot to breathe and slumped to the ground with a frustrated sigh.
“Maybe when you’re older you’ll be able to believe in yourself.” Anwadir patted the girl on the forehead, a little harder than he meant to, and pushed himself to his feet. “Might be time to head home, yes?”
“Aye.” Said Nemmy, “I’m all out o’ stories. And I’m right tired.”
“I’m left tired.” Marien got to her feet. “Leave the bottles in the bushes. We can get rid of ‘em later, when we can see straight.”
They were good at sneaking back inside by now - staying out late had become a habit, as had late night excursions. One by one they split off from the group and back to their homes, climbing in windows and sneaking through doors without so much as a sound. Nemmy always preferred the windows, they were so much more fun. But tonight was a little more difficult, with all that alcohol in her small body. She clambered in through the window, but her foot clipped the edge and sent her tumbling onto the floor of her room. Nemmy threw herself under the covers quick-smart, and at that moment, footsteps approached. The door opened with a flood of candlelight.
“Neremnes darling?”
“Mmm?”
“Everything okay?”
“Yes, mama. What was that noise?”
“Hm! I thought you might know. Well, goodnight.”
“Night mama.”
The door closed and Nemmy exhaled in relief. She stood again to take off her clothes, soaked right through. It was cold now she had lost the adrenaline of being outside late, drinking when she shouldn’t have been. She dried herself off and pulled on a white night-dress and did up the laces as she leaned against the window. The sky was grey and dark, though the rain had stopped for now. Nemmy looked out over the courtyard below her home, guards posted here and there and lamps twinkling with firelight. And further out, towards the docks, the masts of the ships swaying there in the sheltered bay. She wondered when her father would be back. He’d been away on his ship for nearly a fortnight now, sending supplies off to the next shore and sorting business there. With a sigh, Nemmy closed the window and latched it shut, and crawled back into bed. The rain began to fall again like soft fingertips tapping on the roof, lulling her soundly to sleep.
