Part 2

Tyr stood at the bow of the ship, both feet poised at the bowsprit with an ease that
only long months of working on a ship could allow. The docks were alive with activity,
several other caravels and a galley had come into port that morning, blown by shooting
the winds of the hurricane accurately. All of a sudden he saw a figure in a wine colored
skirt dash up to the dock and wave frantically at him. A moment later, Dirk came into
view, red-faced and panting. Tyr couldn’t help but smile, nobody could keep up with
Merilonna when she decided to run.

He waved back and began climbing down the lines that went from the
halyard-wind to the dock. Dropping lightly to the ground, he met the girls eyes, “Do you
know how worried I’ve been about you?” she asked sternly, sounding scarily like his
mother. Coming to this realization, it was hard to suppress a guffaw, “Aw, gerroff it Mer!
Y’know she could sail through any storm th’ gods have to throw at us.” As he said this,
he gestured behind him to The Tidewind, a caravel that was renowned among sailors for
being able to stand up to anything and everything.

“Humph,” she said with mock sternness and a smile, “Come on, you old tar, lets
go get something to eat. I know how awful hardtack is, and you look like you need it.”
They wove their way through the crowd, making their way towards a small tavern located
on a nearby sidestreet. Walking through the doorway of the Dragon’s Pride, she let her
eyes gradually adjust to the dim interior. This tavern was a favorite with sailors, and Tyr
was no different than his older counterparts, they sat down at a table in a corner and set to
talking.

“What was the hurricane like?” was the first thing she asked, their food, roast
chicken, came while he was describing it, and a full mouth didn’t stop him from
continuing. She listened to him, enraptured at the portrait he was painting with his
words, even if it was all in street slang. “Wow,” she breathed when he was finished, “I
wish I could have been there.” Tyr studied his friend’s face intently, she wasn’t her usual
bubbly self, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

“There’s something the matter,” he said worriedly, “Out with it, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing,” she began, but seeing the unbelieving look on his face, “I wish you
didn’t know me so well. It’s just that, Okay. I try, I really do try to do all the stupid things
they want me to, no matter how much I hate them, but it’s just never good enough! They
all tell me I need to work more, try harder, whatever! They just don’t get that I’m not
good at this stuff because it’s not me! I don’t want to be a lady, I hate court, and I’d be
lying if I said that I thought most nobles were anything more than pretentious idiots!”
Tyr gave her a wry smile and said, “Well, it’s nice to see that you agree with us
common folk.”

She smiled wistfully and let out a half-hearted chuckle. They talked for a while
longer, of sailing and news from the city. When he was describing the Copper Isles to
her, she idly glanced at the clock, and stood up quickly, knocking her chair over.
“Hey, what’s the deal?” Tyr asked, surprised.

“Mithros! It’s six o’clock already! I have to get back! When are you shipping out?
Not ‘till next week, great! I’ll see you again! bye!” and with that she dashed from the
tavern and down the street

Tyr laughed, and finished eating the chicken. He was the same age as Merilonna,
seventeen, and had been at sea since he was ten, they had met two years ago, when she
had come down with her older brother to look at the cargo on his ship. They had been
fast friends then, and time hadn’t changed that. He was tall and wiry, from working on
the ship, and he had a deep golden brown tan. Tyr rubbed his hands together, massaging
his wrist that had been wrenched by the ratlines during the storm, the palms of his hands
were hard and rough, Merilonna always said a sailor’s hand was like a dog’s paw.
Pushing his chair back with more delicacy than Merilonna had, he got up and
walked out into the twilight.