Illarion.org

A horrific storm was hammering the oceans north of Gobaith, but to the young ones affected most by it, they had no such words to describe the experience.

What they saw was a sky opening up on them; they were wet, and cold, and they clung to each other to stay alive.

Mommy was gone; where had Mommy gone?

There was a great light, and a sound that shook them violently - and then there was ice cold engulfing them, and they were tossed aside by great waves.

The storm pounded, and the little boat tore apart. Only the grace of whatever gods had been watching over the two tiny children kept them alive. Whatever gods were watching them though, had opposing plans for the children.

As the storm pushed the two infants close to shore, one was pulled East and the other West.

Along the Northern shore, beyond the Ogre Mountains of Gobaith, the two children were washed up on the very shore their mother had been fleeing.

*~*~*

There were sounds - they were footsteps in the rustling grasses, but the tiny boy-child couldn't have known this; He only knew there were sounds that were not the violent thrashing of the cold sea he had come from, and so he raised his arms as high into the air as he could and he let out his most heartfelt wail.

She was nestled in a cocoon of tall grasses that she couldn't see out of. Her blankets were soaked, and she could feel little wavelets making their way up the shore. They reached first only her little toes, and then crept up to her belly, and finally her chin was tickled by the cool water.

Why wasn't her mother taking her out of this wet stuff? She didn't like it, and she was cold. Where was her brother? One minute she had been clutching at his hand, and the next minute she was all alone, in this little cradle made of grass.

She began to whine, small breathy sounds that barely carried. She was hungry.

*~*~*

She was gone. He didn't know where she was now, but he knew that she had last been seen somewhere beyond Varshikar, so that was where Diarmhid headed. Normally, Diarmhid knew his sister wouldn't run from her enemies; she'd hunt them down and kill them, and then there wouldn't be anything to worry about. Normally, though, was obsolete. In the years since he had raised her, she had become someone else. In the past, she was fearless; now she had 'love' and along with it came fear. That was why Diarmhid would never love. Without it, you could be fearless, indomitable. He didn't know or care to know what it was about 'love' that caused otherwise competent people to fall under its spell, and he never intended to find out.

The question of why he was so desperate to find his younger sister if he didn't know what the meaning of love was did occur to him -- and he pushed it out of his thoughts. His thoughts were so much, though, that he almost didn't notice the strange movement of the grasses as his boots touched the Northern shore.

He crouched down in the grass, and used both hands to part the tall plantlife.

There was a baby on the ground.

He almost stood up and left it where it was. Then he noticed the baby had blue hair.

"Son of a bitch," he breathed, picking the child up in both hands.