The Amaranthine (ship)

Tales of S'jira and others from the barbaric lands of Llothgar and beyond.

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Location: RhyDin or Llothgar

The Amaranthine (ship)

Post by S'jira » Mon May 13, 2019 9:56 pm

(Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 1:49 pm)

Hands knew well the work of beads to cloth. She could repair clothing and make a dress, if there was enough cloth and time to do so. But the little one?s heart only lifted and warmed to know that the one who received the item was truly pleased over it.

The latest was a small band of cloth to work into a woman's hair. There was no special event, but she had asked S'jira to make one. That woman was the wife of the local stone cobbler who looked as less a one to wear it as her husband might have, since she was gruff in appearance and coarse in her ways and words.

But S'jira lightened just to have been asked at all by the cobbler's wife, Gert. It seemed that she had been called ?sir? and ?m?lord? too often and she was determined to have something pretty to her short, grey and brown hair.

After the hair band of cloth and colorful beads had been delivered to the exuberant woman, the small one made her way from the market and made her way along some of the roads the Cobbler Shorn had helped to create with his own two, very calloused hands. She headed in the direction of RhyDin?s main docks.

Soft-leather boots padded against the stones and skirts of her drag, brown and plain dress swam smoothly against her hips and thighs with its hems against the tops of her boots. The weather was warming and no cloak was worn, but she had about her slender waist a black belt with a single leather money pouch that was cinched closed to keep the coins within it. Her long, dark layers of hair were unbound since she wasn't cleaning or had any other need to pull it out of her tinted face.

Raven colored eyes were wide and curious as she pulled up from her quick walking pace that had brought her to the edge of the docks, nearest the buildings and shops. She hadn't even made it to the piers but could see that crowds had started to gather by the droves.

The small woman did not need to ask what they were looking at. No one could miss the huge ship that was painted mostly black and highlighted along its deck edges and captain?s podium with gold and red paint. But beyond its glorious colors and magnificent carvings of lions, dragons, and more were the sails. All but one had been fully lowered, each in turn in coming into the harbor. And the last one still up was in the midst of being lowered. S'jira could just make out on its sandstone colored cloth the images of animals and creatures known and unknown.

Before she saw the name of it, it was being whispered through the crowd of seedy to find citizens of RhyDin that had come to work and gawk at the great ship: The Amaranthine. She would learn later that it meant 'unfading' and 'everlasting'. Even later, she would hear the story of its crew and just how long they and its captain had truly been traveling the waters of RhyDin and the lands of its many realms.

But for now, s'jira smiled and was in awe of the grand vessel. Like a child, she hurried off to find the men on the docks that she helped at times. She had questions. So many questions.

The ship had returned and s'jira was scurrying to get dressed. She pulled the dress of patterned leather over her head and tugged it down over her hips to that its uneven hems were felt to brush against her knees and shins. A brush was pulled through her hair and set neatly, but quickly, to the dresser that stood within one of the rooms that she and Panther often shared when still within the city's walls.

A quick sweep of scented oils, palm-against-palm, was passed against her face, neck and arms. Then she put the bottle down. She hastily looked about the room that was still in a bit of disarray. It was nothing as she would have normally left it. But the moment was different and far from mundane.

The ship had returned. And this time, the small woman wanted to do more than to hear gossip about it or to see it from afar.

At a pace that might have left some in the common room talking, she nearly ran down the steps and out of the inn by way of its main door. Bare feet dug in against cobbled stone and did not slow even as she ran by many of the towns shoppes and other buildings. Occasionally, she saw a new sign hanging or posted, here and there, but did not slow to see what they might be. Such things came and went all the time within RhyDin.

The ends of her dress, the soft layers of patchwork leather, flapped against her knees and calves when she kept running and turned hard around the next building. By the time she made it to the docks, it was not as she expected at all. There was no crowd this time; no one gawking and staring or gossiping about what all of them were calling a ?ghost ship?.

No Cobbler Shorn or even Garet, the dockworker she knew so well. Certainly not the fisherwoman, Thale, who had died years ago. So she stood beside the statue a while, seeing if there was any hints to what kind of ship The Amaranthine might be. A passenger ship? One for cargo? Both?

In her approach of the grand ship, she stared. It was a huge ship, by any mariner's standards. The biggest s'jira had ever seen. It was much as it was when she had last seen it. Months ago? A few years ago? Painted mostly black and highlighted along where the line of the deck would be. But beyond its glorious colors and magnificent carvings of lions, dragons, and more were sails that enthralled and amazed her. S'jira could easily see the still unfurled sails, their sandstone colored cloth the images of animals and creatures known and unknown ? those images very clear even at that distance.

It seemed too lovely to be a ship that sailed the oceans. But something about it told her it could have held its own very well in any attack and that the prettiness of it might be some fanciful camouflage. The small one looked about and made her way along the dock to one of the great piers to get a much closer look this time.

Gertrude was called Gert by Shorn who was known to be one of RhyDin's many cobblers of shoes, boots and else folks needed when there were needed some made or repaired for their feet. The husband and wife were dockside and watching the wind and rain reek havoc on those trying to unload the ships at many of the dockside piers in that ill weather. Just because it was raining and windy didn't keep much from what had to be done. They stood under the overhang of one of the dock taverns. And they were watching the ship. Of course, each of them had a mug of something to drink in their hands.

S'jira had seen them as she moved towards the plank of the ship that everyone had been talking about. Most were far too superstitious. She did not believe in ghosts, but the way the men and women of the docks had talked about the ship and its possible 'ghost crew', hands were shaking by the time she reached the way of wood that allowed any to get from dock to deck.

She pulled the hood of her plain, brown shortcloak better over her head to keep as much rain off as possible but the way the wind kept pushing the rain about, her face and hair were still getting soaked. Llothgarian's, savage as they were in the eyes of other more civilized cultures, prayed...and so her lips were slightly moving with a prayer to one of their gods in particular to keep her safe while she met one bare and small foot with the wood of that slanted ramp. Then a second.

Slowly, the small woman started up the ramp until she reached the top at the deck's level. She reached out to touch the wooden wall that hemmed in most of that deck before she stepped onto it fully.

Or... almost stepped on the great ship's deck.

The moment the tips of bare toes met with the decking of the ship, a dour-looking woman appeared. Had she been there the entire time to her left and just out of s'jira's peripheral? There had been nothing blocking the small woman's view but she had not seen her there.

The woman said nothing but her black-upon-black gaze scolded s'jira thoroughly for daring to even come near ship that smells of herbs, spices, leather, wood, and...other things that her senses could not readily recognize. The reproachful look was enough to have 'jira turning about on the ball of her foot and heading back down the ramp at such a hurry that the hems of her dress fluttered against the backs of her knees.

Gert and Shorn blinked to watch that retreat, flick a look towards the ship and they headed back into the dockside tavern. They needed a few more drinks.

S'jira passed them as the door of the tavern was shut soundly, but she had no intention of heading inside. At a bit of a run, she was headed off towards where she knew Garet and his woman kept a place as their own, just south-east of the docks and its great inlet.
ڿڰۣ-ڰۣ ڿڰۣ-ڰۣ ڿڰۣ-ڰۣ

Much can be said without saying a word.

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