Most Bright by Lyra

Loving Uinen

Princess Ancalimë falls in and out of love with the sea.

Written for the Discovery challenge, inspired by the song "How Far I'll Go" from Disney's Moana - though it takes a very different turn.

The sound of the sea was audible even over the bustle and din of the harbour. Bold little waves sloshed against the hulls of the anchored ships, while their more gentle brethren lapped the quay wall in a steady rhythm. Occasionally, there was a more powerful splash when a wave hit the cutwater at the entrance of the harbour. The rushing sound filled Ancalimë's ears. It drowned out the meaningless remarks made by the steward who guided her party through the port and swept up the melodious chatter of her ladies-in-waiting. Accentuated by the shrieks of gulls and the hammerfalls ringing over from the wharfs, it was almost like music. She breathed deeply, tasting the salt and the peculiar spice of seaweed, and her heart beat faster.

It was the Princess' first visit to Rómenna, and she had come prepared to hate it. For was she not the daughter of Erendis? Her mother had warned her about the place, had told her about the relentless shrieking of the gulls and the disconcerting to and fro of people and goods, had warned her about the stench of the harbour water and about the monstrous looming shapes of the tall ships, heaving on the surge like bulky drunkards lurching home after a heavy night's carousal. And had not the harbour and the sea stolen her father's heart, reducing her mother to the joyless and pining life of a mariner's wife? Had not all the bitterness in her family been borne on these waters?

And yet, when Ancalimë heard the sea's unique melody, her heart was transformed. She could feel it call out to her, felt its kinship in her blood, felt her lungs swell in the salty wind. Her feet longed to dip into the gentle waves, and her hands itched to heave ho and set sail and roam the wide seas. No, she would not suffer and perish away from land as her mother would have. She would stand proud upon the planks, laugh in the face of the spray and high winds, take up the dance with the Lady Uinen herself. The realisation came as a surprise, but there was no denying it: She was her father's daughter also.

Her father! There he stood, waiting by the gangplank that lead onto Númerrámar. There was an anxious quality to the fixed smile on his face, clearly worried about Ancalimë's reaction to the alien environment and the invitation aboard ship that had been so loathsome to Erendis. The princess felt that she ought to remain cold and indifferent as ever, showing her father the same disregard he had shown her during her childhood - did she not owe her poor mother as much? But she could not suppress the excitement that was now surging through her veins, and it must have registered in her face or maybe in her step, for suddenly there was a flash of recognition in her father's eyes, and the politely friendly mask gave way to a broad, happy grin.

"Welcome aboard," he greeted her. "I am overjoyed that you have accepted my invitation, and sincerely hope that you will enjoy the journey."
She was tempted to ask whether the journey - just a brief sail to Eldalondë - could be prolongued, whether they could weigh anchor and abandon their courtly duties and sail all the way to Middle-earth and maybe beyond, but she stopped herself in time. "Thank you, sire," she said instead. "I trust that I will."

They weighed anchor soon after. Ancalimë and her ladies sat under a richly tasselled canopy while the sailors went about their work. The king, having discarded his cloak and embroidered tunic, was moving among the mariners as if he were one of them, tightening hawsers and adjusting sails. Ancalimë could have taken it as an affront that her father had invited her but now did not entertain her, but she did not find it in her to kindle her anger. In truth, she felt an urge to join him, to learn how the ship was working, how the sails could be made to catch the wind in the right way. And why shouldn't she? Should not the princess stand with the king, even if he chose to behave like a common sailor? She rolled up her sleeves and gathered up her dress. "No need to shift yourselves, my dears," she told her ladies, "but for my part, I desire to learn sailing." And with that, she walked lightly over to her father, who was now at the prow.

Here, the lurching of the ship as it cut through the waves could be felt keenly, and Ancalimë expected that she would find it hard to keep her balance. Instead, she found that her feet adjusted to the swaying movement as if they had never done anything else. She walked to the king's side as easily as if she were walking on dry land. She did not even need to hold on to the guard rail; it was as though her body anticipated the shift and adjusted to it without a thought.
The king turned to look at her. "Is all well, Ancalimë? I hope you are not feeling sick."
"Not at all. I was merely getting bored." A gush of spray came flying over the rail, icy cold water hitting her cheek and shoulder, and she laughed in delighted surprise.
Tar-Aldarion looked at her as if he had never seen her before. "I see," he said in astonishment. "You were born with sea-legs, it seems!"

She shrugged, lightly brushing off the spray that cooled her face. "It would appear so," she said. "But then, I hear that my father was a passionate mariner."
"Indeed," the king said with a deep sigh. "Indeed, sometimes he wishes that he still were a mariner." He reached out to the bowsprit, not to steady himself but in a fond gesture, as if patting the flanks of a beloved horse. He sighed again, then turned back to Ancalimë with a wistful smile. "If you were born a lad, I could teach you the craft while you are young."
Ancalimë raised her chin. "You can still teach me."
At that, Tar-Aldarion's eyes widened. Then he laughed. "Ah, my dear, you don't know what you're asking for!" He showed her his broad hands, turning the palms upwards so she could see the angry red skin. "In my sailing days, my hands were hard and calloused by the wear and tear on them, but now even my short efforts have blistered them. It is no work for a tender lady's hands."

"I am sure that my hands could grow hard and strong just as yours did," Ancalimë pointed out tartly.
"That would hardly be proper!" her father protested, sounding apalled by the mere idea, but then he brightened. "But I shall be happy to give you a ship and crew, that you can sail the seas around our island as often as you please!"
"I see," Ancalimë said, her chin still held high. "And what if I please to go further than the waters around our island? What if I please to go to Middle-earth and speak to your Elven friends myself? What if I please to sail further, even unto the unknown isles of the burning south, and the Gates of Morning in the east?"

Once again, the king laughed - not maliciously, merely surprised, perhaps even delighted by her adventurous ambitions, but Ancalimë felt her joy deflating at the sound, the taste of salt turning sour in her mouth.
"Well, I suppose you might do that," her father said, "if you find yourself a husband who also delights in sailing - then you can accompany him on his travels, to the ice of the north and the heats of the south and even to the Encircling Sea and the Gates of Morning, and certainly to the kingdom of Gil-galad in Middle-earth!"

"I see," Ancalimë said again, with a thin-lipped smile; and she turned, and walked back to her ladies, sitting down stiffly and speaking no more until they went ashore in Eldalondë.
"Let the king know that I will be travelling home on horseback," she told her steward then. "I have no mind to board a ship ever again."
If the ship wasn't hers to steer, she thought resentfully, then the joy of sailing was not worth the price. Never again would she be lured into the embrace of the sea, nor make the mistake of delighting in the spray and the salt and the false glinting light on the water. If she could not make a vessel dance upon the waves on her own, then the Lady Uinen would have to dance alone; and ice and heat, fair isles and Inner Sea and the rising sun itself could go to blazes, and the kingdom of Gil-galad as well.