Chapter Text
Loading the goods had taken longer than expected. He had hoped they would make up time downstream. The snowmelt had caused the Anduin to swell, which normally meant that laden ships could travel quickly from the loading point to the portage landing. Instead, the river remained unexpectedly calm and sluggish.
Night had long since fallen, and they still had not reached their destination. The portage landing lay two hours’ journey from Rauros Falls, but first they had to pass through a narrow stretch of river where sharp rocks lurked beneath the surface. When the water was low, their jagged edges were clearly visible; now, swollen with snowmelt, they would be hidden beneath the dark current.
The full moon hovered above, silver and steady, washing the tiny waves in cold light. He should have counted himself lucky that it provided enough illumination to navigate by. His crew was experienced with this route, and not long ago he would have wagered his life that he could sail it blindfolded without capsizing the ship.
But that was before he had heard the gruesome stories from the survivors.
These days, the Anduin was even more dangerous than before. Where the river narrowed, high on a rock jutting from the water, a figure was said to lurk. They claimed it was a woman of such breathtaking beauty that many believed her to be a divine being. Raven-black hair cascaded down her back, and she was clad only in a white dress that revealed more than it concealed.
Yet that was not the worst of it.
Her singing was so exquisitely beautiful that one forgot everything else, even the sharp rocks hidden beneath the surface. Five ships had been lost in the past two years to the seductress on the rock. Some men had tried to capture her, but none had succeeded. There were whispers that she might be a ghost… or merely a trick of the mind.
He had heard other stories much like these. Most spoke of an enchanting figure who ran along mist-shrouded beaches and sang in sorrow. Others told of a creature that haunted the rivers of Gondor. There, too, the figure sang, but without the mist. He had heard the same from sailors on the River Isen.
The only strange thing was that he had never heard such tales from Eriador or from the River Celduin, which flowed into the Sea of Rhûn. Perhaps this spirit did not care for those waters.
“Captain.” His first mate, Roderic, had come up beside him, his brow creased with worry.
“Look.” He pointed toward the water.
He had known Roderic for many years, and it was never a good sign when his first mate looked worried. He went to the railing to see what troubled him so deeply.
Mist was curling over the water.
Not a good sign at all. It was not the season for mist on the Anduin. A shiver ran through him.
They would soon reach the narrows.
“We’re staying on course.” It was not truly an order. They had no other choice. They could not turn back, and there was no landing stage here. And even if they did go ashore, there was always the danger that hideous orcs would creep out of the forests of the Emyn Muil and cut their throats. It was not safe, neither on land nor on water.
Roderic understood without further explanation. He nodded and went to the stern.
The captain remained at the prow, gripping the railing as the ship drifted through the silvered mist. In a painting, it might have looked hauntingly beautiful. Now, it set him on edge.
The oars slid through the water in a slow, steady rhythm. Each droplet falling from their blades rang soft and hollow in the quiet night.
The Anduin flowed on, slow and unconcerned by the captain’s tension. He let his gaze wander over the mist, which here and there revealed fleeting glimpses of the deep black water beneath its swathes.
He flinched at a sound from the thicket along the bank. Something was scurrying there. But when he looked more closely, the shadowy silhouette proved no larger than a fat rat. The tale of the deadly singing beauty must have gone to his head.
He buried his face in his hands and chuckled. It was time he stopped listening to ghost stories.
With a sigh, he lowered his hands again and shifted his stance, turning away from the right bank to face the cliffs on the left instead. Perhaps that would ease his mind.
The bend in the river came into view, and with it the jagged rocks below. The mist clung to the Anduin like hot steam, curling in silver swathes over the black water. The oarsmen kept a steady rhythm, guiding the ship past rocks hidden beneath the haze.
His eyes searched the surface, but to no avail. The water kept its sharp, jagged teeth concealed from him. A weight settled on his chest. He was responsible for his crew; he had to see them safely to the portage landing. An uncanny stillness hung in the night air.
Then he heard it.
A sound, pure and divine, winding its way through the mist. Another followed, and then another, until they wove together into a melody so hauntingly beautiful that the river itself seemed to hold its breath.
He froze, his heart caught between awe and terror as realization struck.
That must be the river spirit. The ghost that haunted this stretch of the Anduin.
Through the silver mist still rising from the river, he tilted his head and saw her seated on the high rock, her back turned to him, just as the stories had said. He could make out only the long fall of her hair down her back and the white fabric of her dress framing her shoulders. She seemed oblivious to the ship, as though wholly absorbed in her song. She did not look at him, but the sound drew him in and captivated him, until only the river and her song remained.
The waters of the Anduin shifted, as if answering her voice. They revealed their true nature and turned turbulent. The ship was drifting straight toward the jagged rocks, where hidden eddies beneath the surface would make rowing treacherous. But suddenly, none of it seemed to matter.
She was singing.
Just for him.
He knew it deep in his heart: the song was meant for him alone.
The ship groaned and lurched as the current seized it, dragging it relentlessly toward the rocks.
The oarsmen shouted and strained, but their efforts were swallowed by the relentless pull of the river. But what did that matter now?
She stretched out her arm toward the full moon as she sang on, as if she meant to touch it. His heart pounded with a strange, blissful joy. He longed to touch her delicate skin, to kiss her and never let go.
Did this enchanting creature belong to the elven folk? Sometimes they appeared in the great ports to trade with merchants, though he himself had never met one, being only a middleman. Still, he had heard many tales of them: some filled with terror, others with wonder. He had also heard that their songs could drive a man mad.
If that were true, he wanted her to drive him mad.
The ship was now level with the rock where his enchanting seductress sat. She still paid him no attention, but that did not trouble him. There was something irresistibly alluring about the way she ignored him.
The ship shuddered, and screams rang out. Though perhaps it was only his own heart, shaking and crying out in love.
She lowered her arm. For a moment, he felt a pang of disappointment. Yet whatever his beloved did was right. The ship lurched again, and he lost his balance, but he caught himself in time. He had to show steadfastness for her, there on the rock. What else would she think of him, if he faltered?
The cries around him grew louder, more frantic. He wanted to scold them for their noise; it disturbed the singing of his beloved. The ship let out a long, wooden groan, as if in pain. A violent shudder ran through its timbers, so strong that he had to clutch the railing to keep from falling once more.
Her sweet song never faltered. The ship swayed from side to side, and his love for her left him utterly drunk. Cold closed around his ankles. Somewhere far away, men were screaming, but their voices sounded thin, drowned beneath the beautiful melody that poured from the rock and into his heart.
With strange detachment, he realized that he was sinking. And still, she had not looked at him. Disappointment washed over him. How he wished she would see him, brave enough to endure the freezing water.
And as if she had heard his thought, she rose to her feet.
His heart began to race. At last, he would behold his beloved in all her glory.
His gaze slid over her form, trying to drink in every detail, to remember her forever. Then he froze.
Where delicate breasts should have been, there was a man’s chest.
Before he could cry out, the river closed over him.