There's something almost magical about getting a hint of the smell of sea air carried to you on the breeze. It smells rich, vibrant, and relaxing. But, like many things, the ocean's a lot less exciting close up.
This close to the ocean, the majestic smell gives way to a more base combination of dead fish, mildewy wood, and too much salt. But somehow, even that wasn't enough to put a damper on my excitement.
I waited there, half-sitting on a crate, watching the men bustle about. They were just finishing up loading the ship.
I realised that I was staring at one of the humans, eyes glued to his biceps and the muscles in his back as he picked up a large barrel of water. With an effort, I pulled my gaze from him and looked the ship over again. I wasn't a sailor and couldn't tell a galleon from a frigate from a caravel, but this ship was familiar to me anyway.
The Melancholy
. It was just about two years ago that I boarded this ship in Newport to cross the Emerald Sea. Here I was boarding that same ship again, this time going the opposite direction.
The ship looked about as I remembered it, and I vaguely recognized some of the crew members as they picked and carried this or that. I found my eyes lingering on a woman as she pulled on a rope, her muscles bulging as she tightened and secured the line. I realised I'd been ogling her, and couldn't help but chuckle. As much as things change, some things stay the same.
But not everything stays the same. I turned my head again, looking over and down at the little man beside me. "How are you doing, Davvy?"
My son looked up from the stick he had been gravely inspecting, and gave me a big grin, showing off all eight of his teeth.
"Tick," he told me, holding the stick out towards me. He was sitting up by himself now, and if I put him on the ground he'd be able to tottle along for a short while. If he had something to hold onto as he walked, he covered ground pretty quick. It was getting to where I couldn't take my eyes off of him for more than two minutes without him getting into trouble.
"Yes," I told him in an encouraging voice. "A stick." I really enunciated the "s", trying to get him to copy the sound. It was probably a bit early to expect his pronunciations to be spot-on, but practising early was important. At least that's what Granny had told me.
I had no idea how Davor Junior was doing in terms of developmental milestones. He was a bit more than a year old... I frowned in concentration as I tried to count days and months. More than a year, maybe fourteen or fifteen months. But neither Granny nor I had known what to expect for development.
She'd seen a lot of elven babies in her life, and even a lot of half-elf children, but she had never even seen a baby half-orc before, let alone a half-orc, quarter-human, quarter-elf.
He had the wide eyes and pointy elven ears from my father's side of the family, but his green skin and thicker physique looked like it came from his father's side. Two of his teeth on the bottom were already protruding a bit above his lip, and I wondered if his tusks would be as long as his father's. And he was growing so much faster than the elf children his age had been, before we left town.
That train of thought sent me back into nostalgia. It had been two years since I'd seen Davor. Since my one-night... or three-night stand with him. I'd also slept with Ausk and Mazon during those days of travel together. I couldn't know for sure that it was Davor who'd fathered little Davor Junior, it could have been either of the other two orcs.
But I'd fucked Davor more times than either of the other two, and he was the one who'd asked me to come live with him, so he was as close to a father as Junior had.
At the time, I hadn't been ready to say yes, even though I had thought hard about it. Davor was sweet, kind, and clever. Not to mention ridiculously sexy. But I'd been taken with wanderlust, and wanted to see the world before I settled down.
But then, a few months later, I'd realised that I was pregnant, and wandering the world suddenly became a much more daunting task. I'd found my way to Granny, and offered her my story of a lifetime in return for her expertise in midwifery. She'd even helped me find work in the small elven town, under a local herbalist.
I'd spent a year tending the herbalist's garden, drying and grinding herbs, fetching things, travelling, and trading his herbs and potions in nearby towns for him. And in that time I'd held onto every single copper piece I'd earned. And when I wandered the woods and collected rare herbs and fungi to sell on the side, I'd kept every bit of money I made.
And I traded almost all of that money for a trip on the
Melancholy
as soon as I could.
It's not that I didn't like that little elvish town. It was beautiful, picturesque, and peaceful... and so damn boring. Nothing happened. Everyone just lived their long elven lives and did their routines exactly as they had done them for centuries.
The near-immortality of elves is no excuse to become sedentary.
And the people in the town had never really treated me like I belonged. My red hair, my curves, my smoother and less angular face... these all marked me as an outsider. I wasn't an elf, I was only half of one.
And not to mention my child, the child of an orc... I didn't want Davvy to grow up feeling like an outsider, scorned or even pitied. He deserved better than that. We both did.
I smiled down at the little fella, and couldn't help but laugh when I saw his face half-hidden by his hat. It was too big for him, and kept falling forward to cover his eyes.
I pushed the hat back to the top of his head, and was treated to another of his big sunny grins. "Mama," he babbled at me. "Mama, tick."
"You just hold onto that stick," I told him as I scooped him up. "Oof, when did you get so heavy?"
The ship was loaded, so I picked my way up the gangplank. One of the sailors had even grabbed my bags and brought it downstairs where I'd be staying, so I wouldn't have to.
The last time I'd been on board the ship I had only owned as much as I could fit into a backpack, but this time I wasn't travelling quite as light: three or four changes of clothes each for myself and Junior, cloth diapers, and a few souvenirs from my stay in Yamen En'sol.
The sailors gathered on the deck as the captain stepped up to give a pre-sailing speech, just like last time. But another thing had changed in the last two years: Captain Rockbeard was gone, and the captain standing in front of the crowd looked almost human, save for skin the colour of a glowing ember and red hair that moved like a living flame. She called herself Captain Flamespirit, and booking passage with her had been much easier (and less costly) than with Rockbeard two years prior. I hadn't even had to suck cock or spread my legs for anyone this time.
Although, as I watched her pace and talk, red skin faintly glowing under a sleeveless coat, I caught myself thinking that giving a little quid-pro-quo wouldn't have been so bad...
By the time I pulled myself away from my reverie, the group was dispersing. The sailors started untying ropes and lowering the smaller sail to get the ship moving away from the dock. The tide waits for no man, not even for flame-spirit women.
The captain stood on high to watch her workers set to their tasks, and the other two passengers make their way below deck. Captain Flamespirit was a lot less picky about the difference between a cargo ship and a passenger ship. "If the ship's already going to sail somewhere," she had told me, "may as well stick a couple passengers in it and make a bit more money."
I scanned the workers, looking for more familiar faces. That hobgoblin coiling a rope had been here before, as had that big, grey orc lady. I spotted Brigs, the only goblin I'd ever met, scampering up the mainmast towards his spot in the crow's nest. And who else...
I felt a grin spread across my face when I spotted the little halfling cook as she moved across the deck. "Mel!" I called out to her, and she stopped short (no pun intended).
"Amy?" she asked, surprised, and ran forward to give me a hug. I stooped down and wrapped one arm around her, setting Davvy down on the deck. He was only half a foot shorter than her, but hid behind my leg anyway.
