There, Elrond nodded. That seemed good; now to make sure the Corsairs saw it.

He waited for the ink to dry, rolled up the parchment, then carefully picked it up and returned to the barracks. Hovering several feet above the Corsairs, Elrond unrolled the parchment slowly.

One of the men suddenly looked up and gave a shout, pointing a forefinger toward the (apparently) floating parchment. “Look! Up there!”

Several others followed his gaze, and gasped. “What the—”

“It’s from ol’ Blackfinger!” wailed one. “He’s come to haunt us!”

“Don’t be stupid, it’s just a message!” another rebuked him.

“So what’s it say, huh?” yet another demanded.

Elrond let the parchment drop as he left the room, the CorsairsÂ’ voices floating into his ears.

“’Death waits for all who… remain… here… beware the sirens, they… drowned me. They’re… coming back for more. Don’t follow the… music.’ It’s signed by him!”

Elrond laughed to himself as he sped away to find Galadriel.

“It’s time!” Elrond called out to his mother-in-law, tumbling down toward the sea on a lazy current. “Start singing!”

“Singing what?”

“Something to grab those Corsairs’ hearts and make them forget how to sail the ship,” Elrond answered. “That’s what sirens do.”

Galadriel nodded, lifting her voice in an eerie melody:

Ai, tula dan na iÂ’Aear
Lasto i lind en i Aerwin
Tula dan, ú-rada lletan
Quorin ned i lindaleÂ…

“Keep going,” Elrond told her. “I’ll warn Daeglir.”

He darted aboard the ship, hurrying to Daeglir’s cupboard. Slipping inside, he curled around the boy’s head. “It’s me.”

“I’m glad you’re back, sir,” said the boy. “What’s going on? I can hear music…”

“Don’t be alarmed,” Elrond said calmly. “It’s just Galadriel pretending to be a siren.”

Daeglir sighed in relief. “That’s good news. But what’ll happen to the Corsairs?”

“Hopefully, they’ll believe that she really is a siren, be captivated by her beautiful singing and become so lovestruck that they’ll forget how to steer the ship.”

“Is that the plan?”

Elrond nodded. “Yes. Now all you have to do is wait. I’m going to investigate.”

“Good luck,” Daeglir called after his friend.

As Galadriel continued her song to the Corsairs, she soon noticed a chorus of voices joining her own. The water around her was boiling with many sleek figures; they were shaped like women with webbed hands and feet, but seemed entirely made up of water. Each pair of eyes glowed an eerie aquamarine.

“You called usss?” one asked her, in a hissing voice. “What ssshall we do, sssissster?”

GaladrielÂ’s heart skipped a beat. These were real sirens!

“Do you sssee that ssship?” she asked, drawing out her voice like the siren’s. “It isss full of Corsssairsss.”

The siren did a backflip of grim delight. “Piratesss! Ssshall we drown them? Sssing a sssong of love and death?”

“Yesss, yesss,” Galadriel replied, smiling. “Do what you will.”

The sirens obediently swam toward the ship, leaping into the air like dolphins. Wicked laughter mingled with their alluring song.

Galadriel let them wreak havoc, slipping away from the throng and concentrating on finding a way into the ship. This time, she reasoned, she wouldnÂ’t be interrupted.

Elrond swept through the ship and up to the deck, nodding in satisfaction. All of the Corsairs were swaggering about, talking in slurred voices and gazing around them with glazed eyes. They gathered at the prow, where a myriad of sleek shapes danced through the water, singing seductively.

The wind-spirit beamed; this was perfect. No-one was manning the tiller. But he soon would be.

Grasping two of the wheelÂ’s eight protruding knobs in his unseen hands, Elrond turned the tiller to the left. The ship was headed more or less straight for the shore, and he didnÂ’t want that; they had a ways to go yet.

The Corsairs were blissfully unaware of their altered course; all they were concerned about was the figures in the water. Some of them were climbing up on the rail, attempting to jump from the ship and into the water. And a few of them succeeded.

Galadriel watched the pirates plunge one after another into the sea and thought, Good riddance. No-one should go unpunished for imprisoning an innocent child.

Back on the ship, Elrond was learning quickly how to steer. He clung resolutely to the tiller as the wind tried to pull him away time and time again.

The sun was sinking in the sky, and shadows were spreading across the crimsoned sea. A dark smudge on the horizon might have been the Grey Havens; he couldnÂ’t be sure at this distance.

The sirens were still singing, and more and more dazed Corsairs were leaving the ship; ElrondÂ’s job was increasingly easy, as there were less and less pirates aboard who might snap out of their trancelike state and interfere with him.

The wind-spirit whistled cheerily to himself as he manoeuvred the tiller; maybe it was in his blood. His father, after all, had once been a sailor before becoming a star.

But he suddenly remembered Daeglir and Gandalf; they were both waiting for him. Elrond glanced around him, looking for something to hold the tiller in place. There was a rope lying carelessly on the deck, just beyond his reach; he grasped at it as he tried not to let go of the tiller.

Blast it! He couldnÂ’t quite reachÂ… his invisible fingers scrabbled uselessly at the air, just inches from the coiled cord. A little furtherÂ… furtherÂ… yes!

Elrond snatched up the rope, tying the wheel tightly in place. It creaked slightly in the wind, but remained steady. Satisfied, the wind-spirit hurried away to check on Daeglir; the boy was still locked in his cupboard belowdecks.

“Are you all right, Daeglir?” he asked, slipping softly through the crack beneath the cupboard door.

“I’m fine,” the child replied. “Are you?”

“Yes. I just came to check on you.”

“Alright… how are your friends?”

“I’m not sure,” Elrond said nervously. “I haven’t seen either of them in a while.”

“You’d better check on them, then,” Daeglir told him.

Elrond nodded, but lingered for a moment longer. “Can you swim?”

“I never tried,” Daeglir replied honestly. “Why?”

Elrond cursed silently. “My newest plan involves getting you off of the ship and into the water. And if you can’t swim…”

“What about Lady Galadriel?” asked the boy. “Can’t she hold me up or something?”

The wind-spirit considered this. “She might be able to; she’s strong, and I’m willing to bet that you’re extremely light. We could try.”

Without further ado, he whooshed out of the cupboard again.

Elrond rushed down to the sea, and was hailed by a chorus of eerie, melodious voices from the strange, dancing figures. None of them sounded like GaladrielÂ’s.

“Excuse me,” he called out to one of them. “I wonder if you could help me?”

The figure lifted her head, and fixed him with a pair of malicious aquamarine eyes.

“Help?” she hissed coldly. “We do not help.”

“All I need is for you to answer a simple question,” Elrond replied.

The siren considered this for a moment. “What isss your quessstion?”

“I’d like to know who summoned you,” the wind-spirit said patiently.

“One of our own,” the siren told him. “We do not have namesss.”

“I see.” Elrond frowned. “Do you know what she looked like?”

She shrugged carelessly. “Like any one of my kind. We are all the sssame.”

“That’s not a lot of help,” Elrond muttered. “But thank you, anyway.”

He was whisked away by the wind as the siren shrugged again, frowning, and rejoined her colleagues.

Elrond swept through the air above the water, calling out to his mother-in-law as he gazed down and around. “Galadriel, where are you?”

“Down here,” she replied.

“Excellent,” he smiled, swooping down toward her. “Do you think you could call off the sirens? I have a plan to get Daeglir out of here.”

Galadriel nodded. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“I’ll tell Gandalf,” Elrond told her. “See you later.”

Elrond hurried up to the deck, where he slipped deftly away and hurried to the galley. Gandalf was still sitting in the oven, though he looked rather bored.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Elrond apologized. “I have a job for you.”

“That’s quite all right,” the fire-spirit replied. “What is your plan?”

“It looks as though most of the Corsairs have vacated the ship,” Elrond answered, “so I’ve asked Galadriel to call off the sirens. Now we can get Daeglir safely into a longboat, and take him to the Grey Havens.”

“Ah,” Gandalf nodded. “So what exactly is my part in this?”

“Set the ship ablaze,” Elrond replied. “Send the last of the Corsairs to the depths.”

“What about Daeglir?”

“Galadriel and I can help him.”

“He is locked in a cupboard, Elrond. How will he get out?”

Elrond fell silent. He hadnÂ’t thought of that. But he brightened as a notion dawned on him.

“If the Corsairs cared enough about ransom, they would want to keep Daeglir alive for as long as possible. It stands to reason that they’d try not to let him be harmed, does it not?”

“You have a point,” nodded the fire-spirit. “Very well – get to work. Scatter the embers around the galley.”

Elrond nodded, flinging the oven door wide with a gust of wind and throwing embers left and right. Flames soon filled the room; the wind-spirit escaped through the hole in the floor he had used to enter.

He rushed back into Daeglir’s cupboard, where the boy was whimpering in fear. “I can smell smoke. The ship is burning!”

“I know,” said Elrond reassuringly. “If I’m right, at least one pirate is going to be here any minute to get you out of here.”

“How do you know?” asked the boy fearfully.

“Because they have a reason for keeping you alive,” said Elrond. “Ah, there he is…” A drumming of footsteps had reached his keen ears.

A moment later the cupboard door rattled and burst open. A brawny Corsair scooped up the child and hurried away; Elrond sailed along at his heels. They hurried up to the main deck, where the Corsair lowered himself and the child he carried into a longboat.

“Now, don’t you even think about trying to escape,” the pirate snarled as he picked up an oar and began to row awkwardly with one hand. “You’re going nowhere but down if you fall out.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” whispered two calm voices from the sky and sea.