[ IP ] Ægir 's Embrace

There is no word for war in the language of the waves. No word for suffering, for injury, for death. There has never been need for such a word, because there is no pain below the sea. 
 
 He was a boy when I first saw him, building his castles of sand. I threw myself at his feet, caressing the spaces between his toes. I wanted to touch him, to hold him. But as I climbed up the shore, reaching for his ankles, his castle crumbled at my touch. He began to cry. And so, I withdrew, and watched him from afar. 
 
 He joined the navy as a young man, barely past adolescence. Often, as he stood on the prow of the ship, he would look at me -- through me. I leapt up to greet him, but the ship was too tall, and I crashed uselessly against the wood. The captain taught him how to navigate the sea, how to survive in a storm. There was no need; always, I would buoy him to his destination. Always, I would keep him from the tempests. 
 
 When the fighting reached his homeland, he was an admiral. Cannonballs shattered his fleet. I flung myself at his enemies, but against an armada hundreds strong, I was as harmless as mist. They ignored me. A rallying cry from the enemy general, archers notched, drew, and fired. I caught him as he fell, but what use could I be? Arrows tore through him, his flesh parting as easily as water. 
 
 I wanted to tell him that the pain will be over soon, but I could not, because there is no word for pain in the language of the waves. 
 
 We sank together, lower and lower, and left our suffering at the surface.
