Closer. Oh, if only he could...Uban strained even harder against his bonds, giving Pieter's grip a run for its money. "Sure, I can--ooof!" But Pieter, though he was a wiry old salt, had muscles like tree roots, old and strong. And Uban felt himself being physically dragged further and further away from the mermaid's beautiful figure. He gave one whimper of protest, and then she was gone. Uban laughed, then, and began to sing, [I]"Farewell and adieu to you pretty ladies...farewell and adieu to you fairest maids..."[/I] And he began to laugh again. It started out as a small chuckle and blew up into a wild, fey laughter that made it unclear whether it was a result of their magic or all the wine. Both, probably. 

But then he felt his eyes sting a little, and something warm touch his cold cheek. They were gone. They were gone and he felt the absence of them like a knife, cruel and sharp. The world felt cold, loveless, hopeless without them. Without her.

Her.

Uban hadn't meant to, but one last trick of the mermaid's magic made him involuntarily and with painful clarity think of the only woman he ever loved. He thought of the way her hair seemed to light afire in the red sunset as they sat up on the hill where he grazed his sheep, and she would listen to him play, and sometimes, if he played anything recognizable, she would sing the tune that went along side it, and no one was there to disturb the except for the soft bleatings of fat, happy sheep grazing nearby. He thought of her hands and the way they moved, how her slender fingers combed through her horse's hair when she brushed her. The cool touch of them on his arm. He thought of the way she smelled: of good tilled earth and ripe berries, of hay and wildflowers. And worst of all, he saw her face that fateful night. She was at the bar when he'd fought with Garion, and he remembered her screams for both of them to stop. Why hadn't he? Why did he have to keep going? And he saw the horror in her eyes when Garion fell dead to the floor after a flash of bluish light. He had panicked, and she had been the one to yell for the constable. And when they hauled him away, he saw there in her face the most painful disgust and anger he could have ever imagined.

And before he knew it, his laughter had turned to sobs. Pathetic, breath-robbing sobs that only come to the extremely grieved or the very drunk. And his forehead was pressed in the wet sand as he shivered, wet and cold in the darkness at Pieter's feet. When he finally came around, he wiped his face clean of sand and tears and wordlessly retrieved his shirt from the lapping waves and his belt from the sand. He had expected a lot of things with mermaids, but never that. Uban felt thoroughly embarrassed and wouldn't look Pieter in the eye. After all, disappointing him would be a kick in the teeth to Uban. 

But after they walked a bit in silence, Uban finally spoke. "Mermaids. Heh. uh, wow. On a scale of one to 'absolute dolt', how much did I make a fool of myself? Y-you know, in comparison to what others go through." He thought for a moment, then added, "How'd Rohaan get away? He wasn't tied. And he got close enough to touch one. Do you think he made a fool of himself? Or is he even old enough for lust yet?" Uban had to laugh at that.

--

After they made it back to camp, Berlin was still sitting by the fire, smoking his pipe and watching the flames with no particular interest, enjoying the silence. As he heard them approach, he smiled. "Well Uban, how did you do?" The younger man looked at him and cringed, and Berlin saw his eyes were still a little red and puffy. Berlin smiled. "Looks like you did about as well as my first time. But they're wonderful, aren't they?"
"Sun and stars, yes! I just hope I remember them tomorrow."
"Oh, you will. No bender can erase what you've seen. C'mon, you should get to bed though. You're a drunken mess." Berlin said this while laughing, clearly finding the whole thing amusing. 

Uban couldn't find any argument with this, so he hung up his soaking wet shirt near the fire and went over to Rohaan, who was passed out in the sand. He shook him gently. "Rohaaaaaaan." A small hand fumbled and then shoved his face, but Uban persisted. "Cmon, I'm cold and wet. Turn into something to keep me warm? Pleeeasse?"

There was a soft groan, then Rohaan stirred, shifted to a sable wolf and lay beside Uban with his fluffy head on his chest. With the fire on one side and a wolf on the other, Uban finally began to feel the icy cold that had taken hold of him melt away. He threw his blanket over both of them. "You're a good lad." He received only a wolfish, sleepy groan, and soon the both of them were fast asleep.