The Ambassador's Son RPG

[Himaran]

Jurex hurried through the dark alleyway, attempting to avoid the mayhem on the streets. Hapless guards had become the targets of the mob, and fights had broken out in every section of the city. Though he truely enjoyed hearing the screams of the outnumbered Gondorians, the man knew he was not at liberty to join the fray. My work is completed, and it is time I recieve my reward. One can never tell; mayhaps Jythralo will have a new job for me. Some slightly more violent, I hope.

Suddenly, a light flaired in front of him. An officer backed by five guards stood before him, holding a note in one hand and a drawn sword in the other. "Jurex Quetell,
I have a warrant for your arrest. Submit peacefully and avoid a few of the harsh sentences for your various crimes."

Without blinking an eye, the man responded in a tone of mild surprise. "And what are the charges?"

The Gondorian foolishly removed his eyes from the culprit in order to read the list of offenses. "Aiding and abetting those sympathetic to old Umbar, spreading lies to the general population, faking Imperial Law, -

Jurex had used the brief distraction to unsheath his knife and bound forward. With his blade pressed against the captain's throat, the corsair bellowed at the other guards. "Back off, up to the street, or your superior officer drops here. Now!"

After seeing the nod from their captain, the group slowly backed away up to the main street. Once they were out of sight, Jurex swung the butt of his knife straight between the eyes of his prisoner, knocking him unconcious in an instant. The corsair hurried off towards Jythralo's house, calling back to the still form of the captain. "Next time it'all be the blade, mate!"

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:18 PM December 07, 2003: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[Arien]

She had taken a detour to her estate on the way to see Jythralo. She had not sent any word that she was on her way, so he would not be expecting her. Acacia pushed the gates to the back of her property open and then shut them and padlocked them. She could not bee too careful, all these mad corsair around! Just imagine if a mob gain access to he estate, it would be unbearable! Acacia smiled to herself momentarily and slipped the key into a pocket hidden in the folds of her dress.

A scent of burnt sugar and chicken drifted over the terrace when she entered it. Blaine was busy in the kitchens preparing a meal.

“Are you dining tonight Madame?” She said promptly when Acacia entered the kitchen.

“I am not decided yet, I may stay out tonight. I am not too sure of the plans.” Replied Acacia.

Blaine looked a little annoyed, “Yes, I understand.”

“But you must not let this food got to waste, eat it yourself and share it with the others.” The girls face brightened a bit.

“Of course.”

Acacia left, but poured herself a glass of water before she left the room. She carried it to her study, drinking it steadily until she reached the door. Taking another key from the folds in her dress she unlocked the door. The smell of sweet cinnamon met her; the incense she had burnt earlier had clogged the room up. It was smoky and hot, the small fire crackled in the corner playfully. Acacia shut the door and slipped into her chair, slamming the glass down and filling it with rum from the bottle at her desk. She lifted the glass to her mouth took a small sip and let it hang loosely in her hand.

Her eyes swept of the desk littered with letters from politicians, useless things with no use. The ashy remnants of Jythralo’s anonymous letter lay in the silver bowl, others lay in the wicker bin beside her. Slowly she put down her glass and scratched a few notes onto a piece of fresh papers, taking it she folded it and placed it in her cloak.

She rose from the desk finishing off the rum. Turning to the mirror she checked her hair and wiped the sweat from her nose. The room was very hot now, but she would not open a window for it reminded her of somewhere where she longed to be.

And so she set of for Jythralo’s.

[maikafanawen]

Devon's expression was a mosaic of curiosity, disbelief and even a bit of respect as he met the man's gaze. The Gondorian had stormed from the ambassador's hall in a controlled rage and took up a stance at the round window table where he'd promptly grabbed an empty decanter and hurled it at the wall. The young man's jaw had dropped a little at the aggressiveness of the dark man's temper and he had to consciously close his gaping mouth. It occurred to Devon that the man may not know they were still there so he coughed slightly in an attempt to attract his attention. It worked and the man turned to face the group, his own expression unreadable. He did, however, look like he expected one of them to say something.

"I don't mean to be discourteous," Devon began politely, "but your business with my father didn't perchance have to do with the corsairs did it?" The man's expression was stone and only his eyes seemed capable of showing emotion at the moment.

"Your father?" he echoed with a voice that betrayed his amusement. Devon nodded slowly, his prejudged opinions of the man faltering. Then the man smiled which shocked the young man even more. He turned back to face the wall for a minute before pivoting and walking towards them. "Telson of Gondor," he introduced, deciding that a minor introduction wouldn't do too much harm. Maybe he wanted something from the ambassador and thought the man's son could help. Anyways, the absence of a last name told enough of how he viewed their relationship: short term. Devon did not take it to offense though, he assumed that the man was used to popping in and out of places at his convenience or his employer's: probably a high ranking nobleman which would give base to his relatively easy entrance.

"Devon Thrann," the young man returned, shaking hands. Telson's eyes then traveled to the other faces and Calnan introduced himself followed by Callath and Adeline. After he'd bowed respectfully to the young lady, Teslon straightened and looked again at Devon.

"You asked if my business had to do with the corsairs," Telson revived Devon's query. "Obviously you are not in very close political terms with Mr. Ambassador, else you'd ask him instead of approaching me just outside his hall. However you have concern for the goings-on, that is apparent, and it seems even that you also hold a strong conviction of sorts that has to do with the piratess--I can tell by the tone of voice you used upon asking. Perhaps, though, we can talk somewhere privately? The embassy's a bit drafty and I simply tremble at the possibilities of spies or eavesdroppers." He raised his brow in a gesture to remove their conversation from the present location but Devon and his company didn't move right away. "I'm not asking you to trust me, but from the looks of it," he said tossing a glance at the window leading to the chaotic streets outside, "I doubt things could get worse?" Devon's eyes narrowed but the Gondorian did have a point.

"There is no place private enough outside of the embassy. I would suggest that we take the conversation to the classroom. It's on the far East wing and secluded enough--I would know." Telson nodded once and spread his arm out before him gesturing for Devon to lead the way, a smile spreading slowly across his face again.

The four friends exchanged quick looks before heading off to the classroom, their dark stranger close behind.

* * *

The classroom had its usual mustiness to it and the books, maps, charts, and parchment sheaves and scrolls were spread out over Master Pearlle's desk and stacked haphazardly on the varnished bookshelves. The chair and desk where Devon would sit for his lessons along with the unused one his brother had once occupied were orderly and the dark-haired youth pulled out chairs for them all to sit in while they talked.

"Are you going to trust him?" Calnan asked Devon warily and very quietly. The young man shrugged.

"The way he was arguing with my father is obvious that he is not looking for his or Doran's alliance. As far as I'm concerned, that counts for quite a bit."

When they were comfortable, and Telson had time to decide whether the room was satisfactory enough for their discussion, they began to discuss Umbar.

"Your acceptance of the brawl at the inn seems very easy," Calnan remarked, interrupting Devon's recount to touch on Telson's offhand nod. Telson looked perhaps a little too quickly at the attaché and nodded guiltily when he realized his hasty action.

"I was staying at the Low Tide Inn that night by mere coincidence. I was fortunate enough to be in my room at the time, but the noise traveled and I was quick to relocate the next day."

"You wouldn't happen to know who was involved directly do you?" The Gondorian paused for a moment but shook his head.

"I'm sorry, there I cannot help you."

Devon looked between them for a moment before continuing to tell Telson of Doran's involvement. He included the captain and Agdar's conversation, and the attempted kidnap. Then Calnan offered details on the captain's bold speech and an overview of the laws. To smooth it all over, the ambassador's son described Doran's almost desperate "devotion" to Maurice Thrann and concluded by depicting them as inseparable as a child and its mother.

"And since my father's not interested in anything I have to say there are three things we could do. We could sit back and do nothing except flee for our own pitiful lives and let Umbar sink again right into Doran's filthy hands, we could send word to Gondor and pray somebody gets here in time, or we could take action ourselves and dig out Doran's plans, setting course against him in a last effort to revive Umbar. Personally," Devon added, "I'm ashamed at my father's failure and I'll do anything to repay Gondor for his ghastly misdeed." All ready an idea was forming in his mind. And crazy as it seemed at the moment, Devon couldn't help but see a glimmer of reality to it and he tried desperately to think of a way to bring it into words...

[Earendil Halfelven]

Doran left the Ambassador's mansion with one thought on his mind: Devon Thrann and his friends. He had walked in on the argument between father and son just in time-

I trust that I will hear no more of this nonsense about the disloyalties of Captain Doran...

That was enough for him to hear. He acted as if everything was normal but his mind was already in action.
_____________________________________________

"Sir, Acacia is here to see you."
"Good. Send her right in." Jythralo said.

A few minutes later, Acacia entered with a smile on her face.
"I assume you have what I want?" he asked.
"Yes, all you need." she replied.
"Excellent. Take a seat." Jythralo reached for a bottle. "Care for some ale?"

Acacia nodded and Jythralo poured her a glass, then he sat back and waited for her to begin.

"Well," she started. "The girl's name is Adeline Montres and then there's Calnan..."
_____________________________________________

"Great job Acacia." Jythralo said after hearing the information gathered on Devon's friends. He became silent. He was thinking.

Acacia sat there and poured some more ale into her glass. She knew not to bother him when he was thinking. After a few minutes, Jythralo poured himself a glass.

"Have you heard about Jurex and the guards?"

Acacia shook her head.

"There is a warrant out for his arrest. He encountered some guards last night actually. They tried to arrest him."

Acacia noticed the use of the words "tried."
"What do you mean, tried? Did he kill them?"

"Unfotunately, no. That would have been nice though. But...this presents an opportunity." Jythralo smiled and Acacia knew what that meant: he wanted blood on the streets of Umbar. And it was about time.
_____________________________________________

Later that night, three men in black cloaks stalked the streets of Umbar. It was midnight. They came to an intersection and one man glanced up at the sign.
"Down this way," he said. The other two followed.

They walked past a few houses and finally arrived at their destination.
"You, go take cover in those shadows. If any guards come, you know what to do." As he turned to go and hide, the cloak lifted to reveal a small quiver full of arrows.

As soon as the man was hidden, two guards rounded the corner. The two men looked up and acted as if they were about to run.
"Halt!" one called.
The two men halted.

The guards approached with swords drawn.
"Turn around slowly with your hands up."
They turned slowly.
"Approach, slowly."
They took a few steps forward. The two men looked at eachother. One smiled.

The zipping sound of an arrow pierced the silence as it slammed into the side of the head of one of the guards. The dead guard's mouth dropped open and he sank to his knees. His sword clattered on the street.

Before the other guard can react, the two corsairs rushed forward. Kicking the sword out of the way, one rushed behind the guard and grabbed his arms behind his back. The other corsair pulled a dagger and with his other hand, covered the man's mouth before he could utter a cry for help.

"Hey, mate," the corsair with the dagger said. "Say 'ello to the gods when you meet 'em." The dagger's silver shine in the moonlight turned red as the man's throat was slit. The corsair kept his hand over the man's until he ceased to struggle. Blood gurgled from the slit in the dead man's neck. He slumped to the ground.

The two pirates knelt at the bodies of the slain guards. One pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket. On it, in black ink, was printed a skull and crossbones. The man was about to stick his dagger through the paper when he had an epiphany. He knelt to one of the bodies and dipped the paper into fatal neck wound. With it soaked in blood, he stuck the dagger through it and pounded it into the door of the house.

Leaving the bodies in front of the door, they ran to the opposite side of the street where they met the third man with bow in hand.
"Nice shot. I see you still have it," one of them said with a snicker.
"Well, boys, let's get out of here. Jythralo will be pleased."

He picked up a fist sized rock and hurled it at one of the windows. It shattered and broke the silence of the night.

As the men's footsteps faded into the night, the door opened, the light revealing the dagger and blood soaked knife in the door and the two dead guards.

Adeline stood in the doorway, shocked.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 10:58 PM December 12, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[Nuranar]

Calnan found himself incredibly aware of everything around him, his mind working at a breathtaking speed. He hadn’t felt so alert, so prepared, since he was young. Hunting through South Ithilien, he had learned wariness and vigilance in a land still infested with the refuse of the War.

Doran knew for sure who his enemies were. For all they knew, his network had infiltrated into the embassy itself. They were walking a very narrow edge in a very dangerous game. But now, Calnan knew that whatever happened, whenever it happened, he would be ready.

He had unobtrusively fallen behind when his companions and Telson had withdrawn to the schoolroom. At least the dark man had some vestiges of prudence, not hurling decanters about until he was around the corner from the ambassador’s office. As far as Calnan could tell, no one had noticed amid the day’s tumult. And more importantly, no one had seen them talking to him.

What did they know about him, after all? It seemed he was put out with Thrann, just as they were, and suspicious of Doran, just as they were. The dramatic episode they had witnessed could be calculated to gain their trust. What if Telson was to be Doran’s ear in their plans?

Of course, Doran would’ve had to move lightning-fast to have this man set up so soon. But underestimating one’s opponent could be a fatal mistake. They had to be on guard, at the very least.

When he mentioned his concerns to Devon the young man just brought up the obvious points in Telson’s favor. Yet he had started the train of thought. If they were to walk into a trap, at least it would be with eyes open instead of shut.

He listened carefully as they began discussing the situation. Of one thing he quickly became sure: Telson was not telling them everything. He had stayed at the Low Tide Inn, where Predd was murdered, but hesitated just a tad too long before denying he knew who was involved. Well, that was fine. A man in his position would be extremely foolish to tell all he knew, and whatever else Telson was, he was no fool.

After filling the man in on the rest of the situation Devon laid it on the line. “We could sit back and do nothing except flee for our own pitiful lives and let Umbar sink again right into Doran’s filthy hands, we could send word to Gondor and pray somebody gets here in time, or we could take action ourselves and dig out Doran’s plans, setting course against him in a last effort to revive Umbar. Personally, I’m ashamed at my father’s failure and I’ll do anything to repay Gondor for his ghastly misdeed.”

Calnan was inspired in spite of himself. Although unquestionably brave, Devon had always seemed a bit overeager and not given to much analysis. But this crisis was bringing him to maturity. Not only was he proving his mettle, he was emerging as a leader.

“Devon,” he said quietly, “I’m with you. Doran has to be stopped, and there’s no one else willing to even try.”

“I’m willing!” Adeline proclaimed. “Don’t even think you’re going to get me to sit at home. Besides,” she added as an afterthought, “home might not be a very safe place pretty soon, anyway.”

Across the circle he saw Callath sigh and shake his head. “Well, I’ve got to come along too, I guess. No politician’s going to outdo me,” he shot at Calnan, who rolled his eyes.

Telson was smiling, half in amusement, half in admiration. “I’m glad to see that the son is not always like the father.” He rose and bowed formally. “For what it’s worth, I would like to offer my services to you, the true King’s men – and woman – in Umbar.”

Flushing, but pleased, Devon got to his feet and returned the bow. “Telson of Gondor, it’s an honor for you to join us.”

Well, that’s that! Calnan thought. At least this way it’d be easier to keep an eye on him, even if he was keeping an eye on them. But first things first.

“Devon, you said we need to dig out Doran’s plans,” Calnan said. “Now, we’ve seen one part already: He’s successfully stirred up all the corsairs, and Umbar’s about to come down around our ears. But I think his goal is to rule a unified corsair nation. Anarchy is a good way to get rid of the established order, but he must have plans to consolidate it for himself.”

“There’s no way we’re going to stop that mob out there,” Devon jumped in. “That’s suicidal! We’ve got to stop the man at the top. Then Gondor can get here and settle things down again.”

“So how are we to go about finding these plans?” Adeline inquired.

Calnan got up and began pacing the schoolroom; he always thought better when he was doing something mechanical. Know your enemy, all the books said, and having worked in the embassy for two years, he knew Doran the best of any present. “He’s incredibly careful; he wouldn’t have gotten this far in ten years if he weren’t. So he wouldn’t carry anything that treasonous on him. Then the obvious place is at home, in his office.”

“When is he in it?” Callath asked.

“The question should be, When is he not in it,” Telson interrupted, eyes twinkling.

Calnan grinned. “When he’s here, of course. That’ll be the best bet: Someone needs to go to his office when he’s here with Ambassador Thrann, probably tomorrow. Since I have to be here anyway I can make sure he doesn’t slip away.”

“When do you want me there?” Devon asked.

“Whoa, boy!” Callath said. “Even if Master Pearlle doesn’t require your attention on your studies, you’re the best one to have on hand. Calnan has to be here; he can’t get away, at least not without Doran knowing it, and that’d be worse than anything else. He’s bound to be suspicious of all of us now. You need to be ready to beat Doran to his office if he leaves here early.”

Devon made a face. “All right, that leaves you, Telson, and – Adeline.” The girl arched an eyebrow at him.

“Got any problems with that? I’ll just bet I’m better than either one of them at getting in and out quietly,” she said pertly.

Telson began, “My training hasn’t exactly included breaking and entering, but I’m willing to try…”

“Actually, Telson,” Calnan said thoughtfully, “Adeline might be the best for the job. You made your views known in no uncertain way just now, and if I know Doran he’ll have men following you. By your own admission,” he continued, looking the man straight in the eye, “you’ve already been quite near some of the action. If you were seen, you’d be in a pretty bad spot.

“Callath, what about you? Would you prefer to go in?”

The young man thought about it. “As much as I hate to admit it,” he teased, “Adeline would probably be better. I could even stand by for Devon with a horse, to make sure Doran doesn’t beat us. Besides, with the way things are going crazy, Garth’ll have my hide if I’m not there to ready the nobles’ horses.”

“All right, then, we have a plan,” Devon said. “Telson, you’d better stay low. We’d hate to lose you to some random rampaging corsairs. Adeline, I’ll leave the details up to you, but ten in the morning would probably be a good time to get there. Doran should be deep in conference by then.”

Adeline raised her hand. “Um, just one thought. I’m pretty sure I can get in all right; I can pretend to be a servant making a delivery, or even mistaking the house or something. But what if the door to his office is locked?”

“I have some things you can use,” Calnan said. He ignored the interested looks he was getting from the others. “I’ll show you how to use them when we’re finished here. They’ll work on desk drawer locks, too. What we’re looking for won’t be right out in the open.”

Devon rose. “I think we’d better be getting back before someone notices we’re all missing. Callath, why don’t you show Telson the back way out? Calnan, I’ll see you later. And Adeline, thanks so much. Good luck!”

The three slipped quietly out of the schoolroom, leaving the diplomatic attaché to instruct the captain’s daughter on the fine art of picking a lock.

[Earendil Halfelven]

Jythralo climbed into the awaiting carriage. It was almost dusk when his carriage passed through the gate of Umbar. It stopped and he leaned out the window and said something to the guards. The officer in charge nodded and Doran passed through and the carriage faded into the fading light. Many assumed he was fleeing Umbar because the threats against his life were becoming too real, that it was no longer safe.
_____________________________________________

Adeline looked through the curtains of the front window. She didn't feel safe, especially after the dead guards and bloody knife were found on her front doorstep. Devon and the others wanted her to go into Doran's mansion and find information about his plans, but how could she go in their now? The corsairs knew where she lived and had sent her a personal message. A little too personal.

"Mother, I can't stand it anymore! We need to leave. Its been two days since those men were killed on our doorstep, and I just don't feel comfortable."

Her mother's reply came from upstairs. "Adeline, please stop worrying."

Father would know how to deal with Doran,she thought. Her mind wandered back to thoughts of her father...

Her mother, Rhoswen, sat upstairs in her room, worried. She didn't know what to do? Where were they going to go if they left? After a few moments of thinking, she figured that they could stay at an inn. At least, there, they would be with other peoppple.

"Adeline..." she called. Suddenly, downstairs, she heard a crash of breaking glass, a muffled scream, and then the sound of the door being kicked in. Then, silence.

She stood there, stunned. Rhoswen stood in her doorway, staring down the staircase. Silence. "Adeline!" she called, but there was no answer. She made her way slowly downstairs. The curtains rustled in the window. Glass lay shattered on the floor, and the door lay broken in the street. Adeline was gone.
_____________________________________________

Devon, Calnan, and Callath left their favorite inn. The night was dark and quieter than usual. The new curfew laws were to thank for that. They turned a corner and headed towards Devon's home.

"I don't know why we're walking back. Why don't we find a carriage or something?" Calnan asked.

"What are the odds that we're going to find one tonight, especially with the new laws?" Devon said.

At that moment, they heard a horse neigh behind them and a carriage came into view. It came closer and they saw that a man of about 60 years of age was the driver. Devon raised his hand in greeting.

"Friend, would you mind giving us a ride in your carriage if you have any room?"

The man stopped and looked at them.
"Aye, I'll help ya." He smiled. "Don't mind some of me friends in the back. They'll won't bother ya."

They three boys nodded their thanks and climbed in. As soon as the door shut, a fist slammed into the face of the ambassador's son. He slumped over into the lap of his attacker, unconcious. Soon, Calnan and Callath lay on the floor. They were quickly gagged and their heads were covered with black burlap bags. Their hands were tied behind them.

"This time, I didn't fail," Jurex said with a sneer. He pushed Devon off of his lap and quickly gagged, tied, and hooded the boy. He nodded to the three others with him. His hand was a little sore from that knock-out he gave Devon but that didn't stop the enthusiasm from showing in his voice.

He called to the driver. "Let's go."
_____________________________________________

Jurex sat in the driver's seat of another wagon. The guided the horses to the gate entrance. Guards blocked his path.

"Where do you think your headed?" the commanding officer asked.

"Councilman Doran, I assumed, as told you that some of his baggage will be following him to his townhouse?" Jurex asked.

The officer looked into the back of the wagon where four large trunks lay. The mark of Jythralo Doran lay on them.

"Aye, he did. You may pass."

"Much obliged, friend. Much obliged..." Jurex smiled and snapped the reins. The horses started forward. The night grew darker as clouds covered the moon.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Motioning for Telson to follow, Callath turned to Adeline, patting her gently on the arm and leaving it there for a second, smiling encouragingly and giving her a faint wink. "Good luck, Adeline - not that you'll need it of course." Nodding to her, he paused to murmur in Calnan's ear as he left.

"And I'll be needing a wee word with you later, Cal." The attache grinned in return, mirroring Callath by raising an eyebrow as the stable-hand left, followed by Telson.

~*~

As they left the Snifter and Song, all three of the boys were feeling much less ominous than before, pleasure of the fine food and drink of the Inn. Callath began to whistle quietly between his teeth, his eyes turned towards the stars of the clear night as he walked, when Calnan interrupted his reverie.

"I don't know why we're walking back. Why don't we find a carriage or something?"

Callath grinned at him. "Why, then I wouldn't be able to question you about your sudden and expansive knowledge of breaking and entering, master Calnan!"

The attache adopted an expression of mock-innocence and hurt and Devon laughed before replying to Calnan's comment with a sigh. "Anyway, what are the odds that we're going to find one tonight, especially with the new laws?" Devon said.

The familiar sound of a horse's neigh and hooves made all three spin around, startled. Devon looked delighted, if surprised and Calnan raised his eyes skywards, tipping his forehead with a finger jokily. Callath grinned at his friend's gesture, but behind his relief, the stable-hand's street sense was moving. Something didn't seem right...it was all a bit too neat...

But Devon didn't appear to have any reservations, raising a hand as he stepped out into the road, making to carriage slow to a halt, and addressed the glum looking, heavily wrapped individual at the reins. When the man assented to giving them a ride, he beckoned his friends and jumped aboard, followed by Calnan. With a shrug, high on the cool calm of the night, Callath followed...

The man's fist struck Devon's chin with such force that Callath and Calnan couldn't move for a second, so startled they were, and it was a moment that cost them dearly - the struggle was brief. Callath went down fighting, a hand over his mouth and a fist against his jaw silencing him finally...

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:46 PM December 21, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Arvedui III]

It was almost impossible to comprehend how one could feel so cold in the presence of so much light, but apparently in Umbar, one could.

Telson worried that the look of disgust he was now accustomed to wearing on his face would become a permeant fixture as he sat against the outside wall of a tavern whose name he couldn't remember. Drifting like an ill wind, smoke from small fires on the street brushed against the hood of his cloak, teasing his eyes and nose. However, that was not what bothered him the most. Granted, his rather stormy feeling had something to do with the government of Umbar, mainly the ambassador, but that was not the only thing. Telson tried to look at the day's events from a detached and logical point of view, a soldier thought with his mind, not his heart, but somehow his anger kept getting the way.

The one spark of hope he had, were the four he'd met after murdering the glass; And the fact that only a stable boy, an attache, a nobleman's son, and a highborn daughter were the last truly loyal subjects willing to fight for Umbar was not a greatly encouraging thought. None of them, save perhaps the Calnan boy, held a military mind, although the group was certainly cunning. Telson's own strategic acumen fell miserably short after battlefield tactics. And if Doran made the first move, they were sunk. The main problem with his four young allies was that they were unduly trustful for such times, not in the way that they would accept candy from a stranger, but Telson got the impression that they all expected to live through whatever was about to happen on the isle. They were on the side of good, and because good must triumph over evil so they thought they would triumph over Doran and come out of it unscathed. Sadly, Telson knew that war never dealt in such certainties.

And after staring unseeingly at a moldy dustbin for an hour, one thing was terribly clear: Despite the heart of his four new friends, they were in dire need of some allies, and maybe an army to go with them. And, wishing for allies would not bring them here. Well then, two things were terribly clear but Telson supposed that the second disparaging thought came with the first.

The moldy dustbin could no longer hold his interest. Rising onto shaking feet and grunting in dismay to find them asleep, Telson began walking to where he knew not without a purpose, but itching to do something useful. The rational part of his mind chided him, saying that Adeline, now the up-and-coming spy, would have information soon, and only with information could he act. However, usually when his rational mind argued for waiting, Telson tended toward ignoring it and doing something stupid instead. Such was the price for arrogance, he supposed, and he'd pay it willingly. As he meandered, Telson's hand went without bidding to an almost crumpled piece of paper stuck rather haphazardly into his belt. The first draft of that damnable report which had brought him to this accused isle in the first place. Quite suddenly, an idea pricked at him like the paper cut that was now stinging with a vengeance, and Telson turned his path toward the low districts and possibly, reenforcements.
-------------------
The Low Tide Inn was unnaturally dark, and the sight disturbed Telson more than he imagined it ever would. However, he could see candles burning toward the back of the building and that was slightly heartening. Telson crouched low, making sure his shadow did not linger in plain sight, and waited. Fortunately, he did not have to pause long, and drew a sharp breath as a figure walked toward him and the outhouse. Even better, it was not the tattooed bartender, but a form Telson could more readily take down. Shaking quietly, Telson figured it was better to let the boy do his business before Telson got to his. He had new cloths on, after all. Far too soon for his liking, the boy reemerged and began walking, no, walking wasn't the word, stumbling back toward the candle-lit room.

One...Two....Three

In one deft movement, Telson drew his swords, hurled the boy into a corner, and held his right blade to the figure's throat while making sure the boy could see the dirk in his other hand. "‘Lo, Culous. Been a while, my friend." He said in an edged voice that would have been pleasant in the daylight. "I swear!" The boy yelled desperately, raising his hands as if to ward Telson off. "I'm loyal! I swear it!" Telson chuckled, but did move. "To whom, I wonder? To whoever holds the blade? Regardless, I am unconcerned with your loyalties, boy, so long as your allegiance is to the coin that I used last time and nothing higher." Telson hinted, a rising note of danger in his voice. "Stewardsman?" The boy asked incredulously. Telson shook his head in amusement, partly at the boy's voice and partly at the nickname.

"Aye, I'm Stewardsman as you seem to like calling me. It grieves me to see you fall on such times, Culous. So, I have another job for you if you're willing." "If I'm not?" The boy prodded gingerly. "Then I'll kill you and get someone who's not as good." Telson shrugged, hoping he sounded nonchalant. "Then I'm your man, sir." Culous answered in a considerably higher voice. Telson smiled, and withdrew his sword. "Good, I thought you might be. Tell me boy, have you ever been to Gondor?"
-------------------------
After a tense half hour spent explaining and re-explaining to the innkeeper's son, Telson took a clean sheet of parchment and scribbled quickly, not bothering to think about the wording. After he was finished, Telson handed the message and the instruction sheet he had written to Culous, watching the boy bound off into the night, and praying to whatever gods there were that he would not fail.

To Prince Faramir of Ithilien and Steward of Gondor,

My lord, at your request, herein is the report ordered to judge Umbar's readiness and capacity to aid the Reunited Kingdom in time of war: Umbar is unfit to produce any aid during time of war and is in danger of falling out of Gondorian control. A former corsair captain turned councilman, Jytharo Doran, plots to take the isle for himself. While at the moment, his means and methods are unclear, the general population of Umbar is in unrest due to a number of preemptive unlawful measures set in place by the Umbarian government. The garrison at Umbar is either unsure or unable quell the hostilities that are turning into open revolt.

Furthermore, the Umbarian government seems, after observation, unwilling to see the error of their ways. Possible traitors to the crown roam the streets and both Gondorian and Umbarian deaths have resulted from that fact. Under these circumstances, the ability to hold Umbar as an ally of the Reunited Kingdom becomes uncertain. Respectfully, I believe that a further garrison is required to stem the rebellion before it manifests itself fully, and also an occupation of Umbar until the men behind it can be brought to justice. I shall continue to monitor the situation and do what I can to prevent further violence.

Your obedient servant,
Telson son of Telemar. Lieutenant of the White Company.

[Himaran]

The inn was unusually quiet and dark. A few nervous patrons sat around bar, mumbling amongst themselves about the recent event in Umbar. Jurex could see the fear glimmering faintly on their faces, and knew that in their hearts they doubted the strength of the local authorities. And it is our mission to justify their fears.

Acacia was not long in arriving, and soon walked through the double doors before calmly seating herself next to her accomplice. Without a trace of subtility, she ordered a cheap drink and turned to Jurex. "Jythralo wished for me to explain his recent plan. He has decided that stealth will not win our war. Thus, his new plan is to draw Devon and his friends away from the city, and out into naval combat." Here she paused, allowing the man to consider the fresh information. In a moment, he nodded for her to proceed.

"It is our assignment to retake Umbar. BEFORE he leaves, as we will be going as well."

A sharp intake of breath erupted from the man, followed by an inquisitive look of surprise. "When I kidnapped Devon and the others, I had no idea my leader would attempt something so rash. Just how does he propose we execute this - plan - in such short a timeframe?"

Acacia grimiced, as if knowing that the question was going to be asked. "He suggested that we attempt to organize the mob we created, and strike several designated targets. No more riots in the streets; planned assaults on armories, guard towers, and perhaps the private homes of several ambassadors. Then, of course, our focus will shift to the embassy itself; which must be taken at all cost. We cannot afford to fail Jythralo, Jurex. Not this time; too much is at stake. But an army must be raised. I can inspire it - can you lead it?"

The corsair sat deep in thought for several moments before answering. "I can, and I will. But I fear that Jythralo is being hasty; we will not have time for many preparations."

When he looked up, Acacia was already standing to leave. "You are correct in that, Jurex. We have not time. But neither does Gondor."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:15 PM December 23, 2003: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[maikafanawen]

Devon's head was throbbing when he woke and his tongue felt the coarse fabric of the gag in his mouth. His hands were bound behind him and around the back of a chair. His feet were done likewise to the front legs. He slightly opened one eye to peek at his surroundings.

"The first to wake," an unpleasantly familiar voice said. The ambassador's son opened both eyes wide and gaped up into the face of Captain Doran. He would have spit had the gag not been in his mouth. "Might as well douse them all," the corsair said, gesturing to two men standing to the side of the room which Devon guessed was some sort office or library in the pirate's townhouse.

The taller, sinewy man wearing a sleek black beard streaked with gray dumped the remains of a tumbler of water on Calnan's head and again onto Callath's and Adeline's faces. The three woke, trying to spurt water through their canvas restraints. Doran laughed roughly and leaned back against a table, his arms folded in front of him.

"Un-gag young Master Thrann for me," the captain demanded of the tall man who stood behind Devon. His scarred hands definitely did not attempt any sort of gentleness while he worked. The young man pulled away more than once before the gag was gone and his lip bled from where his teeth had bit down after Jurex has wrenched the canvas from his mouth.

Doran was still smiling with an amused sort of humor that made Devon wonder what he wanted with them.

"Captain Doran," the dark-haired captive began. "I don't know what you want with us but I can assure you that we are disinclined to offer any assistance whatsoever under any sort of torture that would aid your treacherous cause." The captain's expression grew serious and he folded his arms across his chest.

"I see," he said, seeming to contemplate earnestly what Devon had told him. "Well in that case, you shouldn't mind the proposition I've for you." The ambassador's son raised an eyebrow and listened as Doran talked.

"You're a threat to me, Thrann. It's not beneficial at all to me to have someone who knows my plans--or some of them. So after much deliberation, I've thought of a way to solve our problems fairly."

"Pirates are never fair!" Devon blurted angrily. Doran stood with a start and towered over the young man, so that their breath mingled.

"Don't impugn my honor boy!" he yelled. But Devon was surprised to find it a half-hearted effort. Clearly Doran was more focused on whatever he had in mind. Too excited to worry about yelling at Young Thrann.

"What will happen," he continued, "is that I will give you one week to collect as many ships, captains, crewmembers, weapons etcetera that you are able to." He paused and grinned, simply alive with his own cleverness. Such that it was beginning to make Devon nervous and quick glances to his left and right showed him that his friends were also very apprehensive. "Clorac will be with you," he said gesturing to the sinewy man who had woken Calnan, "to make sure that you're not doing anything I wouldn't like such as sending messages off to anyone in Gondor or the like. Everything must come from Umbar, no shipping in from the north. Too risky. After a week is over, Clorac will return to me and let me know if you have met my limits. If you have acquired at least one ship that can carry at least 50 crew members (and holding them), plus one captain (officers are optional) and two mates, then I expect to meet you on the ocean for open combat. Oh yes, and at least twenty six-pound catapults. There we will settle the fate of Umbar. And since I stand by the Code, I will do all that is in my power to leave you and your friends alive at the end." He grinned wickedly, and spread his hands apart. "Of course, I can't make any guarantees." Devon was gritting his teeth and practically snarled at the corsair.

"However, Clorac will not be the only one keeping an eye on you. If you do anything suspiciously unfair, I will be notified and I'll just keep you locked up until my work is complete. Hopefully it will not come to this.

"Once the sea-battle is over, and if I win, you will return to Gondor and let them know that I have, by rights, claimed Umbar for my own. My armada will be standing by to see that no adversaries come to challenge me. The Code is practically legal and though Elessar is a strong man -- he would be unwise to challenge us at a very stable position on this island. My people, if mindset to it, can use this isle to its greatest advantage and it will be quite impossible for it to be retaken.

"If in the unlikely event that you should win. I will take my armada away from Umbar and leave the city in the capable hands of your father. I will vow never to attempt usurpation on the city again and be gone forever." Devon looked skeptically at the captain. He wasn't sure how truthful that was, but in his mind, the young man was all ready working on a plan of counteraction.

"One more thing," the captain added. "I'll be keeping Adeline here with me, just to make sure you don't break any of my rules." The ambassador's son's jaw dropped and he looked incredulously at Doran, any plans of secrecy or deception flying from his mind. Adeline.

"For one who talks about being fair, I don't see where you get off making all the rules!" The captain fixed Devon with a considering look before shrugging and pulling away the folds of his coat to reveal two cutlasses.

"I figure that as long as I have the weapons--I make the rules. Sort of puts me in charge as it were." He smirked and Devon looked at Calnan and Callath, gagged, but their faces showed shock and both fought against the restraints to protest.

"That about does it I think," the captain finished up. "In the morning you'll be sent about your ways and Corac will make sure you follow the rules. I'll see you in week for some good sport." Then, gesturing to the two men behind him, the four were plunged back into darkness, unable even to contemplate what the pirate captain had said.

"Hmm," he said as an afterthought, "I think I'll write it all down. I wonder if any of that survived your jog, Jurex." Then, he took a seat at his desk with pen and parchment as the two henchmen dragged the youths from the room.

"What of Adeline sir?" Corac asked.

"Oh yes, set her up in the guest room why don't you. And see to it she is given no means of escape whatsoever. Now go, I've got to remember what I said..." And Corac left with Adeline tied to her chair in tow, leaving the scratching of quill tip on parchment behind him in Doran's office.

[Arien]

Acacia left the Inn and hurriedly walked down the street. She would need to contact the corsairs who were still loyal to Jythralo and still believed in his cause. She hoped it would not be too hard, but some were not as faithful to him as herself or Jurex. The first place to go would be Russ’, it was the closest and he too could spread word to his men. Strangely she had been visiting him quite a lot recently.

She turned the corner into the alley and knocked softly when she came to the door. The usual clicks were heard and the door opened. Russ stood in the doorway, a bottle in his hand. Acacia sighed and moved out of the way as he made to embrace her. He fell from the door onto the ground.

“Ouch, why dya move?” He said nursing his back with one had and taking a mouthful from the bottle.

“Because Russ, you are drunk.” She moved around so their faces met, she shook her head, her face was stern but a smile started to play on her mouth as she watched him struggle to get up.

“I am?” He said reaching up for help.

“Yes you are….” She said pulling him up to his feet.

“Oh,” he staggered and leaned against the doorframe. “I knew that!”

“Of course you did,” Acacia replied impatiently, “Look is there anyone sober I can talk to? No wait forget it. I’ll tell you and if you dare forget,” she said stepping closer, “or mess it up I swear…”

“You’ll kill me?” He laughed.

Acacia rolled her eyes and laughed, “No…..but you never know. I’ve been told I have quite a temper sometimes.”

“You’re telling me….” Russ said taking another drink. At this Acacia grabbed the bottle from his hand, contents spilled out onto the pavement and over her dress. Russ looked disappointed as he tried to reach for the bottle. Acacia pulled it away from his grasp. This was certainly the most inconvenient time for this to happen. Hopefully he would still be able to understand what she was saying.

“Just listen,” she said looking up, he was still eying the bottle and so she hid it behind her back. His eyes lingered on the spot where it had been and the he drew his gaze up. “Gather as many corsairs as you can, those who served under Jythralo before. Spread word that he is in need of some…. assistance. There will be a meeting at The Wreck Inn tonight. Jurex will be there. Tell as many as you can.” She handed the bottle back to Russ, “Tell them that they will receive a lot for their service.” She turned her back and looked down the path, “ They will receive Umbar.” She turned back to Russ who nodded.

“I understand,” he paused and then saluted her with his right hand. Acacia shook her head and turned away from him. That was the west side of Umbar taken care of. Russ wouldn’t let her down; she would trust him with her life, even if he were in that state. Acacia hurried to her estate to collect a horse. Riding would be faster, time was of the essence and there was not to be wasted by walking on foot across the city. She also stopped by and told Blaine to meet her at Bassington’s estate at six.

Although her maid was confused Acacia assured her it would all be clear soon. Blaine did not doubt her mistress.

Acacia stopped by everyone she had known that had served for Jythralo before. Most were keen to see what their assistance could do, and some were all too happy to help. Although she had to struggle with some, they seemed to have given up on regaining Umbar and on Jythralo.

“Why should I help Doran?!? Its an outrage…… what has he done for me lately? There is not point Acacia, he has turned to Gondor, he no longer believes in Umbar.” He shouted hotly.

“That’s what you think Gerard, but you are wrong.” She replied calmly.

“Wrong am I? Why is he on the council then? You are blinded.” He said moving across the room. The man slumped down in his chair.

“Have you forgotten that I too am on the council.”

“Well, no….but….but…did you pass all of those rules? Acacia, I trust you its just….” He stopped and sighed.

“Look you want Umbar back do you not?” He nodded. “Then do not be as stupid as those we oppose and fall for Jythralo’s disguise! Come and join us. Fight for what is right.”

It took most of the day to persuade those whose trust in Jythralo had faded. But she was satisfied with herself at the end of it. Some of them she had not seen in a great deal of time. But they remembered her and they still held her in high regard. And most importantly they believed in what she had said, and they followed her instructions. Now it was time to acquire some keys.

++++++++++++++++

It was sunset when Blaine met her outside Councillor Bassington’s Estate. Bassington was probably the Councillor that Acacia detested most; he was too arrogant for her liking and he always seemed to think he could have his way with her. He was about two years older than her, and although fairly handsome his personality definitely squashed his chances with any self-respecting woman. Well that was Acacia’s opinion. This was probably why Acacia had carefully selected his estate, and also Bassington took care of the Gondorian armed forces in Umbar. Killing two birds with one stone.

“You know what to do?” Acacia said turning to her maid.

“Yes,” she replied.

“And you are sure they are there?”

“I am.” Acacia smiled at her momentarily and the two made their way to the front entrance.

“Councillor Ratan,” Acacia nodded to the doorman, “Councillor Bassington received your note and he awaits you inside his office.”

“Thank you. Oh and may I trouble you one more time? May my maid use the wash room?”

“Oh yes of course.” He smiled politely and pointed down to the kitchens. Blaine blushed, a twinkle in her eye told Acacia that she was ready.

“When you return Blaine wait here.” She nodded and hurried off.

Acacia turned and headed to Bassington’s office, which was situated across the large hall. She knocked on the door and this was answered by the murmur of enter. Slowly she pushed the door open and crossed the threshold into a large study. Its ceilings were high and on the walls hung paintings of royal ships and various Gondorian soldiers.

“And what brings you here?” Said the man who had just risen from a chair by the blazing fire.

“I have come to collect some documents Bassington.” Her eyes darted around the room; they finally fell on his desk. A cluster of keys were hung behind it, they were keys to the officers barracks.

“Oh, and I thought you had come to see me.”

“You thought wrongly.”

“A bit harsh?” He said moving closer to her. She stepped away, her fists clenched stubbornly.

“The documents if you please.”

“Ok, ok.” He shook his head and headed out of his office.

“Fool.” She whispered. She walked quickly over to the rack of keys and selected a bronzed one. This one was for the southern barracks and a silver one. This one was for the Western Barracks. Hastily she shoved them into a pocket the folds of her dress and returned to where she had previously stood.

“Here,” said Bassigton as he re-entered the room. He handed Acacia the documents and walked back to his chair.

“Your maid waits for you outside. I hope to see you soon Acacia.” He said softly.

“As do I Bassington.” She replied sarcastically, she curtsied and walked from the room. The documents were then handed to Blaine and they left the Estate.

“Did you get it?” Acacia asked eagerly as they left. Blaine held up a large key on a piece of string.

“For the back way.”

“Excellent, thank you. Now hurry home and take the documents with you.” The maid nodded, handed Acacia the key and left. Now she made her way to The Wreck Inn. It was and Inn deep in the Corsair area of the city. It was unknown to the Gondorians as it was somewhat of an underground tavern, but it was popular among Corsairs. She entered the dingy door; it was not marked by any sign or picture, just a tiny carved inscription of “Wreck” on the door. She made her way down the wooden steps, she could her low voices and the smell of ale and smoke loitered in the stale air.

She entered the main bar and spotted Jurex in the corner.

“Done?” He said looking up to her.

“Yes,” She said joining him. She placed the three keys on the table. “Southern barracks, Western and Bassington’s Estate…the back door.”

“Well done. And the people.”

“All done. A few were reluctant but they will come, I am sure of it. The western side is taken care of, Russ did that.” Jurex nodded.

“Good. And now we wait for them.”

[Amanaduial the archer]

This time Callath was the first to come around and he opened his eyes very slightly, so as not to notify anyone who was watching. For a moment his senses were confused, as the darkess and silence seemed as complete as when he had been unconcious, but the pain in his head, a sudden sharp ache as he turned it, confirmed his conciousness. Gritting his teeth he widened his eyes, trying not to blink so his eyes would adjust more quickly to the dark.

After a few moments of sitting still, the stable-boy's eyesight was good enough to pick out silhouettes - the darkness was not total; although the lights were off and the curtains closed, and it was evidently dark outside, the light from a nearby streetlight shone in dimly through the thick material, and occasional passing lit carriages below would illuminate the room a little further. As this happened once, Callath took the moment to look around quickly and from the brief half-glimpse he could see they were apparently in the same place as before, a library, he reckoned. But the glimpse was too short to work out anything else. Leaning carefully to the left, he felt a table or desk top against his upper arm, about waist high if he was standing up. Doing the same to the right, he leaned as far as he dared without falling over, then pulled back quickly when rope around his chest would not let him go further without tipping right over: nothing immediately to his right then. But Calnan...Turning his head to the right, away from the window, he tried to make out the form of Calnan, who had been beside him...and his heart almost skipped a beat when he didn't see him. Suddenly a groan from behind and the feel of two somethings brushing against his fingers made Callath freeze, electrified by the touch when he was completely helpless, in the dark, unable to speak or move that much. The entity behind him was apparently just as surprised, as Callath heard a sharp but muffled intake of breath. Then..."Crhmph-?" a muffled sound started, then stopped. There was a pause. Then...

"Hmm."

Callath grinned against his gag, which was a piece of cloth secured by a hankerchief or bandana of some kind. In the brief time when Doran's full gloating attention had been focused on giving them his 'proposition', Callath had worked out a way of moving the bandana down simply by monotonous twisting of his chin in a small upward circle whilst keeping his neck still. After several minutes of unsure silence from behind, filled only with the faint rustling of the hankerchief and during which Callath's neck muscles began to ache, the cloth finally slid over the end of his chin and, forcing his mouth as wide as possible despite his chaffed lips, Callath spat out the gag in relief and disgust. Taking a moment to try to regain feeling over his tongue, the stable-boy then took a deep breath. "Calnan?" he whispered.

"Hmm?" His friend's response was still muffled, his gag apparently still on, but it was also slightly distracted - Calnan was working on it. Explaining in a whisper through painful lips how to get the gag off took only a minute and not long after that there came the sound of Calnan spitting out his gag. "Callath? Is there- ohh..." the attache emitted a groan, apparently having tried to turn his head too quickly and having been caught out by the pain. Confirming it was him and that, by his silence, Devon was apparently still unconcious (although they could both see his slumped form about two strides away from Calnan's chair), Callath pushed back against the knots tying his fingers so they came into contact with Calnan's, at which the latter youth gave a startled hiss.

"It's alright, I'm gonna try to work out your knots - its easier on someone else."

A pause in which Callath guessed Calnan to be nodding, before a reply came quickly, laced with a blush, causing Callath to grin. "Yes, yes...thanks."

Another carriage went past and both boys stiffened and nearby, Devon stirred slightly in his sleep. Then Callath continued, fumbling gently against the knots on Calnan's hands and fingers, his tongue slightly out in concentration. Then, "What do you make of Doran's proposal?"

Callath snorted. "Proposal? It's a chance for him to publicly show us up them finally get rid of us. Pirates Code my left foot." His fingers slipped in his anger and he muttered a curse under his breath as he tried to resume where he had been, with one of the several knots almost loose enough to pull undone.

"We may have a chance..." Calnan's voice was thoughtful. The stable-boy shook his head, then remembered the darkness and, feeling foolish, gave an vocal reply. "Against him? Against all the corsairs?"

Calnan sighed and leant his head back against his neck, looking reflectively upwards through the dark as Callath continued to work away. One knot undone, another just loose enough...yes!... Then he stopped suddenly, a thought striking him like a thunderbolt. Feeling this, Calnan looked around, although he could barely see his friend's expression. "What?"

"Adeline! Where is she?"

[Himaran]

As the corsairs started to arrive, Jurex wispered into Acacia's ear; "Perhaps you should leave now."

Knowing that any knowledge of her identity could quickly spread to the Gondorian authorities, the woman nodded and left the room. Turning back to the corsairs, Jurex motioned for them to sit, and announced that drinks 'would be on the house.' The waiters merely consented, knowing that their careers and, possibly, their lives depended on cooperation.

_________________________________________


Several hours later, Jurex stood at the door of Acacia's home. Entering, he hurried up to the study. The heavy oak door creaked open, revealing the woman engrossed in a letter she was working on at her desk. She must have noticed his entrance, however, as she quickly set aside her pen and motioned for him to sit. "How was the meeting?"

"Quite well, actually. I was able to discern who the men truely held alliegence to, and make those individuals my leading commanders. Now we need nothing more than a target, Acacia, and the strength of Umbar will be unleashed."

Acacia then removed two keys from the fold of her extravagant robe, and passed them across the table to Jurex. "And here are your targets; these keys will unlock the gates to both guard towers, and possibly other doors within. Here are the orders I recieved from Jythralo outlining his plan for this particular assault." Briefly glancing at the document, the man nodded and left the room.

[Earendil Halfelven]

Jythralo headed towards the room where he kept his prisoners. Adeline was safely in another part of the building where she would stay until he decided if she could go or not. Three other corsairs accompanied him.

"Are ye sure you don't want 'em ded?" one corsair asked.

"Yes, I'm sure, Agdar. You boys will get plenty of chances to wet your swords. Don't worry," Doran answered.

Agdar and the men seemed comforted by his words, and they nodded as Jythralo unlocked the doors.
As they stepped in, they heard the words-"Adeline. Where is she?"

"Somewhere else," Doran answered. He laughed at the sight that greeted him. The two boys, Callath and Calnan, were attempting to untie themselves, and so far, they were doing good. Devon still looked unconcious.

Jythralo smiled. "Well, what do we have here? Attempting to escape, are we? Don't worry, you'll be home soon enough."

"Yeah, but they wouldn't have gotten far," said Corac as he stepped out of the shadows of the room.

Then, taking a club from the revealed Corac, Jythralo stepped forward and gave Callath a good one over the head. He slumped over in the chair.

"Aw, not again," said Calnan.

Jythralo shrugged and raised the club.
_____________________________________________

Night hung over Umbar. A lone carriage continued down the street. As the carriage turned a corner, the side door opened and three unconcious bodies were flung out into the street and into the sidewalk. A note was pinned to one of the boys' jackets-

We are watching.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 2:55 PM December 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[maikafanawen]

"There will be others watching and making sure things go smoothly," Jurex informed Corac as the man stepped out of the carriage. "But I doubt they would run the risk of loosing Adeline." Corac nodded, his face completely placid. The driver grasped the ropes and Jurex shouted one last thing before the carriage lurched into motion.

"One week Corac! and the captain says we're back to the sea!" Then the darkness of the street swallowed the coach and the clop of hooves on stone faded.

So Corac pulled his pipe from out of his pouch and lit it. Then he took a seat in the shadows by the curbside where the boys lay, rousing in the breaking light.

"Wind to squalls and squalls to rain yo ho, yo ho" there was a pause as Corac puffed a small smoke ring that dissipated into the air. "Yo ho, yo ho..." and he sang quietly, watching as the boys came to, finding first the note and second the letter of repeated instructions. They had one week.

[Nuranar]

Calnan came too very slowly, very fuzzily this time. Instinctively he lay still, giving his mind time to clear. When it didn't, he turned to his other senses. He was lying on his back on something lumpy but very hard; beneath his hand he felt stone. It was cool, and he felt a slight breeze through his hair. It was nearly silent...except for someone singing softly, quite close by. Forcing his brain to calculate, he decided it must be very early in the morning, and he was lying in the street.

That's not a good idea, he thought, although he couldn't remember why. He rolled over on his side and sat up, deciding that if the singer meant trouble the fellow had already waited a bit; besides, his mind wouldn't deal with it any better in the foreseeable future anyway. Grimacing with the vicious throbbing in his head, Calnan tried to take in the situation and saw only a gloomy blur.

Forcing his eyes to focus in the predawn dimness, he saw Devon and Callath sprawled near him. The singer was sitting on a doorstep and regarding them with interest, but presenting no immediate threat.

Devon groaned even as he looked, then opened his eyes and groaned again. Delicately feeling a bloody knot on his head, he sat up and gazed dully into the distance.

"This is a nice mess. A darn fine mess!"

Calnan's brow wrinkled in mild perplexity. "Ah, um?" he inquired politely. Devon just glowered at him, so Calnan tried to propitiate with an offering. "Here, use this for your head, to clean off the blood," he said, offering his handkerchief.

Devon snorted. "Speak for yourself! You look like a hard night in a waterfront tavern." He turned to Callath, who was still unconscious.

Calnan cautiously felt his own face. In addition to the wound on the temple, there was a cut on his cheek that had bleed pretty freely, as evidenced by the blood on his shirt collar. This was something he could only see by squinting, an action of which his headache heartily disapproved.

Devon had found a paper pinned to Callath's jacket. He shoved it in front of Calnan's nose. We are watching. "Now do you see?" he demanded of Calnan.

"Oh?" said that young man. "OH!" The momentous events of the previous day crashed back into his head. The carriage, Doran, a ship, war at sea - and Adeline! Not here, with them, but there - with the corsairs!

"Sorry, Devon - I kind of, couldn't remember," he said lamely. Repeated blows to the head tend to have that effect.

Devon was only mildly irritated by his friend's erstwhile obtuseness. "Well there he is - at least one of them!" he continued, jerking his head at their solitary spectator.

Callath stirred and looked up blearily at them. "So wha' now?" he mumbled.

Calnan only just refrained from shaking his head in an effort to clear it. Don't want to shake anything loose, now. Contenting himself with a good eye-rub, he said, "We need to get out the street, that's what. We're fair game for any rabid corsair types. And then we need to find a captain."

"Captain? I thought we needed a ship first," Callath asked, rising unsteadily.

"If we find a good captain, he'll know how to find a ship. Plus he'll probably be more, um, cheerful about this scheme if he picks it instead of us. Right, Devon?"

The ambassador's son nodded in agreement. Looks like his head's all right, Calnan thought resentfully. "Of course. Most of us know nothing about ships."

Calnan stood up carefully and looked around in the fast-growing light. "Well then. I suggest we move on." He glanced at Devon. "So where would you go to find a good captain?"

[maikafanawen]

The small washroom had but one window that Meri Loliway could look out while she worked. It faced the street and people would stroll past on their way to work at the docks. She was washing the set of plates from breakfast contentedly when a voice low and grumbling drifted into the kitchen from the library "Rum in the chest costs a mountain of gold, going fairly well for three days old, yo ho, yo ho... Damn-it all Meri where's my drink!" Avershire, handsome and formidable, swaggered into the room, his shoulders leaning at an angle as he supported himself up on his gold-headed captain's cane. The woman bent over the washtub turned quickly, a lock of long, curly black hair falling into the water and sticking to her face when she tried to shake it out.

"Curses Avershire! You are not supposed to be out of bed!" She dropped her dishrag and pulled out a chair for the captain to sit in at the table and face the sea through the large window. "Four days you've been up with a worm and now you're thinking that a walk is right for your unsteady legs!"

"My landlubber legs you mean!" he spat and Meri kicked the leg of his chair.

"As long as I'm washing these forsaken floors I'm the only one that'll be spitting on them!" She strode over to the cabinet then and retrieved a glass and a bottle of lighter whisky.

"No!" the under par man said, rubbing at his temple, "I want the gold stuff." Meri narrowed her eyes at him but switched the bottles: she new better than to contradict her captain. Decanting a helping into the glass, she gave it to Avershire who drank it slowly, only consuming half of it in his first sip. Meri sighed before resuming her work.

"Squalls in the night with a thundering crash, Fire and foam-- MERI!" The lady dove out of the way, just missing being hit by the body that had sailed headfirst through the window behind her the pane shattering and glass going everywhere. It landed in the tub and after just a few seconds, the water inside started turning red from the man's blood. The woman leapt to her feet and grabbed the sword hanging from beside the door. Then kicking it open, she challenged the man running from the scene, pushing people aside on the crowded streets to get by.

"Come back you son of a bilge rat and get this man! He does not belong to me! He's your bloody garbage!" Swearing violently under her breath, she watched as his back disappeared into an alley.

"Like me to get 'im for ye ma'am?" a swarthy looking sailor asked coming up at a brisk walk towards Meri. She considered it for a moment but decided against it.

"S'not important," she declared, "but I could use help with the garbage if you've a mind for it."

"I certainly do," he offered politely following Avershire's woman into the house. With the sailor's help, they carried the body out the gutter and waited for the cart to come and get him while Meri mopped up the mess, hoping it wouldn't leave a stain. She thanked the man for his help and sent him off with a glass of spirits. Making friends was always a good thing to do nowadays anyways and he seemed smart and strong: two very good assets.

"Gutted through by morning…" Avershire sang darkly when Meri had closed the door. She shook her head and bolted the latch.

It was raining and dark when Avershire got home from The Beast's Lair. Meri was up, reading in the library, when he came in. She set down her book and walked to help the man off with his coat and walk him towards the fire she'd started in the hearth by where she was sitting. He discarded his wet shirt too and thankfully took the blanket she brought him, wrapping it around himself as he stared absently into the flames. Once his clothes were hung up in the washroom to dry, Meri returned and sat beside him on the settee. He was always so melancholic when he returned from the inn, and the woman found that the best thing to do was just keep him company.

After a minute or two he told her about the new restriction laws for those of corsair ancestry. It clicked right away in Meri's shrewd mind and she looked nervously at Avershire. He nodded at her unspoken question.

"They're all being given badges to wear. The scribes are hard at it. Tomorrow I've--" he paused and took a minute to drape his arm around her, "I've got to get mine. Roary said I won't be allowed to buy drinks without it at his inn." Meri shook her head in disagreement.

"Your pledge to Gondor doesn't free you of it? I'll wager Doran doesn't have to wear one." Avershire's eyes focused in consideration.

"I bet you're right," he said. Meri smiled and tapped his shoulder absently with her finger. "I bet I am too. We can go see him tomorrow and ask him of it." Kent nodded and yawned. Miss Loliway smiled again and kissed him lightly on his cheek. "You are sleepy now though, the rain and the fire have exhausted you." The corners of Avershire's mouth twitched as a form of smiling: the best he could muster since his captaining days came to an end. Taking from him his empty mug of hot tea and setting it on the end table nearby, Meri helped him stand.

Gripping his cane, he sauntered to the large bedroom where he and Meri slept. It was a large, comfortable feather stuffed bed draped with crimson curtains and covered in soft pillows. Avershire refused assistance to dress. So after ten minutes, he emerged from behind the changing wall, looking even more exhausted. He collapsed in the bed, making the frame and canopy shudder with his fall. His dark-haired woman smiled sadly, and doused the candle before climbing in beside him.

Meri's dreams that night were painful to bear. In one, the captain's illness returned and the doctor said he could not cure it. So she was made to spend a very long time beside his bed, praying for health. In the end though, he died, and she was denied a proper burial because of his pirate descent. In another they were back on the sea, sailing together on a terrifyingly small sloop, trying to maneuver it through a large squadron of Gondorian naval ships that threatened to capsize the small boat at any moment. Finally she slept peacefully and her dreams were uncluttered with frights.

“Put it on Avershire,” Meri demanded cooly. “I’ll not have you confronting Doran in the frumpy clothes ye’re used to.” She leaned against the frame of the bedroom door, arms crossed, and looking too handsome for her deep purple brocade gown. The captain sat, moping in a chair refusing to even look at the crisp jacket Meri had washed and pressed for him. “Shall I get your badge then?” she suggested coldly. The man swore and stood, ripping off his mussed shirt and pulled on a clean one and the jacket. He seemed in much better condition today and his woman was sure that was a good sign. Those badges may cause problems: problems they didn’t need.

The walk to the embassy took longer because of the traffic. The lines were still moving throughout the streets. It actually hadn’t occurred to Meri how many corsairs there were in Umbar. She wondered if they’d run out of badges.

Finally the gates came in view and the two walked up to them, Meri praying that there wouldn’t be too much of a problem concerning admittance. The guard was surprisingly alert and accepted the captain’s papers with congenial etiquette. Miss Loliway was glad to see a well-tempered man standing before the embassy. He perused the forms quickly before handing them back to Avershire.

“You may come in,” he announced. “Doran’s office is on the first floor south wing corridor , second on your left before the ambassador’s room.” The captain raised an eyebrow and looked sideways at Meri.

“I got it,” she whispered. Nodding, he led the way into the house.

“Twenty years service in the Gondorian Navy,” Doran mused, glancing over the papers. “Impressive indeed.” Captain Avershire and Meri Loliway were seated in highback chairs before his desk, waiting nervously for the verdict. “This is merit enough indeed I’d say. No, no badges are you required to wear. You have medals from your service?” he inquired. Avershire thought a moment and nodded.

“I have a few. A couple were taken from me though when I was--” he hesitated, “released.” Doran nodded sympathetically.

“I understand,” he said, handing the papers back to the captain. “I fear it may be that we are never taken as true equals here. There is a list of individuals who are not asked to wear badges and I shall add yours as well to it. You shall not be bothered.” He smiled and Avershire paused. That’s not exactly an honest smile, the captain mused. He had spent entirely too many years aboard a corsair frigate to not notice. But he collected his hat and bowed respectfully before offering his arm to Meri and leaving the office. He had what he wanted, it was not in his mind at all to interfere with whatever Doran was doing.

Back in the townhouse, Meri and Avershire were installing a new window when a riot broke out in the inn across the way. Swords were drawn and it was full blown. The guards arrived in a hurry but not before two Gondorians and four corsairs were killed.

The two worked faster on the window and thoughts swam in each of their minds. It is unlike sailors to stay idle for long periods of time but what was to be done? The answer would arrive later that evening while Avershire treated his woman to dinner at the Snifter and Song--an uptown inn on the higher streets of Umbar.

* * * * *

[In progress]

[Himaran]

Two sentries sat against the wall of Umbar's eastern Gondorian Barracks. Neither spoke, nor show any sign of movement; in fact, it seemed that they had ceased to even breath. Surprisingly, the gate which they were guarding was wide open, though there were no sounds from within. But there was a single disturbance to the peaceful scene; a note had been neatly hung on the gate, barely visible from the dark street. A deathly silece hung over the whole scene, broken only by the eerie wind passing over the city.

____________________________________________


"The barracks fell easily. The stealth attack went perfectly, without a single casualty suffered. They had no chance, no time to strike a single blow. It was a complete, effecient slaughter."

Acacia nodded, recording Jurex's report on a letter to Jythralo. "Excellent. Now, with the garrisons out of the way, we can finally attack our primary target. But we cannot proceed until I recieve Jythralo's orders on the matter - we will attack a counciller's home, but an objective has not yet been established. I will send you the required information when it comes."

Jurex nodded. "Good. I have other business to attend to with the men. A few problems have arisen, and a possible small-scale mutiny could occur among a portion of my force if the proper percautions are not taken." Several minutes later, after exiting the house, the man disappeared into the dark street in the direction of the tavern.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:59 PM December 28, 2003: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[Arien]

This arrived for you,” said Blaine handing a letter to Acacia as soon as she had entered the front door. Acacia took the letter and turned it over.

“It arrived anonymously?” she said looking up at Blaine.

“Yes,” she said taking Acacia’s cloak when she handed it too her. She placed it on the rack next to the door and followed Acacia down the hallway. Acacia slid her index finger along the blank seal and opened the letter cautiously. She knew it would be from Jythralo, although she had not suspected he would reply to her letter so speedily.

“When did it arrive?” she asked looking back at Blaine.

“Why, just a few minutes before you arrived back.” Well it did make sense. After leaving Jurex, she had sent the letter by a trusted horseman. It would have taken little than 10 minutes to reach Jythralo. And then she had walked home, which had taken a bit of time. It made sense.

Acacia pulled the letter out of the envelope and started to climb the stairs to her bedroom. She unfolded it carefully and saw that it was written in his hand. She smiled, “ Thank you Blaine.” The girl nodded and left her on the stairs. Acacia folded the letter back and made for her room.

“So let us see what I need to do next,” She said seating herself on her bed. She unfolded the letter again and smoothed it out on her lap. Dim candlelight filled the room, but she could still see the writing.

Good, they fell easily. Now we attack Bassington’s estate. Take him and his staff captive; leave the women, servants and children. Kill the guards; there is no doubt that they will get in your way. I have an insider in Bassington's mansion. I cannot tell you her name because this might be intercepted but she will meet you in the Sea Dog Inn, where you three will coordinate the attack. Oh, and take any and all plunder for yourselves.

Acacia re- read the letter again and then threw it into the fire at the far end of her room. An insider? She had never been told about that before now, it was never even mentioned. She smiled; Jythralo was always one step ahead. Although she did feel a little bothered that he had not told her. She stood for a time watching it slowly burn and then she left her room. She collected her cloak from beside the door and quickly made her way to the kitchen.

“Blaine, I’m leaving again. Is the horse ready outside?”

“Its as you left it.” Acacia nodded and flung her coat around her shoulders. “When you will back?”

“I’m not sure, I may have other business to take care of, and I might stop of at the shore.” Acacia was silent for a moment, “But I will be back before sunrise.” Blaine nodded.

Acacia stepped out onto the terrace and walked round to the small stable. She mounted the black horse and rode off towards the tavern where Jurex was waiting.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Yes?”

“I have the orders….” Acacia said, holding
tight on to the reins of her horse. It pulled slightly as it was getting weary of waiting. Acacia had known better than to go into the Inn and so she had waited outside for a competent individual to tell Jurex that she was waiting. It had taken long than she had thought, but he was here now.

“And?”

“And you will have to wait for them. It seems we have a new accomplice.” Jurex nodded, though he looked a little confused.

“We do?”

“Yes, a girl it seems. She is of Bassington’s staff. Jythralo placed her there, and now it is the time that we shall use her.”

“So where will she be?” He asked kicking the dirt on the ground idly.

“Sea Dog Inn. We go to meet her now, that is unless you are busy?”

“No, they have calmed down now. Shall we go then?” Jurex said lightly as he started to walk off in the direction of the Inn. Acacia tugged the reins of her horse, which followed obediently into the night.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Callath shook his head without thinking before stopping sharply. Closing his eyes, he brought his fingers gingerly up to the left side of his jaw, prodding it carefully. Devon chatted vaguely about ships to a still disoriented Calnan, who was blinking repeatedly as Callath's mind whirred, despite wishing he could lie down again. They had to get to Telson, tell him what had happened, but..but what had Doran said - something about 'he would be watching'?

"Callath, won't your tutors be missing you?" he said loudly, wishing his voice didn't reverberate through his head so. The others both turned to him and Devon's expression quickly turned from confusion to frustration and pent-up anger, ready to fire.

"What the- Callath, Pearlle is not exactly my chief problem at the moment!" he replied hotly. "What do you-" something in Callath's expression stopped him, the stable by staring straight at him, eyebrows slightly raised. He frowned slightly for a second. Calnan also wathed Callath carefully.

"Well, I know Garth will be missing me pretty soon - I was meant to be dealing with that newcomer's horse." He clicked his fingers, speaking vaguely. "You know, the foreigner I told you about...tall chap, Gondorian. Telwick? Tenson? Te...Te..." he trailed off, waving a hand vaguely in the air.

"Telson?" Calnan caught on, but made the word a question, his voice unsure, but just as obvious as Callath's to anyone watching. Callath clicked his fingers. "That's right! Telson!"

Devon seemed bemused, and Callath reckoned the rising lump on the side of his forehead could hardly be helping with the boy's thinking. "Telson has a-" Something about the concentrated expression on the two older boys' faces must have finally sent things clicking into place, and he rallied, as if just remembering. "-a bay mare, doesn't he?"

Callath grinned at the pun and gave an almost inperceptible wink. "Sounds about right. Still, I just need to get her settled in and run her on a lead rein around the paddock for a wee while - I reckon I should probably be done by," he paused, thinking on how long it would take to get to Telson, "say, noon? I'll have to send someone round to tell him when the mare'll be ready; he said he wanted to be informed about it."

Devon was with it properly now. "Aye, sounds about right. What about Dora...n's horse?"

"It might take a while to properly break him, but I have no doubt I can do it in the end." Callath grinned, smiling at the hidden message in his words.

[maikafanawen]

"Then I guess I should be getting on up to Pearlle's classroom," said the scholar, standing and rubbing absently at his throbbing temples.

"Yes, and me to my duties," said the attaché, "Callath?" The stable-hand nodded and saluted his friends farewell as the oldest and youngest made their way to the embassy and Callath with them for a short while until he turned down a forked lane to the city's stables.


Corac stood abruptly and followed them, snapping his fingers once and gesturing to the shadows on either side of the street. Three commonplace sailors stepped honestly into the street, taking care not to make eye contact and browsing the kiosks uninterestedly. Their steps carried them after the trio though and Corac, sticking to the shadows, followed. When the stable-hand boy took his path, the blue-clad sailor followed, leaving the three to trail the other two.

Once the two young men entered the embassy, where the stalkers could not pursue, Corac walked casually by each one informing them to stay around and watch for them to exit in order for them to pick up their job. He, however, slunk back into the shadows and managed to sneak around back to a kitchen-alley entrance and make his way inside.


The classroom was stuffier than Devon remembered it and Pearlle's voice seemed to drone on, agitating the ceaseless pounding that hammered in the student's head. He continued to blink and squint his eyes as the vision of his fat tutor wavered and swam before him. He wasn't really concentrating on anything the man was saying anyways. He was trying to figure out how he was going to go about finding a ship, a crew and a captain in time to meet Doran in a week. He figured that the best thing to do would be to start with finding a captain. Then he could rely on his help and advice on ship-buying and crew-hiring. But what about all the technical parts such as navigation and repairs? Devon groaned with the tremendous burden and rubbed again at his forehead.

"Master Devon?" Pearlle inquired nervously, "Are you feeling ill?" At that moment a large rock was thrown into the room, smashing the glass and pane of the window. The two occupants dove out of the way and listened as the mob of corsair protestors scattered as the guards gave chase. The tutor stood in a huff, and steaming he waddled over to the window and leaned out to see what was afoot. He shook his fist and shouted back at the pirates as they ran back into alleys and houses two stories below him. "That's a far toss," he commented, measuring the distance from the street to their window, "they've got good arms."

The fat man maneuvered his way through the mess to where Devon lay and offered him a helping hand up. The student brushed shards of glass from his clothing and allowed Pearlle to assist him in retaking his seat. Then the tutor noticed the lump on his head, partially covered by his askew bangs. He must have paused in his actions, for Devon quickly tried to hide it again.

"Must've hit my head when I fell," he mumbled. Pearlle narrowed his eyes. Twenty years of medical training told him that the lump would not have swelled and turned the bluish color of Devon's in a mere forty or so seconds. Standing slowly, the old man looked down over his hooked nose at his pupil.

"Of course," he said, "do you have any other scratches that need attending to?" His voice gave away his knowing and Devon tried to sneak a glance at the man's face. That was when he got his idea.

"Pearlle," he began, suddenly excited. "What do you know about ship-navigation?" The tutor narrowed his eyes and folded his arms. He could tell that something was weighing very heavily on his student's mind.

"A good bit," he admitted, "Mostly of the stars and the sun's position. It's all you really need to know. Why do you ask young Thrann?" Devon's mind was working as fast as it had been, trying to think of how to attain everything he'd need for the sea-battle. He knew that he should run it by Calnan and Callath first but Pearlle could be a valuable asset as a Navigationalist on one of their ships! And would Pearlle consent to helping them? He shook his head; he needed Calnan's eloquence to help convince the tutor.

"It's kind of complicated though, but I'll be getting back to you on it." That seemed to satisfy the paunchy tutor and the lessons were resumed.


Noon rolled around and Devon was dismissed from his lessons. He stopped by the kitchens for something to eat. He hadn't had any food since the Snifter and Song the previous evening and his stomach churned unsatisfactorily. After scarfing down some thick molasses bread, a whole cheese chunk and a glass of wine, he was going to make his way to the stables when he stopped abruptly. He had forgotten all about the note pinned to his jacket after they'd been discharged from Doran's coach. We are watching. He cursed softly under his breath wondering where his tailgater was and if he should go to the stables with him in pursuit. Then he wondered if Callath or Calnan had men following them too. If there was just one he'd be on Devon's tail, no doubt, being the son of the ambassador.

He stood there for a while wondering what he should do when he decided that there was probably someone listening to their conversation when they had woken on the curb so he knew that Callath worked there all ready. Penning his frustration into the back of his mind, he walked casually out of the embassy grounds and down the street to the stables.


Corac watched his subject leave the grounds and prepared to follow. He glanced around for the other man who was supposed to be following Devon but didn't see him. Shrugging it away he crept along the bushes next to the side of the house.

"Hey!" cried a voice rough and groggy, that of an old man. "Who's there? Devon?" Corac ducked and rolled underneath a shrub as a short old man wearing gardener's clothing appeared from behind a hedge, a pair of clippers in his hands. He looked around for a moment and shrugged, disappearing again behind the wall of bushes. The corsair waited for a moment before coming out again and crawling fast towards the back gate.

When he finally stepped out onto the street he looked either way for Devon but he didn't see him. Suddenly loud shouting and the sound of grappling fists reached Corac and he looked to see the sailor being beat by the guards for being too close to the embassy. He quickly jumped back into shadow and watched as his friend was pulled away to the jail. He fingered the hilts of his throwing knives longingly. He'd had quite enough of this injustice and he swore that Doran had better finish his business. So staying as inconspicuous as possible (his badge hidden beneath the large sleeve of his tunic) he made his way to the Snifter and Song thinking that would be where Devon was headed to meet his friends.


When Devon arrived at the stables he noticed that Callath was not there. He's probably gone to get Telson, he thought, wandering around and looking at the horses.

In one supposed to be empty stall he found a sailor, sprawled on one of the stacks of hay apparently sleeping, the stench of strong ale being around him. About his arm was wrapped a canvas band with a large red 'C' painted on it. Curious, Devon opened the door to the stall farther meaning to go in. When he did a bucket secured to the rafters above shifted and toppled swaying in the air where Devon's head would have been had he entered. Pushing the pail aside, the young man knelt next to the man and checked his head for bumps. His fingers brushed a rather large one swelling just on the left side of his head. He chuckled faintly. Obviously Callath had discovered his own follower.

Devon threw a glance over his shoulder and wondered where his was (or 'were' if he himself had more than one). Then he draped a blanket around the man and pushed him under the pile of hay. For one who didn't know he was there it would not be too noticeable.

Then he stood and walked out of the stall, closing the door behind him. Walking out to the pasture ring, he watched the other horses graze as he waited for Callath's return.

[Arien]

SAVE: For GOTO's post.

[Arien]

Acacia tied the reins delicately around the door of the barn, and then followed Jurex into the inn. Like any at this time the Inn was full, perfect for a meeting. She followed him in, glancing around for any sign of this associate Jythralo had told her of. Acacia glanced over a few drunken sailors, guards, a young woman…Her eyes flicked back to the woman. Her black hair covered her face, and her chin rested lightly on her hand. She was staring out of the window; Acacia grabbed Jurex on the shoulder and nodded towards her.

“That’s her, its got to be….” Acacia whispered.

“Yeah, ok.” He manoeuvred the various tables towards the one where the woman sat. Acacia followed, eyeing the drunken glances as she walked past. Jurex placed his hand on her shoulder and she glanced up in slight shock. Acacia slid into the chair opposite her and Jurex into the one beside.

“We are the associates,” she nodded and so Acacia continued, “I am Acacia Ratan, and this is Jurex. He will be leading the …..er……’events’.” The woman nodded. “And you are?”

“Hessa, Taiel.”

“Ok Hessa, has he briefed you yet?” Acacia enquired.

“No, not as yet. Only to meet you here. Which I have done.”

“Hmm, yes. Well I might as well brief you now. We are, as you know, to lead an assault on Bassington’s estate. This will hopefully prove easy,” her eyes flickered to wards Hessa “ and useful to us. We take Bassington and his staff captive. We leave the women, servants and children alone. We don’t harm them; there is no need to. The Guards are to be killed.”

Jurex nodded, “And…?”

“And the plunder?” He nodded, “Take any and all for yourselves.”

Jurex smiled, “So the attack. Best to do at night.”

“Of course.” Acacia replied. She looked toward Hessa who was listening intently.

“But where to attack from?” He turned to wards Hessa.

“You have the keys? Yes? Well midnight is the best time. The guard changes then and there are only six. Two stationed at the front entrance, two on the grounds and two at the back.”

“They should be easy to get rid of.” Jurex nodded.

“The servants will be sleeping in the lower quarters. But Bassington is usually up at this time taking care of one thing or another. With his staff of course. If they are not in the office then they will be in the upper quarters.”

“Ok good, it sound easier than I thought.”

“Yes but be careful Jurex.” Acacia nodded and rose from her seat.

“Leaving already?”

“Yes I am afraid I must go, I have briefed you and I leave it in your capable hands Jurex to carry out the assault accordingly. Hessa, farewell. Perhaps we may meet again.”

“Yes, perhaps.” Acacia smiled and headed towards the door. It was all going to plan now.

[Himaran]

As Acacia left, Jurex looked back at Hessa. "I have a map here showing all entrances to his mansion. There's a sewer pipe which travels under the estate, with a trap door leading into the basement. All you have to do is unlock the basement door and stay there; while we handle the assault. Tomorrow, midnight." Turning, the corsairs exited the inn, leaving the girl pondering if her decision had been a wise one.
___________________________________________

The day passed, and night fell quickly. Jurex and his small band entered the sewers and began the short trek through the stench filled pipeline. Enduring the passage in stoic silence, the corsair located the trapdoor and flipped it open without difficulty. Climbing the rickity ladder, he crawled up into the basement of Bassington's mansion.

Once the entire assault force had exited the sewers, Jurex ordered them to wait behind a group of crates. He alone moved forward to the door, and waited for Hessa to arrive. She was not long in arriving, and unlocked the door, glancing into the darkness. She jumped slightly when Jurex hissed at her; "Geddown here quick! And stay put."

The corsairs entered the house quietly, heading toward the main door. Two guards were felled by Jurex's masterful knifework, and he ordered three of his men to keep watch on the area.

Dispatching with the guard on the stairwell, Jurex continued the mission in perfect soon he arrived at the bedroom section, and dispatched his remaining men to kidnap the the family.

Now alone, the corsair hurried to Bassington's office. Using the keys he had taken from Hessa, Jurex entered the room and locked the door behind him. Ignoring the lavish furnishings, the man hurried to the desk, unlocking it. Reams of legal documents, notices and private correspondences lay before him. Stuffing them into a nearby sack, the man turned to the chest on the floor. The key fell into place, the lock turned, and the door fell open. Gold, hundreds of pieces shown brilliantly in the lamplight. The corsair grinned widely. A succesful mission, and a profitable one, to say the least.

[Arvedui III]

It was amazing how items men can create, made with care and infused with heart, that were now cast aside, transforming them into simple junk.

And junk it was, rank, sickening, gritty junk at that, that Telson was now reclining against, trying valiantly to fight a nausea welling up in the pit of his stomach. As ever, noisy, frenzied crowds milled in the streets about him and the pile of debris he sat on, a courtesy to a corsair family from local Gondorian loyalists. More than any rubble or corsair, the fact that men had destroyed a home in the name of Gondor disgusted him. So now with all his might Telson tried to descry through the crowd the four people he wanted to speak with most acutely.

For all their wonderful planning, Telson had not told Thrann the younger and his friends where to find him, nor had they disclosed their whereabouts to him.

Still unable to comprehend his short-sightedness on the matter of his four young allies, Telson was vainly attempting to devise the best way to find them. Another foray into the embassy would not be wise, as he was a marked man there, he knew that one of them, Callath maybe, worked in a stable, but there were tens of stables in Umbar, (He had counted them) and the highborn girl must live somewhere, but then, if he knew where he wouldn't be thinking about it on a smoking pile of wreckage.

Quite suddenly, a yelp like a frightened dog caught Telson's attention, jerking his head almost violently to face the busy street, his hand straying instinctively to the hilt of his sword. The sight his eyes met couldn't help but provoke a smile. Running toward him and waving in an ungainly manner was the stablehand, Callath, who looked as though he had just finished a good night's work at a bar. However, the sight of him wasn't nearly as amusing as the sound of him. For, he seemed to be suffering under the delusion that Telson had twelve or so different names or else was constantly getting it wrong. "Mr. Telenion" He called, then blushed and murmured loud enough for Telson to hear, " No, that's no it, uh, Mr. Enson! Wait, no. Sorry, uh," As Callath drew eye level him he heaved a sigh and looked up imploringly at him. "Sir, sir I'm so sorry. It's your horse, sir."

What horse?

As Telson tried to ponder this new mystery or wether the boy was just drunk, Callath's face morphed into the picture of humble apology, save for his eyes, which burned with an intensity he had never seen there before, as though they were desperately trying to convey his mind into Telson's own. He smiled inwardly, for the boy was as good an actor as one could wish. As excruciatingly difficult as it was to not burst out in laughter, he gave Callath his best frown and said in an annoyed-yet-imperious voice, "What is it, dullard boy?" Winking as he did so. "You had best come with me, sir." The stablehand answered gravely, and beaconed him into the throng.

Once they were safely engulfed in the crowd and noise, Telson broke into a smile and whispered, "Well done. I enjoyed the performance, but why is it necessary that we speak in code?" "Tails." Callath muttered vaguely, and Telson glanced nervously backwards."Then we should get out of sight, now." He hissed pointedly. "Stables, sir. Not too far to go." Callath voiced loud enough for those around them to hear. "They're far enough. Come with me boy, I detest surprises." Telson yelled back, and prodded Callath in the back until both of them were behind a shed and well out of sight. "Now," Telson said quietly, "What has occurred that would make someone tail you? And on who's orders?"

Callath sighed and began to say in a quick whisper, "Telson, last night, we were coming home from the inn for the night, and got into a carriage and they knocked us out. We woke up at Doran's." "Jytharo Doran?" Telson felt the need to clarify this, simply because if Doran had held them at any one time, then Callath had no right to be alive and talking with him now. "Yes, the same. Anyway, he, he made a deal with us. He wants to meet us on the sea to fight for Umbar. If he wins, Umbar's his. He told us to get a captains and crews and catapults and as many ships as we can or we forfeit Umbar to him. If we win, he and all those who think like him will leave. But I don't see how that's going to happen. And Telson, he released Devon and Calnan and I, but he kept Adeline. She's gone." He concluded in a forlorn, kind of shocked whisper.

The first thought after hearing all this was that either Doran was mad or had the most skewered sense of humor ever to be possessed by man, which was an affront because Telson thought that honor had always belonged to him. Why would he give them, no, us a chance, albeit it holds the same chance of me becoming the queen of Mordor? Because he thinks to play us cruelly before he strikes to kill? No. Because he needs someone, anyone to fight? No. Is this a corsair version of honor? Maybe.

"Well," Telson sighed, standing up. "That is news, but not unexpected in it's nature. And now we have a plan from which to work against, so perhaps it's better this way." "Right," Callath said derisively. "It's perfect. We put to sea, if, and only if we can find the means to do that, and then we face Doran's well armed fleet, while he has hold of Adeline. Splendid."

"Were the odds any better on land?" Telson said and smiled.

Callath shrugged and smiled back, then said loudly, "Come then sir, to the stables and I'm dreadfully sorry about this, sir."

" Lead on, my lad." Telson replied, and followed him back into the street, his mind groping to form a approach to this whole bothersome business of quelling rebellion.

[Himaran]

When Jurex returned to the rest of his group downstairs in the mansion, he found Bassington and his household bound and gagged in their custody. He chuckled at the look of horror in the eyes of the children as they watched the dead guards dragged into the basement, blood dripping from fatal wounds to the neck. Yes, little children, your nightmare will only get worse.

Suddenly a door was heard creaking open in the upper floor of the house. Jurex waved for his party to retreat into the basement, and to evacuate the prisoners into the sewers below; while he investigated the noise. It was a servant, heading downstairs for some unknown reason. Grasping a cudgel, the seasoned corsair waited until the footsteps were nearly to the bottom before leaping out and swinging the stout weapon with as much force as he could muster. The man crumpled to the ground.

Leaving his victim lying unconcious on the ground, Jurex hurried into the basement and locked the door behind him. Just then, Hessa stepped out from behind a row of boxes. "What about me?"

The man turned to her, making his decision swiftly. "You'll be coming with us."

The girl looked troubled. "But what about my mother? She needs me to-"

"Into the sewers - NOW!"

Knowing that she had no choice, the Hessa climbed into the dark tunnels, regretting more with every passing moment her decision to aid the corsairs.

___________________________________________

Within the hour, the prisoners had been safely smuggled to Jythralo's modest residence, where they were lead into the small underground dungeon and placed under heavy guard. Hessa was allowed to remain free, but was told that she could not leave the house under any circumstances. The gold which Jurex had discovered was quickly distributed among his band, but the documents were given to Jythralo, who stayed up late into the new day examining them.

Jurex and Acacia, of course, recieved a bonus.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:13 PM January 30, 2004: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Callath grinned at Telson, beginning to take a liking to him. When the older man using the irritatingly arrogant tone of voice, he followed it up with a wink that was barely a flicker of an eyelid; unlike most who Callath came across using that tone, it wasn’t his actual voice. Callath snuck a look back the way they had come to see whether their followers were still coming. Telson looked at his sharply.

“How are w– I mean, how is…my horse?” Telson asked the stable boy, a trace of bemusèdness in his voice.

“Your horse…Pirate…has kept acting up since you left her in,” Callath said, the noise of the crowd forcing him to raise his voice and therefore ‘speak in code’. “If we manage to pull it off, I don’t think we should have any problems with her tail any more.”

Despite the fact that to anyone who had ever even encountered a horse this would be completely nonsensical, the message was conveyed, and Telson shot Callath a questioningly look, one eyebrow raised, but was unable to say anything as the youth darted forward into a gap that had just opened in the group, grabbing Telson’s wrist and pulling him through into the street leading off from the surging central square, effectively leaving their pursuers behind for good. Callath picked up his pace, knowing Devon would probably already be there, and Telson kept up easily.

As they came into the square in front of the stables, Callath straightened his cuffs absentmindedly, looking back for Telson and giving him a small, polite smile, every bit the part of the anxious stable boy rather than the stable boy surreptitiously scanning the yard, paddock and near field for any sign of Garth – or of their pursuers. As he put his hand on the door latch, Telson cleared his throat slightly and Callath turned, expecting bad news. But the man just grinned, raising his eyebrows once more.

“Pirate?” he said quietly. Callath grinned back, pulling open the door and stepping into the peaceful musk of the stable block. Looking down the centre, he tensed suddenly as he saw a figure going into a stable – before it ducked suddenly and a surprised head backed out as the bucket swung over it, with an expression Callath would treasure.

“Alright there, Master Thrann?” he called softly, advancing towards his friend. “I see you found my earlier visitor then.”

“You nearly took m’head off!” The Ambassador’s son replied accusingly. Callath just winked, popper his own head in to check that his’ visitor’ was still sleeping soundly, apparently knocked out on the alcohol whose stench hung around him clothes – as, of course, Callath had meant it to when he had soaked the man’s back in it; it wouldn’t be seen as he was lying there that there was a tell-tale damp patch, but it was certainly smelt. He reached up to the bucket to secure it when he heard a sound from outside, a familiar man’s voice calling orders to another. Telson immediately tensed, a hand flying his belt, but Callath shook his head urgently. “Garth,” he mouthed to Devon who, understanding, beckoned Telson to come closer so they looked less randomly sprawled around. Undoing the bucket quickly, Callath stepped back out of the stall as Garth entered and turned to look at the stable-master as he entered, with the air of having been half-way through something. Smiling politely, he gestured towards Garth, explaining to Devon and Telson, “This is horse-master Garth – he is in charge of Umbar stables.”

The stocky stable master swelled slightly more with pride and took in his visitors, smiling widely when he saw Devon, whom he recognised, and even more so when he saw that the youth had an older companion – more business.

“Good day, Callath. And you, Mr Thrann, Mr…?” he left a space inquiringly.

“Sontel. My name is Sontel.” Telson’s acting was as good as Callath’s own as he achieved a mild composure, smiling absently at Garth as he looked around the stables. Garth nodded. “Mr Sontel. Can I help you?”

“Actually, this young man was helping me with a few inquiries – a few years ago I put my horse, Pirate, in livery here, and I intended to place him here again, under your able care.” He smiled mildly. Garth nodded once more, then turned his gaze to Callath, where it settled on his forehead. “Excuse me gentlemen, I just need to talk to Callath.” As he was drawn aside with a sinking feeling, Callath touched his forelock over-ingratiatingly to his visitors then turned politely to the stable master.

“Horse master Garth-?”
“What is that on your forehead?” The man referred to the moderately long cut slanting into his parting from Doran’s thugs.

“I was kicked by a horse, sir – just a glancing blow,” came the automatic retort. Garth eyes him suspciciosuly, but Callath had just seen his perfect chance. He coughed, turning his head sidewards as he did so, so he was facing the stall with the stricken man inside, and when he opened his eyes, he allowed them to widen as he gasped.

“Good gri….Horse master, look at that!” He swung open the stable door slightly more to reveal to the horse master, ut not quite to the ‘visitors’ the ‘drunk’ corsair inside, flat on his back and reeking of ale, just as was planned…

[maikafanawen]

After the horse master summoned the law enforcement and had the corsair taken from the trough to the jail, Garth returned to business about the left stables and Devon, Telson, Callath, and Calnan held their discussion in the right stables' tack room.

Devon sat on the floor, his back leaning up against the wall, his mind wandering. Everything had gone wrong and it had only taken around two weeks to do so. Umbar was going to the dogs and the only people who could really stop it were leagues away in Minas Tirith or the navy in Dol Amroth. And it was up to them to either stall Doran and his posse or stop them if possible.

And what's worse is that they had to do exactly what Doran said in order to protect Adeline who was at the mercy of the corsair captain. Which drove Devon completely rigid with fury; it wasn't fair at all, no matter what Doran tried to tell him. The captain had the upper hand far more than it was equal. Devon and his friends were going to get slaughtered.

"I haven't any idea as to where to begin," Devon said to no one in particular. From the looks of everyone else's faces, neither did they. Telson was still trying to piece things together and look for a weakness in Doran's plans but none was to be found.

"I bet that if we can even find a captain, he could probably help us out a good bit with everything else we're going to need," Callath offered.

"Do we know how many ships Doran's got?" Calnan asked.

Devon shook his head. "I know of one," he said, "The Rapscallion, that wasn't to be found after he was arrested the last time. He claimed that it was taken in a storm but...I bet he's got it somewhere. He could have as many as five to a dozen for all we know."

"Allies?" Telson asked. "Are there any other notorious corsairs around here that would have ships of their own for Doran's deployment?"

"Oh sure," said Devon, "There's Stalkin, Feray, and Drovig for starters."

Callath groaned, "We can almost certainly count on them to help Doran out."

"Which are their ships?" Telson asked.

Devon furrowed his brow in thought. "I think Feray is captain of the Regal Dawn, and Drovig commands the Might of Realge."

"And Stalkin?"

Devon exchanged looks with his friends, Callath shrugged and Calnan nodded. "Well, story is that his ship is called the Yonder Bound and is three times as big as any ship except for maybe Doran's. I've only heard of it though, I've never seen it."

"Well lets not cast it to myth too fast," Telson decided. "If there is such a ship, I'd like to think we'd be at least expecting it. If not, we're no worse off." Devon nodded.

"Now what of captains that we could consider as our allies. Can you think of any?"

"There are some merchant ships here in port," Calnan said. "And there must've been captains to bring them in from Gondor."

Telson shifted his position and leaned forward, "I'm worried though that we'd find either a weak hearted captain or a non-committal one. I'm wondering if we could get our hands on a veteran. Someone who has had experienced and is hardened from his own battle scars. One who knows the waters around here. And even who has sailed against the corsairs. Maybe even Doran himself?"

Devon's mind shuffled through his memories, trying to put a name and face to the man Telson had described. He was sure he knew of someone. Someone he'd heard stories of when he was younger. The man was a corsair but he'd sailed with the Gondorians; he was the best captain among them so he'd heard. But who was it?

"That would be ideal, Telson," Calnan was saying, "but that seems like a rare find. We'd have to go to Dol Amroth for someone like that." But Telson was looking at Devon.

"Do you know of someone Mr. Thrann?" he asked, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Devon looked up quickly then shook his head. "No, I-I don't think so."

The hour was getting late and Devon couldn't be missed any longer from his studies. Calnan seemed to be thinking the same as he checked the dial on the windowsill beside him. "I should be getting back soon."

"Let's meet again then tonight," Callath suggested, "at the Snifter and Song."

Calnan nodded. "I don't see why not. We couldn't be any more stuck than we are now." The others agreed and parted, planning on dinner that night.

[Earendil Halfelven]

Jythralo sighed as he lay the last of the documents down on his desk. Everything was going according to plan. Bassington was his prisoner, he had Adeline safely stowed away, and Devon, Callath, and Calnan were rushing to find a ship to do battle on the high seas.

"What to do with Bassington's family?" he wondered aloud. He planned on taking Bassington along but what about the rest of the family. The children...he should just leave them here under strict guard. Yes, the women and children would stay, while Bassington came along. He had himself another prisoner, just in case, by some miracle, he were to lose.

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter,"he said.

A weather-beaten man entered, in a diverse assortment of clothes and a black cloak. He carried a scimitar at his side. The man smiled.

"Doran."

"Captain Kamir. I assume your men had landed?"

"Yes, sir. I have four ships in the harbor, and all 1,000 corsair soldiers have disembarked and are entering the city. My men and I thought this was only a dream, but it seems that dreams do come true."

"Your men can have the barracks...after the city guards have been killed. I think your men deserve some action after their long trip."

"Aye, that they do, Doran." Kamir's grin grew even bigger.

"Here are your orders for the defense of the city should Gondor arrive. Only destroy military targets and those that take arms against us. Spare the hospitals and innocent people. Don't do anything that will inspire a rebellion against the new corsair government. And after you've taken control, make sure you make it well known that I was behind this. With that knowledge spreading throughout the city, the corsairs that have doubted me will rally to our cause and bolster your forces."

"And where will you be?" Kamir said.

"Acacia, Jurex, and I will be heading out to sea to finish some business with my main opponent. After that, we'll return and help with the city."

Kamir nodded and left. The sounds of battle from the city were already ringing in the night air. Jurex made ready to leave when there was another knock at his door, this one softer than usual.

"Enter."

It was Hessa. She seemed timid and afraid.

"Yes?" Doran asked.

"Captain Doran, sir, I was just wondering..." Hessa began but Doran interrupted.

"If its about your mother, you can rest assured Miss Hessa. I've taken the liberty of having your mother placed in one of the nicest hospitals in the city. Her stay is fully paid for, and when you return home after our little adventure, you should find that there are a few chests of gold waiting for you. I reward those loyal to me well." Doran smiled. "Don't worry. Your mother is in good hands. In fact," he drew a letter from a drawer in his desk. "I have a letter for you that I was going to give you." He handed it to her. "You will find that your mother is doing very well and is expected to fully recover."

Hessa took the letter gently. Doran could see tears glisten in the corners of her eyes.

"Thank you," was all Hessa could get out.

"Come young lady. Let us take to sea. Have you ever raided any coastal towns?" he asked as he ushered her out of the room.

"Raided...towns?" she asked. That scared look came back into her eyes.

"I'm just teasing. You won't be raiding any towns. But Jurex, Acacia, and I need to make some stops while we wait for our enemies." Doran smiled as he thought about the fun he would be having tomorrow while raiding towns and other ships he came across.

In the main lobby, Acacia and Jurex sat waiting.

Doran stopped suddenly. "Do you hear that?"

Acacia and Jurex jumped to their feet and drew their swords.
"What?" they both asked.

Doran smiled. "The sea is calling."

[Durelin]

The shuffling of feet, seemingly attempting to be quiet, finally became a sound separate from her dreaming. Adeline groaned, and the shuffling stopped. She opened her eyes, the light of a sun still high in the sky but long risen stinging them. She blinked several times, then rolled over onto her back. She sat up to find herself staring at a short, round little man in livery. He was one of the shortest men she had ever seen, as she could tell just by looking at him that he was even shorter than her. "Good morning, m'lady," the serving-man murmured, and then he held up a shining covered tray. Glancing around the room, she realized that the tray probably was made of silver. A rich variety of tapestries covered clean white walls that practically shone. A hunting scene, a glowing battlefield of victory, an exotic cat running through tall grasses. A room much less pleasant than the one she had been forced to leave. Not that it was not as rich; it was just much colder. Plus, it had been furnished for a man, she was sure. The furniture was of large cut wood, dark and bulky and square, favoring straight edges and linear designs. Even the sheets were of a dark green silk and velvet. She assumed a man would prefer that to white or pastel blue or pink, at least.

Coming back to the serving man before her, she nodded, thanking him. As he turned to leave, she called to him around a mouthful of a very lovely spice cake of some kind. "Oh! Could you see if some new sheets could be found? Something white, or yellow, or maybe pink, perhaps?" The man gave her a sour look before answering with an "I'll do what I can" in an even more unpleasant voice. She snorted loudly, just as he closed the door, unfortunately. Luckily the rest of the breakfast was as good as the spice cake, or she would never have gotten up and dressed. This was only her second day being a hostage, and she had decided that it was not as bad as she had dreamed. Actually, she realized just how fortunate she was that this man was at least a gentleman, to a certain extent. Adeline turned to look at herself in the mirror, hoping that the pale blue was not too revealing. She turned to find herself facing a stark white wall and a large spotted wild cat and long green grass, blowing in the wind. She sighed. That was about where her large pewter stand mirror had been in her own at home.

A long, twisting flight of stairs led her down to the second floor, a hallway even longer than the stairs leading to it with doors at the end that led to a beautiful garden on the roof of the level below. On the roof! It had been a shock enough to find that this house was three floors, but…a garden on the roof? And she hadn't believed that it was possible to make part of a house a different size than another. Adeline no longer felt she had lived as fortunately as she could have. But, then, she wondered how this man had obtained this wealth. Perhaps some had been inherited, perhaps some had been earned through the honest business of trade, but Adeline was fairly sure that there had always been some not so honest business going on. Now it may be much more obvious, but it seemed that he had been forced to bring some of this out in the open. It seemed that Devon and Calnan had been the force that pushed some things into the open. They themselves, at least, knew that Doran had things that needed to be hidden. Why they should be bothered about this, why knowledge of these unlawful doings was so important to them that they would risk her safety!

Walking through those large wood doors to a cool breeze under a warming sun, with a blue sky the background to the bright and pale colors of an array of flowers, was calming. The trees swayed in the wind, and a fountain trickled in the center of the gardens, where the stone garden paths all met. Her eyes came to a thriving patch of lilies, her favorite flower, and she thought of Devon, and Calnan; of Devon, mostly. Why would they need to worry about Doran? But more important, she realized, was the fact that Doran was worried about Devon and Calnan. For some reason, they were seen as trouble, and that put them in danger. You did not trouble a man like Doran without your own troubles.

Adeline heard the doors open behind her, and, to her surprise, the footsteps continued towards her. She turned to find the man she had been thinking of coming toward her. Not the man she had been thinking of fondly, of course. Her luck had never been good enough for that. "Good morning, Master Doran."

"Good morning, my lady? It is nearly midday."

"But it is not, yet, is it?"

"No."

"Then is wish you again a good morning."

Doran smiled at her, and she wanted to shiver. "A good morning to you, also, Lady Adeline." He flourished a bow, and she simply acknowledged it with a nod of her head. He was a gentleman from his toes to his fingertips. He rose from his bow only to stoop again, this time to pick a flower from his garden. He presented her with a white lily. "Thank you, Master Doran," she said. Turning to stare at the clear sky and swaying trees, turning away from Doran, she examined her lily and smiled sourly.

[maikafanawen]

Corac was cursing violently in the shadows outside the Snifter and Song. Indeed Devon had not come this way. Certainly then, where would he have gone!? Some other inn? Most likely, it was noon after all. Or maybe the stables to meet his friend Callath. It seemed reasonable. Even though they probably didn't make such a chore of meeting each other for lunch everyday, during this time of dire circumstance, Devon would surely go to his friends.

The tail moved out of his place then and onto the street. He takes an alley and blends in well with its dark occupants and is off to the stables. He arrives just as the others are leaving and he stamps his foot in exasperation. He hadn't a clue of what they've said. Information Doran would probably be curious for. Corac lets it go and tails Devon back to the embassy. But as he looked around the stables before leaving, he saw no sign of Wilsard, Callath's tail.


Later that evening, Corac was waiting for Devon who exited the embassy and this time made way for his pub of choice. The corsair finished off the jerky he was chewing and followed inconspicuously.

* * *

The Snifter and Song kept its business well amidst the helter skelter of the goings on in Umbar. There were less nobles to be sure and more new attendees, but their purses were heavy so Mr. Rheels greeted them warmly. Devon entered and hung his sword up on a peg near the door, following the no weapons policy most of the high inns enforced. Then he took a seat at one of the square booths hugging the farther most wall to wait for his friends.

The musician in the corner plucked away at a guitar, his rich voice stringing chords of somber notes together into a dismal ballad of treason and forbidden love. Devon's head hung low over his folded hands on the table as the music filled the room. Scattered talk drifted his way and he learned of the dangers of economic collapse for Umbar. Traders from the South were unwilling to stop here to transfer their goods so they spent the extra leagues it took to get to Dol Amroth or Harlond. The merchants had all but stopped anchoring in the southern-most Gondorian city.

"An ale then Mr. Thrann?" a thin, young waitress asked. Devon nodded without looking at her and she moved through to the bar to get his drink. She was back in a minute and he gave her the 10 and 5 cp piece for his drink. His mind was so absorbed in dread that he hadn't even thought to tip her. But when the girl didn't move the young man remembered and gave her a couple of single copper pennies. She stuffed them in the pocket on her apron and went away without so much as a slight curtsy.

"I'll not tell you again, Mr. Avershire." Rheels's voice was raised over the music and chatter. Devon turned to see. The pub keeper was talking to a man who had just entered. He had the coloring of a corsair and he wore a rich-looking captain's coat, a crisp white shirt and-- A captain's coat! At his side stood probably one of the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She had sin-dark hair that was curled and wrapped into a half-bun at the back of her head. The rest fell down to her waist and complimented the black embroidery on her plain but elegant looking fuchsia dress. Her face was taught and her hand was rigid where it rested in the crook of her escort's elbow.

"He want to see Captain Doran this morning," she said evenly. "He gave him his pardon and said that he would see to it that he's not bothered. Mentioned something about a list I believe, didn't he love?" She looked up into the stormy eyes of the man called Avershire who nodded. "And he gave you a form, didn't he?"

"That he did, Meri. Hopefully kind Mr. Rheels here will comply after he takes a look over it." He reached into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out a piece of paper folded in fourths. Devon choked. There was no way Mr. Rheels was able to read whatever it said. He was proven right when he saw the blank look on the keeper's face as he looked over the letter. The ambassador's son got up and walked casually over to where the three stood and bowed.

"Allow me Mr. Rheels." Devon extended his hand and the man gratefully handed the paper to him. Devon read it aloud. "It reads: 'I, Captain Jythralo Doran, Council member to the Umbarian under Gondorian Government, hereby grant waiver to Captain Kent Avershire for the newest laws against the Corsair Peoples and assert that he be treated as a Gondorian Citizen and permitted the rights and privileges thereof in his retirement from service to the Gondorian Navy.' and is signed 'Captain Jythralo Doran.'" Devon did well to veil his disappointment and hand the letter back to Rheels. Avershire smiled mock-graciously to Devon and tipped the corner of his hat forward.

"All right then Captain, take a table for you and your lady and I'll send someone out to serve ye."

"Thank you sir," the captain said sincerely, "I do appreciate it." And as though there had been no problem and no tempers had been tested, Avershire seated Meri and then himself and the two were immediately engrossed in common discussion of the pleasantries of each other's day.

That's when Calnan and Callath walked in, and to Devon's surprise, so did Telson. But of course Telson would have come. He beckoned them to his table where he'd abandoned his mug of ale and they took a seat, ordering once the same scrawny waitress appeared again.

The talk was scarce but this gave Devon time to think. Mr. Rheels had addressed the man as Captain Kent Avershire. Captain... And retired from his services to the Gondorian Navy... So here was a man, a retired Naval Captain sitting a few tables away, enjoying a meal with his woman. Devon had to do something. So he quickly told his friends what had happened just before they arrived and who the man was. Recognition was apparent on Telson's face when Devon spoke the man's name. The dark Gondorian looked past the young man and blinked. His mouth formed silently words that Devon couldn't catch.

"You know of him?" he asked.

He nodded. "Indeed. He was a great naval captain during and after the War of the Ring. His help in purging the seas of pirates was invaluable and his loyalty to Gondor surpasses many nobles today."

"Sort of young to be retired isn't he?" Callath noted. Telson nodded again slowly.

"He was dismissed. Someone who didn't care much for his excelling in the sea business unveiled his corsair infested past and handed him over to the law. Unfortunately, the evidence was so heavy, the council members who held trial for him could do nothing to keep him in the navy. Most of his medals traded in saved him from imprisonment, and his oath from exile, but Avershire was dismissed from his captaincy aboard naval ships and instead of finding other work, he decided to retire. So he relocated himself here." They were all throwing random looks over their shoulders to the broad-shouldered man laughing with his dark haired woman.

"What about her?" Callath asked. "She's no corsair."

"His first mate," Calnan said. They all looked at him in surprise. "I've just remembered. In my education I learned much about politics, law and the methodology of trials. One that we studied was Avershire's case. His woman is named Meri, she's his first mate." They were quiet for a moment and then Devon spoke.

"So how do we ask him if he'll help us." Callath looked at him as though he was crazy.

"The man is of corsair lineage, retired with his woman, he was given a bloody pardon by Doran, what makes you think he's going to get back into this mess?" But Devon was remembering stories from his childhood of captains, their ship, and the sea. It was completely their life and no sort of retirement or new life would let them forget. No, Devon was sure, that if Avershire was the sort of captain Telson talked about, the man would give his right arm to commandeer a ship yet again.

"He will if given the chance," the ambassador's son says determinedly.

"So go ask him," Callath says sarcastically. "'Excuse me, my name is Devon Thrann and Captain Doran has more or less taken over control of Umbar and is plotting a revolt of great complexity and size and the only chance to stop it is if I can get a captain, ship and crew together by the end of the week and I was wondering if you're up for the job. Oh yeah, and I can't pay you a single bloody cent, don't have a ship, don't have a crew, and the chances are we're all going to die!" Devon sat staring hopelessly at Callath who shook his head. "Sorry mate," he said, "but things look pretty dank on this end." Devon nodded and looked at both Telson and Calnan in turn.

"I'm going give it a go. Wish me luck." He stands, fingering his money pouch and looking in Avershire's direction.

"Wait," Calnan says touching his wrist. "What are you going to say?" Devon smiled.

"I think Callath summed it about up." He winked and walked over to Avershire's table, bowing politely to Meri and introducing himself to Avershire. His friends heard him offer to buy the two 'retired' seafarers both a drink and they accept, inviting him a chair at the table. In no time they are talking smoothly and their words are drowned out as the musician begins a new ballad, even more depressing than the first but twice as loud.

* * *

"Avershire, you are getting in way over you head," Meri says as they arrive back home. The captain hangs up his woman's coat and keeps his own. Then he turns her to face him, his hands on her shoulders.

"We're going to sail again, love!" His eyes are so alive and bright with excitement that Meri realizes he hasn't heard a thing she's said. He will go back out no matter what she says or does.

"But, Kent! We have to find the whole crew, the ship and everything! There's not even any money involved!" Avershire laughs.

"Love, if we take down Doran and present him to the Gondorian Government in Minas Tirith, I have no doubts that we'll be paid handsomely for it and we'll be having all sorts of servants waiting on us until we're so old all we can do is open our mouths as they secure the straw to our whiskies!" He smiles and spins her around the kitchen. But Meri is stunned. Did he say old? She blinks and sits down at the table. Did he say that they we're going to grow old together? He's never mentioned that before. He must just be excited. She waves the thought away and stands, walking into the living room where she lights an oil lamp and sets the wood on the grate for a fire. Avershire follows her in, his eyes unfocused. Meri laughs herself for she knows that he will not be seeing much of anything for a while except the open sea in front of him, no matter where they end up. They'll be back on the ocean again even if this means the end of them.

* * *

"Read them out to me, Meri," Avershire says. He is standing at the rail of a beachside bar, cradling a glass of whiskey in one hand as he looks out over the street to the harbor. Both of them are garbed in sea-faring clothes and Loliway looks tough as nails with her hair free down her back and a red sash tied around her low-cut, billowy, white cotton shirt. Her booted feet are propped up on a second chair and she is holding a list of names before her of the men they'd gotten so far for their voyage. She calls them out to him one at a time. They've thirty-nine so far. Thirty-nine to command a seventy man ship. And that's if they even got the old sloop. It was in need of repairs when it came in the morning and the captain was so fed up with it that he was carelessly shouted to sell it to the first person who asks for the price of a horse. Avershire had been out 'shopping' that morning for such a price on a boat and turned on his heel withough missing a beat and approached the exasperated owner.

"I'll take her," he announces. The man looks up at him, startled and fumbles around. "But I'll pay you three times as much as a horse to be fair. Say, three gold pieces?" Avershire smiles broadly.

The man tilts his head to the side and considers it. "Ten," he says. Expression unchanging, Avershire offers four. They barter for a while, then Avershire proposes six gold pieces. "Fine," the owner says. "But you get her as it is. I ain't doin' no fixin' to it."

Avershire spreads his hands, palms up, "I understand. So, we have an accord?"

"Aye," and they shake. The two men go to the dock house to sign the papers and Avershire is presented with the log. Then to visit his new ship. After a quick once over he begins to doubt his deal. He employs a quick carpenter and tells him to do whatever he can and he'll be paid 3 silver pennies an hour and considered for hire on his voyage depending on the quality.

After he told Meri, she'd gone to work helping him round up a crew. They contacted everyone, old friends, neighbors, debtors, the jobless, all if they had any sort of experience at sea and enlisted them. They were up to thirty-nine with sixty-one vacancies.

"There's no way we're going to be able to get enough men!" Meri says, tossing the book back on the table. She rubs her eyes with the heels of her palms and looks up at Avershire.

"I should have gotten a damn shipwright as well," he mutters to himself. Meri stands and joins him, swishing the contents of her own tumbler around in the glass.

"You might has well have kept your pennies. We might have done better with horses that mess of a ship."

Avershire grunts and takes a swig. "She'll be just fine," he says, "you'll see."

Meri rolls her eyes. "Hey, what's her name by the way, did you see?"

The man nods. "Her name's the North Wind and her cook said that she's just as fast."

Loliway pauses. "We've got a cook that came with it eh?"

* * *

"It's an 113 ton, 65 ft. sloop, Mr. Telson, with 12 nine-pound catapults and we've got sixty-nine hearty souls aboard, not including you, your friends, and the boy's professor." Avershire watches with a laugh in his eye as Master Pearlle steadies his chubby self on the deck by holding onto the railing and trying not to look at the vastness of the sea. All around the sloop sailors rush securing the lines and reviewing Meri's checklist before they're off. Corac was dispatched an hour ago to tell Doran that they were coming and Devon stood on board, his hand shading his face as he watched the activity of the ship. As a boy he'd always dreamed of such an adventure, but this was not what he'd had in mind and the load he carried was too heavy for him to feel any sort of excitement.

"Avershire, the ship is to be crewed by ninety men. We won't make it two leagues before something's amiss and Doran tears into us!" The captain ignores his words and defends his ability as captain to make the right decision. Finally Telson realized that arguing with such a head strong person was pointless and he returns to help the others get ready for the last stand.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Callath dropped onto a chair and leaned back, regarding Devon with almost incredularity. He held up a finger to speak, opening his mouth, then closed it. Devon simply continued to grin, an aura of total satisfaction around him. Callath grinned himself and leaned forward with his forearms resting loosely on his knees.

"So, lets get this perfectly straight: we just made a deal...with Captain Kent Avershire, a legend in the Gondorian army...to be able to use his ship and a crew of his choice...for...no money?"

Devon continued to grin and nodded once. The stable boy couldn't help laughing out loud at this point, and raised a hand to grab his friends. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "Just...brilliant. Well, plus several wago-loads of luck, a sea-farer's own wish to be back at sea, and plenty of sheer bloody mindedness, but otherwise..."

Devon hit him lightly on the arm. "Hey, it was alright until then!" But the trio of youths couldn't help but grin, half out of amazement that they had actually pulled it off. Telson sat with a look of sort of bemusement on his face, regarding them with a half-smile, although Callath couldn't fathom what the man was thinking.

Still, a celebration was called for; catching the attention of the slim young waitress who Devon had offended earlier, Callath smiled charmingly. "Excuse me, could we have a round of the house's finest beer? We have a certain...cause for celebration."

[maikafanawen]

Meri snapped the stay hard against the canvas and moved quickly out of the way as it came zinging back through the air. Marx grabbed it and tossed it up over his spar to Rilgari who tied it in its place.

"Finish it up there," Meri called, "and then make ways down. I want the catapults finished and racked," she began her descent and as a second thought called up: "And find the two boys Devon and Callath and put 'em to use. The decks can always use a swab over or canvas can be bleached. Have 'em see if the sails need any mending, I'm sure Portie would appreciate it."

* * *

"Sewing?" Devon asked incredulously. Marx smiled and tossed the package of canvas to him.

"Needles and string are in a small pouch folded inside. Don't loose 'em or you'll be poking every hole and be pulling through the string with your teeth." The sailor left the galley, the door banging behind him and swinging. It was one of the only three doors in the ship. The other led to the captain's cabin and the other the armory, built into a wall. The Cook had had it put it specially. He has something with doors...

"You've sewed before, eh Callath?" The stablehand looked amusedly at Devon.

"Horses, Devon. Horses don't wear pants or dresses."

The two boys sat themselves in the bow of the ship and set to work with needles and twine. They worked at first in silence. Then Callath looked over slyly at Devon and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Not...a word," Callath said, raising a finger. Devon agreed.

"So... where's Calnan?" Devon ventured, leaning back into the coil of ropes he sat in as he sewed. "Doing the washing?"

Callath shook his head seriously. "We're far better off than he is." Devon looked at his friend quizzically and the stablehand nodded past him, just aft of the wheel where Stippashin, the helmsman, stood still as stone. Devon raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and smiled as he saw Master Pearlle showing Calnan how to use a sexton. The fat man drew a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his sea coat and dabbed his sweating brow. Devon nodded approvingly.

"We're even then."

* * *

Kent Avershire studied the maps and charts, memorizing the locations of all the shoals, the tiny islands, and marks where maelstroms were said to be. The weather charts were laid before him and he calculated the patterns and looked over the work done by Pearlle. It looked reasonable but the captain never put his trust wholly in figures; the wind told him what he really needed to know.

Avershire looked out the portal window of his cabin at the endless blue. There was a good wind and the white caps foamed and sea sprayed up the sides of the ship and it seeped in, a few drops catching on his face and in the stubble of hair on his chin and the lines of mustache above his lip. He refused to admit that he had indeed copied Devon's little facial hairstyle but, Meri had informed him, it looked more in place on the captain. To the crew it was, undoubtedly, quite foolish on the boy. He sighed and returned to the maps.

"Coffee?" Cook inquired as he came in. Avershire glanced up, 'Oh, yes' and nodded absently. Then Meri came in and sat down at one of the chairs across the desk from him.

"So," she said plainly, spreading her hands on the desk and clicking the heels of her boot on the floor.

"Oh yes, yes I know," Avershire said, his eyes hidden by his lenses. "The Cook is seeing to it. If it comes to worst we can fish." He looked up. "We've nets." Meri nodded, helping herself to a sip of Avershire's coffee.

"You don't drink coffee," she said when he opened his mouth to protest. He stopped in the process of getting a word out and what he said sounded something like 'Hey-oh-quite-so'.

"Well," Meri said again sitting back, stretching out and crossing her legs. Avershire agreed.

"How does she look?" the captain asked, referring to the North Wind. "Is she going to be all right?" The first mate nodded slowly, lacing her fingers together and leaning her elbows on the armrests.

"She shoots like an arrow through the water; in a battle we can run circles around the ships as we fire off our catapults; she'll ride out any storm we hit." There was a short pause and then Meri said with a dreadful sort of finality, "I rehearsed it. I need something to say whenever a man asks that question after a sail falls or the stays fray. Did you know that we've cleaned out a whole box of repair limber all ready?" Avershire cleared his throat and shuffled through the papers in the crate by his desk looking for an overlay of the ship. When he pulled it out Meri laughed anxiously. "It's not that small," she said, more to convince herself.

"Well, if it comes to worst--" Avershire began.

"I'll get the nets." She saluted and left Avershire to his maps and his log.

* * *

Meri shut the door behind her and made her way back up to the deck, passing Cook on her way out. "At least one of us can understand him," she heard him mumble. Smiling (on the inside), Meri mounted the steps into the open, snapping at a sailor she saw leaning against the rail. She inhaled deeply and sighed as the wind seemed to pull the ship in a happy, 'welcome home' way into the blue.

But in the darker crevices of the future where the fate of their journey rested, there were ten ships of full crews and immense power, waiting in confident patience for the North Wind and its half-crew of Gondorian loyalists.

[Earendil Halfelven]

The sound of the sails in flapping in the breeze was comforting to Doran.
There's nothing like the sound of the wind and the surf in the morning, he thought. He was aboard his ship The Rapscallion and it gave him the best feeling in the world. He loved raiding villages and pillaging.

"Land ho!"

He stood at the bow and looked out to see a coastline dotted with little brown specks.
"Excellent! A village," he said to himself.
A grubby looking man approached him.

"Captain, what're yer orders?"

Doran smiled. "Prepare to disembark. We're going to pay the commonwealth of Gondor a little visit from Captain Doran. Since I raided this exact same village years before, they should remember my name. I want the Regal Dawn crew to disembark also and accompany us. All other ships are to remain on guard for any sight of trouble."

"Aye, sir!" The man left to pass on the orders.

Doran buckled his sword belt on. It had been a long time since he had worn it in a raid, but now he was about to remind himself of the feeling.

As the crew of the Rapscallion and Regal Dawn were lowered into smaller boats, the rest of his fleet kept their eyes open. Doran looked around. It was a lovely sight.
_____________________________________________

"Well, if it isn't Captain Jythralo Doran."

"Greetings, mayor. I see you remember me from the last time I paid this town a visit," Doran replied.

The old, bald mayor glared at him. The man was tied with two corsairs holding him. The rest of the town was subdued and all resistance destroyed. The scene was decorated with a few dead townspeople here and there and the aroma of burning houses filled the air and was accented with the sounds of mourning women and children.

"You murderer!" was all the man could say.

This was the third time Doran had raided this village. It was his favorite place to visit, actually.

"Mayor, you know I love your town. Its so hospitable."

"You...you...MONSTER! How could you do this three times? Haven't you done enough to my people?"

"Oh come now, don't be so pessimistic. Last time, I burned half the buildings, killed at least 40 men for resisting, pillaged all your personal valuables, and took 10 women captives away. This time, I'm only burning about 10 buildings and I only killed about 15 men. They did after all kill four of my men. And this time, I'm not taking any captives. But I'm taking all your personal valuables again. Did you start up your collection of paintings again after I took your old one?"

The man just glared. "Thief," was all he could mutter.

Doran smiled.
_____________________________________________

All the men were back aboard their respective ships and they set sail again for another town that Doran remembered as being particularly generous to his men. Adeline stood on deck.
"Why do you look so angry?" he asked her.
"How can you go and steal from innocent people and kill?" she demanded.
"It's in my nature,"Doran replied. He smiled at her. All she did was make some sort of sound of disapproval and disgust.

Doran held out a bottle towards her.
"You would care for some pillaged wine, my lady Adeline?"

"I'm never going to accept anything you've killed for!" she replied.

Some of his men looked at her and then back at Jythralo.

"You know what I usually do with female captives? I let my crew have their way with them." Shock came on Adeline's face and all the crew within hearshot laughed and smirked.
"You'd never..." she said.

"But since your so negative, I'm not going to let you contaminate my crew with your bad attitude." The crew burst out laughing.

"No wine, huh? Well, thats just more for me!" Doran laughed again and took a deep swig from the bottle.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:06 PM February 08, 2004: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Callath couldn't help grinning at Calnan's almost desperately polite face, under which lay measureless fathoms of boredom as Master Pearlle attempted to show him how to use the instrument. Devon nodded approvingly. "We're even then."

Callath glanced at him sidewards, grinning, then flinched, pulling his finger back from the needle, the cause of the small drop of blood forming on the end of one slim finger. "How is it that when you need it to go through the material, this needle is as blunt as a block of wood, but when it chances to prick your finger, it's enough to draw blood?!" he murmured frustratedly. Devon smiled, apparently about to make some comment, before Callath held up a finger. "And don't you even comment!" he added. Devon smiled to himself and continued working as Callath's battle with the needle and thread continued.

[Himaran]

Jurex stood silently on the deck of Jythralo's Flag Ship. Watching his captain's old nature return was truly a pleasure, but the corsair still felt sorry for the girl whom had been virtually imprisoned. After all, her mother was ill... and it had been he that had refused to let her stay in Bassington's conquered estate. Ah, but what did it matter - he was a corsair, and cared little for the troubles of others. After all, there much more important things to attend to. Turning away, the man left the deck and headed to his quarters, banishing thoughts of guilt from his mind.

__________________________________________________


After spending nearly an hour sharpening his weapons, Jurex, return to the deck once more. Entering the cabin, he found Jythralo bent over several maps on his table. Without looking up, the captain addressed his crewman. "Here is our current position. several more villages run along the coast... down through this area."

"And what is our objective, Captain?"

"Well, we know that we will outnumber Devon at least five to one, or better. But I wish to be cautious - we don't want to make a mistake which would cost us half of our fleet. I just need a little more time to plan our attack... meanwhile, the men can be kept busy raiding towns and such. Keeps them from getting 'itchy.' "

Putting faith in his master's skills, Jurex left the cabin, reassured that they would soon taste the sweetness of victory.

[Arien]

Acacia lent over the side of the ship, staring down into the waters that now rushed slowly passed. Laughter came from the far side of the ship; she looked up momentarily to see Jythralo and some of the crew with Adeline. Her captain took a deep drink from the bottle held loosely in his hand; she turned away and looked out to sea.

It was good to be back, it felt so natural so good. She had longed for the days when she would return to sea, and now she had. It was, just so.....

"Acacia!"

"Yes?" she said turning wearily to the voice. Being parted from her thoughts had more than slightly annoyed her.

"Acacia, " Jythralo lent next to her looking out to sea for a second, " feels good doesn't it?" She nodded back, but stayed silent. " Soon we will have victory and...."

".....Umbar will be ours...." She smiled.

"Aye, indeed it will. But first I think we need to plan."

"But of course!"

The two walked to Jythralo's cabin. Various maps littered the tables. Acacia could see that he had already been busy; she walked slowly around the table looking closely at the maps.

"We are here." Acacia nodded.

"So we will make our way along here?"

"Yes, best thing to do. Raid a couple of villages while I can come up with a fool proof plan."

Acacia nodded. Finally.

[Nuranar]

Ironically, Calnan found his diplomatic training most useful while enduring forcible instruction in navigation.

He was already learned in navigation itself, for he had found it the most interesting applications of mathematics. And although not quick at numbers, Calnan worked well once he understood the process. Master Pearlle's thorough instruction quickly both refreshed his memory and tried his patience.

Calnan's face showed merely polite attentiveness, and only one who knew him well could see the strain in the lines around his mouth. His eyes gazed steadily on Pearlle - a little too steadily, as though their owner wasn't always thinking about what they saw. At times their expression was definitely more glazed than interested.

To keep himself from fleeing, or even nodding off, Calnan occupied his mind by seeing how much he could observe without using his eyes. The most obvious thing was the pitched combat of the searing sun and the cool sea breeze. He felt the alternate heat and freshness whip through his old homespun shirt, faded from deep to light blue by years of southern sun.

Amid the seemingly chaotic bustle of crewmen, sails, rigging and whatnot, Calnan's ears were caught by a clear snigger from the bow. Turning ever so slightly, his peripheral vision caught a familiar figure - no, two familiar figures. Their faces, only vague pale spots at this distance, were turned toward him. Then one jerked and growled something in disgust. Calnan let his mouth twitch just a little as Pearlle, demonstrating thefine art of the sextant for the umpteenth time, gazed at the heavens. Maybe he was bored, but at least he wasn't turning his finger into a pincushion for blunt needle-ends.

[Arvedui III]

Not again. I thought I wasn't going to do this again.

Whatever Telson presumed about seafaring, he quickly realized, did not change the inherent truths: He was on a ship, and the ship moving. The ship was moving on an ocean. Oh, it had been fine enough in the port where Telson could see the little waves splashing fruitlessly against the shore. The sway of the deck even felt comfortable. But now that they had put out to sea... It was not possible for a man to know true suffering until he had experienced sailing, and Telson decided that ever single sailor in Dol Amroth was either mad or being bribed. Heavily bribed.

Fortunetly, Avershire seemed to perceive his feelings on the subject, and so while Devon and Callath worked at menial tasks and Calnan learned navigation, Telson was down below, studying maps and strategy. For this he was glad, because he liked the mysterious aura he seemed to carry with the three, and having them see him sick and whimpering over the port railing would tarnish that image somewhat. Plus, on the whole, the approach of ship-to-ship battles was a fairly simple matter of maneuverability and luck. What made his research difficult, ironically, was Avershire. Telson supposed the old man must have been a marvel in his younger days, and understood quite acutely with the soul who brought up his corsair past.

It was probably some poor young soldier, Telson thought mutinously, staring with glazed eyes at a map of Belfalas, trapped onboard and forced to listen to every story and every half-minded musing under the sun. Not to mention the hourly, the bloody hourly lecture on why the navy is better than the army.

As he lay his head onto the cabin table in a bout of sickness and frustration, Telson wondered at how the man had enough vigor to run an undermanned ship and torture him at the same time. The battles hadn't even started yet.

[Durelin]

Standing on the deck of a ship for the first time in her life, with the crisp, salty ocean breeze blowing through her hair would have been exhilarating, a beautiful scene, if not for Adeline's present company. The presence of the man beside her could turn blue skies and calm seas into a horrible raging tempest, to use a proper metaphor in communion with the current setting. She sighed, a bit too loudly she discovered, as Doran -- Captain Jythralo Doran he was called, and it made her want to spit, and even wish that she knew how to properly -- asked: "And what troubles you, my dear, for such a strong expression dread?"

"Troubles? Never, Master Doran. My life is grand, glorious even. Shockingly so. Where else would I want to be but on a ship, wild and free on the never-ending waters of the world, with none other than your illustrious self."

"Why, my lady Adeline, you flatter me!" he answered rather raucously. The wine bottle that had been in his hand since early that morning was looking empty. Still, it was no wonder that the man could still speak coherently, considering who he was.

"Whether in accordance with my intent or not, you are welcome," she said, smiling bitterly as she gazed at a horizon separated from the sea only by a change in shades of blue. Glancing back at the man beside her, she realized just how perfect a time this would be to ask questions.

"When do you estimate we will reach your next...destination?" Adeline asked in her most polite conversational voice. Unfortunately, as she turned to face Doran she discovered that the first mate stood behind his relatively inebriated captain, looking quite sober, and with ears listening to every word. She would need to be careful, and hope for the best. If only she could be sure that luck had ever been or ever would be with her.