Holiday in the Sun RPG

[Envinyatar]

Elphir urged Bebberyn to put that plan from his mind. ‘Let us report to the King what we have found . . . or not found, I should say. Then, let him decide what he is to do with his palace and its infestation.

He motioned for the Royal Guard to follow him. They hastened back to where his Father, Prince Imrahil, waited for them. The City’s guards would need to deal with the problem of Linghril now. They were making ready to go back to Dol Amroth with all speed possible.

[Hirilaelin]

Narwen held her staff tightly as she and specially picked men from her ships slid through the darkness of Harlond's quiet streets. The blade of her first mate's cutlass shone in the moonlight as he leaned closer to her to whisper. "Orders Captain? Where should we strike first?"

"Patience Fhaaraz. We will strike at the warehouses. They should be filled with valubles. Bear in mind however, that killing should be kept to a minimum. Understood?" The burly man nodded. She raised her voice, continuing her instructions, as she broke the men up into groups. "Vilja, take twenty men and comb the first tier. Xivker, you can take the second tier. Fhaaraz and I will lead a group to the third tier. Understood?" The men nodded. "And as little killing as possible. This is imperative! Any disobedience, and you will feel the lash upon your backs." Departing into the night, the strike began.

* * *

In the third tier, Narwen's group approached the first warehouse. Motioning a man from her group to her, she whispered to him, "Dlass, you were a thief, were you not? It is time to put your skills to use. This door needs to be opened. Do so." The man nodded, and came to the huge doors of the warehouse. From his pouch, he produced a rag and a small vial of liquid, which turned out to be oil. Spilling the oil onto the rag, he carefully oiled the first hinge. Narwen watched in appriciation.

Soon, the hinges were oiled. Next, Dlass produced a set of lockpicks, ingeniously stowed in a small, slender wooden box. He held one up in the moonlight and inspected it. Inserting it into the lock, he gave it a jiggle. Nothing caught. Another jiggle. Nothing. He selected another pick. "You're certain you can open this thing?" Fhaaraz asked him. Dlass nodded. "Of course. Just a few moments. Locks are delicate things." Pushing the next pick in, he jiggled it. Narwen watched with baited breath. The pick caught. With a small click, the lock was opened.

Motioning the men forward, they pushed on the door. The well oiled hinges gave narey a squeal as the great doors swung slowly inward. As the crack widened, Narwen darted through. In the shadows of the door, a guard waited, poised to strike. But her sudden rush startled him, and with a sharp crack on the head from her staff, he sank to the floor. "Gag and bind him," she told Fhaaraz. Moving forward, the man did as he was told.

Inside the warehouse, all was black, except when a coin or jewel caught the moonlight and flashed with sudden brilliance. "Load the packs, but don't get overly greedy, you won't be able to get back to the ship if you're so burdened down that you can't move." Moving forward, the men proceeded to fill the packs. Narwen inspected the riches that they were plundering. Gold coins, jewels, goblets, bangles. Gondor was rich indeed. But unvigilant, as proved by the easiness of their ingress.

[ March 30, 2003: Message edited by: Hirilaelin ]

[Maegaladiel]

“Confound it!!” bellowed Lhingril. The man cowering before the necromancer flinched at his angry words. Being the bearer of bad news was a deadly job, especially if the news was for his master Lhingril.

“They have found the King, AND have plans to set my tunnels ablaze?!?” the dark man hollered. Under his hard gaze, the little man seemed to shrink.

“Y-y-yes, my lord,” he sputtered. “B-b-but a ship waits for you at the docks, master. We have made arrangements for your escape.” Lhingril slapped the underling alongside the head. The unfortunate man yelped like a frightened dog.

“You’ll have more to whine about when I’m through with you, you mangy cur!” the necromancer spat. “I plot for weeks on end to create the perfect plan for domination, and now I must crawl on my belly to escape the wrath of a Prince and a handful of men?! They shall all die like the useless maggots they are!! And your fate will be ten times worse!” The grunt’s eyes widened in fear. Lhingril rubbed his temples, deep in thought.

“It seems as though the spider has been chased out of his own web by a small swarm of flies. But no matter,” a wicked grin crossed his face, making him look hellishly demented in the flickering torchlight. “I shall return, and when I do, I shall feast upon Gondor’s blood. Not even the Valar shall be able to stop me!” He strode down the hallways aimed for a secret passage that led all the way to the docks. The little man followed at his heels like a scolded puppy. Lhingril stopped abruptly.

“And where are you going?” he asked. The man sputtered that he was going to the docks. Lhingril raised an eyebrow.

“You’re staying here. I said you were to be punished. I cannot go back on my word, now can I?” The wicked smile returned. “Besides, someone needs to feed my children.” Lhingril snapped his fingers, and a spider dropped from the ceiling, landing squarely on the frightened underling’s head. Two more joined their brother in his feast, and the little man’s screams of terror echoed long and loud through the tunnels, unheard by all but the dark figure making for the exit. Too bad, he thought to himself. In a few moments, all those spiders would be dead. Such a tragic loss of life.
*********

Later, Lhingril spoke quietly to one of the sailors aboard the Windrunner.

"I have arrangements with Yr Saldan," he said. The man nodded and motioned for him to follow.

Soon, Lhingril would be ten times as powerful. He would breed a new spider army, one stronger and swifter than the last. Gondor would be his. And no one would be able to stop him. No one.

[Envinyatar]

‘Wait here!’ Alephir motioned for the man to step back from the door to the captain’s cabin, directing him to a seat nearby. He flinched as the darkly clad man drew near him as if to argue with his request. There was something about this person that made his skin crawl. Worse than his presence, though, was his voice – low, and oily, it flowed over him when he spoke like fouled water from a poisoned well.

Alephir rapped once on the door, and was admitted quickly. The muffled sounds of a clipped conversation followed. A few moments passed and the door to the captain’s cabin was opened wide. A broad swath of light pierced the darkness for a second, then the lamp within was doused.

Khazdifir strode quietly to where the man sat in shadow. His figure seemed to suck the heat and light from about him, leaving a cold, dark emptiness in its stead. Khazdifir narrowed his eyes against the tricksy illusion and spoke out clearly.

‘Linghril, is it not? Or so my crewman say you are called.’ No answer came, and he plunged on. ‘He says Yr Saldan had made arrangements for you. I have no knowledge of such arrangements. But since it appears that you have need of leaving this city as do we, my ship will bear you to a safe port in Harondor. From there you may find transport to wherever you need be.’

Khaz called for two of his crew to escort the ‘guest’ below. ‘Make sure he is comfortable in his quarters, safe from prying eyes . . . and well secured.’ He looked up at the moon’s position against the night sky. ‘Another hour, and we should be on our way.’

[Rochelle]

She hurried quickly up the stair well and entered behind Awyrgan. At the words of the corsair she seemed mystified, not willing to believe his words at first. "You wish for the children's safety? How are we to know that you want to help us, and that we should not kill you now?"

At any rate, the barred door was opened and the children stepped out, followed by the corsair. Rochelle dropped to the floor and smilied to the rather dirty pair. "Stay behind me alright? We're going to get you out of here..." The children nodded and she stepped in front of them, a questioning look still upon her face about the corsairs predicament. "Shall we trust him Awyrgan?"

[Envinyatar]

Yr Saldan continued up the stairs. The voices were becoming clearer now. Adult voices. Three by the sound of them.

He reached the landing, and drawing himself deeper into the shadow, peered cautiously down the short hallway to the children's cell. He could hear them clearly now. Two males, one of them Jem's voice. And one female voice.

His eyes narrowed. Jem was not fighting back; he seemed to be inviting the others into the cell! May the unrelenting waters of the sea take him! He was angry now, coldly angry. And the wine he had drunk gave him fool's courage.

Moving quickly down the hallway, he came up to where the female stood in front of the children talking to the other man and Jem. Jem's eyes went wide at his approach.

Saldan grabbed the girl child roughly with one hand and pulled her to him as he thrust his blade forcefully toward the flank of the woman . . .

[ March 30, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Carrûn]

Awrygan did not have a chance to respond to Rochelle's question, even if he had he wasn't sure what to say. Before he could open his mouth a large corsair rounded the stairs, normally red eyes now glazed and blazing with fury. Things seemed to move in slow motion as the corsair grabbed the girl and swung towards Rochelle. Fortunately she had seen the young corsair's eyes. As the blade whistled towards her she ducked and quickly blocked the blow. Somewhat surprised the man backed up, holding his blade to the girl's throat. The young corsair was busy attempting to hold back the other boy.

Awrygan slowly approached the man. "How weak...." he commented, keeping his voice level but with a slow taunt. "Do you really need to latch on to a child to support yourself?" The corsair laughed. "You fool, do you not know when to back down." Awrygan smiled. "Unfortunately not. But I know a fight I can win when I see one; provided the other is not too afraid to accept it." He sheathed his knife and waited. The corsairs face was a mass of twitching fibers as he pushed the girl away roughly; she would have fallen hard on the stone floor if Rochelle had not caught her. Awrygan smiled grimly. "You should remain on the sea where the breeze does not cloud your mind." He drew his own sword as the corsair raised his. Bringing it up over his face in a salute he lowered it so that the point was facing his opponent's feet. "Might I have the pleasure of knowing who I am to entertain?"

The corsair had seemingly calmed himself and gave a cold smile. "My name is Yr Saldan and you will rue the day you heard it." With that their blades clashed.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

As quick as the agile woman rescuer had caught Gil, the little girl was in Rolan's arms again. Rolan had fought back Jem's restraining grip, and Rolan then snatched his sister out of the stranger's arms. Hugging his sister as if to protect her from some unseen danger, Rolan looked up to the woman.

"We have to get Gil out of here." Rolan spoke, and eyed the woman. "Who are you?"

"I am Rochelle. Who is this? Why is he helping you?" the woman asked, and Rolan turned to a mystified Jem.

"He's Jem. He isn't like the other evil corsairs." Rolan answered as his attention turned to the battling men in front of them.

Rolan wanted to kill that corsair. He would pay for his evil ways and the ways of his kin that he harbors. The pain he gave to the children of Dol Amroth would return to him in his final moments.

"I want to stay. This corsair will not live to see the light outside of this place." Rolan spoke, and the two females and the man Jem looked at the boy strangely.

"We won't leave you here, we all have to get out. ALL of us!" Gil wrestled from her brother's arms and looked into his pale, hazy blue eyes. "Besides. You can't fight with a hurt toe." the girl smiled at the joke, but Rolan kept a resonant and stern gaze.

[Sadbh]

Gil was thrust from the corsair's grip and would have fallen onto the stone floor, had the woman not caught her. No sooner was she saved than the clash of blades sounded behind her. She was caught in a fiercely protective hug from her brother, and she tried to slow her pounding heart, and not appear so terrified.

The events leading up to everything were blurred together, and she let her mind slow wearily, hearingthe voice of her brother as he spoke to the stranger.

"We have to get Gil out of here. Who are you?"

"I am Rochelle. Who is this? Why is he helping you?" The woman gave a quick response and let her eyes turn warily to Jem.

"He's Jem, he isn't like the other evil corsairs." Gil noticed their discourse falter, and she followed Jem's gaze to the fighting corsair and rescuer. Their blades continually connected and flew apart, never scathing more than the sleeve of a shirt. Then Rolan spoke again.

"I want to stay. This corsair will not see the light outside this place." It was this comment that awakened Gillan from her hazy conciousness and brought her to full reality.

She twisted and pulled away. "We will not leave you here. We all have to get out. ALL of us." Gil felt her breath quicken in worry as she saw the stormy cast of her brother's eyes. "Besides, you can't fight with a hurt toe." The girl smiled, but could see it was of no avail.

"Rolan, please." Gil stomped her foot in impatience. "Don't be so brash." Nervously, the girl watched her brother as the fight went on. For a brief second, she galnced back at Jem.

"What do we do?"

[ March 30, 2003: Message edited by: Sadbh ]

[Envinyatar]

Yr Saldan stepped back quickly from the engage of blades. He held the grip of his long sword with both hands. The tip pointed upward, canted slightly to the left, toward Awyrgan’s right ear. The sharp edge of the blade faced the man. Awyrgan now held his blade with tip directed just to the right of Saldan’s shoulder. Saldan’s eye’s narrowed as he took the measure of his opponent.

The others stepped back from the conflict, giving them room to circle one another in the wide hallway. Keeping both feet planted firmly as much as possible, they took short, light steps, watching each other closely.

Awyrgan made a first feint, testing the ability of the other man. Saldan dropped the point of his blade quickly, deflecting the man’s sword away to the side with a push at the blade. The Corsair took a short step backward, taking an angular slash at the man’s shoulder as Awyrgan followed. Awyrgan leapt back quickly, avoiding the cut.

And now they moved together in the deadly rhythm of their blades. Again and again the metal rang out as they clashed, and retreated and advanced again. Seeking always, that momentary advantage . . .

[Carrûn]

His opponent was good, very good. Undoubtedly a leader or chieftan among their kind of some sort. The duel took on a rhythmic pattern, steps in unision followed by the harsh clash of steel. Neither combatent spoke, but focused soley on their objective. One thrust, the other parried. One circled, and the other mimicked his movements. Something had to give. Suddenly, Awrygan laughed. It was a harsh laugh from the back of his throat and it surprised all who heard it, including himself.

He couldn't help it. The thrill of the fight, watching the blade pass with inches of his face; knowing the pain it would cause if he did not block it. He felt....alive, in a way he had not felt for many a season. Even stranger was the inexplainable bond that seemed to form for a time between two parties attempting to kill each other. He felt like he was falling off a cliff into space, weightless and giddy.

He came back down to Arda with the sharp impact of the corsair's boot giving him a kick that sent him rolling down a nearby staircase. Eru, that hurt. He He brought his blade up in time to block the swing of the corsair's but it still sent a jarring ring throughout his arm. He briefly reached back to feel the small stone that was sticking into his back. Spawn of Umbar.... "Ah Saldan, you disappoint me." The words were spoken in the corsair's own tounge and Rochelle and the children looked at the pair strangely. He settled back into his rhythm, waiting for the other to give him an opportunity. He was confident that over time he could easily wear the man down but time was not one of his greatest assets at the moment.

His eyes strayed to the corsairs flowing robes. Blocking Saldan's blow with the sword in his right hand he drew a knife with his left and flung it at the corsair who dodged it with ease. However it gave Awrygan and opportunity to stamp down hard on the robe. His sword came crashing down on Saldan's, knocking both of them away. Simultaneously both men drew a knive and swung. They both intercepted each other. They stood locked; a knive in their right hand and their left grasping the right arm of their opponent. The strove silently, pushing the other, veins bulging...

[ March 30, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

[Envinyatar]

Between the feints and retreats, the crashing blows and the skilful parries, Saldan, in a moment of flashing awareness looked deeply into the man’s eyes and saw the fires of life blaze up in them. ‘Here is one also who is not made for the idleness of a simple life. He relishes this as much as I!’

He watched as the man drew him self up on the landing, bringing his blade up once again. Awyrgan stepped back, inviting Saldan down the steps to continue the dance. All traces of wine now burned from him, the Corsair moved like a cat down the steps, his blade pointed at the man, the tip slightly raised.

A sudden furious skirmish, and the swords were knocked from their hands. Knives flashed as they strove against each other. Locked together, as Death stood trembling between them, an enticing mistress waiting to be won. With a great shove, Yr Saldan pushed the man from him, and just as quickly picked up his blade, as did the other.

Again, they circled one another, in tighter theater of the landing this time. Saldan was graceful, his lithe body moving surely and lightly, thrusting and swinging his blade with precision. Awyrgan was powerful, capable of great bursts of speed. Evenly matched, they fought on, until Saldan leaped aside, avoiding a slashing cut to his gut. Slipping his blade beneath the man’s, Saldan took a swipe at the man’s midsection. Awyrgan stepped back and twirled round swiftly, the cutting edge of Saldan’s blade barely missing him. Completing his spin he brought the flat of his blade hard against Saldan’s left flank, throwing him off balance.

Saldan crashed hard against the wall of the landing. Shaking his head to clear the momentary daze he dropped into a defensive stance, his back to the stairwell, then advanced on Awyrgan. He saw the momentary look of disbelief on the man’s face, and smiled. ‘Surely you did not think such a blow as that would overcome me?’

But it was not his advance that had caught Awyrgan off guard. It was the movement from behind the Corsair which startled him. In the heat and focus of battle, Saldan had not heard the steps come swiftly down the stairs. Nor did he at first feel the quick sharp pain as the blade entered him from behind, forcing its slender death between his ribs.

He fell - an O! of surprise on his face, his sword clattering to the ground as his hands tried vainly to hold back that crimson flower now blooming where the sword’s tip had run him through. Awyrgan he noted briefly had stepped back, the point of his blade resting now on the ground.

Saldan turned his face, the shadows already gathering behind his eyes, and beheld the one who had slain him. ‘You! . . .’

And then with a whispered gasp, he was gone . . .

[ March 30, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Carrûn]

"Jem....." Awrygan spoke slowly. The young man's face was awash with emotions, a mixture of disbelief, satisfaction, anger, and fear. Awrygan retrieved his weapons, wiped them clean on the dead man's cloak, and sheathed them. He turned back to the boy who was standing with his sword idly in his hand. "You forgot to clean your blade, young pirate." Jem raised his head and spoke with effort. "I am no pirate."

Awrygan's face held an amused expression at the young man's words. "I see...." He reached around and pulled out the stone that had embedded itself in his back with a curse. A small but steady stream of red flowed out. It would have to wait. He tied a small sash around it and turned to his companions. "We really should be leaving."

[ March 30, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

[Rochelle]

She had agreed to stay atop the stairs with the children while Gem wandered down below. Only when the clash of steel had ceased did she dare venture downwards. She motioned to the boy and his younger sister to stay put until she could clearly see what was happening. Her hands gripped the hilt of her sword as she cautiously descended. The sight beheld was one of surprise.

The last few steps came quickly and she was soon beside Awyrgan and the dead corsair. She smiled to Gem as she noted the come from behind move. Though she didn't linger for long. She could see the open door from which they had entered, wary that soon others would make their threatening apperance.

Soon the children came down the stairs and she turned to them with a finger to her lips. Her eyes darted to Gem then to Awyrgan "Let's make haste, where there's one there's bound to be a few more."

[Orual]

Jem stood frozen with the bloodied sword in his hand. He stared at it for a moment, then at Saldan's body. Something had taken control of him, some rage that he could not control...Saldan had been every man who had ever refused him food, every innkeeper who had kicked him out of the stables where he tried to keep warm...and his arm had moved, stabbing the corsair through the back. He had killed him.

And he was not sorry.

A tremor flashed through him, and his hand began to quiver. "You will be repaid for your crimes," he heard himself say, then a wave of nausea overtook him. How could he speak to the dead like that? Saldan's eyes were open in death, staring at him accusingly...

The woman who had taken the children smiled at him, and he smiled back, his strength returning. "Let's make haste, where there's one there's bound to be a few more." He followed them, and his head cleared. He had done well. Had he? Yes. He had saved the children, saved the man who was trying to rescue them, probably saved himself. Would Saldan have let Jem live after this, after his betrayal? It would have come to killing him anyway. The road was taken. There was no turning back.

And he was not sorry.

[Envinyatar]

The Corsairs flee Dol Amroth . . .

A messenger had come looking for Yr Saldan, and when he couldn’t find him he had spoken with several of the guards stationed at the outer entrances. They assured him Saldan had not left the palace, and grew concerned when he said he could find no where. The captain of the palace guard called for ten of his men to spread out in pairs and seek Yr Saldan.

The two who found him came running back, faces pale, to the captain. They described the scene and that Yr Saldan was indeed dead. ‘Someone has taken the prisoners from the tower . . . the two children.’

‘Jem,’ asked the captain, ‘is he dead also?’ The guards said they could not find the young man. The captain frowned at this answer wondering what really had gone on. He sent messengers to run to the harbor. The captains who remained in port were to be brought quickly to the palace. A decision must now be made on what to do.

*******

And hour later, they gathered in the garden, Yr Saldan’s body had been wrapped in a tarp and brought down to the foyer. The conference was brief; none of the captains wanted to assume the position that Yr Saldan had placed himself in, nor did they want to stay land bound any longer.

One of the older men spoke up. ‘We have plenty of loot and new conscripts to man the ships. I say we torch the docks and set sail south.’ ‘I agree!’ came the chorus of agreements.’ The older captain spoke up again. ‘We can meet up with Khazdifir and Narwen.’ He looked around at the garden they stood in. ‘This place is closing in on me. Give me the open sea, the rhythm of the waves, and a fair breeze to take us home!’

*******

At sunrise, they were ready to leave. The wooden structures on the quay had been spread with pitch and set ablaze. Now men with pitchy brands boarded the empty ships of Dol Amroth and set the masts and sails on fire. It was a red and smoky scene that they bid a brief farewell to. They turned their faces to the west at last and set sail out of the little bay. Not one looked back.

And when they were well out to sea, sailing south, they raised their blades in salute as Yr Saldan’s body, weighted down with rocks taken from the jetty at Dol Amroth, slid from the plank and sank beneath the waves.

[ March 31, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Envinyatar]

Meanwhile in Minas Tirith . . .


The City Guard had been alerted. Word had come from a beleagured merchant who slept over his shop that the Corsairs were raiding the lower tiers of the city. Elessar himself had given the command to take troops and secure the docks and street of merchants. In fact, he had risen and called for his sword, but his physician had nay-sayed the order, as the King staggered and was assisted to sit back down.

Two hundred of the White City’s finest raced downward through the passageways, drawing their swords as they spilled out onto the third tier. The good citizens of that quarter surged around them, frightened. The only evidence left of the marauding Corsairs was the broken in doors and the spillage of coins, gems, and small pieces of metalwork that escaped the greedy clutches of the looters.

‘Where have they gone?’ commanded the captain of the guard to the head of the metal smiths’ guild, who stood surveying the damage to his storefront. He turned, his eyes red from lack of sleep and the thought of all valuables that had been taken. ‘They’ve gone,’ he said, his voice weary and defeated. ‘They swept through like an ill wind, and just as quickly they have left.’ He pointed to the passageway leading down to the second and first tiers. ‘That way. But I doubt that you will catch them. They are not looking for a fight.’

It was just as the metal smith had said. The Corsairs had withdrawn, leaving panic and confusion behind them. The harbormaster informed the Captain that the Corsairs had come disguised as merchants, and in the confusion of the King’s kidnapping the usual precautions had been overlooked. He pointed to the crates that had hidden the Corsairs, the only evidence left of the being there.

The current of the Anduin was with them. And their sails billowed in the morning breeze, pushing the sleek cutters even more swiftly to the Bay. Hafez stood at the helm of the Windrunner. Khazdifir stood near, watching the river ahead. So far, they had seen no sign of pursuit. They had kept meticulous notes on their passage upriver, and now they would use those to sail round the clock, in sunlight and darkness. Three days should see them to the outskirts of the bay, then they would head to Dol Amroth - to Yr Saldan and divide up the ‘profits’ of this trip. Khaz smiled grimly. He hoped there would be no problems when he told Saldan that he wished to return south to Umbar . . .

[astarielle]

Astarielle and her husband had reached the gate but an arguement errupted about which road to take, the road north to Minas Triath or back into the heart of the city.

"We cannot leave them we must go back" said Astarielle earnestly, for she did not want to leave her children behind. "Divided we will fall but if we stay together we can save them from a life of darkness and torment! Can you live with the thought that if we go back to Minas Triath and later after many days recieve a notification of their' death? Or worse still, none?"

There was a pause, all was still. Astarielle collected herself and begun once more,"For me the path is clear, we must go back."

[Rochelle]

The newly assembled group stayed put in the tower momentarily. Rochelle cautiously looked out the door that lead into the gardens. She could hear muffled voices and only managed to understand that they had had enough and were returning to the sea.

She breathed a sigh of relief and watched the dark group exit. She brought her bow around and notched an arrow nonetheless. "They have left, Yr Saldan has fallen from his own folly and his clan does not choose to fight any longer." She stepped out into the new dawn and made her way down the garden path.

No one was in sight, and as the company moved along the main wall of the palace, even the front gate had been left unguarded. Her eyes darted from the rooftop to the corners, yet she saw nothing save a carraige moving to the maingate.

[Carrûn]

Awrygan trailed in the rear of the party, content to let Rochelle take the lead now that their primary objective was accomplished. The city was quiet like the previous day, but a hidden warmth and joy seemed to linger in the early morning breeze.

He strode silently with soft but firm treads; his mind wandered and his hand subconciously played with the bizzare scar on the left side of his face. His eyes followed the small carriage moving steady towards the large gates of Dol Amroth. He could see a pair of figures conversing. He glanded at the children and could see their eyes focusing intently. "Do you recognize them?" he asked.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Rolan frowned as he followed the woman Rochelle and kept a firm hold of Gil's slender hand. Just like any fairy tale I've ever read...thought Rolan bitterly. The good guys always win. The group neared the front of the palace, and all was peaceful. It was as if nothing had happened in Dol Amroth at all. It's just like the bad guys to make a quick getaway.

Rolan was lost in his thoughts, and hardly noticed when Gil slyly slid her hand from his. He only snapped back to then and there when the sound of a carriage pulling up to the gates of Dol Amroth. Who is that in the carraige? Rolan wondered. It looked an aweful lot like...

Apparantly the sword-man had caught Gil and Rolan's stares. He asked something, though Rolan was so intent on the carraige that he paid no heed. Could it be? No...

"Mama and papa!" Gil cried, and Rolan sighed.

Someday I'll write a book about this little adventure. Perhaps I'll call it, 'My Holiday in the Sun'. It has every aspect of a good children's tale! Rolan considered as the both expected and unexpected parents arrived in the carraige.

[Rochelle]

She smiled as the children rushed by her into their parents waiting arms. She turned back to Awyrgan with a grin "I'd say that was a job well done...and we came out of it unscathed for the most part." She'd never been a part of anything like it, and she felt a joy unsurpassed.

The concern at the back of her mind could now be brought forthwith. She whistled a unique note and soon the clatter of hooves on paved stone were heard. Her smile widened as the white stallion cantered up past the carraige and layed a soft muzzle in her palm.

Ai mellon nîn, i Eruchîn band. Hannon le henia. The stallion snorted and tossed his head. She patted his fine neck before running her fingers through silky mane. "Where our road leads us now is not yet forseen..."

[Sadbh]

With the silence of shadows, the five slipped down the steps, past the dead body of the once-mighty corsair. His expression was vivid, and Gil averted her gaze, holding more tightly to her brother's hand. Soon they had descended the spiral tower.

The stones of the courtyard were under foot, and the pale, gentle dawn sky was overhead. By that time, Gil had slid her own hand from Rolan's, and she looked about in wonderment. Although much as the day before, this dawn had a brighter feel than the morning before.

"Do you know them?" Awyrgan's voice drew Gillan's attention to the Main Gates, where a carriage was clearly visible. The shapes inside were so familiar...

"Mama and Papa!" Gil caught her breath and started for the carriage. She turned qucikly and called to Rolan. "It's them Rolan!" As she was running, her foot caught on her hem and ripped the lining of her gown, and she could not have been less worried.

"Mama!" Gil finally reached the carriage, and embraced her mother who leaned from the opened window. "Elvira, Papa." She hugged each of her family members in turn.

As she turned slowly, she smiled at Rolan who had reached the carriage shortly after her, and at their three rescuers, still a distance away. If she had tried, she could have never smiled more gleefully. "We're safe." She whispered softly to no one in particular.

[Lyra Greenleaf]

Eäris waited as his wife railed about going back for the children. Every time he went to open his mouth she started talking again. The carriage had stopped, the coachman waiting for a decision from the master and mistress. The assembled household watched with interest as Astarielle argued. Eäris felt uncomfortable with their stares and thought that maybe he should reassert his authority.

"My dear" he said slowly "I myself wish that I thought we could help the children. But I do not see how putting ourselves all in danger would achieve anything."
Astarielle opened her mouth to reply. Stifling a sigh Eäris forestalled her.

"I will go back for them" he said firmly. "But you will all go a further distance from the city. I refuse to let my wife, my daughter and my household, not to mention a baby, get in any more danger."
Once again Astarielle opened her mouth, and it looked like Elvira was going to say something too. Quickly Eäris jumped out of the carriage, dropping a kiss on his wifes forehead and touching Elvira's arm.

Well that went well! he thought ruefully. And precisely what do you think you are going to do against a city full of Corsairs?
Still, he realised that having made the decision to do something he felt much better. Squaring his shoulders he vowed to do Gondor, the Prince and his family proud.

"Mama and papa!" The scream filled the air. That sounds like "Gil" he breathed. "And Rolan. Eru be praised!"
A shape ran at him, nearly knocking him off his feet. "Papa" said Gilian, and he hugged her so hard he was worried about hurting her. "My little girl. Thank Eru." he repeated, kissing the top of her head.

Rolan followed at a rather more sedate pace, and not caring for his sons dignity, Eäris swept him up in a hug too.

"We're safe." whispered Gil.
"We are all safe" answered Eäris and smiled around his family.

[Orual]

Jem hung back as the children were reunited with their parents, feeling awkward and out of place. He fingered the hilt of his sword briefly, then pulled his hand away. Never again would he use it outside of self-defense.

And what would he do, now that he could no longer be a corsair? He had told Awyrgan that he was not a pirate, and it had been the truth. He was no longer a lost child, frightened and ready to fall in with whoever showed him some small kindness. He stood at a crossroads in his life, and he would have to choose a path.

He stepped up to the children, asked their parents with his eyes for permission to speak, then smiled gently at them. "Ulmo bless you and keep you, and may you always find with the sea a safe haven," he said. He stood up and turned to their parents. "You are fortunate to have children like these. They were braver in the face of danger than most adults I have known. Wherever their paths in life lead them, they will have nothing to fear." A little startled by his own words, Jem let his hands drop to his sides. "I'll let you have your time alone. This will take some healing. Myself, Him,"--this he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and a sly grin--"take care of yourselves. Walk in the light of the sun until we meet again, my young friends. I will remember you."

He bowed to them, and walked away into the sunset. He would remember them, and he hoped that they would remember him. They had given him a great gift; now to form a new life for himself.

[ April 01, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]

[Carrûn]

Awyrgan returned Rochelle's grin but it was half-heared; he did not share in her elation. He watched as she called her horse to her and nodded in admiration as the great stallion came running over the land towards her.

It felt strange really. Here he was returning two children he had never met to parents he had never met; something he had never intended on doing and yet ended up right in the middle of. He smirked. I should be more choice in my companions if I wish to avoid such involvement in the future. His smirk turned to a grimace and he re-bandaged the gash on his shoulder where the rock had once embedded itself.

His mind was wandering as he contemplated what to do next. He had seen Dol Amroth, as he had planned, and it was time to move on. But where to? I have no family, few friends. Plenty of enemies but one does not need to go looking for them. He considered continuing in his current direction into the Far South, maybe to figure out why so many of the corsairs had sailed. Yet something in the back of his mind told him that this issue was already being addressed by others and the situation was in hand.

Another part of him longed to return to his "homelands" in the North. Rochelle had her horse and the grasses of Rohan and the forests of Mirkwood. Awrygan had the chilly hills and dells of the northlands. It had been quite a few years since he visited the North Downs or the Ettenmoors. A cruel part of him wondered for a moment about returning to Mordor to see if anything had changed for the better since he had left. He shivvered slightly at the memories. Finally he decided he would make for the land of Eregion, a spot that evoked sadness from him but also gave him peace.

Having made up his mind he looked around. Jem and the children were talking with the parents and Rochelle was busy re-uniting with her horse. He considered speaking with the parents but decided against it. Not one for goodbyes he moved quickly like a wraith into the rows of tall grass, dropping a small stone with the elvish ruins for "A" carved on them. Once out of site he headed off in the direction he had chosen, ever the wanderer.

[Envinyatar]

The Windrunner broke into the waters of the bay on the fourth day of sailing, mid-day. Two more days and they reached the open sea. All traces of their 'merchant' disguise were discarded and they set sail north toward Dol Amroth.

They had gone but half a day in their new direction, when the lookout from the crow's nest called down to them, pointing north. 'Sails, ho!'

Hafez extended his spyglass to its fullest length and frowned, then handed it to Khaz.

'What's this?' Khazdifir spoke in astonishment as into the field of the lens came sailing what appeared to be the remaining Corsair ships from Dol Amroth. 'Hail them!' he instructed the lookout.

The man in the crow's nest flashed a highly polished silver mirror in a short series of prearranged bursts. For what seemed an eternity, though was only a few seconds, there wa no answer. Then the flashed answer was received.

Hafez grinned at his captain. 'They are ours!' 'Yes,' said Khaz, telescoping the spyglass back in upon itself, 'but why are they sailing south?'

The Windrunner headed further out to sea, drawing all the ships farther away from the coast. Three hours brought them together, and it was then that Khazdifir learned of Yr Saldan's fate. The captains from Dol Amroth told him also that they loaded all the treasure they might onto the ships and had torched the quay and burned the ships of Dol Amroth. 'They will not follow us. We have made sure of that,' they assured him.

'It was not them I feared,' said Khazdifir. 'It is the Prince and his armed ships from Minas Tirith that I do not wish to engage.' He looked round at the number of ships now in their small armada. The others seemed to look to him to make a decision.

'We will all head south together. Keeping out in open waters. Should the Prince follow us, we will outrun him, and come safe to Umbar. He will not dare enter those waters. He has no authority there.' He looked at the other captains, letting them know that they too had brought in their share of valuables from Minas Tirith. 'We will all be rich men, crew and captain, when we reach Umbar.'

Like sleek birds skimming over the waters on white wings, the Corsair ships cut through the waves, speeding south . . .