Holiday in the Sun RPG

[piosenniel]

Deorlin's Corsair post for Yr Saldan:

Yr Saldan lowered the small brass spyglass from his eye, squinting towards the horizon. Errant strands of black hair blew about his weather tanned face, although most was pulled back in a pigtail, the end tarred together and wrapped with a leather thong. There were deep wrinkles etched in the corners of his dark eyes, not by age, for he was only just the far side of thirty. No, it was the years at sea, the stinging salt and the drying wind, the intense heat and bitter cold, which had carved their signatures on his skin.

And there had been yet other carvings, these done by human hands, which left their traces also on face, forearms, and torso. A particularly vivid, as it was still somewhat new, scar puckered the skin from the bridge of his hawk-like nose, across his right cheek, all the way to his ear. The wharf rat who had inflicted it would have been proud to boast that he had left his own signature on no less than Yr Saldan himself - if he had been lucky enough to still draw breath.

But that one, like so many others, had been fodder for the fish which swam among the piers of the City of the Corsairs. Yr Saldan's thoughts wandered momentarily to his last night spent there; and the memory of the exotic pleasures it had revealed to him brought a crooked smile to his thin lips.

His thoughts, though, quickly reverted to the task at hand, very close at hand now. Dol Amroth lay just within reach, and his fleet, disguised as merchants from Umbar, seeking audience with the Prince to negotiate new trade agreements, would be anchoring in the harbor this evening.

How unfortunate that they would just have missed the Prince, having departed on his way to Minas Tirith to celebrate the King's twentieth anniversary of his coronation! What a pity - the castle guard would be at its lightest. And certain "friends" of Umbar stood ready to assist . . .

The cruel smile on the captain's face broadened. To catch the Prince away and unaware, and bring Dol Amroth to her knees - and no help from Minas Tirith to succor and rescue her! Ah, what a perfectly laid plan. If all went well, within the week he would be sitting in state in the royal throne room at the castle. If all went well . . .

[Hirilaelin]

The salt air, filled with warmth even at night, blew against Narwen's face as she sat in her favorite place, high in the rigging. She had talked to the captain, and he had been more than happy to take her aboard, saying he needed all the corsairs he could get. They were on their way to Dol Amroth in the north, disgused as merchant ships. He had assigned her to the ship "Bloodwake," captained by Tar Ghun, a captain of some repute, though Narwen had not served under him before.

Under the cold high stars, she was on the dawn watch, with rose just creeping into the eastern horizon to the right. She was excited, anticipating the action to come, and hoping to bring in a large profit. Kidnappings were always profitable. She smiled, a shark's smile, merciless and eager, and watched for the dawn.

[Everdawn]

Bebberyn approached his residence up on the high hill, to the east of Dol Amroth. There he was met by another guard at the gate.


"captain" the man bowed "everything is in order, do you still want me to order the towerguards to patrol the walls to the north?" Bebberyn stopped. "always! the sercurity of this city is no thing to take lightly soldier, this is when Dol Amroth is most vounrable, when the prince is away."

Bebberyn strode past the soldier and into the halls of his house. There he sat alone in the dining room, his plate untouched in front of him. He looked across to the empty seats, one at the head of the table, and two to the left. He sat deep in thought, those seats had once been taken up by The Everdawn and his brothers.

"she would know what is coming, now that none of us do not. Brothers, the heart of this place is lost now you are gone" he sighed and looked out his window which, high on the hill overlooked the sea.

[Sadbh]

"Do what?" Gillan asked in response to Rolan's question, but he shrugged and grinned in a bemused sort of way. Taking in his words of advice about hurrying, her eyes scanned intently over the beach. She had such a bad knack for misplacing things. As if to find an answer on the horizon, Gil turned her gaze to the ocean.

Gil shaded her eyes and looked out at the ocean, where once again she saw the ships from the south. She pulled uneasily at her dress where it had puckered ridiculously at her waist from her sprinting. Even if there were pirates in the ships, no one would believe her, and not that she would no anyway. "I think I left it somewhere... around a piece of driftwood." Gil cocked her head to the side and surveyed the smooth stretch of beach.

"I think it's over there." The girl dashed forward about twenty yards, Rolan following steadily behind her. "Oh bother!" The piece of driftwood that had seemd so familiar was ,it seemed, the wrong piece. Gillan turned to face Rolan, her gray eyes puzzled. "I thought I left it around here..." Her brother gave her an exasperated glance.

"Oh, wait." Gil trotted easily to a piece of wood only a few yards away, and there she found the dark red brocade satchel, which she gratefully snatched from the sand. "Thanks for coming down to the beach to help." Gillan offered her brother a quick smile. "I didn't tell Father because he'd absolutely destroy me if I told him, but it's the book of legends that he gave me four years ago, the one with the gold leaf on the cover." Rolan raised an expressive brow.

"Good thing you've found it." The siblings turned so that they were dashing back to the city whn Gillan started.

"Rolan, can you see those ships. What... type are they." Dark brows furrowed on Gillan's forhead as she looked aprehenesively towards the sea. She took her own stories too seriously, she chided herself.

[Orual]

Airan was getting restless. They were getting ready to dock, and then it would be time for the real action to begin.

She pulled her curly hair away from her face and looked out intently. All was in order; her shipmates were quiet, preparing the last details. Airan rolled down her sleeve to hide a scar, light on her dark arm. She didn't know for sure, but she doubted that a merchant would have such a mark. And a merchant was what she was supposed to be playing. She didn't know the whole plan, being a relatively new recruit and not entirely trusted with the details at the heart of the matter yet, but she knew her part. And she looked forward to it.

[Envinyatar]

Late afternoon moved toward evening. Shadows from the masts lengthened eastward along the decks of the ten vessels. They bore the green flag of Harondor, emblazoned with a golden-rayed sun, and the small white pennant atop it, indicating they were merchant ships.

They sailed quietly past the headland of Dol Amroth, and reached the entrance to the Cobas Havens. Evening drew on quickly, now, and the port at the northern tip of the headland was well in sight.

[Carrûn]

Awyrgan tossed and turned in his small hollow by the creekbed. In the midst of his restless thrashings his left elbow thuded into a rock, numbing his hand and sending tingling sensations all throughout his arm. He smacked the hand against the ground a few times in a vain effort to quickly restore feeling and tried to settle back down into some sort of comfortable position.

He had been having a rather uncomfortable night. The fire was burning down and a variety of insects had been buzzing around his face and several larger creatures had been venturing closer to the fire than he would have liked. Moreover, he could not sleep. He had fallen alseep for what seemed like a second only to wake up from a disturbing series of dreams. He squeezed his eyes shut, allowing the visions to flow through his sight again. Smoke, corse laughter. Fear. Pain. He tried to shake the images out of his head. My life has been one of constant strife, why should I dream of aught else? Mother had a belief in dreams but I tend to believe more in actions. Still, he could not sleep. With a start he sat up.

The land was speaking; or rather it was not. A piercing silence broken only by an occasional cricket hung heavily on the surrounding terrain. The earth could sense something that the man could not. He streched himself upon the ground, straining his ears for some pattern he could decipher. He stared hard into the darkness, and up into the stars. It was to no avail; he could not determine why all was still. Yet the sense of foreboding in his stomach was growing and he made a decision.

He rose wearily. Dousing the fire he automatically wrapped his cloak around him against the night breeze only to discover that there was none. Striding up to the road he gazed upward at the heavens. Daughter speak to me, my beloved guide me. I am lost. Turning his face again to the road he set off at a rapid pace to the South.

[ February 14, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

[Envinyatar]

Yr Saldan signaled his ships to fall in behind him as they sailed into port at Dol Amroth. The furled their sails and threw ropes to the waiting hands on the quay to tie off the lead ship as it glided near the landing. He had arranged for the other ships to drop anchor in the small bay, and for their ‘merchant’ captains a two or three men to row in to the quay. He did not want all his ships tied up, like trussed pigeons, should they be found to be other than they seem and an alarm sounded.

‘What brings you in this evening?’ asked the Harbormaster, eyeing the ships and calculating to himself how he might get a fine, fat ‘present’ if he smoothed the way for these obviously well off merchantmen.

‘We have heard there are new trading opportunities open since Aragorn has become King and there is peace in the land.’ spoke Yr Saldan to the officious little man. ‘We have come in haste, bearing gifts and merchandise from the South, hoping to have an audience with the Prince concerning trade relations between our countries.’ He jingled the heavy purse at his belt. The eyes of the little man lit up at the sound of clinking coins. ‘It would prove quite profitable to the one able to secure us a visit with the Prince to discuss these matters.’

The Harbormaster sighed. As luck would have it the Prince was gone out of the city, to see Aragorn in fact. ‘But, I can arrange a visit with you tomorrow evening, if you wish, with the Minister of Trade.’ He looked meaningfully at Yr Saldan’s purse. The captain fished out a small gold coin and slipped it to him with a wink and a thank you. ‘There’ll be another when you come to bring us to the audience tomorrow. We will await you on board.’

Khazdifir drew near and whispered in his ear. ‘Ah, yes! My First Mate tells me the men would appreciate the hospitality of one of your taverns this evening. Can you recommend one or two?’

The Harbormaster directed them to a number of establishments just north of the quay who catered to sailors, then bid them good night. He hurried off to see the Minister of Trade as fast as his fat little legs could carry him.

************************************

Once back on the ship, Yr Saladan called for the captains of the other ships to gather round. ‘I want you and several of your men to visit the taverns along the quay. No one is to get drunk or start any fights. This is strictly information gathering. Spread some money around. Buy some drinks. Loosen their tongues. I want to know how prepared this city is for a surprise attack. Have many of the guards left the city to travel with the Prince to Minas Anor? Are the ones who are left grown lazy with the new peace and can be easily overcome. Find out all you can for me, then come back and report late this night.

He looked out over the railing at the peaceful city. ‘We will make plans then, and when my party enters the city’s seat of government to speak with the Trade Minister tomorrow night, we will attack then.’

Khazdifir handed out small bags of coins to the sailors and captains going ashore. ‘Say little.’ he said to them. ‘Only what will get them talking, then listen closely to all they say.’

[Hirilaelin]

The dawn had come. Narwen was ashore, dressed in what would hopefully pass for merchant attire, and with a bag of jingling gold at her waist, ready to be emptied in the pursuit of knowledge. Specifically, knowledge reguarding the state of the tower guard.

The streets of Dol Amroth were clean and in good repair, with various shops, inns, and taverns lining the wide ways. The smell of salt was in the air, borne on the sea breeze. Many people were on the streets, going about their everyday business. Good. She could easily blend in. No one would remember her.

Taking a side turning, she came upon a likely looking inn. The sign hanging above the door read, "The King's Sword." Through the windows, she could glimpse the patrons inn, mostly sailors and merchants, but a sprinkling of locals and foriengers promised much information. Pushing open the heavy wooden door of the inn, banded by finely ornamented iron, she was greeted with a babble of talk.

Quickly locating a group of merchants at the bar, she walked over and addressed them in what she hoped was a cheerful manner. "Gentlemen! How do you do? Could I perhaps buy a round of drinks for you?" The men turned around, and one of stood and bowed. Narwen smiled inwardly. It had been a long time since she had ever been bowed to. He replied to her, "Thank you..." He paused, inquiring her name.

"Narwen," she replied. He moved out of the way. "Please, sit down. I am Fazhul, a merchant, and these are my friends." He indicated the other men with a wave of his hand. Several rings flashed on his fingers. She sat, and placed five gold coins on the counter for the drinks, which were promptly brought and distributed among the men.

Eventually, after the formalities, she managed to turn the conversation towards the city itself. "So," she asked in a casual manner, "what do you think of the city? Do you think is it well protected enough? I have heard rumors that much of the guards have been sent with the prince."

One of the men nodded. "Indeed. Only a handfull of guards are left, and they have grown lazy from the peace that the reign f King Aragorn has brought. If anyone did attack, the city would be very poorly defended." Narwen nodded, to encourge the man to say more, but he turned the conversation to other things. After a while, Narwen managed to excuse herself by saying that she had other business elsewhere in the city.

The sky was darkening, stars growing in the sky when she returned to the ship with the news. The attack would begin soon.

[Everdawn]

The morning had come, and Bebberyn High guard of Dol Amroth, on his horse Avanti came riding through the city. He noticed the convoy of new ships that were docked. "strange" he said to himself and kept riding.

Soon enough he came across the harbourmaster. "you!" he cried "harbour master! why was I not informed of such a large arrival of ships?" he said sternly.

"I..I.. sorry Captain, I diddnt think..." the harbourmaster stammered. "thats right you diddnt think!" Bebberyn was angry.
"they are only merchants Captain!." The harbourmaster said now frightened.

" it doesnt matter if they are fishing boats! something like this could be a serious breech of sercurity, now, i want every single ship that enters the ports of this city to be throughly checked and then i want my men informed, do you understand?" Bebberyn sat tall in the saddle of Avanti. "yes sir!" cried the master and hurried on his way.

" very strange.." thought Bebberyn to himself.

[Envinyatar]

It was drawing near evening. The sun setting behind a low lying bank of clouds threw a fiery light into the western sky. ‘Red sky at night, sailors’ delight.’ thought Khaz to himself, a crooked half smile creasing his face.

Yr Saldan had met earlier in the day with the captains of the other ships, seven of which had now pulled into dock, leaving three still at anchor in the waters of the bay.

The men were unloading merchandise in large crates from the decks of the ships and from the holds, stacking them on the pier in preparation for the sale of them to the good merchants of Dol Amroth. Large wagons with teams of draft horses had been sent down to the dock by the Minister of Trade to facilitate bringing a number of the crates to the palace grounds where the goods could be reviewed, and evaluated.

Yr Saldan sifted through the information his men had brought him. The city and especially the palace and harbor were not well defended. The three ships in the harbor waters would take care of the Dol Amroth defenders on board the city’s warships. Yr Saldan and seven crates of merchandise would go to the palace, along with four of the captains of the other ships to meet with the Minister. The remaining three captains and Khazdifir would supervise the seven ships now at dockside.

By the time they were done speaking, evening’s mantle had fallen over the city and the stars in the now clear sky twinkled coldly over the city. A chill wind from the harbor blew at their backs as the Harbormaster led the small group of merchants and their seven crates of goods to the palace.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

"Rolan, can you see those ships. What... type are they?" Rolan looked suspiciously at his sister.

"Why? They seem like any old merchant ship to me. They look like any other merchant ship we've seen on this vacation...don't they?" Now, Rolan was no expert when it came to ships, but there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary with the ships Gil had been pointing to.

"Just wondering..." Gil replied absent-mindedly.

"Gil...while we're down here, are you sure you have everything?" Rolan asked, a bit surprised that she had only left the book.

"Come now, Rolan! I'm not that forgetful, am I?" Gil smiled and surveyed the beach again.

"I wouldn't call you forgetful...but scatter-brained comes to mind!" Rolan joked, and recieved a playful punch in return.

"Let's go Gil, before they get too far ahead of us. Wouldn't want to get lost here...would we?" Rolan finished his sentence lamely, knowing he would definitely not mind getting stuck here.

[Merri]

Grumbling, Elvira took leave of her mother and made her way back to her bedchamber. It seemed that mother was always ordering her around . . . Why couldn't she be married off?

She began to daydream, her trunk lying on the floor, completely forgotten. Oh, how lovely it would be if someday some handsome prince came and rode her off into the sunset- then she wouldn't have to deal with her dratted family anymore.

Nonsense. She awoke herself from her daydreams. You know you love your family, and you know you'd rather die than let anything happen to them. So stop daydreaming and get packing. Where was Gillian?

"Gillian, what on Middle Earth am I going to do with you?" Elvira wondered aloud, to no one in particular, as she began packing her sister's trunk, too.

[ February 15, 2003: Message edited by: Merri ]

[Envinyatar]

It was not a long a long way to the palace, but it took some time, urging the horses up the winding path to the top of the rise, their wagons filled with the large crates. The Minister of Trade’s secretary, an officious, bobbing little man met them at the front gates and bade the guards admit them and their merchandise with all haste. The Minister was eager to greet his new southern contacts, and wished to show them every courtesy. The wagons were brought close to the palace front steps and the crates unloaded.

‘Be careful!’ urged Yr Saldan as the crates were stacked singly on the ground. ‘There is precious cargo within!’ the Minister, who had come to the top of the stairs to greet them, admonished his men to unload carefully. He did not want any of the goods to be damaged. His eyes glinted with pleasure at the size of the crates. This was indeed going to be an incredible coup on his part. He could not wait for the Prince to return to see how well he’d done.

Yr Saldan and the four captains ascended the steps to the palace. The guards had been dismissed for the night. There had been no need for them with the Prince gone and the five merchants posed no threat. Only two of them stood watch at the door to the throne room as was custom. The minister, his assistant, and the secretary led them into a small hall set up for the meeting. There was a large table placed in the middle of it for the negotiations, and smaller tables along the wall filled with drink and food, a small fire in the fireplace gave off a cheerful light. Several servants moved quietly among the group, seeing to the needs of the company.

The talked for a while, then ate and drank. No one noticed that the merchants only picked at their food, and drank sparingly of the wine offered. The Minister and his two assistants enjoyed the pleasures of the table and ate much of the delicacies provided, washing them down with copious wine.

Yr Saldan urged them to come outside with him and see the treasures they had brought for Dol Amroth. The Ministers eyes gleamed and, laughing he led the way to the crates himself. Yr Saldan gathered them near, and drew out his sword as if to pry open the wooden side of the first crate. He tapped three quick times on it and stepped back repeating the taps on the second crate, as his four captains drew their swords and tapped on the remaining crates. The minister and his assistants thought this an odd Southern custom and smiled at the merchants.

With a loud yell and a boom, the sides of each crate were flung down from within, and out rushed ten armed men from inside each. The overpowered the unarmed Minister and his secretaries and would have killed them save the Yr Saldan thought they might prove useful later, and had them locked in one of the small windowless rooms on the second floor. The two guards at the door to the throne room fought bravely, but they too soon met their end.
‘Secure the gates and the grounds, he yelled to two of the captains. They and twenty of the men fanned out on the grounds and covered any entrances leading to the palace. The other fifty men secured the entrances to the palace itself, and the second floor.

Yr Saldan took one of the small branches destined for the fireplace and lit it. He had spied the stairs to the top of the observation tower and now ran up them quickly with his burning brand. He walked out onto the parapet along the top walk of the tower and leaned over the edge facing the harbor and the market place. Waving the burning brand in a large arc, he grinned, imagining the men bursting from their crates, to rampage through the heart of the city, bringing it to its knees, and under his control, at last.

*******************************************

The captains of the three ships anchored out in the harbor saw the signal blazing bright in the sky. They hauled up their anchors and glided quickly near the guard ships of the prince. Dol Amroth’s navy was manned by few sailors and the most of these had already gone below to sleep or play cards and drink.

Yr Saldan’s ships fired their small catapults, filled with burning pitch toward the furled sails, catching them and the main masts on fire. Then, as the sailors streamed upstairs, hearing the snap and crackle of the flames as they whooshed heavenward, the corsairs threw grappling hooks across the other ship’s railings and pulling them close, boarded them. The hacked and slashed their way to the helm of each ship, and took control. The dead bodies of the sailors were dumped into the harbor, and the waters ran red with the spilled blood.

[Lyra Greenleaf]

Walking along the corridor with Linde, Eäris saw the doorway to the room of Morwen, his wife's maid, open.
"Morwen!" he called in.
"Yes Sir?" she said, appearing at the door.
"Do you know where my oldest daughter is?"
"No, Sir."
"Very well" he said dismissively.

"Very well" he finished dismissively, turning away again and continuing down the corridor.

Upon reaching Asta's bedchamber he discovered she had returned. Unfortunately he also discovered his son-in-law.
"Father" said Asta warmly. "I had wondered where you and Linde were." Hastening over, she took the baby and bustled into her dressing chamber.

Eäris was left with Foronîl.
"Eäris" said Foronîl with an oily, fake smile. "How are preperations for the great departure? going. I suppose you are running around organising everything. Here in Dol Amroth we find it easier to let servants do that"
"Indeed?" answered Eäris shortly. "How interesting.
"Now, Eäris, Father, I know you dislike me, but do you not think we should attempt to rectify that?"
"If you would excuse me, I must find Gilian. Unless you would rather I sent a servant?"
"No indeed. Continue your own way. I find it rather...sweet. Look for the little tomboy by all means. It would be a tragedy if something happened to her. " answered Foronîl. "I look forward to our next conversation though, with great anticipation."
As Eäris left Foronîl smirked.

Talking to Foronîl left Eäris with a bad taste in his mouth. With a face like thunder he strode on his way, cursing at any servant unlucky enough to meet him. He exited the inn and made once more for the beach rode. He had only been going for a minute or two when he saw a figure running towards him.

"Daddy!" said Gilian, and ran into his arms.
"I hope you are back from the beach for good this time?" he asked her with a smile. He loved his tomboy anyway.
"Yes. And I have left nothing behind. I think!"
"Have you finished packing?"
"No. But Papa there were some ships." she looked doubtful, unsure whether to risk his laughter at her.
"Yes?"
"I think they might be...pirates" she said.
"Well, if they are, I'll fight them for you!" answered Eäris with a fierce face.
"You are funny Papa!"
"I was once a great soldier, young lady."
"Once..." she answered with a grin.
"Cheeky girl! Now finish your packing, unless you wish to face your mother angry."
"Yes Papa" Gilian said, and ran away again.

"Where's Rolan?" called Eäris after her, but she didn't hear.
"Here, father" answered Rolan himself, following slightly more sedately.
"Come, we must be ready to be off soon." Eäris beckoned to his son. "Now, have you been telling your sister pirate stories?"
"No, she's been telling me."
"Well you better be off after her, or she might be kidnapped!" said Eäris with a smile. "These old legs can't keep up with you anymore.

[ February 20, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

[ February 21, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

[Hirilaelin]

The sun dipped low in the sky as evening drew near. Narwen stood by then crates containing valuable "merchandise," awaiting the signal from Yr Saldin to attack.

She looked around, surveying the area for the coming battle. People milled about, families, mothers with children. She frowned, hoping that the men would have enough sense in the heat of battle to remember their instructions. "Kill as little as possible, but if anyone resists, they will be dispatched. The women and children should be herded into the buildings, do not let them escape. Also, keep to your business. There will be time for revels later."

She turned to Khazdifir, standing nearby, and said, "When will he signal? The time creeps on." The other corsair looked up to the tower on the high hill, silhouetted against the burnished sky. "Soon," he replied. They stood in the market square, Narwen running her hands up and down her polished quarterstaff. Suddenly, a red light flared from the tower, the signal for attack.

Khazdifir yelled, and the corsairs burst from the crates, cutlasses tucked into their sashes with cries. As the men swarmed the marketplace, Narwen yelled, and dashed forward, and Khazdifir ran the other way. Suddenly, a burly merchant appeared in front of her, sword naked in his hand. He charged her, the blade outstretched, but she sidestepped him.

Turning on her, his sword flashed up then down, almost slipping past her whirling staff. His blade sliced against the staff, but it merely glanced off the hardened wood. Bringing her staff around to face the tip towards him, she drove low, ducking to avoid the deadly metal as it clove the air above her head. Squarely contacting his midriff, it bowled him over onto his back, winded. Whipping out a small knife from her boot, Narwen threw it straight into his chest, killing the man.

Retrieving her knife, she turned to see how the battle went. The men were wreaking havoc among the few guards and civilians. Narwen was glad to see however, that they remembered the instructions. Khazdifir was driving a small force in the opposite direction, deeper into the city. Narwen heard a scream. One of the corsairs was down, felled by a guard. But he fell seconds later, decapitated by the sweep of a saber blade.

Almost an hour later, the city was secured. Many of the men were dead, having chosen to resist. The few guards were all dead, taken by surprise. The women and children had been captured and secured, according to instructions. In the west, the sun was setting, turning the sky the color of blood. Minimal casualties had been taken, with a loss of only four corsairs. The city was theirs.

[ February 17, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Nurumaiel]

Lhingril smiled to himself as he heard the King Elessar calling him and hurried to obey. "Yes, my Lord?" he said, giving a bow. "What do you wish of me?"

"The Prince of Dol Amroth will be arriving soon," replied Aragorn. "Everything seems to be ready, but I need your help for some last minute arrangements."

"Of course, my Lord," said Lhingril. "However, perhaps it would be better to discuss it over a drink. I shall get some wine." He left the hall.

The King sat rather impatiently, waiting for his advisor's return. He hadn't slept well; something had been bothering him. He felt as though some danger was drawing ever closer. I pray that my family may be safe, he thought.

There was the sound of a closing door, and Aragorn looked up to see Lhingril with a goblet in his hand. "Some wine, my Lord," he said smoothly, sitting down. "Now what did you wish to discuss with me? Last minute preparations, I believe it was?"

"Yes," said Aragorn, taking a sip of his wine. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"Well, my Lord," said Lhingril, sitting back and looking about him. "I think everything is done wonderfully, but the banquet hall… it seems as though it wasn't cleaned properly, and some other things that are of great importance, if you are planning to have a feast."

Aragorn stood up. "I'll take care of it at once," he said, but with weariness in his voice.

"No, no! My Lord!" Lhingril pushed him back down. "Please, allow me to take care of it. I can see you are weary. You should get some sleep while you can…"

Aragorn suddenly felt drowsy, looking into his advisor's eyes. And he was tired. All those hours in the night had dragged on, instead of slipping carelessly by while sleep took prisoner its victim. And perhaps it was best to sleep before the Prince arrived. He sank back down into his chair. But no, something wasn't right. He couldn't sleep now. Who were those men entering the hall, coming towards him? He struggled desperately to stay awake, but darkness took him.

Lhingril gestured to the men. "Take him away, quickly!" he said. "Do not let anyone see you! The King must not be rescued." He turned to the door. "I must go to the Queen and detain her. I overheard her telling her husband she would be joining him shortly. Now, go, quickly!" He himself half ran to the door to find the Queen. She must not know.

[Everdawn]

Bebberyn had heard the commotion and immediatly mounted his horse Avanti to ride down to the town, he knew something was very wrong. At once the scene met him, fires burning, and corsairs everywhere.

At once Bebberyn rode into the battle, drawing his sword slew two corsairs. Then another and another.
"soldiers!" he yelled at the men who were still struggliing to keep their places.hold strong! regroup!" he yelled rallying his men together. But it was no use. There were to many.

Already Bebberyn's total reached beyond 20. "this is what happens when ships arent checked!" Bebebryn yelled. "merchants! merchant corsairs!" He brought his blade down again on another corsair.

He was withdrawing his sword from the chest of another when he was set apon by three. Bebberyn ducked the blow from one and stabbed two, but not before the third could slash him across the chest. Bebberyn slayed the next corsair before turning to another of his men. "Captain" the guard said "are you alright." but he was then run through the back with an enemy daggar. "we cant hold them!" Bebberyn yelled to his men.

Bebberyn made the hardest choice he ever had to make as High Guard. He would leave the city, it was Dol Amroth's only chance. He had to raise the alarm in Minas Tirith.
Bebberyn somehow managed to pickup his sword and go to Avanti, who had stood by. Leaning against the horse's snow coat, Bebberyn took a moment to survey his chest, now among the royal blue, stained the crimson of blood.

He heaved himself up onto Avanti and through the city streets he rode away from the battle and onto the open road.

[Envinyatar]

It was late in the afternoon when the ships of Imrahil, son of Adrahil, the Lord of Dol Amroth sailed into port at Harlond just south of Minas Tirith. Elphir, his son and heir apparent, was with him, as the great ships bearing the blue banners of the House of the Prince of Dol Amroth emblazoned with the Ship and the Silver Swan pulled into dock along the Rammas Echor.

Aragorn, too busy with last minute details, had sent a small delegation to meet the arriving ships. The Prince and his men disembarked and formal greetings and welcome were exchanged. After a short time of formalities, Imrahil and his retinue were taken to the top tier of the White City where dwelt the King.

It had been a long while since Amrahil had seen Aragorn his old friend, now known as King Elessar. The business of securing the country had taken precedence over friendship and both men had found themselves occupied with the governing of their own regions. It was with great joy that Imrahil had received the invitation to Elessar’s celebration, and he brought his son to be presented to the King.

As the reached the seventh tier of the city, he could not help but notice that there was a frantic air about it. And not the sort of excitement of last minute preparations for a big celebration, but a state of panic that seemed to be escalating as he watched the King’s guards move quickly through the area as if searching for something.

One of the captains of the guard approached the official who had escorted the Prince to the upper tier, and pulled him aside for a whispered conference. There was a grave look on the man’s face as he spoke. The official’s face turned very pale, and Imrahil heard him gasp at one point.

Prince Imrahil motioned his troops closer to him and approached the captain and the now grief stricken official. ‘What has happened?’ he asked. ‘How may we help?’

So taken aback by the news was the official that he could not speak, but only shook his head. The captain stepped forward and bowed his head to Imrahil awaiting permission to speak. ‘What is it, Captain? Tell me.’ He was not prepared to hear the words which fell into the expectant silence between the.

‘It is the King, Lord Imrahil. He is missing, and I fear that something foul may have happened to him.’

[doug*platypus]

In the Seventh Tier of the City of Gondor

Minas Tirith was, almost literally, a hive of activity. Preparations for this celebration had started weeks ago, though you wouldn't know it by the way that merchants were running around making last minute arrangements. Even up in the Citadel, usually a place of calm repose, the atmosphere was frantic. The Citadel Guard were, by and large, the only ones immune to this holiday fever.

"See how they all buzz about!" remarked the captain to a guard standing next to him on the wall.

"The noise from the first circle is incredible!" remarked the other. "The last time there was this much excitement was when the King first returned. You would have been wearing diapers then, Beleg!"

"Not quite," the younger knight replied, "but you would have had more of your teeth still, you old badger! What a time for Captain Forweg to be on holiday in Pinnath Gelin. Some folk have all the luck."

Beleg had been left in command of the Citadel Guard at the worst possible time. All this activity made him anxious. It was much too easy for a dissident to cause mischief with so many people around. Although Gondor was not at open war at that very moment, it was still surrounded by some fairly powerful enemies.

Beleg turned away from the hustle and bustle, and gazed out from the walls. From where they stood on the parapet, the two guards could clearly see the docks at the Harlond. Not long before, the great ships bearing the blue banners of the Prince of Dol Amroth had sailed into port. The banner of the prince was a welcome sight to Beleg. Imrahil of Dol Amroth was accounted one of the most valiant men of the age, and Beleg was also looking forward to seeing his heir, Elphir.

Before receiving a commission to the Guard, Beleg had served as a soldier. To see the banner of the Silver Swan from across the battlefield, leading the charge of the cavalry of Dol Amroth, was a glorious experience. Beleg and the foot soldiers he had fought with had been saved several times by Imrahil and his Swan Knights.

Just then, Beleg's attention was called away from the sight. A messenger was running at great pace across the courtyard, and calling for him to come down.

"What is it?" Beleg asked when the messenger had halted before him, panting.

"A message from the Royal Bodyguard. His Majesty the King is missing!"

"Missing?!" Beleg could not believe what he was hearing. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly that - he cannot be found anywhere. The Captain of the Royal Bodyguard wants the entire city on alert, but none of the people are to know."

"Oh, this is just great!" Beleg complained to the other guard, who had come down to see what was going on. "Those clowns in the Bodyguard have really done it this time! What about the Lady Arwen? Do they at least know where she is?!"

"She is in her chambers," answered the messenger, "under heavy guard. I must go to the stables and send messages out. You will tell the Prince for me? My thanks!"

The messenger sprinted off in the direction of the stables. Beleg looked back over his shoulder, to where Prince Imrahil and his entourage had now entered the Seventh Circle. Beleg cursed the cowardly messenger, then steeled himself and walked over towards Imrahil. But he found it more than pride would let him do. To tell the Prince of Dol Amroth that they had somehow misplaced the most important man in Gondor! Beleg spotted one of King Elessar's delegates and drew him aside. The man's face grew pale, and he gasped as Beleg told him the shocking news.

Imrahil and his men came over, and Beleg was forced to relay the bad news himself. The King's delegate seemed almost stricken with grief - very helpful indeed! Beleg stepped forward and bowed his head to Imrahil, awaiting permission to speak.

"What is it, Captain?" the Prince asked, "Tell me."

"It is the King, Lord Imrahil. He is missing, and I fear that something foul may have happened to him!"

[Schmendrick]

It was a strange evening: the setting sun had painted the sky fierce red and the woods were deadly silent. It was as before some great storm and yet no clouds could be seen in the sky. “There is something wrong now”, Durmán thought “I’ve never seen anything like this in my whole life.”


He had left the city in the afternoon, only some hours before the attack of the corsairs. When he had gone to bid her mother farewell, he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary and yet he had felt strangely concerned. His mother, too, was on a strange mood. When Durmán had come to see her, she had run to him, her cheeks wet from tears; like a little girl. She had had a terrible nightmare last night: fires and screaming children, dark men everywhere. Durmán had tried to calm her and for a short while he had even thought about staying some more days in the city. But finally he had decided to go on with his plan. After all, her mother had nightmares every other night; it wasn’t that unusual.


But now he started to regret his decision. Something was wrong, he was certain of it now. Should he turn back? Just then he heard the clattering of hooves drawing near. Someone was coming and on a terrible speed.

[ February 18, 2003: Message edited by: Schmendrick ]

[Merri]

Elvira paused in the midst of her packing. Something was happening down in the city, she could feel it. As soon as she finished packing, she ran down the hallways to find her parents.

"Father! Mother! Let's go, now! Something's happening," She cried frantically, looking in all the rooms for them. "Where's Gillian? Gil! We'd better leave soon!"

[Maegaladiel]

Lhingril hurried through the castle halls to find the Queen. She must not hear of King Elessar's 'mysterious' dissapearance until he was safely out of the castle and out of his way.

Turning a corner, he nearly ran into her as she walked towards him. Quickly he bowed, muttering apologies.

"It is quite all right, Advisor Lhingril," Her Majesty's voice was fluid and silvery, edged with the merest hint of humor. "The Prince's upcoming arrival has caused all of us to become somewhat hurried." She smiled. By the Valar,thought Lhingril, Her face grows more radiant with every passing moment.

"If you will excuse me," she began, "I must seek my husband." These words shook Lhingril out of his trance.

"Majesty", he began hurriedly, bowing low, "I have been instructed by His Majesty to deliver this message to you." He produced a small parchment bearing the Royal Seal from somewhere in his robes. He had forged it himself in King Aragorn's handwriting only hours before. Smiling politely, Queen Arwen accepted the message and broke open the seal.

Lhingril watched her fair eyes scan the contents of the page, saw her brow crease ever so slightly as she read.

He did not need to ask what the message said; he had wrote it himself and had practcally memorized its contents. Still, he acted suprised as Her Majesty informed him that her husband wished for her to oversee the arrangements for the Prince's arrival, as Aragorn was riding out to meet him at that very moment.

"Odd," Arwen mused, "That he would leave us now, he had told me earier that he wished to ask my counsel before he left." Lhingril gave a dazzling crocodile smile.

"Well, Highness," he said, "We must not question the wisdom of his magesty. He is obviously unworried by the Prince's arrival; in fact, I suppose the whole business has bored him to sleep, if not to death!" He laughed at his own dark in-joke.

[Envinyatar]

Yr Saldan was in the process of setting up a ruling cadre for the city. Six of his captains he sent back to their boats with their crews. Three of them were to patrol the entrance to the small bay and two were to proceed to the waters just off the Bay of Belfalas to engage any ships making their way toward Dol Amroth. The third a trim, fast little cutter with a stripped down number of crew members was making it’s way back to Umbra to recruit more ships and men. Yr Saldan meant to place Belfalas in the tight fist of his rule.

Khaz was instructed to begin the roundup of any who opposed the new government. Most would be killed, but any who appeared to be worth something as a bargaining chip in any negotiations with the powers outside Belfalas should be imprisoned until needed. Taking twenty men, Khaz split them into two groups, and they began to make the rounds of the beleaguered city. A large warehouse was secured on the waterfront, and the prisoners were thrown in there to wait until they were needed.

The Kestrel also sent out several men with bags of gold to the dicier taverns along the quay. Anyone who wished to sign on as Yr Saldan’s man was promptly given a gold coin and assigned to a crew. There were many in this area of the city who looked forward to bleeding the good citizens of Dol Amroth of their wealth and their lifeblood if necessary.

[Sapphire_Flame]

Barahil swept through the Citadel almost silently, watching all the hurry in an uninterested manner. Some of the people were still unaware of their King's disappearance. "That is as well," he thought. "We don't want panic just yet." He smiled darkly to himself.

He passed Lhingril as he passed through one hall; the mage seemed to have been speaking to the Lady Arwen. Barahil's silver-blue eyes met with Lhingril's dark ones as they strode past each other. The message was conveyed in that glance: the message was delivered, and the Lady would be unaware of her husband's sudden disappearance. "For now at least," the mage's voice came to the noble's mind. "Though how long that will remain has yet to be seen."

"For some time, I think," Barahil replied curtly. "You should have more faith in your associates." The mage arched one eyebrow, as though doubting Barahil's words, then continued on his way. Barahil continued up the corridor, pausing for a moment to bow to the Lady Arwen as she read the piece of parchment in her hand. Lovely, as always; though now her fine features were slightly creased with worry.

Barahil stopped before her. "Does something trouble you, Lady?" he asked, with every pretense of concern.

She looked up at him. "No, nothing," she said, but her voice betrayed her; the tinge of worry and suspicion was easily detected. "This message was just unlooked for, that is all." She made a noble effort to smile. "Aragorn doesn't usually do things so suddenly, without telling me."

"I'm sure it is nothing to be concerned about," Barahil said reassuringly. He bowed to her again. "I bid you good day, Lady." He swept off up the corridor, the dark smile touching the corners of his mouth again.

[Maegaladiel]

Lhingril watched as Brahil spoke to Her Majesty. He was lucky to have the noble on his side, but sometimes he wished he could set one of his pet spiders on him. But unfortunately for Lhingril, that was not to be. Not yet, anyways. He needed the traitor (and he used the word in the best way possible) to help him take over Gondor. In return, he had promised him the usual reward: money, power, women, that sort of thing.

Now Lhingril needed to make sure all was going according to plan. He had given some of his asinine henchmen a transporting spell that would take them and 'king' Aragorn to the mage's own castle, but who knew whether the oafs performed it correctly.

He slunk into his chamber, and, uttering an incantation, opened a secret passageway. It was empty, save a note held closed by a spider brooch. That was the signal. Grinning madly, Lhingril opened the letter.

"The spider has captured the fly", it read. This was the signal he had waited for. Well. Those idiots HAD got their brains straight long enough to speak a few lines.

Smiling darkly, he left his chambers to find his allies.

[Lyra Greenleaf]

‘Neither shall I miss this smell’ Dol Amroth habitually smelt of a combination of salt and the exotic goods traded in the port. Eäris sniffed the air now. ‘That is odd’ he pondered. There is a smell of burning in the air. It almost smells like…’ he searched his mind for the memory. ‘It smells today like battle!’ he realised. The nobleman smiled at his own folly. Battle, indeed! Perhaps he was becoming, as his children thought, an old man living off war memories. Yes, there were things he missed of that time- the camaraderie, the feeling of unity, his friends of course…and of course the excitement. But on balance, his life was better now. Peace was best for the land, for the people, and for Eäris himself. Still, he fingered the hilt of his sword. ‘Maybe one day you will find further usage…’ he thought to himself.

Smiling and shaking his head at himself, Eäris continued for what he sincerely hoped was the last time back to his lodgings. He reached the gateway. Strangely he couldn’t see Gil or Rolan. He entered the house, a strange sense of unease creeping up his spine. Once again he placed his hand on his sword.
"Father! Mother! Let's go, now! Something's happening" Eäris heard Elvira. He followed her voice, and found her standing in one of the corridors. Astarielle hastened from one of the doorways.
“Come” said Eäris proudly, taking his daughters hand. “I believe it is time to go”

[ February 20, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

[ February 21, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

[Lyra Greenleaf]

“Gilian! Rolan!” called Eäris hurrying to the courtyard. The two did not appear.
Eäris could feel panic bubbling up inside himself, but clamped it down. He had to be strong for his wife and children. Mentally and physically he drew himself up.

The sense of unease, of tension had grown in the air. Eäris strode to the gate, hand on sword. The streets, as he gazed around, looked unnaturally calm, though they were on the outskirts of the city. Somehow it added to the apprehension.
“Papa” said Elvira, coming up behind him “Where are they?”
“They were coming here. They should be here now” said Eäris unhappily. “I told Gil to run on, to pack her things” he added, almost to himself. “I should have had her walk with me.”
A faint sound came from down the city road. Eäris felt sick 'That sounded like scream' he thought. All at once he felt like he was back in the days when danger lurked all around, the days of the shadow...
"Get in the coach, Astarielle, Elvira" he ordered without glancing back to see if he was obeyed. Eäris had the feeling that once again he had to protect everything he held dear by fighting. He strode to the gate, drawing his sword.

For a while he stood there, until he felt silly. ‘Just an old man, reliving war games’ he thought and began to turn. He saw he’d been joined by his coachman and a number of the male servants. Elvira was also still standing there. He was about to tell her to go, but was distracted by a shout. "Corsairs!"
‘Corsairs!’ thought Eäris in disbelief.
The filthy looking man leading the band pointed when he saw them, and said something to the woman beside him. She laughed.

The Corsairs had begun to run, yelling and screaming as they came. Eäris felt panic, he found he could not remember what to do in a battle, he wanted to…he knew not what. Run, hide…something. His breath was coming in short gasps. He heard a scream from the coach behind him, and felt the heavy weight of his sword in his hand. Unbidden, a memory came to him. As if it had happened but a few days ago he remembered fighting and killing in battle, following Lord Faramir. ‘Now I must lead’ he thought, and I must be worthy of my commander. His face set. ‘I must protect my family.’
He took up the stance of battle. He turned to check that all the men behind him were armed.
“Corsairs fight dirty” he told them “Kill and wound all you can. Show no mercy. May Eru protect us.”

The leading Corsair had reached him. He pulled out a knife and lunged. Eäris cut off his arm, then slashed his throat. As always the scent of death sickened him, but he had no time to consider it, for he was surrounded by three now. One stabbed his leg with a short sword. Eäris stabbed him in the heart. The other two began to bear him down, working together. The coachman cut one down from behind, Eäris dispatched the other. There was no time for thanks as the fray continued.

[ February 21, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

[Manardariel]

Horrified, Morwen watched, listened. Corsair! An attak! Her master was out there, fighting them, while they were huddled in their carriage, trying to be as silent, fighting the impulse to run, scream, or just dissapear. The attak had come suddenly, unexpected, with no warning. And the worst: Gil and Rolen were still in the city, trapped in a surely deadly prison. Carresing Narya to calm her, Morwen strained her ears. Battle. She couldn´t make out deliberate voices, only mixed battle cris, anguisdhed screams and, worst of all, the silent coughing of the dead. Swords clanged against each other, speers flying through the air with a deadly "zwish", she heard swords banging on shields, giving a sickening sound. Was there hope for them? Could they ever escape these monsters from the sea?

"Oh Narya," she wispered, forcing down her tears. "Where will all this end?"

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

"Gil!? GIL!" Rolan called for his sister, who had not been in her room or anywhere else in the family's lodging, for that matter. Looking through the rooms one more time, Rolan was distracted by the noises outside. Shouts, mostly the shouts of children and women, but also those of older men. What was going on outside?

Running through the entrance of the building, he stopped when he saw the chaos outside. People were running from...who were those men? Someone shouted out the word 'Corsair' before continuing to run down the road ahead. Corsairs! Father had told stories about them! Where was Gillian?

"Rolan!" Rolan heard his name called above the sound of terror. Gil stood in the middle of the road, looking frantically left and right.

"Gil! There you are! Where were you?" Rolan rushed to his sister, bumping into a rushing merchant and then a small boy. When he finally got to Gil, he swept her up in a hug.

"Rolan! I was packing and I heard screams and-" Gil was explaining before Rolan hushed her.

"Gil, you were right! The ships...they weren't merchant ships! It's the Corsairs! You remember, right? Father told us the story a while back. We have to go, now!" Rolan talked quickly, hoping Gil could understand everything he said.

Just as the two were about to go find their family, a large hand grabbed Rolan's shoulder. Before he could see what was going on, everything went dark. There was a sack over his head! Rolan struggled as someone tied his hands behind his back.

"Gil? Gil are you still there?" Rolan wondered if his voice could even be heard.

"Stop squirming, boy!" A gruff, deep voice sounded behind him. "The girl is right here! Now shut up!"

Rolan went to move again, but his hands were tied tight. Then, large hands grasped his shoulder and pushed him in one direction or the other. What about Gil? They had to get out of here and get to their family!

[Sadbh]

Gillan felt her breath knocked from her. A strong hand clapped onto her arm and shook her. In the second that the sick feeling overtook her senses, she was shrouded in darkness. When her head had stopped spinning she felt the coarse weave of burlap against her cheek. What had happened... Now she remembered. She felt a rough arm hoist her over a shoulder. Corsairs, Rolan had said! They had been in the ships from the harbor. "Rolan!" She paniced as she felt a rope wound round her neck, at her elbows, and around her knees. With a kick towards her captor she felt the hemp rope press through the sack against her neck.

The man who had slung her over his shoulder gave a sadistic grunt. "Old corsair rope trick. Move your legs, choke yourself." His heavily accented voice was mirthless, filled with disgust. Gil trembled with fright. Another hateful comment followed the first. "'Don't suppose you're going to be very brave about this, girl." She heard Rolan give a muffled comment but she could not make out his words. Still, she was thankful for the knowledge of his saftey.

A jolting movement sent a shoulder jabbing into her ribs. The corsairs started running, parlying words in their own rolling speach. With each jogging step, Gil felt another jab in her side and another strangulation of her throat. Trying to hold her head above the back and greasy braid of the corsair to avoid the smothering of her calls she yelled for help.

"Halt!" The corsair yelled as Gil felt herself unshouldered and dropped onto the ground from several feet. "Keep quiet!." Gil shrieked against her will when she recieved a stinging slap through the cloth. When she was again draped painfully over the familiar should of the corsair, she had neither the heart, hope or voice to continue. The ropes tightened around her throat at every movement, and her throat was already too soar to yell.

[ February 20, 2003: Message edited by: Sadbh ]

[Hirilaelin]

Narwen was on her way back to Umbra, on order of Yr Saldin. Her duty was to recruit more men and ships to help secure Dol Amroth. The sleek little cutter flew through the waves, with only the barest of crew, as speed was their highest priority. They were five days out from Dol Amroth, and nearing their destination at last.

With the sun almost high overhead, and the waves slapping at the sides of the ship as it skimmed the over the water, they sailed on.

* * * * * * * * * *

They had arrived. Briskly disembarking, the crew set out into the streets of Umbra, searching for men and ships. Everyone carried a small bag of gold, which might help in persuading men to their cause.

The crew combed the taverns and inns, while a few searched along the docks. Narwen herself searched for captains willing to sail. They had to hurry though, before word got to The White City of the attack. They had to have more men.

* * * * * * * * * *

The crew met back at the docks as evening was drawing near. They had manages to recruit about fifty more men, and Narwen had convinced eight captains to "lend" their services, and ships. She had the cutter to captain. Arranging the men on the docks, she assigned them to different ships. They were to sail right away. If they did, they could be back in Dol Amroth in little more than four days. With the sun sinking in the sky behind them, they lifted anchor.

* * * * * * * * * *

Three days out, they sighted a ship. Pulling out a telescope, Narwen inspected the sail and flag. Gondorian, probably a merchant ship, bearing arms and gold for Aragorn. Ordering her ship to move in and intercept, she signaled to the other captains to do the same. The three ships pulled into a tight formation, and closed in on the slow, heavy merchant ship, with their flags pulled down, so that the corsair sign was not visible. They would capture her, and sail her back to Dol Amroth, an additional prize. Within moments, the three ships were level with their prey. Narwen ordered the pilot to pull her ship along the other. She shouted up to the captain on deck. "Aye! Where do you be going friend?" The man looked down, suspicion written across his features. "We're bound to the capital, bearing gold and arms for the King. Who may you be, that you fly no flag?"

Narwen stalled for time, as men from the other ships swam to the merchant, and boarded her. They would be among the unsuspecting crew in moments. "Simple traders." The man nodded, but he was not yet ready to accept the explanation. He said, "The other ships look enough like merchants, but your doesn't. What, and who are you?"

She had a story. "We are the scout ship. Don't you have one?"

"Scout ship?" His voice was doubtful.

"Indeed. To sail ahead and make sure that the sea is clear. It is dangerous after all, with corsairs and pirates sailing." The man nodded again. Just then, she heard a cry from the ship. He heard it also, and his eyes suddenly bulged, her deception revealed. He roared to the pilot hard to port, but grappling hooks were thrown. In moments, the deck of the ship was swarming with corsairs. Climbing nimbly up one of the ropes, a knife in her teeth, and two short staves in her belt, she reached the deck, where she was met with a sailor, bearing a club in one hand, and a knife in another. She avoided him, knowing she must get to the captain, and secure his surrender. Or, at least what was her kind of surrender. Death.

Dashing along the deck, which was covered with the bodies of sailors, and a few corsairs, she found what she assumed was the captain's cabin. No though. He would be at the wheel, trying to get the ship away. Running to the wheel, she found her assumption was correct. In the narrow position by the wheel, he was admirably defending himself. Even as she watched, he felled a man wielding a long knife. As she came forward, he smiled at her. "So," he called, "you were right. The seas are dangerous, with corsairs and pirates sailing them. It's a good thing that you had a scout." He laughed. "But come. Let us not parley words. Cross swords with me, and we will see who will win the ship."

"Indeed," Narwen smiled grimly. "We will see who wins the ship. But even if I fall, I believe that we will win it yet."

"We will see." With the agile grace of a seasoned fighter, he sprang at her, moving fast. Ducking a swipe, she attempted to block it with one of her short staves. But, he slid the blade around, and brought its point to slice along her right arm. Feeling muscle sever, Narwen dodged to the side, and backed away warily. He was very good. She flexed the arm. It was still mobile, though it stung fiercely. He did not allow her a moment's reprieve though, and flashed towards her again. Instead of facing him head on though, she used her old trick, and dodged again, coming up behind him, to kick her feet around under him, bringing him down.

Even as he fell though, his arm swept out, catching her as well. Springing up, he caught her with a blow to her face as she was on her knees. She fell heavily to the deck, he kicked her onto her back. But as he prepared to finish it, she brought her leg up, kicking hard and up. He swayed backwards, doubled over in pain. She regained the knife he had relieved her of, and came towards him. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it into his neck, and he toppled backwards, falling over the rail, and onto the sea with a splash.

Panting, she turned to see another man felled by a corsair. Regaining her breath, she picked up her other weapons. But, the battle was over. The ship was taken, and with few casualties. Apparently, the ship, while large, had been undermanned. After making sure that they really were in control, she surveyed the plunder. Gold in plenty, and arms. This was a prize catch indeed.

* * * * * * * * * *

A few days later, they arrived at Dol Amroth, nine ships, and many men wealthier, not to mention the plunder of the Gondorian merchant. The city was well under Yr Saldin's control, his rule already solidified. The plan was ready to proceed.

* * * * * * * * * *

OOC: Wow, sorry that this is so long. I just went a little crazy with my capture scene. In the future, I'll try to trim it down. Sorry again!

[ February 21, 2003: Message edited by: Hirilaelin ]

[ February 21, 2003: Message edited by: Hirilaelin ]

[ February 22, 2003: Message edited by: Hirilaelin ]

[Merri]

Elvira stood by her father, hot anger and confusion rushing through her. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted to run at the corsairs and fight. But she had to be brave, at least for her mother's sake. And for her father's sake. She couldn't have them worrying about her- at this point, finding her siblings was much more important.

What could the corsairs want with her siblings? They were too young to be of any use to them. But King Aragorn . . .

Elvira closed her eyes and remembered the ceremony where she had first seen the king. How majestic and magical he had looked, like something out of the fairy tales Mother used to tell her when she was young.

And King Aragorn? What would happen to him, if the corsairs were taking over the city?

She tugged on her father's sleeve. "Papa," She whispered in his ear. "What about King Aragorn?"

[Envinyatar]

Yr Saldan was pleased with the men and ships that Captain Narwen had acquired for the assault on Belfalas. His glittering eye viewed the map of the region, and with his roughened finger he traced an ever widening circle around the city of Dol Amroth. The city had fallen easily, a fat goose caught, plucked, and done up for dinner. Now his palate craved the other courses to the feast.

Tarnost to the north and Linhir to the east, would make the triangle with Dol Amroth complete. His finger moved across the surface of the map, along the boundaries of the Prince’s realm. He would secure the headlands just south of the Hills of Tarnost, too, with patrol ships. Then Dor-en-Ernil would be his.

He called for Captain Narwen to be shown into him. ‘That was well done, my friend.’ he said, pouring them each a goblet of rich red wine from the Prince’s store. ‘The men and ships you brought will be well used in the next few days. But that merchant ship – now that was a fine morsel to pluck from the sea!’ He looked appraisingly at the captain.

‘I have a job for you if you’ll consider it. One that will bring you some measure of power and wealth if you do as well with it as you did on your last assignment.’ Captain Narwen looked at him, her face a careful blank. She would hear him out first, and then decide. He saw that in her. ‘Good!’ he thought to himself. ‘She’s a careful thinker. She’ll stand me in good stead if I keep an eye on her.’

Pouring them each another round of wine, he continued. ‘I’ll need someone I can depend on to be in charge of the lower part of the city – especially the waters of the small bay and the wharf here. We have secured a large warehouse there where we will be placing prisoners we think ‘useful’ to our negotiations later on. Sweeps of the city in that area will also be necessary to pick up resisters to the new government. You can kill them as you like, or press them into service on board the ships we will have patrolling off the southern tip of this region. Plunder as you like to bring that part of the city into submission. As to the women and children, I leave that entirely up to your discretion.’

Yr Saldan motioned her to come look at the map of the region with him. Once the lower city is well in hand and under your control, there is one thing further I would like you to entertain.’ He pointed to Edhellond at the northern head of the small bay on which Dol Amroth lay. ‘See here how the River Ringló empties into the bay? I want this area taken and placed under our control. From there we can make our way North to Tarnost and secure that northern city, while others of our ships make for Linhir to bring it beneath our Southern fist.’

He pointed to Edhellond and tapped it. ‘Think about it, if you would. And let me know if you can do this for me.’

One of the Corsair guards came quietly to Yr Saldan’s side and whispered a hurried message to him as Narwen perused the map. ‘I must leave you, Captain.’ he said. ‘Other business presses in upon me. Enjoy the wine and the comforts of the Prince’s palace before you show yourself out. And please, think on what I’ve said.’

He turned, following the guard out the main entrance, and down the steps.

[Carrûn]

Awrygan was in a foul mood, even fouler than usual. He had not managed to sleep in several days and had pressed on a a fairly rapid pace. Frequent night chills had left him sneezing and he was developing a bit of a cough. Moreover, a deer had bolted passed him across the road and had torn a rather large hole in the side of his cloak with its antlers. Things could be worse. I could be dying and the creature could have torn skin instead of fabric. Always looking at the bright side of things, eh? That's me. He grinned at his own joke. The sun had risen and was shining brightly, and the activity of the wildlife could be heard in the distance. His journey was almost over. "A fine day to die," he commented aloud.

Coming up over the next ridge his words caught in his throat. He sank to one knee behind a small set of bushes and for a time remained completely motionless, waiting and watching. The stench of burning pitch was thick in the air. Away to the South the harbor of Dol Amroth was smoldering. A few shrill screams rent the air, but were quickly silenced.

The weathered man's green-eyes blazed red and he stood slowly. A few yards from him lay a motionless figure, a single shaft protruding from it's back. Kneeling down, Awrygan turned it over, revealing the face of a guard in the livery of Dol Amroth. Glancing past him the man saw the crooked path where the man had ran, and then eventually crawled to bleed his life out on the small bed of rocks. Putting all feelings aside Awyrgan picked up one of the stained rocks. Wiping his finger across it he examined the blood which was nearly dry but still had a small amount of liquid in it. He ran his finger under his nose and then briefly across his lips.

One should not lay forever under the Sun. But I cannot spend proper time to dig a fitting grave. Dragging the man behind a grove of trees Awrygan piled what dirt was readily availible over the corpse and then proceeding to stack several large rocks on top of it.

Pulling his cloak about him and drawing a knife from his boot he slunk off down the hill towards the City. I had best wait until cover of darkness before I get too close. Perhaps I will find someone who can tell me more of what has transpired.

[astarielle]

SAVED for reworked post

[ February 21, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Everdawn]

Bebberyn, captain of the Guards had ridden hard on the road out of the city. More and more blood trickeld out of the open wound on his chest, his Blue and Silver attire now a sickly shade of maroon. He was loosing too much blood.


Bebberyn slowed Avanti a little. "the city" he said, "the prince, no the prince was not here. All is well. What am i saying, the city is invaded. I must get to Minas Tirith." he swayed on Avanti and fell unconscious onto the ground.

[ February 21, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[Hirilaelin]

In Yr Saldin's quarters, Narwen sipped the blood-red wine as she cast an eye over the map that lay in front of her. Her eye fell on the detailed drawing of the lower city. It could be hers to administer, if she correctly understood Yr Saldin. Her gaze wandered over the the river Ringló. Another possible task. Capture the bay.

She continued to peruse the map for several moments while she finished her wine. This could be her chance. Already she had gotten into Yr Salin's graces with the capture of the merchant. She would have to think it over. Being hasty wouldn't do; she needed to rational. If she accepted, she would quite possibly make some bitter enemies. But, she would also quite possibly gain wealth and prestige. A dilema indeed.

Putting her wine glass down, she left the room and strode down the wide halls of the prince's palace to the streets. She would think on this.

[ February 22, 2003: Message edited by: Hirilaelin ]

[Envinyatar]

Khazdifir had just turned into the gates to the Palace grounds when he saw Captain Narwen stride swiftly down the steps and approach. Her brow was furrowed in thought, her eyes on the path as she walked. Khaz’s eyes narrowed, knowing that she had just made a successful return from Umbar with the added prize of a laden merchant ship. ‘So, he has offered her something to keep her close.’ he thought to himself. ‘I wonder what prize now dangles before her eyes.

He stepped to the side of the gates and slipped behind the sculpted bushes there, waiting until she had passed. He watched as she turned the corner at the bottom of the path, heading down toward the docks and disappeared from sight. He hurried to the steps to the terrace, taking them two at a time.

Inside, it was cool and dimly lit, with only the sunlight filtered through the thick branches of the surrounding trees to light the interior through barred slit windows. Two glasses sat on the table in the middle of the room. One of them, still half full, the stem of it still warm to the touch. Narwen’s glass. She had put it down on the map where the Ringló flowed northeast past the hills of Tarnost. Tracing the path of the river brought him to Ethring to the northeast and Edhellond to the southwest. ‘An attractive prize, indeed.’ he smiled to himself.

A grid map of the lower city and the docks lay spread out near the map of Dor-en-Ernil. ‘The fox! He means to have her start here and secure this area first.’

‘Are you admiring the Prince’s maps, Kestrel?’ came the smooth voice from behind. Khaz turned to see Yr Saldan looking at him from the terrace doorway. He drew his knife, and the guards at Saldan’s side came quickly toward him.

At a gesture from Yr Saldan they halted, and Khaz lowered the point of it to the larger map, tracing a light line from the southern tip of Belfalas to Linhir. ‘I saw Narwen leave, and I know what you have asked her to do. This,’ he said, retracing the route for emphasis, ‘is where I would like you to put me. Give me six ships and I will control the area from along the southeastern coast and be able to keep watch on the Ethir Anduin, where any ship from the port of Harlond in Minas Anor must pass through.’

He poured the last of the wine into Narwen’s cup and drank from it. ‘I’m useless to you here. You know I cannot stay long on land. I get too restless. Let me serve you where best I can.’ He stuck the point of his knife into the area marked as the great bay. ‘Here, on the water.’

‘Six ships, is it? And you’re then my man?’ Yr Saldan watched as Khaz nodded his head to the questions. ‘So be it. Round up the men and ships you need. The element of surprise is with us. Let us use it and act quickly. Come to my quarters tomorrow morning and we will discuss your plans in detail.’
********************

Yr Saldan watched as Khazdifir left the palace, hurrying to put as much of his plan in order as he could today. He looked one last time at the large map before checking the reports from his other captains on progress in securing the outlying areas of the city and the small bay of Cobas Haven.

Things were falling into place nicely, far better than he had hoped.

[ February 23, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Everdawn]

Bebberyn awoke several hours later, to find Avanti pawing the ground. "am i dead?" Bebberyn thought to himself "no, no im not" Bebberyn was very tired. He looked at Avanti who was more crimson than white, stained by Bebberyn's blood, as almost everything he rode out of Dol Amroth with was.

He slowly mounted Avanti again and made his way towards Minas Tirith. Finally after many hours on the quick speed of Avanti he made his way through the gates of The White City. Bebberyn's energy was low, he needed rest. One of the city's guards had met him at the gate, seeing the state he was in.

In a loud Clear voice he yelled "I am Bebberyn son of Bryadin, High Guard of Dol Amroth. I must get message to the prince, Dol Amroth has been taken!" once again Bebberyn fell from his horse onto the cobblestones of the road.

[ February 23, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]